Date: Sat, 8 Oct 2011 13:51:32 -0700
From: MACK Wayne <mackxwayne@hotmail.com>
Subject: slaveMaster Tempter  Ch - 7

     Disclaimer: All rights reserved.  No part of the story can be
reproduced in any form without the express permission of the author, MACK
Wayne.


slaveMaster Tempter


Ch - 7 The Deed

	Max was a born collector.  It was in his blood.  It was all sensual
to him - all the variables, and how they got played - the hunt - donning a
disguise as he did to ferret Jake out - spotting a potential - sometimes
stalking it - setting the snare - gaining the target's confidence (in cases
where that was a part of the game) - trapping it - bringing it in, whether
by force tied up in the back of the van with the help of his assistants -
or even better, as in the case of Jake, having it walk itself voluntarily
into the lair.  There was something however, about the period after the
target's fate was sealed, but before he knew it, that had possibly the
strongest pull of all.  It was that, "Goose is cooked, with the victim as
yet unaware," component of the equation that offered such appeal to Max -
was such a critical enduring part of the game, and why he was enjoying
drawing this phase out.
	Bob purchasing the slave even before using it or allowing it to be
aware, made the taste of this period that much sweeter.  Every millisecond
of this scenario was tweaking the intensity of Max's dark instincts.  The
hard-on in his pants was every bit as lustful as the gigantic piece
preceding Bob by more than a foot he was about to literally rip his slave a
new one with - his licentious spirit as linked with Bob's as was possible.
They were, in this moment, almost as one.  Max would practically feel
Jake's pussy tearing when Bob raped it.  And make no mistake - regardless
of the distinct please for Bob to fuck him that had been coming from the
lips of his victim before the gag, it would be RAPE - pure and simple.
	Jake had no idea what he was begging for, but he would soon find
out.  His ass was a perfect target for Bob.  With his orientation as a top,
it had seen almost no action.  It was not ready in any sense of the word
for what it was about to undergo.  For Bob it was the best (almost the
only) kind of sex.  He'd had a few in his experience that were either fist
bottoms or had been stretched out with large toys that could take it when
he fucked them - but his pleasure was never complete in those instances.
From very early on, the usual condition for his voluntary receivers was
their agreement to being restrained.  He'd finesse them into the idea "for
fun," because almost invariably he knew once he started - if they were able
- they would stop him.  With that variable abated, the resultant screams,
and objections, and pleas for him to stop, and the "NO's" he'd heard all
his life, had become half the enjoyment.
	The adage that once a participant says, "no" it's rape?  Well, sex
for Bob had been about rape from the beginning, or he wouldn't have had any
- and the resistance and screams and pleas had become the cock stiffening
music to his ears he needed, wanted, and felt he deserved.  His universe
had given him an unnatural horse cock, it followed naturally there would be
victims for its use and pleasure.  Their fascination with its look and size
were what he used to rope them in, and raping was just his necessary way of
taking advantage of them to satisfy himself.  "NO," was one of his favorite
- most often heard - ignored words.
	Max watched Bob walk to the business end of his suspended purchase.
With drink in one hand and his horse meat in the other, he stood silent -
stroking himself - pensively - lustfully - surveying every centimeter of
the exquisite form of his new property, "Max had been exactly right," he
thought to himself, "It WAS perfect for him. Worth every penny of the
price." He stood - pussy ripper inches from the portal to its new personal,
private, bought and paid for, pleasure chamber, and obsessed over what the
boy would know at his hand.  Critically scanning - as one does with any new
item - his mind drifted to what sorrows and pain the boy would be forced to
endure - how politely, respectfully, even worshipfully, he would suffer and
serve - no longer a person, but an object - property.
	The ideally shaped head with its full close cropped haircut and
beautiful young masculine face rested almost peacefully on the thick
leather pillow - the oral fuckhole secured open and filled with the bright
red ball gag, negating its ability to clearly express the verbal pleas it
was so obediently offering.  The syllabic sounds were evidence enough,
"Eeee uuuu eeee uuuu," with the attempt to close its lips on the first one
each time for the word, "Please."
