Dirt

The Joy of Owning Boys

Introduction

This story that takes place on the Federation planet of Bundus III. Other planets of this Federation include, (old) earth, Tringus IV, Pondor III, and the Icarus Ring-world. Slavery is only legal on the Icarus Ring-world, and in all the Aligned Nations of Bundus III. Only two (Non-Aligned) nations were not signatory to the Indenture, Consensual, and Non-Consensual Slavery Laws of 621 AF [After Federation], namely, the Oligarchy of Quaraque, and Cathland. On Bundus III, only persons NOT from the Aligned Nations may be enslaved against their will. These are called Class Three Slaves. Citizens of the Aligned Nations, up to the age of 16, may be Indentured, from 6 to 12 years, by their legal guardian. Any citizen who has reached their majority at age 16, may opt for Consensual (voluntary) Slavery. These are called Class Two Slaves, and have some minimal legal protections not given to Class Three Slaves, who may be modified at their owner's whim.

The BoyToys, Inc. labs of Bundus III are the famous providers of bio-genetic and gene-splice modifications for slaves. The BoyBots, Inc. labs of the Icarus Ring-world are the unrivaled providers of bio-mechanical implants for slave modification and control.

Chapter 1
The Beginning

I like to think that I am a relatively typical billionaire. I have many business concerns here on Bundus III, on the Icarus Ring-world, and even a few on old earth, and I always pride myself that I deal quite ethically with everyone.

My private life, I keep private. My hobbies have been many, but these days, now that I've hit my late 30s, I take delight in obtaining the rare items from an old age, namely – books. Most people have never actually seen one of these things except on some 360-holo. But I like the real thing. Something about the feel of cardboard and paper. And seeing actual print on a page.

But in keeping with my main interest, namely boys, I mostly only collect books dealing with the ownership and slavery of young boys. Even when these books were in print, these items were not so common. So far, I have 13 such books in my collection. Possibly my most valuable book, though I didn't actually care for the story, is a first edition of The 120 Days of Sodom. The idea of actually bringing physical harm to a boy, is to me, anathema.

My favorite book goes by the title of… Well you don't really care about that stuff. Let me got to the interesting stuff – owning boys.

Which brings me to my most coveted collection. At present I own five boys, ages from 8 to 13, and of differing ethnicities. Three are Class Three Slaves (non-consensual) and have been modified at the famous labs of BoyToys, Inc. in order that they remain at their present stages of physical development indefinitely, and for other reasons. The other two slaves are currently 12-year Indentures, also maintained at their current stage of sexual development, but merely by drug implant.

The first three boys are in my permanent collection. I got the idea a number of years ago while reading one of those very old books. It was about a guy who kept other people in a harem, apparently an old societal construct though I'd never heard of it before. So, I started my own harem. But I was only interested in boys.

I had usually vacationed each year for about a week or more at the Xanadu Pleasure Dome resort [read my story Xanadu Pleasure Dome], a famous and spectacular boy brothel. But eventually I decided that I wanted my own boys. I also wanted something unique. I toyed with a number of fanciful ideas until I came across a story which told of a boy who was regarded as a mere object, to be used as a perpetual sex toy.

That was when my ideas all coalesced into what I now call my second collection. All held in perpetual storage when not in my bed in use as a sex toy.

My first acquisition was a rather plain boy, age 12, from one of the non-Aligned Nations of Bundus III (and hence not a signatory to the Indenture, Consensual, and Non-Consensual Slavery Laws of the Aligned Nations of 621 AF of Bundus III). He'd been made a Class Three Slave (involuntary and permanent) and was put on auction in the city of Calais.

I read through the official synoptic listing.

What I found remarkable about him was his strikingly Negroid appearance. He was also an exceptionally skinny runt. And not especially good looking. Many observers at the slave action in Calais remarked that they thought him ugly, with quite thick protruding mouth and heavy lips, quite wide and flattened upturned nose, which barely made an appearance until it emerged well below his brow ridge. I thought him a diamond in the rough. And if the boy could qualify for body modification, his genome would suffice.

I made an inquiry at the Calais Slave Internment Facility and discovered that only one boy brothel had even expressed interest. I had his DNA profile sent to the BoyToys, Inc. labs for analysis. Several days later, their reply stated that the boy's genome was quite amendable to their basic gene-splice modification. I was suddenly interested.

They offered what they called their 'Basic Boy Conversion Package'.

It included:

1. Physiological stabilization which would make sure the boy would never mature or grow.

2. Sexual libido enhancement, which would maximize the boy's sexual response and keep the boy in near perpetual arousal.

3. Upgrades to the boy's sex holes, including restructuring the boy's mouth and throat to maximize its ability to pleasure a man's penis. This included the removal of all the boy's teeth, lengthening his tongue several inches, and providing an alternate airway, if needed, for long term continuous use. It also included any necessary modification to keep the boy's lower face still looking natural. Also restructured would be the boy's rectum with added sphincter muscling and increasing the size of the opening to accommodate a man's penis. (I included my own modest measurements).

