Date: Thu, 17 Apr 2003 14:52:03 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Trainer

THE TRAINER

By Pete Brown     petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories at
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories


Three a.m.  I stared at the time projected onto the
ceiling and wondered why I was awake.  Sure, it had
been a challenging and exciting day as it was our end
of period sale and I had naturally been concerned that
our rich buyers would find everything to their
satisfaction.  But it had all gone well, and as usual
we had sold all of the current crop of stock.  I
should have been elated as my profit from the last
crop was now secure, and I should have been looking
forward to my usual trip back to London that I take
after each sale before the new stock arrives - living
out here in the Gulf I find I need to make special
efforts to keep up with all my old mates back home,
and so I schedule a two-week vacation at the end of
each cycle.

Things hadn't quite worked out that way this time,
though, as my suppliers had got a new batch of stock
together earlier than anticipated and they were
arriving tomorrow, the day after the last batch were
off my hands.  So was that why I was awake, fretting
about what lay ahead?  No, not really, as I've now
done this so many times before it's completely
automatic and I can do it on autopilot!  So why was I
awake at this time in the morning?  Who knows!
Anyway, there's a sure cure for sleeplessness - a
good, hard shag.

I like to sleep completely naked, without even a sheet
to cover me, but in spite of endless visits from the
specialists they've never managed to get the air
conditioning right in my bedroom - it's always
slightly too cool.  I gave up, basically - you just
can't get really competent staff out here, and found
my own solution.  The young slave who was nestling
against me gave me just that little extra warmth in
the cool room, and as I started to think about sex my
cock tried to tunnel itself deeper between the ass
cheeks of his muscled body.

This slave was ideal for my purposes in bed - he was
smaller than me, at about 5'10", and had a trim,
compact, but muscled,  "swimmer's body".  I'd spotted
him in the new arrivals a couple of batches ago, and
after basic training I'd held him back and not sold
him on.  He was a convenient size to lie next to me at
night as I could easily get my arms around him and
keep him pressed close to me, and he was of course a
virgin before I had used him, so he had learned from
the outset how I particularly like to take my
pleasure.  Keeping a slave just to keep me comfortable
in bed would obviously be absurd, given the price good
specimens like this one fetch, but he had proven
useful in many other areas around my establishment -
fetching and carrying for me, relaying messages, and
in the entertainment of important clients paying
visits.

Now I know that young guys need their sleep, and at 18
he wasn't yet fully mature.  But he was supposed to
stay awake in bed in case I should need anything
during the night, and to my annoyance I found he was
fast asleep and even snoring very softly and quietly
as his ribs rose and fell under my arm that was draped
over him.  I ran my hand down over his hard belly,
noting with pleasure how the training programme had
resulted in those ridges of muscle all buyers find so
desirable in young slaves, and let it rest for a
moment on his cock.  I'd first been attracted to him
because in addition to his pleasant physique he was
well hung; and after his  circumcision (all slaves are
routinely circumcised, as I'm sure you are aware)  his
larger than average cock had been well complemented by
the very meaty and pronounced flange around his cock
head.  I didn't stop to play with his cock this time,
though, as my own was straining hard and I wanted to
move on.  So I cupped his balls in my hand, feeling
the silky smoothness of his shaved sack, and squeezed
hard!

He woke at once, of course, and his body jerked
forwards but my arms and legs wrapped around him
stopped him getting away.  I continued to squeeze,
and, had he been able, I know he would have been
squealing with pain.

"Lie still and take your punishment like a man!", I
hissed at him. "And just be glad that I'm in a good
mood after the sale today - I told you that the next
time I found you sleeping I'd have you whipped."

His whole body tensed as he fought to get himself
under control, and I relaxed the pressure on his
balls.  I thought about taking him "dry", immediately,
but then reflected that I really needed a little
relaxation, so I went on "Wank yourself and slick your
hole, as I want a fuck."