	Wrists were secured - not high where arms could fight to pull him
up or away, but down low where biceps could flex full and round -
functionless for defense, but offering additional visual beauty to the
form.  In his nervousness they were twitching and flexing even as Bob
surveyed.  Armpits reeking of ample nervous musk were delightfully exposed.
Bob loved deep hairy armpits.  He walked around to the boy's side and put
his nose in one of them - now his - to revel in the scent he was in part
causing.  Some males he'd experienced didn't emit much odor.  Jake's pits
were strongly scented much to Bob's delight.  He lingered, inhaling slowly
and deeply before withdrawing from its inebriating influence.
	With the familiarity of ownership Jake couldn't possibly have known
of or understood yet, Bob ran his hands over hard peck muscles and allowed
his fingers to luxuriate through the hair covering them and trailing down
onto rippled abs, ending in a thick forest of dark crotch bush.  The
considerable cock and balls were examined including the piss slit which he
stretched open and peered into.  Bob went to the head end of the sling -
reached out and took the slaves/ his big protruding nipples in his fingers.
Mimicking the action he'd watched Jake use when rotating on display and
playing with himself, he rolled and pinched them.  Although already proud
well sized protrusions, before long they became noticeably larger and more
erect.  Bob watched the erotic connection with the boy's cock causing it to
twitch and begin to stir.  Involuntary moans began to be included with the
sounds of his pleas.  There would not be a part of the slave's body that
would not know suffering and pain and torture - but for now Bob's pre-rape
exploratory touch was gentle and sensual.  Satisfied with a cursory torso
inspection, he returned to his vantage point from the bottom.
	The slave's big feet and thick hairy muscle-laden legs were spread
far apart - held up by inescapable ankle restraints dangling on the
outsides of the widespread chains suspending the sling from the ceiling.
The arrangement afforded the victim no leverage with which to push away
from his attacker.  There would be no way for him to protect or defend
himself against the intensity of the assault he was about to undergo.  Bob
loved the feel of his slave's hairy thighs and calves and when he reached
the feet, discovered they were quite ticklish.  He played with the
sensitive soles for a bit.  As the boy's pleas had been enjoined by moaning
with his attention to the sensitive nipples, they were now accompanied by
laughter from his attention to the equally - in their own way - sensitive
feet.  The legs jerked back from the tickling - a natural involuntary
reaction.  He would enjoy putting this feature to good use on occasion.
	He caressed that region where man never touches man when he's bare
skinned - maybe a congratulatory slap on the (fully clothed) ass on the
athletic field, but not bare assed and never lingering.  It was one of
those territories Bob loved on a male because of its "nether region"
nature.  It was the place he always thought about when seeing one in his
underwear in a locker room - the place where upper thigh (so thoughtlessly
available for public viewing) abruptly ends, and glorious ass - in this
case a fuzzy bubble butt (so personal and private - by invitation only)
begins.
	He'd been so fascinated from youth - on vacations to Australia to
visit relatives - at how their lifeguards willingly flaunted that part of
themselves.  How he reveled in it and what lengths he had to go to, to
conceal his resultant erections - his unnatural endowment a decided
disadvantage.
	Since he started having sex it had been one of his favorite parts
of the male physique.  This one, he now owned.  He lingered, even getting
down on his knees and kissing the area, all, leading toward and inclusive
of the target.  That - he began to suppose as he matured - created his
fascination with the territory - the fact of where it lead - the reason men
in general - but especially American men - considered their asses so
private.
	He got close, but didn't inspect THAT, other than visually.  Not
even touched by a finger, his "first contact" with the precious pucker -
now his property - had an appointment with destiny. That portal and the
channel behind it had a special reservation.  It was being reserved for his
elephantine breeding poker, and it was time to christen, mark, and claim
it.  Max's game had all been a great deal of fun, but it was this painful
act of claiming - christening, and marking Jake.  This single act would
forever serve as a line of demarcation between having been a man and
becoming an object - between self-determination and obligatory and
unquestioning obedience.  It would effectively negate all Jake had been as
a person, and establish everything he would become as property.  In short,
it would be celebrated as the commencement rite of the one who had been
known as Jake, into its new existence as Bob's slave and subject.