4. And finally, modifying the boy's prostate to produce sex enhancement enzymes which would act as a strong aphrodisiac together with one which would greatly increase one's ability to sustain climax and to recharge afterwards.

5. (And at a small additional cost) Depending on the customer's preference, a change in the boy's subsurface tissue together with additional vascularization to insure that the naked boy would be comfortable at cool room and lower temperatures.

I got more excited as I read over the quite detailed descriptions and guarantees. I especially liked the idea that I could so cage the boy's face to force him to stimulate my own butt-hole and even extend his lengthened tongue far into its interior. I was already thinking of elaborate frames into which I could mount him. They also asked me if I was also interested in a mind reformatting, to strengthen certain predispositions.

After examining the boy's DNA, they expressed the probability that the boy was predisposed towards some degree of same sex attraction, but they would need a full scan and emotive and psychological profile to provide a more precise evaluation.

I was now greatly interested. I asked another slave doctor, who had been recommended, to evaluate the boy. He replied that he could corroborate the findings of the BoyToys labs but would need to have an in-depth profile made from a full psychological and emotive evaluation by a qualified individual along with complete psychometric scans.

He laconically replied: "I can have my assistant out there fully equipped in two days. Of course, I'd need a surety payment beforehand."

The doctor had no idea of who he was conversing with. To him I was merely an anonymous Mr. Brown.

"Tell you what doctor. I will send any surety payment you feel adequate, and I will reserve a room for your assistant at the nearby Maverick Hotel. Nothing fancy, but it adjoins the Slave Auction Interment Facility grounds. I can also provide transportation."

I could have gotten someone local, but I wanted to keep this private.

A week later, and just three days before the auction, I received the good news. The boy was primarily same-sex oriented (even if he were unaware of it not having yet sexually matured) and also deemed quite susceptible to mind reformatting into a quite submissive slave. A slave broker acquired the boy and the boy was immediately ensconced into a SafeSecure™ Boy Transportation Cage [read my story SafeSecure™ Transport Boy Cages] and shipped to the BoyToys, Inc. labs where I met with a representative.

The boy in question was being held upright, totally naked, with arms and legs held slightly apart, in a series of micro-force-fields in front of us. He was staring out at us. I walked around him for a closer inspection. The force-fields were strong enough to hold him quite securely, only allowing the slightest of movement. He seemed to be struggling against his bondage. A scenario he would necessarily have to get used to after I had him in my care.

"Is he aware Mr. Cline?" I inquired of the representative. "He seems to be following me with his eyes."

"Certainly, Mr. Brown. The monitors show he is fully responsive. His anxiety and fear levels are in the acceptable range. He is on only a mild emotional dampener."

"Good, can he hear us?"

"Most certainly."

"He seems slightly less malnourished than the 360-holo I had received several weeks ago."

"He's been on a force-feed to help him recover from previous malnourishment. Necessary for the invasive procedures he will soon undergo. And I'm certain that we will have no difficulty in rectifying his rather severe ethnic appearance."

The representative's face scrunched up showing some strong distaste concerning the boy's looks. He would have trouble making it in the business world in which I excelled.

"Those strong ethnic characteristics I think rather striking, sir. Rarely seen in today's homogenized societies. In fact, one of the reasons he attracted my attention to being with. I will want them maximized to their fullest extent."

I watched the representative's face. He knew where the money was coming from.

"Mr. Brown, with the boy's DNA, those characteristics can be maximized to the extreme. Aside from his features, how atramentous do you want his integument?"

I chuckled at the representative's attempt at one-upsmanship.

"As melanoid as possible sir," I replied smoothly. "A full 36 on Von Luschan's scale if possible." (I specifically looked up skin pigmentation this past week. I wanted to know what caused extreme pigmentation and how to modify for it). "Will that be possible?"

The man seemed unsure. "I will have to find out from Dr. Erastes or Dr. Macumbo."

"Thank you. Please do so."

"Very well, what other modifications do you want besides our standard package which you have already opted for?"

"I thought you were going to find out about the skin pigmentation?"

"Oh. Of course. Right away."

He did so. A Dr. Macumbo soon appeared. "Who's asking about black skin mods?"

I introduced myself. We spoke briefly and Dr. Macumbo was very gracious.

"Mr. Brown, we no longer use that scale in our modification labs. There are several ways in which we can cause maximization of pigmentation. Melanin produces the most pleasing coloration. (Dr. Macumbo was quite dark himself). I've reviewed your boy's DNA profile. Fortunately, we can easily obtain a 35 or 36 on that scale. I believe dark as night would be the result. Other pigments can now be gene-spliced from other DNA profiles but I suspect you will be very pleased with this result. And anything else would, in my estimation, not be as pleasing a tone."

"Thank you, may I see a representation?"

"Certainly." Dr. Macumbo seemed to touch a virtual screen and a high definition 360-holo appeared of my boy, exactly as we were seeing on the other side of the room.

"This is the boy we now observe. This is what we can do with his pigment correction."

An absolutely black boy suddenly appeared. I was amazed at how dark his body could be made. "Excellent. And with the other changes I've suggested?"

