Date: Fri, 14 Oct 2011 18:30:26 -0700
From: MACK Wayne <mackxwayne@hotmail.com>
Subject: "slaveMaster Tempter"  Ch - 8

     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 - 8 The Next Day

	It was indeed ten hours later when Bob got Max's call.  "Come on
over Bob.  Your fuck hole is beginning to stir." Max told Bob that Jake
would be fuzzy at first but if he left him awake in the cell for an hour he
would remember most everything fairly clearly.  He said that he'd had the
sealed bucket of shit put in the cell so he would be reminded not to speak.
Bob thought that was a great idea.  He grabbed the rest of the money and
headed for Max's.  Along the way he passed a construction site and saw a
laborer, which reminded him of his new pet-boy-slave-fuckhole-pussy-toy.
He thought about last nights events and how they all played out..  His
first sight of he hot thing coming naked and wet from the bathroom and Max
scolding him in front of him was so sensual.  He surprised himself at how
quickly he began to entertain thoughts of owning what he was seeing and
analyzing.  Max's use of the drugs and alcohol to screw the victim's mind,
and the effective ways he did it were particularly titillating.  More
sexual than any emotional/ mental manipulation he'd seen, he gained a new
respect for Max's expertise and capabilities.  By the time Max was ready
for it he was able to collar and leash Jake - lead him by it to the sling,
and install him in it without objection.
	Bob had actually been so convinced of its desirability, he wanted
to own the boy before even thoroughly inspecting or using it.  But the
erotic inspection in the sling was total affirmation before the "test
drive." How licentiously entrancing raping the boy had been - stepping up
to his fresh new fuckhole hole and burying himself to the bone first lunge
- those wonderful pleas to stop he loved so much.  His dick was hard
thinking how the mind numbing screams of agony added to the pleasure of his
leisurely full depth strokes in and out of the tight pussy which was now
his bought and paid for property.  He thought about how unbearable and gut
wrenching the pain must be those last deep inches so far inside, as with
each stroke his dick head penetrated through and well past that second
sphincter adding a vibratory effect he always achieved, and had loved all
his life.  Sometimes he would just rub his head in and out of that
stricture telling his victims that it was almost like reaching inside and
jerking himself off.
	Horns were honking as Bob realized the light had turned green while
he was engrossed in high thoughts.  He arrived at Max's to be told by
Dieter to go on up - that Max was in the control room.  Bob fond him at the
monitors watching Jake by the remote camera in his cell.  Max had cameras
literally all over.  Every aspect of the nights activities before would be
available for Bob's (and of course Max's) nefarious pleasure.  "You're just
in time," Max said. "Your boy is just regaining consciousness."
	Together they watched Jake fidget, toss, and turn as he began to
come around.  Max had turned up the heat so he would toss off the blanket
and it was working.  He was shedding it completely, and the beautiful naked
body was coming into full view.  The cock was almost fully hard as he
rolled onto his stomach and began dry humping the mattress.  The ass flexed
and he hugged his pillow as he fucked the partner in his dream.  His head
was turned away from the camera so his eyes couldn't be seen as Bob asked
Max a question.  "You don't think he's conscious do you?"
	"Trust me," Max said. "You'll know when this boy wakes up." Just
then the humping stopped and Bob's new pussy raised itself up on its
elbows.  Its head turned to expose open eyes that were blinking and a mouth
that was agape in disbelief.
	"NOW he's conscious." Max said.
	Jake rolled onto his side and faced the cell door.  He rubbed his
head and propped himself up on one elbow.  He looked down at the locked
leather harness and felt around behind at the plug it was retaining.  His
face screwed up into a look of discomfort and objection as remembrances
started coming back.  He fiddled with the leather strapping to find it was
quite secure.