	Bob was like a kid enjoying a new toy, or a guy with a new
expensive sports car in the driveway - just being tactile with it, familiar
with it, admiring it, looking toward playing with it or driving it - only
this was a hundred - no, a thousand times more thrilling than either
example.  This new toy could interact and react.  It was sentient - had
emotions and a mind that could be used and played with as well as a
physical form.
	Bob tore himself away from his intense, enjoyable, familiarization
process and picked up his drink - which Max had freshened for him.  With
the expression of immense satisfaction on his face he looked at Max.  He
held out his glass, and as Max reacted in kind, their glasses clinked, "I
love it man," he said, with the sound of matching satisfaction in his
voice, "I really love it."
	Max beamed and almost gloatingly replied, "I can see that.  I knew
you would."
	Bob stroked the massive cock that had been preceding him by more
than a foot the whole while, as he turned back to his purchase, "Look at it
man.  It's beautiful.  And because of you it's mine.  I can't thank you
enough.  You were right.  It's perfect for me." They sipped a few minutes
more and Bob made his pronouncement.  I'm ready for a test drive.  Could I
use the handles?
	"Of course you can use the handles.  Don't be silly," Max
guaranteed.  Their discussion in front of the preoccupied boy was going
right over his befuddled head.  Max went to the door and told Dieter -
standing right outside in attendance, as usual in instances such as this -
to get the fuck handles.
	"Yes Sir Boss," he said, as he disappeared down the hall.  Shortly
he returned with the requested item, "Want me to put it on Boss?"
	Max looked at Bob for his approval.  He offered it with casually,
shrugged shoulders, "Sure. That would be great," Dieter walked to the sling
and maneuvered its occupant to apply the object.  It consisted of a wide
belt-like affair made of military strength webbing or belting which
strapped tightly to the lower torso around the hip region.  On each side of
the belt strap was a length of the same strong webbing with a stiff handle
wide and thick enough to wrap a hand around and grab onto, stitched
strongly, and securely, on its end.  The construction of the device - like
a piece of gym equipment - was strong enough that a man could do pull ups
with the handles - but pull ups had nothing to do with their function.
They were - as the name implied - fuck handles - designed to gain firm
purchase on a man to pull him onto the cock of the one fucking him.  The
straps of the handles could be lengthened or shortened for the users
comfort - for best manipulation - in this case - of Bob's slave - his rape
victim.
	Dieter worked to secure the belt strap under and around Jake's
torso - fastened it tightly around him at the hip line and stepped away for
Bob's approval.  Bob examined it and asked that Dieter lengthened the
straps by an inch or so.  He happily complied, and left the room.
	Bob asked Max if he would "do the honors," and grease the hole.
Max was delighted.  He took a basting syringe filled with clear lube and
put the tip of it to the exposed sphincter - a little smeared around the
outside to accommodate Bob's entrance, and then the tip inside.  He
squeezed the bulb while pushing it all the way in and pulling it out.
About eight inches was the extent of the penetration, but some was extruded
with a little extra force on the bulb beyond that point, instantly readying
the tight fuck chamber for it's new owner's assault.
	 As Jake groaned just from the baster intrusion, both men became
mindful of just how entertaining and intense Bob's ride was going to be.  A
few more lingering sips on their drinks and he was ready to ride.  He was
as lustful as he'd ever been - and this horse-cocked Man was lustful -
intensely, and often.  He'd kicked the tires long enough however.  Driving
time was at hand.
	The pillow under Jake's head and two critically placed mirrors
above, insured the boy's unimpeded view of the action from three different
vantage points.  From between his wide stretched legs, Jake could watch Bob
in the flesh - or with the mirrors he could witness his assault either from
the side, or down from directly overhead.  He was warned not to close his
eyes other than to blink - to be sure to look straight at Bob or watch him
in either mirror at all times.  Closing his eyes would be considered an
inexcusable insult.  The sling was adjusted to the perfect height as Bob
lined up horse-cock tip with "bull's eye." The cock looked so huge by
comparison to the hairy little pucker hole it was about to invade.  It
LOOKED that way because it WAS that way.  Bob's bone hard cunt reamer stood
straight out in front of him more than twelve thick cut inches, and its fat
mushroom head was even bigger than the body.