The image morphed into a boy with exceedingly Negroid features. "This merely is a maximization of his ethnicity. It can certainly be additionally altered to your specifications."

Over the next half hour, we played computer morphing with my boy's facial features until we arrived at the boy I wanted. The real boy looked on with renewed interest.

"See boy. This is what you will look like after modification."

The boy seemed for once more curios than anxious. He also seemed not to be fighting his bonds. Before us in the holo was an extreme in Negroid ethnicity, but to me, one of quite pleasing aspect. The representative seemed not to care for my tastes.

We proceeded to morph the holo as other mods, as permitted by gene-splice, were agreed upon. We obtained a beautifully formed body with perfect looks and proportions.

"I want the boy to have the very beginnings of a mature musculature."

The image morphed once again. "Too much. Can you back up on that just a bit?"

He did so.

"Good." I was well pleased. "But now to the important parts."

"Important parts?" the representative asked.

I wondered how new to all this that fellow was. "Of course, his sex parts. His genitals, his butt hole, and his areolae, and so on."

"I want a perfectly formed and small, heavily wrinkled, and slightly asymmetric genital pouch hanging a bit pendulously, along with a respectfully long penis."

The image we kept changing as it was tweaked. We finally arrived at a penis which when flaccid, was 3 inches [7½ cm] in length, and engorged, a very respectable 4½ inches [11½ cm], especially for an apparent 11½-year-old. The glans on a very snugly circumcised penis was a slightly asymmetrical cap but well-fitting the penis. The genitals were to be pitch black. The boy's butt-hole large enough to barely accommodate my own penile member, and quite heavily wrinkled also. Oh, and also bitch black in hue. In fact, the pigment would intrude into the interior until it was at the internal sphincter. Both sphincters would be quite heavily muscled.

I turned to the actual boy who was now apparently avidly interested. "Can the boy be enabled to speak, doctor?"

"Certainly." A touch on his screen and the boy in question vocalized and seemed to want to speak but suddenly stopped.

I looked at the representative and he answered my implied question. "The boy has already been well trained in at least minimal slave protocols."

"Boy, I am your owner. You have my permission to speak. You like your new body?"

The boy seemed frightened but still replied weakly: "Yes Master. How long do I have to be your slave, Master?"

"Boy. You are a Class Three Slave. You will be a slave, and that boy whose image you see, for the remainder of your life. You exist to please your master."

The boy started silently crying. But made no effort to reply.

I almost surprised myself at the strong emotion I was feeling. What a joy it was to actually own another person.

I addressed my boy. "Boy, I own you. You are now my property. You will be modified into the boy which pleases me, as you see here in the holo." (Along with other modifications of which he will not become aware, until out of the modification labs on his way to my estate where he will inhabit a cell from which he will never leave except to occupy by bedroom suite).

The boy seemed to be fighting his hard-won protocols. He finally blurted out in spite of knowing he would be punished: "I don't want to be a slave."

The rep was about to touch a control when I stopped him.

"Only the boy's master will punish him." I strongly admonished.

I addressed my boy. "Boy, you will soon discover that your wants and desires will never be even listened to let alone considered. You now exist for one thing only. To be your master's play thing."

I had the boy again silenced.

We now continued on, deciding the remaining modifications.

"I will be subjecting my boy to the extremes of bondage for long periods at a time. I want the boy's body enabled to withstand such bondage without even discomfort. I want the boy's sole focus on his immobility and sex, not pain. Not in the least do I take pleasure in hurting a boy. But I take immense pleasure in treating him as the object I turn him into. I actually want my boy as comfortable as possible considering the extremes of bondage I will subject him to."

We talked about this, making sure the boy would not be plagued by cramps or any other problem associated with extreme long-term bondage. Then Dr. Macumbo brought up something I had not even considered.

"What about itching? What about when the boy cannot scratch an itch?"

I almost laughed, but swallowed it as I considered the ramifications. "I see. I want the boy sexually aroused at all times. He will be a sex toy after all. And no, no itching. So yes, can it be done? The boy made itch-proof, so to speak? I want his attention while in bondage, to be totally focused on his immobility, his sexual arousal, and need for climax. I don't want him unnecessarily distracted."

"An interesting conundrum. I'm pretty sure that this too can be accommodated, but to be honest, I'm not right now 100% certain. I will look into it and get back to you."

I was glad that the doctor did not try at any obfuscation. (And he did get back to me the very next day to assure me that this too could be accomplished).

The very last thing was to discuss all the piercings my boy was to have. Sixteen around his lips for his mouth gag and muzzle, three horizontally through his penis, one large one through his taint (so I could force his legs apart when desired), and reinforced ones through the center of his hands and the center of his feet.

The doctor also assumed there would significant mind reformatting, and asked about it.

"Absolutely not, doctor. No extensive brain reformatting. Perhaps just to strengthen his predisposition for man-boy sex, and nothing else. I want the boy to know and experience fully what has happened to him with no amelioration by fuzzing the waters. The boy was kidnapped, and will be subjected to the physical modifications his owner deems appropriate, and is forever, to be owned property.