	"A-a-a-aÉ" Jake was starting to speak and cleared his throat as he
spotted the sealed bucket in the corner of his cell.  The words came
flooding back to his brain "one intelligible word and I'll make you eat
every ounce of shit in that bucket!" He was quiet instantly.  He tried to
sit up but the pressure on the butt plug made him moan out in pain as it
embedded more deeply, and the huge girth grated against his raw, sore pussy
walls.
	He stood to relieve the problem.  Movement helped only a little.
With difficulty and while he had adjusted slightly to the intruder strapped
in his ass, it was with painful discomfort he walked exaggeratedly
bowlegged toward the cell bars to investigate the groaning he was hearing,
and to see if he could see anyone else .  Max's men were purposefully
absent, but as Jake looked to the left in the direction of the noise, he
could see the figure of a beautiful young man also naked, on a platform
about table height.  He was secured to the table on hands and knees.  His
head faced forward and was strapped to an affair holding a realistic rubber
dildo in his mouth.  And part of the contraption held another one rigidly
in his asshole!  Every-so-often, he moved back burying the one in his ass
and then forward forcing the one in his mouth deep into his throat.  It
seemed to be voluntary movement, He wondered how long the pretty boy had
been doing the self-violation exercise.
	Jake was beginning to remember, and things were flooding back to
him.  He figured this kid on the impaling device to be the slave he'd come
to see.  He remembered meeting the man in the bar - Max was his name. The
drive to Max's came back - the big garage door - the small room where he
stripped for Max.  He looked at the bucket again and remembered voiding
into it.  He tore himself away from watching the beautiful kid fuck himself
on the rubber dicks and lay back down on the bed.  He starred at the
ceiling and ran his hands over his crew cut head pulling them down on his
face and leaving them there to reconstruct the events leading to being
behind these bars with a huge plug locked painfully inside his so sore ass.
	The more he thought the more worried he got.  The more he
remembered, the worse off he began to see himself.  He winced as he relived
being fucked so savagely.  He heard himself begging for it and saw himself
stroking the man's huge cock with both hands.  He also remembered the
feeling of letting Max down and wanting to make things right for his
"Commanding Officer."
	"My wallet!" he thought to himself.  "I gave my wallet to Max and
he took everything out of it and went through it all.  He wanted to call
out and ask to go to the bathroom but he looked over at the bucket and kept
his silence.  Maybe he should start moaning or making some kind of noise.
Maybe he should be quiet, cause they might want to fuck him again.  He
didn't know what to do, so he just thought.  For an hour he thought and he
recalled so many details, he started trying not to think.  He started
wishing he could forget - wishing he hadn't come to the city - wishing he
was home right now. They were small - but as he looked around he saw
cameras - a number of them.
	Max and Bob were watching on those cameras intently, as the
beautiful muscular young man tossed and turned, got up, paced and laid back
down again. "Do you think he is remembering?" Bob asked.
	"By now he's recalled most every detail.  The drug breaks down
inhibitions it does not affect memory. So I'd say he's ready for what ever
you have in mind." Bob and Max discussed how the nervous young thing in the
cell would have all his worst fears confirmed, and then Max sent Dieter to
collect the boy and take him to the room where the meeting would take
place.
	Bob and Max watched the collection process on the monitor.  Jake
heard the door opening at the end of the hall and listened intently.  There
were heavy footsteps on the floor as Dieter's boots hit the cement.  The
sound got closer and louder until Jake saw the giant hulk of a man outside
the barred wall of his cell.  Instantly he remembered this being one of the
men who had half dragged half walked him to the cell.  Dieter issued a
one-word command as he stuck the big key into the door lock. "Stand!"