	 "Ok boy.  You're going to get what you've been begging for.  The
words were a brazen proclamation, an unnerving threat, and a final warning,
all rolled into one.  He grabbed hold of the fuck handles and adjusted his
grip as if readying himself in the stalls for a wild bull ride, "Watch!"
was his admonition, with a final order, "Relax and push my pussy out!" It
WAS his both by purchase and by virtue of leading the boy into saying it
was just earlier.  How little he understood the truth of his proclamation.
	 Bob wasn't satisfied with the boy's unacceptable effort.  He knew
from VAST experience, if the hole were forcibly dilated from inside
pressure, there would be less resistance, and before his toy could grasp
what was happening, he'd be in, "Pretend you're taking a shit boy!" he
yelled, and continued yelling, "Show me your insides!  I won't fuck you
until I see you cooperating with me!  You gonna fuck this up too?" The
combination of the threatening tone and humiliating reminder worked.  Jake
pushed hard to please his CO standing there watching, and Bob saw what he
wanted.  "Atta boy.  Now just hold that for a minute."
	Red faced from keeping himself dilated, Bob let Jake repeat one
more resultantly exaggerated plea - those lips as always - trying to close
on that first syllable, "Eeeee!  Uuuuu!  Eeeee!  Uuuuuu!" He held tight,
pulled back on the fuck-handles, drove his pelvis forward with the force of
a ramming rod, and in the blink of an eye he had buried himself in the
waiting hole all the way to the bone.  He could drive no further.  The lube
had done its work.  Every centimeter of bob's extraordinary length and fat
girth was swallowed up.  It disappeared completely inside what used to be
Jake's asshole - full depth penetration just as he'd intended on the first
thrust.  The formerly relaxed fuck toy's body went rigid.  Every muscle
flexed involuntarily.  His oral noises stopped momentarily while his mind
tried disbelievingly to grapple with what had just happened, and after a
brief the instant of silence, a scream of full force ferocity came from the
depths of the fuck toy's lungs - what would have been ear splitting were it
not coming from around the big red ball.
	His legs tried to push him away from the onslaught, but found only
open air.  As hot hairy thigh muscles flexed and rippled, they just splayed
themselves wider apart - a brief period of silence as he sucked air in both
from around the slobbery ball and nostrils to refill his depleted lungs,
and a renewed scream.  Max removed the gag.  NOW it was deafening,
"AAAAHHHHAAAAHHHHH !!!!! " came forth with untold volume.
	No more begging was needed.  That for which he had so
accommodatingly been pleading, had begun.  It was as if a white-hot poker
had been shoved up inside him - searing the walls of his rectum, and his
intestines were being split open.  Jake was as close to a virgin as there
could have been, with what little, insignificant, and infrequent anal
activity he had so sincerely chronicled for the men while convincing and
pleading accommodatingly with Bob to do to him exactly what he was doing.
He had no concept as to what the man's acceptance of his plea would mean.
	Bob held on and stayed buried deep up inside Jake's body for about
ten seconds (an eternity for Jake) and then pulled abruptly free as the
fuck hole's screeches turned into breathlessly yelled pleas for mercy.
"NOOOOO !!!!!  PLEEEEEZ !!!!!!  NOOOOO MMOOORRE !!!!!" As Bob was
positioning himself for re-entry, Jake addressed Max frantically.  "MAX
SIIIRR . . . PLEEESE SIIRRR!  IM SORRY FOR FUCKING UP, BUT PLEEEZ SIIRRR!"
He was half hollering and half crying as his pleas for mercy emanated.  He
felt the head of Bob's cock against his asshole and looked at him
pleadingly. "PLEEEESE MISTERRRR?" he hollered.  Jake didn't even know the
man's name that now owned him and was pleasurably ripping him open.
Somehow his ignorance was totally befitting, "PLEEEZE SIIIRRRR !!