I wanted my slave to be fully cognizant of the fact that I have taken everything away from him and made him my play thing. And that he will never be anything but such, for the remainder of his life. The joy of ownership is in knowing that I have taken total possession of a person and will dictate entirely everything he will ever do. He will never again know any kind of freedom whatsoever. I want him to know that I have totally turned him into an object to be used for my own enjoyment. And when not in use, he will be in extreme restrictive bondage, and that not only will he never decide any of his future actions when not being used, he will never be able to make any significant movement at all! He will merely be a fixture in one my boy alcoves in my boy collection.

Chapter 2
Enjoying My First Toy

After leaving the BoyToys, Inc. facility, I chartered a grav-air-car to the city of Florence. There I had found a gifted artisan who will be providing me with the bondage gear for my slaves. I was armed with precise holos of my boy including all necessary measurements. This was to include, of course, several types of chastity devices. There would also be several types of head cages, both with and without provisions for sight and hearing. Three kinds of hand encasements with differing degrees of severity. Also rings for all the boy's toes. And several types of manacles and cuffs. I had made sure that with the upgrades of the boy's body, and the engineering available with these bondage apparatus, the boy would be in no danger of any abrasion to his skin or damage to the underlying tissue. Also purchased were a dozen different boy cages and bondage frames. With attachments.

Except when in my bed, the boy would be kept in varying degrees of escape-proof bondage and control. All of which would be quite severe. He was to forever and always be aware he had one, and only one use. That as my sex toy, never allowed to do anything else whatsoever. He would be an object to enjoy as I saw fit. The one accommodation I would provide him with, I would allow him his own good measure of sexual pleasure. In fact, it was my goal to eventually make the boy a total captive of his own sexual desires and needs, never thinking of anything not at least indirectly associated with sex. In fact, if I were successful, I would eventually train and condition him to have his own sexual climax even when in extreme bondage. I wanted him to eventually engage in absolutely no other activity than bringing himself to climax, or its attempt, when not ministering to his owner and master.

***

Three months later a severely black-hued and ethnically appurtenanced boy was delivered to my estate. He was grav-lifted into my new collection room, the first to take his place in one of its alcoves. There were five. I expected to acquire at least three boys, but had two additional alcoves for possible expansion in the future. But for the time being, this boy would garner my full attention. When filled, all five boys would be in a single wide view, but none would be able to either see or even hear any of the others.

The first boy's alcove could house any number of varying boy bondage apparatus. He would be designated Toy #1. The first bondage contrivance into which he was to be restrained was rather simple and, unlike many of his future incarcerations, would even allow the boy a small measure of movement.

But that would come later. I released the boy from his transport confinement, and had a servant remove the boy transportation cage. That servant was very loyal. He would never divulge to the voracious media anything he had observed. He was legally my ward, after his mother's unfortunate death while in my employ. His uncle, his only living relative, was quite happy not to be encumbered with the responsibility, (and the expense), of raising him. I was always quite liberal with the treatment of my staff. Why not? It brought with it loyalty and better service. They usually left my employ at late middle age quite wealthy in their own right. I was quite liberal in directing their investment portfolios. They always seemed to know when to invest in some new venture, especially, purely by coincidence, it was one of my many expansions in the world of business and industry.

The servant boy himself was barely 13 years of age and I made him my personal servant a couple years ago because of his delightfully beautiful boy body. As he grew towards adolescence, his body grew into a perfect model of boy-lover delight. (I made sure he engaged in a modicum of athletic endeavor). But it was his looks which tipped him over the top in that category of lascivious demand. And if his glances at me, and other male members of my household staff were any indication, I suspected he would be quite receptive of a sexual advance if properly conducted. But that was in some possible future. I now had another entertainment to attend to.

I quickly removed all the objects which had been attached to my slave's body needed for his safe transit in that boy cage. And as I lifted him onto his feet, he tried to cover up his 5-inch [12½ cm] ebony boner which I knew would be stretching its confining covering of skin to the max since I had his modifications include the tightest circumcision possible, while still allowing full engorgement. His full engorgement now his usual condition, only momentarily subsiding immediately after one of his (mostly) dry orgasms. This, along with other modifications, would cause the boy to be in a state of extreme sexual arousal for the entirety of his existence. I wondered what it would be like never to turn one's thoughts entirely away from one's sex. And need for climax.

Mouth gag, butt plug, urine collector, breathing apparatus, and finally the long tube of his catheter made their way into a bin for cleaning and storage. The slave watched as I removed that last tube, apparently surprised at its length. It had been so designed that its removal caused only mild discomfort. My boy servant had returned and would clean these items, and then add them to the cage for storage. I certainly would have additional use of that transport cage in the future.

My slave was humorously attempting, quite unsuccessfully, to cover up his 'outstanding' ebony attachment. I chuckled at this futile attempt. I was also delighted to note that my servant was trying, also unsuccessfully, to hide his own outstanding member, as he seemed not able to take his eyes off my naked slave.