Automatically Jake did just that. "You are to be reminded of the shit
bucket over there in the corner.  Do you understand?" Jake understood
completely and nodded to indicate so.  "Turn around and put your hands
behind you," was the next order.  As Jake did so Dieter took cuffs he was
wearing and applied them to the nervous wrists.  He spun Jake around and
pushed him to a painfully seated position on the bed.  Then he cuffed the
boy-man's ankles with leg irons.  He reached between Jake's legs and
grabbed his balls and pulled on them till Jake was whimpering.  He attached
a heavy polished steel ball collar around the base of the stretched
scrotum, with special screws that were not slotted but keyed.  The nut
collar had a ring welded into it where a lead was attached.  Dieter stood,
and pulled up hard on the lead as he gave the order, "Stand!" The silent
Jake hollered and stood at the same time.  Dieter tugged on the lead,
stretching Jake's nuts out in front of him, and Jake found himself being
pulled out of the cell by his balls behind the powerful man.
	Shirtless - as Max's men usually were - Dieter took Jake to the
prescribed room keeping hurtful tension on the balls and nut sack all the
way.  He led him to the center of the room where there was a cable hanging
down - uncuffed Jake's hands - re-cuffed them in front, and locked them to
the cable.  He pulled on an ratcheted winch and raised the boys arms till
they were lifted up high above his head.  Standing in physical contact with
his charge and reaching up to double check the cuffs, Dieter's strongly
scented hairy armpit ended up right in Jake's face.  He inhaled drawing in
as much of the powerful man's masculine aroma as possible thinking how much
it would be turning him on under different circumstances - but here, and
now, he could only feel worry at the hand of this rather god-like creature
in charge of him.  Dieter removed the leash from Jake's heavy polished
steel ball collar.  With total disinterest and detachment, he walked to the
door, turned off the lights, and exited the room.
	In complete darkness Jake stood alone and silent.  The drugs
altering his mental state having worn off, there was nothing to allay his
anxiety about what was happening.  His balls hurt from the stretch of the
steel collar, his ass hurt terribly from the rape and the plug, and his
bladder hurt from the pressure of needing to relieve himself.  He wasn't
sure how long he'd been standing there when a door behind him suddenly
opened casting some light across the floor with silhouettes of a couple of
figures seeming to enter, and just as quickly the door closed.
	Intense lights came on.  They were in a ring above, aimed down and
toward him, illuminating his stretched form on all sides and the floor out
a couple of feet.  The room to him remained in darkness beyond that.
Footsteps of more than one person circled him.  He could make out two sets
of boots.  He tried unsuccessfully to see who it was. "Hello?" he said with
a questioning and nervous tone, "Sir is that you Sir?"
	Max and Bob were circling the figure in the shadows silently
admiring Max's catch and Bob's purchase when Max stepped into the light in
front of Jake's suspended form. "You may speak now as I require it.  I want
to hear Thank you Sirs and Yes Sirs and No Sirs, and if I think you're not
being careful and respectful, well, just remember that bucket of shit. Got
it?"
	"Yes Sir. Thank you Sir," came out with trepidation.
	"Do you think you could be a little more enthusiastic here?"
	This time it was emphatic, "Yes Sir! Thank you Sir!" and a
congratulatory, "Atta pussy," from Max.  Bob sat back in the dark playing
with himself while Max took the reigns.  He listened as Max dealt with the
new toy.
	"You'll be happy to know that my deal with my friend went
through. So your efforts at making him happy were all worth it.  You really
impressed him.  Isn't that great?"
	"Yes Sir! That's great Sir!" came emphatically.
	Max stepped out of Jake's sight and walked over to Bob in the
shadows and whispered.  He asked Bob if he could play a little longer with
the naive beauty.  Bob said he was on no particular schedule and invited
Max to enjoy himself.
	"What do you want to bet - " Max whispered, " - the next thing he
says is that he wants to go home?  I want to give him some hope for a
little longer.  This is just too much fun to stop yet.  Bob agreed, and Max
talked to their source of entertainment.  "Would you like to speak boy?"
	Jake squinted into the blackness trying to see his inquisitor and
answered politely, "Yes Sir."
	The dichotomy of such beauty and strength in their victim's form,
contrasted with its utter defenselessness standing there stretched - arms
handcuffed over its head, and feet shackled together was a delightful
spectacle for these sadistic men to ogle at - especially with in mind what
was about to be revealed to it.