He didn't reply of course, but grunted to indicate he
had heard my command, and I allowed him to roll away
from me and lie on his back next to me.  By the light
of the moon streaming into the room I watched as he
started to masturbate himself, and very quickly he
shot a large load up on to his belly - it's one of the
advantages of being 18, I suppose- you're very quickly
aroused, can cum very quickly, and shoot a huge,
copious load!

He'd been well trained, and almost without stopping he
scooped some of his cum off his belly, raised his legs
slightly in the air, and reached down to massaged his
seed into his hole.  Then he turned slightly towards
me, and gently slid his slicked fingers up and down my
cock to coat it and make me smooth and slippery.

I thought for a moment about taking him from the side,
slowly and languorously as you can in that position,
but my sexual craving was now very insistent.  And
thinking that I needed to be up early in the morning
anyway, decided on a quick, workmanlike fuck.  "On
your knees", I commanded, and he at once obeyed,
pushing his shoulders and face down onto the bed so
that his ass was stuck up as far as possible, in the
way I had trained him.

I was still slightly cross at him for having slept, so
as I knelt behind him I slapped his ass several times
with my big hands, pulling my muscled arms well back
before each stroke to strike him quite hard.  The
slaps ricocheted around the room, and actually
increased my passion, and the slave obviously felt
them to be very painful as, in spite of his training,
he shouted out into the bed where his face was pushed
(not that "shout" is exactly the right word, as like
all the slaves who pass through my establishment he
had been routinely muted - more a sort of loud
grunt!).

It was a really quick shag once I did get started - I
don't think I thrust into him for more than four or
five minutes -  but it was hard work.  I came almost
right out, and thrust right in so that my wiry pubic
hair crashed into his ass, on every stroke.  But it
was really satisfying - I felt my hot cum stream into
him, and when I collapsed forwards on to him I felt my
own sweat slicking his back as my muscular chest lay
against it and I lay there breathing heavily.

It was just what I normally need to send me to sleep,
and after I had pulled out of him I and rolled off him
and onto my back. He tended to me, kneeling beside me
to licked my cock clean of the cum, sweat and his ass
juices that were coating it.  Normally I would have
drifted off into a peaceful sleep at this point and
the slave should have watched and then nestled against
me to keep me warm, ready to adjust his body to mine
as I moved in my sleep.  But I just could not make
sleep come - my mind was full, for some reason, of my
plans for later in the day.

After about half an hour, in desperation I reached out
for the intercom by my bedside and called down to the
stables for my pony to be sent up.  I run a well
organised and efficient establishment, and so the pony
was in the room within a couple of minutes.  I
commanded him to come and lie beside me, and my nose
was filled with the faint smell of the damp straw
where his hard body had been lying, such a short time
ago - the stables know that when I do summon him they
should not delay and shower him.

My readers may find it slightly distasteful, I am
afraid, to hear that I used my pony as a bedfellow
occasionally, too.  I know it's now the fashion to
keep ponies and litter bearers just for transport,
field slaves just for working in the fields, and to
reserve space in your bed just for trained sex slaves.
 I don't have the need for full time bed slaves,
though, and, frankly, I can't afford them - so in my
establishment any slave is likely to be taken if I
choose.

My pony is anyway rather special -  firstly, he'd been
taken when he was quite old, and he'd not come to
slavery young like the 18-year old who was still lying
on the other side of me.  I'd had him for about three
years, and he was the same age as me, 36.   Secondly,
he wasn't the fashionable size for a bed slave as,
like me, he was 6'4" and had a big, muscular body
("swimmers", like the 18 year old, were more the
norm).  And thirdly, he wasn't a compliant bottom, or
even a happy versatile:  no, he wash by nature, a
hard, aggressive top.

