Ste 115 2

by Jake Ward

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Chapter Three

  115's first week at the slave compound 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 while others watched and quickly learned why there was only a piss bucket. He we routinely flushed out at least twice a day so he never actually developed a need to take a shit. It was all flushed out before he'd processed it. 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 other lessons 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 pi
le 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 in the trash. 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 wasted 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 baby doll 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. Though he was beginning to realize that he never saw the outdoors anymore, so his only measure for a day was when they put them down to sleep and when the Bosses got them up. Anyway, soon after getting up on that day, 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 alligator 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 recognized 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, dick 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 alligator clamps dug into his ear's cartilage, 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 effectively 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 boy." 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 been used a couple times for that purpose by some of the Bosses. It was the most degrading, disgusting, horrible tasting experience he could imagine. Which, he guessed, was the reason the Bosses got such a kick out of it. 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. 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 wasting 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. After all, everything should be a learning experience, when there was so much to learn about being a slave and pl
easing 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 surprising 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.