	"Well then," Max invited, "why don't you take a moment to think
about what you'd like to say, then go right ahead."
	Jake was more fearful than he'd ever been in his life.  He'd never
known absolute loss of control like this before.  He was very unsure of
what was going on, but one thing he was sure of - he'd seen the boy
downstairs - he'd heard Max's account of taking him, and he was convinced
Max played for keeps when he wanted to.  The main thought that kept
repeating itself was, "don't piss him off." He thought about how to put
what he wanted to say respectfully.
	He started quietly and carefully - still thinking as he went along,
"Sir. . .  Ah. . . I . . .  want to thank you for allowing me to answer to
you as my Commanding Officer.  I really want to work with you and help you
however I can.  It's an honor to know someone who takes control.  You're
teaching me a lot Sir.  I'm sorry for the times I pissed you off too Sir.
I'm glad you let me try to make things up to you a little by helping your
client feel good so your deal would go through Sir." He thought maybe if he
spoke of business, Max would be amenable for the next part, "I owe you a
lot Sir, so please don't think of me as ungrateful because I say I really
should go home.  I have job appointments I need to keep Sir."
	Max walked to the door, opened it and spoke into the hall so
everyone could hear. "Dieter! Come in here please and bring the leash."
Dieter could be heard saying, "Yes Sir," outside in the hall.  He walked
in, to a further instruction, "Attach it to the ball collar would you?"
	"Yes Sir," was automatic.
	The leash was a strong woven one, which could hold back a lion.
The lead was attached the way it had been before, as Jake watched.  Then
Max took it from Dieter and began slowly pulling.  Jake tried to walk into
the pressure like he did when he followed Dieter out of the cell, but he
could move forward only slightly before his restraints held him secure. Max
spoke as he kept pulling, "I thought you and I had an understanding last
night!" Jake rose up on his toes and started yelling in pain, Max all but
raised the boys feet off the floor by the tension on his nuts as he
hollered at Jake over the boy's screaming.
	"Didn't you understand that you don't tell me, you ask me?"
	"I'M S-O-R-R-Y SIR!!" Jake yelled at the top of his lungs.
	Max handed the leash to Dieter and told him to hold it right where
it was. The balls were shiny purple in the bottom of the taught sack.  They
looked like they would pop through the skin.  Max got right in Jake's
open-mouthed and screaming face, "Would you like to try again fuckup,
fuckhole, pussy boy?" Jake tried to say that he would, but mostly his head
nodded as he shrieked.  Max guided Dieter's hold on the leash until the
lessening tension barely allowed for speech.  Jake still in excruciating
pain, breathlessly, panted, "I SHOULD HAVE ASKED, COULD I PLEASE GO HOME
SIR!!!."
	Between the heat in the room having been purposefully increased for
just this effect, and the strain from the pain he was being given, his body
was glistening and shining as sweat exuded from every pore.  Remembering,
and berating himself as a "stupid fuckup," his vascularity and muscle
definition popped as if oiled for a showing.  Though still in pain, Max
decreased the tension some more to where Jake could catch his breath.  With
a whimpering apologetic tone in his voice he addressed his tormentor, "I'm
sorry Sir.  I'm a fuckup but I'll do better.  Please Sir?  Please?  Please
may I go?  I'll come back whenever you say Sir.  Any hour of the day or
night - I'll drop everything and come - and I promise I'll do better Sir -
I promise Sir!  Just please, please can I have your permission to go home?
I've learned my lesson now Sir and I'll never ever tell you what I need
Sir!  I'll ask you what you want me to do!  Honest Sir!  I swear!" The boy
was nothing if not abundantly, and expressively, apologetic.
	Max covered the penitent mouth with is hand and played his next
card of deceit.  "So you would like me to let you go home would you?"