I addressed him: "Dante, this is my new esclavo. Beautiful, isn't he?"

"Sir, I didn't know a person could ever be so black. Wow. (Giggling) An' he has a big boner! Why's he naked?"

My slave made a more determined effort to cover his genitals, pushing his boner between his legs. He shuddered as a frisson of sexual excitement wafted through his small boy body. I could see that he almost collapsed, the feeling had been so intense, and unaccustomed.

"Dante, remember I explained how this boy would be used for sex. All boys your age know about sex. And know about men like me who like to use boys like you for their sex partners."

"Si, señor." (When excited he frequently reverted to the language of his birth family).

(And I had deliberately referred to the boy himself as an object of my sexual interest to see his reaction. He seemed more interested than alarmed).

"And remember Dante, no one is to know about my new slave. Not even our other staff."

"Ciertamente, señor. I will tell no one. Anything else señor?"

Just clean and put those things where they need to go, and then you are off the remainder of the evening. But be sure to keep a com link open just in case I may need something."

Dante smiled.

"Oh si, señor. I will be especially dutiful."

I was starting to think that just perhaps Dante might become my Toy #2. My excitement escalated as I fantasized about making him into a sex object. I could already hear his futile pleas, begging me to free him. Just the idea of owning a former human being as property brought joy into my world.

I watched Dante as he turned away, pushing that cart, and trying at the same time to rearrange his own substantial member. I then realized that If I were actually going to enslave him, I needed to do it very soon. He'd just turned 13 and appeared to be already starting to mature.

As I turned toward my new slave, I suddenly had an outrageous idea, of bringing Dante with me to a certain boy-lover gathering, but that would have to wait. My ebony toy was awaiting. He screeched as I forced his hands away from his stiff penis.

"Boy, you and that penis are now my property. You are not allowed to hide it."

I stood back a few feet admiring the black body in front of me. I was determined to only think of it as an object. It was magnificent. A black effigy of a boy, as dark as a shadow. Perfectly shaped, and pleasing to the eye. His slightly protruding muzzle of a mouth, (now without teeth), his widely flaring and flattened upturned nose, his quite large black eyes, under a strong brow ridge, his tightly napped hair, I thought remarkable, no longer seen in our mostly well mixed society. Then I took in the remainder of my property. The boy itself engendering my most flagrant prurience. The well-formed boy body and the glorious attachment at the apex of his slender legs, almost hidden in a seeming umbra of onyx flesh. I allowed my lascivious lust to take over as I begun to divest myself of my own clothing, thinking of the sex opening on the other side of that black body awaiting my now engorged member, pushing outward its own 7 inches [18 cm]. I had my own sexual equipment enhanced a number of years ago, my scrotum dropping almost halfway to my knees with their oversized orbs capable of repeated climax in relatively short order.

The slave suddenly stopped looking about the relatively bare room and took notice of his master. Or more correctly, his master's genitals. I was happy to see his boner begin its own staccato movement as his body reacted as had been modified to do so. The boy's lust rising to monumental proportions. He would be a slave to his own physical needs.

I saw the boy, in spite of his obvious embarrassment, start to masturbate himself. I totally understood the full measure his own physical lust was engendering. But I took this moment to reinforce our relationship.

I took a small double-thonged strap from a nearby shelf and as he was so intent on his own actions, didn't notice until it was too late, my coming from behind him. I grabbed his right wrist, pulled it upwards, and brought the tawse down onto his beautiful double orbed rump. He screamed quite loudly as I hit the boy again and again on his tender naked skin, an extra loud scream emanating firm his mouth as he tried to intercept the strap with his hand. A mistake on his part, as this would even hurt worse. He started screaming for me to stop.

I stopped only momentarily. His near hysterical screams subsided into a moaning sort of hiccupping.

"Boy, your body is my property. You, are my property. Only I decide what my property is used for. You will never tell your owner to stop doing something to, or with, his property. Never. Do you understand?"

I thoroughly chastened boy weakly replied, only with great effort getting his voice to cooperate. "Yes master."

I had already given him about five or six swipes of the tawse. It was in actuality a specially engineered tool, which could impart the pain of the real object it was made to look like, but would not actually impart any real injury to the boy or his integument.

"Boy, I will administer another four swipes to convince you that I am to be absolutely obeyed. If you again attempt to plead for me to stop I will add an additional two swipes."

He screamed at each swipe but no longer pleaded for me to stop. When he was finally again standing, having wiped away the tears and afraid not to give me his full attention, I would now also make sure he knew to not only obey instantly, but in addition, to do nothing unless directed to do so.

"Boy, you must now consider yourself an object, nothing more. I will direct your every move. Not only will I demand absolute obedience and instant cooperation, you will never again be permitted to operate on your own volition."

He looked at me with a bit of incomprehension.

"That means that you will never again do anything unless directed. Any disobedience will be immediately and severely punished. Even the slightest movement to do anything I have not told you to do, will be immediately and severely punished."

The boy started crying, and then opened his mouth to plead with me.