	"OK BOY!  He yelled.  I SAID YOU COULD STOP BEGGING FOR IT WHEN I
STARTED FUCKING YOU, BUT YOU'RE STILL GOING.  I HEAR YOU. YOU GOT IT!" Was
Bob's shouted reply to what he knew was a cry for mercy as he plunged back
into the pain wracked opening.  Jake wanted to clarify, but only hollers
came out.  Max put a hard rubber ring gag in Jake's mouth and strapped it
in place.  It would keep the fuckhole open for maximum noise, but totally
eliminate its capability for intelligible speech.
	Bob told his victim to go ahead and holler if he loved having his
horse cock fucking his pussy.  He yanked on the handles, drove with his
pelvis, and plowed into the pain-racked hole like a banshee.  The men
shouted to be heard over the blood curdling noise.  With the power, force,
and rapidity, of a jackhammer, Bob rode and Jake yelled out his retained
wide-open mouth - tongue flailing to form only indiscernible syllables.
The men might not have understood words, but they knew full well the need
and desire being expressed - pleaded for - begged for.  Now, THESE were
sincere pleas - words or not.
	"SOUNDS LIKE HE'S REALLY ENJOYING IT," Max feigned, at the top of
his voice.
	"YEAH - LISTEN TO THAT HOLLERING!  HE LOVES IT!" Bob returned.  Bob
fucked the way few were capable of fucking, and Jake yelled - endorsing by
his screams - according to his instructions - every blindingly agonizing
thrust Bob was taking.  He rode, almost completely withdrawing, and
plunging back in to full depth - twelve plus inches of fiery stroke
friction and channel splitting bore with almost every lunge.  Sometimes he
would actually pull completely out - be sure of a line up - no hands needed
- and plow back in. Jake careened off Bob's crotch bone like a flailing rag
doll every time he crashed forcefully into the defenseless target.  The boy
had never known such pain.
	Barely able, but afraid not to, he watched - completely without
defense - as his rapist assaulted him.  From the side view he could see the
man's balls slamming into him below his huge cock. The cock was so
enormous, he hadn't paid them much attention, but they were fittingly
enormous low hangars, doing some serious swinging and slapping up against
him from the force of Bob's lunges.  Vision distorted by his bouncing, he
still could see the unmistakable look of ecstasy on his attacker's face -
lost in euphoric pleasure while delivering such anguish.
	He tried desperately to form the words, "LET ME GO!  LET ME GO!"
but that pitiful flailing tongue did nothing to make the awful noises
discernable.  After fucking for a while Bob shouted to Max, "I'M TOO HOT TO
HOLD OFF!  I'M GOING TO DUMP IN IT AND PUT IT TO BED.  YOU HAVE A PLUG?"
Max produced just what was needed.  A little while longer ramrodding, and
Bob let himself pass the point of no return.  He pulled on the handles,
drove tight to the bone, and held firm.  Jake SCREAMED, and Bob ROARED as
he jerked uncontrollably.  With each violent ejaculatory spasm he pissed a
stream of his sperm into his new hole, marking and claiming it for all time
(or for as long as he wanted it.)  He remained in Jake for agonizing
minutes - roars and spasms, turning into groans and jerks, turning into
moans and short thrusts.  Just as he had said, "No clean up necessary." He
emptied himself of one of his usual enormous loads from those big balls
before pulling free.  And as soon as he was clear of the pummeled hole, Max
centered the overly large plug and rammed it into place renewing Jake's
agonizing cries.
	"Here" Max said, stepping into position with the retention harness,
"You rest.  I'll do this." Bob retreated - sat down and watched, spent, as
Max deftly secured the fat plug securing it in place with the locking
leather straps.  Max reached out and shook Bobs hand, "Well done!
Congratulations on your new fuck hole!  Enjoy it in good health!"
	They dressed leisurely while ignoring the attempts of their loud
victim to communicate.  Max suggested they adjourn for a cigar and let the
freshly christened fuck toy wind down a little.  Bob walked back between
the out spread legs where he'd just been, and rubbed them like you would
caress a marble statue.  He felt the skin and hair and let his hand run
down to the plug retaining his freshly produced - first of many -
voluminous deposit of semen.  "It really is a beauty isn't it?" he said.
	"It's a you if ever I saw one - even down to its occupation." Max
replied.