He was like me in so many ways - age, size, and sexual
preferences, that when we had sex it was more like two
men mating as equals rather than as a master using a
slave, and perhaps that's what appealed to me.  Of
course we were not really equal, as I invariably
fucked him. That gave an added twist to the excitement
as I watched his face, seeing how his conditioning
held and he remained a slave being fucked by me, even
though every cell in his brain must have been telling
him that it was his cock that ought to be thrusting up
my ass.  It was a risk, I suppose, as although we were
of roughly equal size, his relentlessly hard work and
constant exercise had given him a hugely powerful
body, and had he chosen to attack me I knew he could
have inflicted considerable damage.

We threw our arms around each other and our legs
instinctively intertwined.  I felt him raise his leg
so that his hot thigh came up between mine and stopped
against my asshole.  Our cocks were thrust together,
and even though I had only just fucked my young slave,
I was erect again and felt myself thrusting against
his belly as his own huge erection thrust against
mine.  We wriggled and squirmed so our bodies rubbed
against each other as we half wrestled to find a
comfortable position, relishing in the sexual ecstasy
as our skin sent thousands of messages to our brains
telling them of the excitement it was feeling.

Our faces were together and I could smell his hot,
sweet breath, and then our mouths were clamped
together and our tongues were beating up and down and
hungrily exploring each other.  He changed his grip
slightly, and a delightful ripple of pain went through
me as he playfully tweaked one of my nipples.  I
yelped slightly, and tried to move away, but he pulled
me closer to him and reached for my other nipple to
repeat the experience.  This was very aggressive
behaviour for a slave, who is normally trained to
simply take whatever his master chooses to give, and
not to initiate action.

I was moaning  "No, No.....", but he went on, then
released his mouth from mine to bend his head down to
start nibbling at my nipples with his strong white
teeth.  My body was jerking with spasms of pleasure,
and one of my hands had pressed our two cocks together
and was wanking them both - the feel of another hot
cock against yours is, I think, one of the best ways
that two men can pleasure each other.

Then.... Well, you don't need to read about all the
ways that two strong, virile men can bring pleasure,
enjoyment, and satisfaction to each other - let me
just say that I did, of course, ultimately call a halt
to the foreplay and fucked him, hard.  Unlike the
18-year old that I had taken doggy fashion, I always
fucked the pony with him on his back and with him
holding his ankles near his ears - I liked to look
down at his face as I thrust into him, and see the
restraint that I knew he must be exercising to allow
his hole to be used like that.  I don't doubt that he
himself used many men like that before he was
enslaved, and it's a tribute to our conditioning and
training  that the most basic instincts of men can be
over ridden like this.

When I'd finished, we lay together and I ran my hands
casually over his magnificent body.  Unlike a lot of
masters I rely on solely on training to control my
pony, so he pulls my rickshaw totally nude - I don't
have a harness welded on him, or even a bridle and bit
in his mouth.  He just stands there, his body on full
display for all to admire, then pulls away, jogs,
races, stops and turns to simple verbal commands
(augmented by my whip, of course, as you would expect
- although I think he really does work no harder when
whipped, as he puts all his efforts in all the time.
But you can't be seen driving a rickshaw without a
whip can you?).

As I've said, I use my slaves for many purposes, and
one advantage of this pony is his sexual preference -
when I have a slave who needs "breaking", I quite
often use the pony to fuck him for the first time:
there's not many slaves with the power or physique to
resist him, and I think it adds to the slave's sense
of hopelessness to know that I can order my pony to
rape him, and have that order obeyed:  one slave
raping another, on command.

I think it must be the intense feeling of pleasure I
get from the man to man sex play with the pony that
made me drift off to sleep, because when I next looked
at the clock it was six, and time to get up.  The pony
was grinning, and slapped my ass playfully as we
headedfor the shower together - if it hadn't been for
his tattoos and brnad, the casual observer might have
taken us for a couple of fuck buddies, we were so easy
together.  That's another reason why the pony is such
a  pleasure - the other slaves, like the 18 year old,
are somehow afraid of me and just won't be "natural"
(within limits, of course!) with me like that.