"Master, please, I…"

He never mouthed another word. I touched a control and instant pain flooded his person. He dropped like a stone and started screaming. This time I used a mechanism in his collar to discipline him. It would cause extreme but only transient pain. It was critical that he knew from the very start that nothing he said was of any importance, except when replying to his master. His owner. That his existence from now on had only one purpose, to be his master's sex toy.

And I took near boundless joy as I started reducing a human being to merely an object to use as I saw fit. It was quite intoxicating.

I helped him stand; he was still shaking a bit from that paroxysm of pain.

"Boy, you obviously didn't understand, so I will repeat myself for your benefit. You will do absolutely nothing unless I direct it. That includes everything. No movement is allowed except to keep your balance, and absolutely no talking unless answering a direct question. Nod only, if you understand."

When he stopped shaking he started crying anew, but he did nod. Fear was now dilating his pupils, as his hand went to his sizeable slave collar. I decided to keep on the offensive.

"And that collar you're wearing declares you to be a Class Three Slave,… for life. That means every day and every minute of every day. For the remainder of your life. That unremovable slave collar will forever remind you. What that means, by law, I can do anything I want with you. Anything!"

Not totally true but close enough. And with my billions, even laws could be breached. I'm deliberately ethical in business because it strokes my ego to know that I achieved my wealth using no opprobrious tactic. Now I will make full use of our legal system.

It was now time to show the boy the reason for his existence. For his master's pleasure. And fortunately for him, a measure of that pleasure was in making him complicit in his own slavery. His predispositions for man-boy sex and of his sexual submissive had been pushed to the max during his modification. The only brain reformatting I had commissioned. I wanted absolutely no other amelioration of his understood slave existence. Of course, now his own desires and sexual compulsions will soon have him cooperating fully in allowing me to use him as a sex toy. It delighted me to know that in very short order, when under the compulsion of his own libido, he would allow himself to become the object for which he was now destined.

And further, it thrilled me to know that when he was not his master's play thing, he would be confined to his alcove, futilely struggling with his absolute and inescapable bondage. Never able to move any portion of his body more than an inch or so, and frequently, or even that. His body, and even its functions, were to be never again under his own control.

And it brought me unreserved elation to know that he would soon understand that this would constitute his entire existence.

I reveled in the joy of owning boys. My joy in equal measure to their understanding that their own lives were now forever reduced to helpless objects of another's pleasure.

"Boy do you know what your mouth is for?"

A now thoroughly cowed boy replied quietly: "Yes master. I need to eat, but I got no more teeth. How can I eat without teeth?"

I laughed. "Don't worry about eating boy. Remember how you were made to drink stuff in that cage boy? That's how you will now eat. But your mouth, it's now a sex hole. That's why your teeth have been removed. And that's how you will think of it. And do you know what your butt hole is?"

"Yes master."

"I'm sure you don't boy. It's no longer for pooping. You've taken your last poop."

"Master, I gotta poop. Or I'll explode."

I chuckled. "Definitely not boy. Your poop, we will always wash out of you. As soon as we leave here, you'll be shown how. Your butt hole is your rear sex hole. That's what you must think of it. You now have two sex holes. You front sex hole and your rear sex hole. How you are to use them, you will learn very shortly."

"Boy, point to your front sex hole."

He hesitantly pointed to his mouth.

"Now point to your rear sex hole."

He pointed toward his butt.

I moved his finger until it pushed against his butt hole. "That, is your rear sex hole."

I picked the boy up and brought him to the large shower room. There I undressed and made him join me in the shower and proceeded to show him in detail how he was to clean both of us. Giving special attention to my butt hole as well as his own. When he hesitated to clean within my own butt hole I brought over a frame and strapped him in. He tried to object, but that was quite easily stopped. His collar was also a good disciplining tool. After a few jolts he allowed me to strap him down. Legs torso, arms, and especially his head which was forced into a tightly form-fitting cradle, with his mouth uppermost. I sat down directly onto his face; he couldn't turn aside."

"Master, please, no." He voice was nearly muffled by my butt.

I touched a control and my butt lifted slightly. "Now do you think you cleaned my butt hole adequately boy?"

"Sorry master, maybe I can do it again."

"You definitely will boy." His tongue had been modified. It would now reach an additional three inches [7½ cm] and was much more muscularized. "Now, boy. Clean out your master's butt."

"I can't Master. My hands are strapped down."

"You have a tongue boy."

He could not believe I would force him to do this. I had to correct him on this misconception. I had to touch that pain control twice before he started rimming me with his long tongue. It felt amazing. More so because I was forcing him to do so. Amid tears and crying I had him continue. I dropped the seat so that my butt rested directly onto his mouth. "Good. Now boy, push your tongue inside."

It took another long jolt of pain but he soon did as he was told. Amazing, his tongue reached in several inches. He kept crying but I was insistent. I made him keep it up about ten more minutes.

I stood and released the shaking boy.

"Now boy, do you think you can clean my butt correctly in the future?"

Through tears and hiccups, he weakly replied: "Yes master."

"Because boy, that will usually be a nightly procedure. I liked having a boy lick my butt hole."