	"You've got a good eye there Max.  And the ass is perfect.  It's
going to give me many hours of pleasure." He pushed on the plug and
elicited fresh intensity in the yells from his slave's gaping mouth. "I
can't wait till he comes out of the stupor he's in.  I'd like him to sleep
for 10 or 12 hours Max.  Can you give him something?" Max said he'd be
happy to, and that when he woke up he'd be fully functional and aware.  Do
you want me to give him something to avoid a huge headache as well?"
	The men left the room discussing how Bob wanted the details
handled.  He said he'd be back tomorrow with the rest of the money to pick
up his property.  He wanted it slept warm in one of Max's cells and he
wanted it to be allowed to wake up on its own.  He wanted to be called when
it looked like Jake was coming around.  Max reminded Bob that the address
book would be there before long.  They both new the value of the leverage
produced by that kind of item.  It would be invaluable, and Bob thanked Max
for supplying it.
	The men returned to the "get acquainted room," and talked for a
half hour or so.  Max paged Dieter and told him to meet he and Bob in the
room where Jake was hanging.  When Max opened the door Bob's beauty was
making noises from his open mouth.  His head was rolling slowly from side
to side and there were tear tracks from the outside corners of his closed
eyes.  The only thing in the victim's muddled mind was the pain coming from
his ravaged, cum filled, plugged, rectum.  He could feel every heart beat
in the walls of his raped pussy as they clung so tightly to the large
unwanted object keeping his hole from closing, and its new owner's massive
load from escaping.  In a half hour the pain had hardly subsided - the
static nature of the large plug keeping it at a barely manageable level.
The hollering had moderated, but pain was still all that was in Jake's
private little world.  Closed eyed, he was not even aware of the men until
Bob got up next to his ear and whispered his poignant question. "How's my
pussy, boy?"
	The hot naked figure issued a startled grunt and opened his eyes.
An expression of fear racked his face at the realization his rapist was
back.  The breathing accompanying his loud groans became nervously
irregular and with his mouth being held open, his swallowing difficult.
Bob continued his whispers just loud enough for Max (and now Dieter) behind
him to hear, "That about the worst pain you've ever experienced?" The
fuckhole's head shook rapidly up and down in an affirmative nod.  You could
see the tongue moving uselessly inside the open mouth, and the lips too
were active desperately trying to form the words, "Please no more!  Please
no more!" As before, however, the sounds were not intelligible -
appropriately only noises.
	Bob reached one hand down to where the plug was being sucked up
tightly against Jake's pussy opening.  As he whispered he tapped it ever so
lightly and watched Jake break out in a sweat. "Would you like to lay down
in a bed and go to sleep boy?" Relieved - uneasily - Jake shook his head
again, nervously up and down, "Then I tell you what, if you will start
right now begging me to fuck you just like you did before, and not stop
until you're in bed, I'll let you go to sleep.  Deal?"
	The head shook up and stopped then cautiously down and stopped.
Bob had to kick him into gear.  He was frozen at the thought of asking for
it, now that he knew what it was he was asking for.  So he pushed in on the
plug and spoke impatiently at the same time. "Well?"
	A very loud and startled, "Please fuck me Sir!" came forth.  The
syllabic configuration and the vowel sounds indicated - as earlier - his
compliance with the "suggestion." "Eeeee uuuuu eeeee uuuuu." The sound of
the pleas was egregious, as the once proud man struggled with his
assignment.  Max told Bob just to relax, that he and Dieter would take care
of things.  Together they removed the so effective bonds and extracted the
tortured, discombobulated, fuckhole from the sling.  It crumpled like an
accordion weak-kneed to the floor - its torturously raped, agonizingly
stuffed, pain-wracked pussy the only thing in its manipulated
consciousness.
	One under each arm, the two men picked the pile off the floor and
impatiently told Jake to stand.  Wobbly at best, with one arm held by each
around his neck, they half walked, half carried, their jelly-like victim
out between them.  Bob followed the stumbling merchandise down the hall
listening to the sounds of it begging for what now he knew the terror of.