I dressed in my usual T-shirt, cut-off Jeans and
desert boots, and went down to breakfast.  The local
army commander joined me as usual, and we discussed
the news, and so on, as you do.  On the first day,
before they have had any training at all, I find it
helpful to have a detachment of soldiers on hand in
case of trouble with the new slaves - some
establishments, I know, employ guards themselves, but
that's a huge expense all the time when you don't
really need it after the first couple of days - a good
healthy "donation to your favourite charity, Major",
makes the local soldiery available to me at much less
cost.

The container from England was sitting in the yard
when we went out, with the refrigeration unit running
and pushing out faint diesel fumes into the hot desert
air.  The journey takes five days, and you need to
keep the merchandise cool if it's to arrive in
reasonable condition:  my agents in London make sure
there's enough water and food, and a carbon dioxide
scrubber and oxygen tank keep the air inside safe for
them.  When you pay as much as I do for stock, you
don't want them to arrive half dead - or even wholly
dead!

The major ordered his soldiers to take up positions
around the edge of my yard, and I commanded the
container door to be opened.  The men inside stood
there blinking as the blinding light streamed in, and
peered out nervously.  I ordered them out, and, one by
one, they stumbled down out of the trailer and stood
there in the harsh desert sunlight, looking around
them.

There's not a lot to see, of course - me, a few of my
training staff, the soldiers with rifles cocked, and
the hot sun in the blue sky.  You can't actually see
into the desert when the main gates are closed as my
training yard is otherwise completely surrounded by
the buildings of my offices, living quarters, the
slave barracks, the punishment room, exercise room,
and so on.

Some of the men had started shouting and moving
towards the soldiers, who motioned them back into the
middle of the yard with gestures from their guns.  It
was time I took charge.

"OK, you men.  Strip.  Everything.  I want you all
totally naked, NOW!"

The shouting continued, as it usually does - it's
remarkable how men behave so predictably.  And as
usual I ordered my own men to advance on one of them,
and club him with their baseballs bats - not so much
as to cause permanent damage as this is expensive
stock, but enough to hurt him a lot, and to let the
others see that he's hurting.

That usually quietens them and gets them to start
obeying, and, as on this occasion, it's rare to have
to strike more than two or three of them before the
others wise up and obey.

I usually buy in a lot of 40 slaves for training, and
this was the batch size my London agents had sent on
this occasion.  Looking at the shipping manifest
e-mailed to me when my container had left, I'd seen it
was the usual mixture - young runaways to London from
elsewhere in England, Australian and New Zealand
tourists in London on a protracted trip, a few
released criminals, and the odd one or two petty
criminals who'd upset their Mafia bosses and who were
enslaved on their orders.  In short, men who would not
be missed or who, if they were, could not be traced
and would just be numbered in those thousands who
disappear every year from every big city.  Lately,
too, the loads had started to include illegal
immigrants to the country - mostly Eastern Europeans
who were not so much asylum seekers, as "economic
migrants" - well, at least they'd be getting work,
although not perhaps the kind they were expecting!
And their general Slavic good looks - either very dark
and brooding, or palely golden and long legged, make a
good addition to the slaves I am able to offer for
sale.

I'm a specialist trainer, and my clients have very
exacting requirements.  I deal only with men, of
course - much the hardest work, as women break more
easily to slavery.  And I only deal with men in the
range 18-30 or so - men with a long life of useful
work ahead of them.

My clients only want white men, and I don't order
blacks, Chinese, Asians, and so on, to be shipped.
The actual physical condition of the men is not vital
(although I don't take the very short), but most of
the men in the categories I take are reasonably fit
anyway and my training will correct the rest
(although, increasingly, they're all a little over
weight and all need slimming down!).