He was quite amazed later when I did the same to him.

I brought him into my bedroom suite and proceeded to mount him onto my large bed. And started teaching him about his sex holes and why they existed. And why he existed.

"Boy, you will eventually learn that you are a toy. Your entire existence is to be played with. And I especially like playing with my toy's two sex holes. I could see that the boy was quite conflicted. He had been so extremely sexualized, and his libido had been pushed so high, that he wanted to be used for sex, yet was quite fearful at the same time. Even when I forced him to learn how to properly lick my butt, even though he cried and resisted, a goodly portion of him delighted in the forcible use of his face and mouth.

I pulled the cuffs on his wrists upward and far apart. I pulled him upward until his head hung downward at the edge of the bed, and connected his wrists far apart, and tightly, to a couple rings set up for that purpose. I then tightened a wide belt about his waist, and pulled him downward, attaching the two side rings via belts to the other end of the bed. Then I tightened the two belts until he started yelling. I eased up on them slightly. I then brought his bent legs above and down toward his head, and again attached the ankle cuffs to the rings behind him via an additional set of straps. I made sure he was not too uncomfortable. I wanted him to learn, and I needed his attention.

I alternately used his front sex hole and then his rear sex hole. I taught him how to suck and use his lips and tongue on my penis and genitals. I taught him how to clamp down with his rear hole sex muscles onto my penis. Back and forth. Front sex hole, rear sex hole. If he ever started to think of either of them as a mouth or poop hole I punished him.

"Boy, what is this?" I asked pushing my three fingers well into his butt.

"Boy, what is this?" I asked pushing my penis into his mouth.

By the end of the session I made sure that he knew never to refer to, or even think of them, other than sex holes. I had to stop several times to both rest and to avoid a too soon orgasm.

"Now boy you know what is about to happen. I will cum in your mouth. Every drop you do not drink down, you will lick up with your tongue. And during that entire time, I will be whipping your butt until you finish."

At long last. I deliberately came in his mouth. Quite a load with my enhanced genitals. I came massively, and I was quite surprised to see the boy try courageously to keep up with his sucking and drinking. A lot spilled out of his mouth between his cheeks but he gave a quite gallant effort.

I completely released the boy and he immediately started crying and shaking as he saw the large puddle on the parquet floor below. "Boy, I'm going to reward you. You did quite well and tried valiantly. As you lick up what you spilled, you have two minutes before I using the strap on your butt."

I will make sure I have an excuse to introduce him to the tawse later this evening. Eventually I expect the boy to be so disciplined, that the collar would never need be used for discipline. Only the tawse, and that, only sparingly. My goal is not to inflict pain. My goal is for my boy to understand that he has no choice but to absolutely obey and submit. And to recognize that he has become a mere object to be used.

My sex toy.

The sex the remainder of the evening was less harried and in the bed, as I proceeded to again use both of his sex holes as was my right. I owned them. But this time I occasionally spurred the boy on with his own orgasms. He seemed to be quite surprised when he even felt the strange orgasms origination within the ring of his interior rectal sphincter. I took delight in sucking on this pitch black turgid morsel of flesh as it projected outward in front. He was quite an avid little sex pot. He was again startled as I not only rimed him, but stuck my own tongue as far as I could, into his own black hole. It was an amazing creation within the dark folds within his black crevasse. By the end of the evening he was every bit as delighted with sex with his master as was his master. The only times I actually did used that tawse, and what a shock that was to his tender black butt, was when he became so wrapped up in his own feelings of pleasure, he did not attend to his master, whose pleasure he had to learn always came first. And second. His was a distant third.

There was another shower episode in the morning, during which I monitored the boy as he cleaned out his own rectum. The boy was given permission to speak but only to obtain instructions.

"Master, will I have to use this water tube every morning?"

That water tube was part of a high-tech buffered enema system. (Buffered so as not to cause cramps). It did most of the work. All the boy had to do was push the tube into his rectum, allow himself to fill (automatic shut-off) and then empty himself. He needed to repeat the process until the liquid ran clean.

"Every morning and every evening. Just think, you'll never again have a normal bowel movement."

He looked at me with less than total comprehension.

"Never go to the toilet again." I changed the subject. "Did you enjoy last night?"

He demurred, but when I stared at him he shook with fear and replied. "Sorta master. I really wish it was always like night-time."

I smiled. The boy was in the process of becoming a slave to his own sex drive. He had responded with eagerness, all except the time when I had sat down on his face (utilizing the available framework) and forced him to lick his way into my butt. His tongue had been well lengthened and could reach far. He then understood the injunction to clean out my butt hole very well during our shower the night before.

He was now ready to start the process of his objectification.

"Boy, you will now be put into your alcove. Remember you are only an object. Objects are stored until the next time they are needed. Think of it as a place where you will be stored until needed for your next use."

"Master, what will I have to do?"

"First of all, boy, you no longer have permission to speak other than to answer a direct question. Secondly, just submit. Completely. Any attempt to avoid what is happening to you will be severely punished."