	"Yes Sir!  Please may I Sir?" There was so much hope in the tone of
Jakes muffled plea, it was as if hope alone would make it so, and Max
played to it - Master at it that he was.  "Well - " he paused with vocal
tone raised to increase the volition of the boy's hope, " - I tell you
what.  My friend is here in the room with me.  He's been watching and
listening to everything.  You remember - he's the man you begged to fuck
you last night with the huge cock you love so much?"
	"Yes Sir?" The tone was both pensive and attentive as he listened
to his Commanding Officer - the CO to end all COs.
	"He came to pick up his merchandise and pay what he owes me.  If
you thank him real nice for last night I may let you go home today.  You
see, he thought there was a possibility that it was too much for you and
you didn't really want it.  So be honest with him and tell him how much it
meant to you and put his misgivings to rest would you?"
	"Yes Sir!  Of course Sir!  I'd be happy to do that Sir!"
	He began to speak and Max stopped him.  He told him to take a few
minutes and quietly think about what he wanted to say, that it was
important.  Max said he wanted to take care of something first.  He told
Dieter to release the ball lead and bring him the clear coffee mug from the
table.  Max unlocked and removed the harness, which had insured the plug
could not be forced from its secure place in the boy's ass.  The huge
load-retaining invader had been in place for more than twelve hours and
Jake's ravaged hole had had time to close up tightly around it's not so
very narrow base.  The necessary stretching of Jake's sore pussy when
removing it was going to hurt like hell.
	As instructed, Dieter lessened the tension on the boy's up
stretched hands so he could spread his knees somewhat - squat a bit, and
better expose his ass hole - pussy as it was becoming known and referred to
now.  Max told Dieter to hold on to Jake low around the waist like a
tackling dummy.  Max got down on his knees behind Jake.  He fiddled with
the base of the plug till he got a firm purchase, and then stopped all
action for a moment.  Then from his position down behind the sweating
carpenter he issued his instruction. "Ok fuckup, you've had enough time to
think.  So why don't you begin what you wanted to say."
	Faltering - with fear and trepidation in his voice, he began his
little monolog into the darkness ahead of him, "Mister. . . ah . . .
Sir. . .  I wanted you to know . . . ah. . . how grateful I am to you for
letting me service your fantastic cock Sir.  It's the biggest, most
beautiful cock I've ever seen Sir.  Ah . . . ." He thought and continued,
"Thank you for letting this fuckup worship and stroke it for you.  Your
cock and your pleasure were so important to me Sir.  Thank you for fucking
me Sir.  It meant a lot to me Sir.  I apologize for you not being the only
one Sir, but thank you for being the only one to cum in me, and for letting
me keep it in me for so long with the plug."
	He'd almost forgotten Max was holding on back there, until without
warning, he began pulling on it.  Jake started to pant, and then grunt, and
then all out holler, as it stretched him wider and more forcefully open.
As it reached its maximum, pain wracking diameter, Max held it cruelly in
position.  Dieter held the boy, Max held the plug, and Jake held the volume
of his resultant yell, till the awful instrument had fulfilled its hole
stretching, pussy splitting assignment, and mercifully was allowed to exit.
	Max immediately put the mug to the abused hole and watched as the
long held slimy accumulation of lube, rectal mucus, blood, and Bob's
inordinate load of ball juice, began to drain into the glass.  With Jake's
screams diminishing again to groans and pants, he was coached like a woman
giving birth - the command repeatedly given, "Push boy!  Push!  Turn
yourself inside out!  Atta boy!  I know how much you hate to loose it, but
push that big load out!" He moaned, and groaned, and grunted, and pushed as
accommodatingly as he could push.  All of his concentration was aimed at
pleasing and obeying the man holding the cup to his ass - the man in
charge, who'd said he could go home.  He didn't want to risk fucking that
up for anything.