As I mused over this the men had started to strip, and
were making neat piles of their clothes by the side of
them.  As I expected, they all stopped when they got
down to their underwear, and I saw the usual mixture
of boxers and briefs - with one or two still in
trousers, probably because they had no underwear on!
So, as usual, they had to be ordered to get totally
naked, and a couple more had to be clubbed to
emphasise the point.

I've found from long experience that the next step has
an interesting effect on the men - my own people move
amongst them and remove all the piles of clothes to
one big rubbish skip in the corner - somehow, seeing
their clothes being disposed of like that sends a
message to the men that nothing is going to be the
same again, ever.  It's amusing to see that as my men
move around some of the naked slaves  just stand there
and watch defiantly, and some are standing there with
their hands in front of their genitalia as if they're
ashamed of what they  have, or don't want other men to
see it!

It's a long first day for us all, as I've also learned
over the years that you have to really emphasise to
the slaves on day one that their world has changed,
permanently.  There are a lot of processes to go
through, and with a group of 40, it takes a long time.
 But it makes for a better introduction to slavery,
and in some ways it's more humane for the slaves, to
get it all over with on one day and not spin it out.
If you can emphasise to the slaves that they really
are now "different", and no longer "men", the
remaining training is much easier.   I've had a
special processing facility installed in one of the
buildings, and even though it is only used once every
three months for a new batch of slaves, it's proven to
be invaluable:  there's something special about being
able to take all the men through the whole business of
turning them physically into slaves so quickly.

So we shouted commands, and, herded by the guards with
guns, the naked men shuffled off across the yard to my
facility.  They go through the door and are
immediately in a narrow corridor made with the
concrete of the outer wall on one side and the other
side made of floor to ceiling bars.  It's so narrow
that there's only room for one man across, and the
slaves are pushed in to form a long line.  The outer
door is then bolted, and we can start.

At this point I can thank the Major and release the
soldiers, so they can go back to their barracks - once
inside my facility, there's no escape, and the slaves
are dealt with one at a time so there's no risk of
mass action.

My men start the conditioning process, that's designed
to do things both physically and mentally to the
slaves - their bodies are changed irreversibly towards
the "slave", and the processes we use start to change
the way they think about themselves.  Firstly, we use
a cattle prod to goad the men at the end of the
corridor forwards, sliding separators down between the
bars behind them to ensure they can't move back.  As
they shuffle forward, they have to start to press into
the slave in front, who then tries to move forward...
It takes a little time, but soon all 40 are packed so
close together that the front of one slave is in
intimate contact with the back of the fellow in front
of him.  It's clear that many men these days have
never had their naked body in close contact with
another man before, and this is a horrific and
disturbing experience for them.  We keep the air
conditioning turned down at this stage so that the
room is anyway reasonably hot, and as the men sweat,
they can feel a  sheen of moisture between them and
the slaves on either side of them.  We aim to pack
them so tight in the corridor that the cock of each
slave is more or less hard into the ass crack of the
slave in front, and, after a few minutes, we know the
inevitable happens - erections start, and the
embarrassed men get even more so.

Four of my men can then take each slave in turn from
the front of the "queue", and simply manhandle him
over to the first processing table - a simple
stainless steel table that the slave is thrown on to,
face up, and then held securely by universal clamps
that swing up from under the table.  I got the idea
from seeing cattle held securely in pens in stock
yards whilst veterinarians deal with them, and
although the table mechanism cost a lot initially, it
has paid for itself time and time again. There's no
way that one naked man can overcome four trained
guards, so all the need for massive physical force is
obviated and this whole facility can be operated most
economically.

As the slave lies there his crotch and balls are
stripped of hair - slaves are allowed only a small bar
of pubic hair just above the cock, no more than one
inch thick, and neatly clipped to half an inch.  His
pits are shaved totally, and his head cropped to a
uniform quarter of an inch.  I've tried having all the
slaves totally smooth all over, as it's a nuisance to
have to keep clipping and shaving them and a
depilatory in their daily shower water is easy to do,
but sale prices went down - potential buyers like to
see the natural colouring that will be achieved if the
hair is allowed to grow, I have discovered.