Saliva trailed out of the open mouth and wet the hair on his chest and
belly before it ran into his crotch.  From behind, Bob watched the
beautiful ass cheeks flex and relax as Jake tried to walk in between the
men.  The plug retention strap locked around his waist and the accompanying
vertical cunt strap widened at the plugs base, assured it would remain in
place, "Love how the big plug base distorts things around his cunt," Bob
said, as he watched the sexy bubble cheeks rise and fall with each
attempted step.  Bob reveled in thoughts of the fact it would assure the
containment of his massive load in his "toy" for the night.
	He thought about making Jake shit the load into a cup and having
him drink it when he woke up tomorrow.  He shared his idea with Max and
they both laughed in agreement.  From behind, Jake was just as stunning as
from in front.  Massive arms lay draped across the shoulders of his
escorts.  Thickly muscled shoulders and a broad deeply dimpled muscular
back led in a "V" taper down to a narrow waist and that beautiful bubble
butt - all supported by big legs like those of a soccer or football player.
	Legs and arms were haired, and there was a delightful patch of it
on his lower back, which trailed down and caressed the cunt plug and strap
between distorted globular cheeks.  Lighter traces of body hair caressed
his shoulders and upper arms.  There was a deep bronze construction worker
tan.  The harness strap was the line of demarcation between light and dark
at the waist as if it had been planned, and the beefy legs and calves were
bronze between a sock line and mid thigh from Bob's carpenter wearing
shorts on the job. The lily-white ass almost glowed as cheeks bounced to
the rhythm of his forced steps.  From any angle this was a thing of beauty.
	A quick elevator ride and they were in the cellar.  Max had spared
no expense in turning a good portion of it into a jail and torture
facility.  There were cages, cells, and every manner of equipment
imaginable. They entered the area to the groans of its only other occupant
at the moment.  The slave Jake had thought he was coming to see, did exist
exactly as it had been described, and had been procured precisely the way
Max said.  Now however, to Jake - within his own little drug enhanced world
of mental reorganization by his captor, and preoccupied with the agony from
his rape and the unrelenting pain from his cunt stuffing, the sounds coming
from the rooms occupant weren't registering, nor did the false promises of
seeing and experiencing this "real slave" Max had used as effective
temptation luring Jake into his lair, even exist in his foggy mind.
	They walked their stumbling naked charge through the open door of a
cell - over to a wooden frame bed with a bare mattress on it and backed him
up against it.  Dieter held onto him to steady him as he wobbled and
groaned with the intense pain in his tortured cunt and deep in his gut.
"Ok, shut up now," Max said.  He unfastened the cruel ring gag from the
boy's gaping, drooling, hole, and removed it.  He put sleeping pills into
the open mouth - shoved the boy onto his knees - took out his dick and held
it to Jake's lips.  "Drink!" he ordered, "Something to help with the
pills," he said, as he urinated in the boy's mouth and then pulled free.
As he did so he held Jake's mouth open and issued his warning, "If one
intelligible word comes out of this hole - " he worked up a hocker, tipped
the boy's head back, and spit it down into Jake's mouth, " - I'll make you
eat every ounce of shit in that bucket you voided in.  Do you understand me
boy?  You can moan and groan all you like, but you'd better not speak!" On
being questioned, Jake's head was nodding that he understood.
	Max and Dieter lifted the boy off his knees and sat him down on the
hard bed on the plug.  He let out a holler and Max slapped him hard in the
face.  It was his first corporeal contact with the boy and it felt good.
It was time, "I said you could moan and groan, not yell!" The boy tried to
contain himself sitting on the plug filling his raped raw cunt as Max laid
the slave down and covered it with a wool military blanket, "Go to sleep,"
was the final order.
	Jake rolled onto his side - fetal position - with the pillow under
his head, and with presence of mind enough to answer, did so, "Yes Sir."
Bob, Max, and Dieter, walked out locking the barred cell door behind them.
They watched the new slave close its eyes unaware of their lingering
presence.  As they walked down the corridor to leave, they listened to
Jake's moans and groans trailing off.  The drug was strong and fast acting.
In no time the defiled new slave (unaware), filled with the voluminous load
of its Master's ball juice would be asleep.


More to cum

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