	"Ok boy," Max said, as he scooped the edge of the cup across the
oozing hole.  "I think we got all we're gonna get." Max stood up - came
around front of Jake, and held the see-through mug at eye level between his
face and that of his panting victim.  The cup was almost half filled.  Jake
had been too clean for shit, but there was definite color to the slimy
fluid.  It was pink from Jake's pussy blood - almost as if a Bob had broken
a virginal hymen.
	"The load you spoke so fondly of, is in here," Max said, "Wouldn't
you like to ask the man for his permission to consume it?  That way you
could keep it inside you where you were so glad to have it, when you
leave." Max tantalized the fuckhole with that hopeful word "leave."
	"Yes Sir!" came the out and out lie.  There was nothing he wanted
less than to have to swallow what he was looking at in the glass.
	"Well go ahead!  Ask the man!" Bob's name had never been spoken in
front of Jake so that he could not even have a name to associate with his
rapist - and unbeknownst owner.  (This was a prerequisite of Bob's.)
	"Mister, could I please have your permission to drink your load
Sir?" and then an added plea for insurance of his sincerity so as not to
blow this opportunity to impress, "Please may I have it back inside of me
to take home Sir?  It would mean so much to me."
	"Sure!" was the simplistic one word reply, from out of the dark, to
the so thoughtfully expressed, sincerely verbalized, humiliating plea.
	 "Thank you Sir," Jake could feel the literal heat of the home
fires, and he wasn't about to risk loosing it now.
	"Tell you what," Max said, "Why don't we all work up some spit for
the fuckup's drink.  I bet that would really be appreciated, wouldn't you
boy?"
	A less then enthusiastic, "Yes Sir," followed.  Each man worked up
a snort, and spit as big a hocker into the glass as he could, while Jake
listened to the loogers being blown into his "cocktail," in the darkness
beyond his restricted vision.
	"Now you." Max brought the glass back to Jake's face and held it in
front of him, "Work up a good lunger, and blow it in there." Jake did as he
was told, "Aww, you can do better than that," he was chided.  The cup's
position was maintained as he snorted repeatedly and worked up a more
acceptable deposit.
	He had no more sensation in his upheld arms, and he was feeling
queasy at the thought of drinking his "ass hole - saliva enriched,
beverage," but he was determined to hold it together and, "get outa there."
He hocked his big one into the glass and listened to Max's complaint and
horrific suggestion, "You know . . . I really am disappointed in the color.
Pink is a little feminine.  I assumed the load would have more of a brown
color to it, but you were apparently too clean." He swirled the mug coating
the sides with its contents pensively examining the disgusting swill
between their faces, "I bet you were thinking the same thing weren't you
boy?  No self respecting man is gonna want a pink drink.  I'm sure you
agree - right boy?" "Self respecting man," was a descriptive Jake was being
stripped of - both the "self respecting" part, and the "man" part, but he
didn't know that yet, so the deceptive analogy was good for setting him up.
And besides, he'd heard the promising words, "going home." Max was sure
he'd agree to just about anything at this point to placate his CO and keep
that promise alive - deceitfully nonexistent as it actually was.
	Max just stood there, glass between their faces, waiting for his
victim's agreeable response.
	"Right Sir."
	"Dieter," Max beckoned to his big, muscled, man-servant standing
by, and handed him the mug, "Go get a spoon - take this down to the
fuckup's cell and give it a couple tablespoons from the sealed bucket." Bob
of course - was relaxing in the shadows stroking his megalithic endowment
with euphoric delight to every syllable of every word with which Max was
screwing Jake's head, and slowly unveiling his already determined fate.
Never had Bob thought of a mind being so emphatically fucked the way Max
was deftly and diabolically fucking Jake's.  And every moment of it from
Jake pulling into the alley, was being recorded for his continued prurient
pleasure.  He could, and would, relive any or all of it at his whim.

More to cum
Comments welcome:
mackxwayne@hotmail.com
Other Nifty Story: A slaves Induction
The man behind the words - MY website  http://www.MACKsf.com