This forcible cutting and shaving start to bring home
to the slave that their body is no longer under their
control, but the next steps are even more powerful.
One guard presses the slave's nostrils together so he
has to open his mouth to breathe, and, as he does so,
the second guard presses thumb and forefinger into the
sides of his jaw to force it open enough to get in a
wedge, that can then be forced home to ensure the
slave's mouth is held securely open.

Clamps on the side of the table hold the slave's head
secure, and it's then s simple matter to insert an
electric cauteriser down his throat and burn out his
vocal chords.   We're not arbitrarily cruel and don't
believe in using necessary pain like this as a
punishment - punishment should always be deliberate,
with whip, cane, or paddle in response to some
deliberate infraction on the part of the slave, so we
do of course spray in an anaesthetic first.  By the
time the slave realises he's never going to speak
again, it's too late for his to shout and protest, and
as the anaesthetic wears off and he only has a dull
ache in his throat, he finds he can now only mumble
and groan, and no longer make articulate words.  We
like to remove the ability to speak as the first
process, as it stops the slave questioning and
whining, and makes them "internalise" more what's
happening to them.  Without the ability to speak and
to question, the slaves are much less able to "gang
up" and take mutual comfort from each other.  It is
easier for us therefore to complete their conditioning
and processing.

We tattoo the slave's identification number above his
left nipple, and this is very quick - no more
specialist tattoo artist painstakingly doing each
number!  Instead, we dial the number onto the
pneumatic tattooer, and it fires hundreds of tiny
needles simultaneously to write the whole number in
one go.  You can tell this is somewhat painful by the
way the slave's body tries to arch upwards as the
needles hit, but it's only momentary, and, at least,
we're spared the screams because of the prior muting.


For those that need it - and it's the majority of our
slaves as they are mostly Europeans, we also
circumcise them as they're lying there.   Once you've
got the knack of it,  it takes literally only forty
seconds or so to circumcise a slave - we don't do any
of the fancy cuts that try to reveal the piss slit
only, just a standard "high and tight" to leave the
cock head fully exposed at all times and no loose skin
on the cock shaft.  The new antiseptics and coagulants
keep the wound safe and stop bleeding almost
immediately, and reduce scarring and speed healing,
and we spray the surface with anaesthetic, too - we
want the slave to remember the pain of the
circumcision itself, but don't see the point of making
him continue to suffer:  the immediate pain he
experiences is a further powerful reminder that he is
no longer in control of his own body. I suppose we
might get a higher price if we circumcision as a
"buyer's option" later, but I don't like to think that
some slaves have their cock heads hidden from view
during training: slaves should understand that this
fine feature of their bodies is always available for
their masters to see.

The slave is usually dazed after these procedures, and
so it's easy to move them on to the next station -
basically, a pillory that securely clamps their wrists
and necks and holds their bodies bent at right angles.

With the slave held like this, my men quickly apply
the pneumatic tattooer to the slave's right biceps,
and to the small of his back, just above the top of
his ass crack.  They then kick his legs apart, and
clip and shave his ass crack to leave him totally
smooth.

Finally, one of my men leaps astride the slave's
horizontal back to prevent him "bucking" (and to give
the slave the feeling of having another man "riding"
him as he stands there utterly powerless to prevent
it), and they apply the electric brander to his left
buttock.  In spite of being muted, it's amazing how
much noise the slaves manage to make as their flesh
singes and scars, but we do spray with anaesthetic
almost immediately afterwards - again, we want the
slave to remember being branded, but we don't like
unnecessary cruelty.

The slave is then marched off to a holding pen, and
the guards fetch the next slave from the front of the
queue.

As I said, it's usually a long day - although I've
made the process sound quick and easy, there are a lot
of potential for hold ups and delays, and it usually
takes the best part of the day to get all 40 done.

We deliberately make the holding pen very small so
that the trimmed, tattooed, circumcised, branded
slaves are forced into close proximity with each other
- it's another powerful lesson to them that they are
now "different".  There's a water spigot in there as
we never keep slaves short of water (it's bad for
their kidneys!), and a crap and piss hole in the
corner.  Otherwise we leave them alone for the rest of
the day, and all that night, to think about themselves
and their new status.

For the next two days the slaves are not fed at all,
and are kept in the holding cage - we need to give
time for their scars to heal, but, more importantly,
we want them to get used to being naked together, and
to being watched in their nakedness by the guards.
They are of course forced to piss and crap in front of
each other in this very confined space, and this is
another way of letting their brains know that they are
no longer "men" as they used to think of themselves,
but a new class of object, "slaves".

It amuses me to watch the slaves during these two days
- especially at night, when the lights are low and
they think they are not observed.  As young men, they
feel powerful sexual urges, or course, but most of
them would think of themselves as "straight" and would
not wish to be seen erect in front of other men -
especially not other naked men, who may also be on the
point of erection.  So they try all sorts of little
subterfuges, like pressing themselves through the bars
of the pen, and lying down with their cocks right
underneath them, and try to masturbate themselves
without their fellows realising it.  It's not
possible, of course within the space we give them, and
it's the start of a new feeling about themselves and
their bodies.

The morning of day three is when the harsh physical
training we use to build proper muscle tone really
begins, but they have first to undergo what we call
their "initiation".

All forty of them are herded by my men using their
cattle prods out into the yard, where they are caged
in a single cage.  It's surprisingly easy to do this -
after two days without food or exercise, and with
their minds already reeling from the processing they
have already had, they are halfway obedient already.
So different from when they defiantly refused to strip
on the first day, and when I needed the presence of
outside guards.

I usually arrive in the yard in my rickshaw, and the
sight of my virile, muscular naked pony usually
astounds them as they stand there - it has probably
not occurred to them before that they are here for a
purpose, and that that purpose might involve being
trained to be draft animals!

We have four of the "pillories" set up in the yard,
and four slaves are taken from the cage and securely
fastened in.  They then receive their first initiation
into proper sex - well, for most of them, I assume
it's their first initiation.  There must of course be
some gay men in any group of 40 virile young men taken
at random, but most of them are probably "straight".
As they stand there, totally unable to prevent it,
their assholes are greased and then they are fucked.
It's another way of signalling to them quite clearly
that they now have absolutely no free will, and are
simply here to be used as we choose.

Again, you notice we are not unnecessarily cruel - we
lubricate them properly (which anyway helps prevent
injury to the valuable property).  It's a bit of a
perk for my men, really, to be able to take young
virgin asses like this - anyone can take part, and I
do so myself.  But with 40 to get through, it's a bit
of a problem - you really can't manage more than three
in a morning, even allowing for rests.  My pony is
allowed to take part, too, and it amazes me how he has
the stamina to keep going - whilst he obviously can't
ejaculate inside each slave he's presented with, he
manages to stay erect the whole time and simply fucks
away with enormous gusto - he usually manages at least
seven slaves himself..

Seeing their fellows being fucked, and being fucked
themselves, is the next step on the road to turning
out the perfect slaves for which my establishment is
famous.

These first few days are, I find, the most exciting
The psychological changes that take place in these men
as they are stripped, shaved, muted, marked, and
fucked for the first time, are profound.  They go from
thinking of themselves as "men" to seeing themselves
as "victims" almost immediately.  It takes weeks more
patient training to complete the process and produce
"slaves", obedient to their masters' commands, but
this is really rather routine:  my system of totally
overwhelming the men in these first days is the key to
my success.  And as I get much repeat business from my
clientele, I know that my method works.

The end.