"But master, I mean…" He never got out another word. He crashed to the floor in sudden pain. It only lasted a second but I tested the thing on myself. The pain was quite severe, but not debilitating and there was no residual pain. When he recovered enough to stand, he automatically pulled away from me in fear.

"Boy, you were told not to speak. As to what you have to do, why nothing. Absolutely nothing. You are merely a toy after all, and I will be putting that toy into storage until needed."

The boy would quickly understand as he is put into his restrictive bondage. For this first day, it would not be excessively severe.

"Remember boy what I instructed you about, last evening. You will do absolutely nothing that I specifically do not command."

He shivered in only partial comprehension. He would learn. Probably the hard way. I lifted him up and walked the few steps to the elevator, then we descended to the alcove room. Here I put him onto a high-tech bed onto which his body could remain immobile, if necessary, for hours. There would be no danger of sore spots or constricted circulation.

"Do not move. You are not to move any part of yourself or your body. Do not look about, do not even move your head. Understand boy?"

Only in a murmur did he did answer: "Yes Master." A few tears seeped out of the corners of his eyes.

I stretched out his cute, very black, 68-pound [31 kg] body, pulling his arms straight above his head. He had earlier asked why there were holes in his hands and feet, now he'd find out. They had been reinforced to withstand quite a bit of pull without distortion or injury. I brought down a small tray from a nearby shelf and picked up a ring about 5 inches [12 cm] in diameter and about a half inch [1¼ cm] thick. I deliberately did not allow the boy to see it before I sprung it open and started pushing it through the opening in the palm of his right hand. I deliberately went slow. I wanted him to feel the movement of the metal through his flesh. I wanted him to know that control was being taken away from him.

He moved his head to watch. It was not unexpected. But it was a mistake. He screamed and suddenly pulled his arms back as he folded into a fetal position is severe pain. When he stopped screaming, I wiped his tears and again pulled his arms above his head.

I never explained the punishment. And he never tried to ask why, fortunately for him. I do not derive pleasure by inflicting pain. I derived my pleasure from absolute control. But the boy had to be trained, and had to be made to understand his new status. He was only an object. And object with two sex holes. I allow the object to experience pleasure and orgasm in order to turn him into controllable object. To eventually get this object to the point where even his need for climax eventually takes all control away from him. That is why I have the boy modified for maximum sexification.

He will become my sex toy. And only that.

To watch a human boy as he is reduced to absolutely nothing but a sex toy, that is my goal. That is my pleasure. That is the ultimate joy of owning a boy.

I closed the circle and then did likewise with the other hand, going even slower. As I proceeded to the other end of his body, my hand caressed my property. Caressed the arm, the boy's naked chest massaging the little boy nib, and down towards the boy's groin, my finger toying with the boy's indented belly button. I reminded the boy not to move.

"Boy, remember you are merely property, a thing, a body for me to toy with. You exist for only one purpose. For me to use for my pleasure. If you move without my explicit permission, that means you are stealing from me. You are using something that is rightfully mine. Right now, you are not to move, or you will suffer the consequences. I'm reminding you, because I'd rather not punish you. I'll now be playing with my property's penis and little boy balls. You will feel my hand. It may even feel pleasurable. It definitely will be very sensitive. But your genitals no longer belong to you. They are mine to play with whenever I wish."

I really did not want to interrupt this process of putting my boy into bondage by having to discipline him. It was for my benefit that I was endeavoring to keep my boy from needless pain. As the days and weeks progress, I wanted my boy to become passive as he is put into bondage. To recognize that he is merely a toy which, for the time being, has no use. Things not in use, get put into storage. Unless he is being used for sex by his master, there is no other activity he should be engaged in. His body has absolutely no other use. His existence has absolutely no other meaning.

His being put into this manner of storage is to become a ritual, signifying that he has no other purpose. His loss of physical freedom signifying that he is merely an object which for the duration of his time in his alcove, this object is permitted absolutely no self-willed activity.

My hand played with his genitals, the contrast of his severely black skin against mine a wonder to see. My hand briefly made entrance into the boy's rectum for no other reason than to make the boy realize that his owner can do anything he wished with his property. Except for an almost automatic response to such an intimate invasion, the boy lay still as commanded. My hand roamed down the inner sensitive flesh of the boy's leg to the foot which it caressed, spending time inspecting the deep hole which transfixed the upper portion of the boy's foot.

The ring, which I pushed slowly through the hole into the boy's right foot, was about 7 inches [18 cm] in diameter. As I pushed the ring through, the boy jerked his foot out of my grasp. He right away knew he did wrong. This time I used a tawse against that leg. He yelled but otherwise did not react. He had learned to lay passively. I pushed the ring through and proceeded with the other foot in a more expeditious manner.

He now lay supine, his four extremities transfixed with four large rings. He had to know what they were for. I clipped all four rings to four widely spread connections which caused his body to be pulled loosely into a spread-eagled position. I then touched a control which pulled on all four extremities until his body was tightened but only to a firm hold, nothing severe enough to cause pain. He gasped several times as he felt his body forced into its new position, but fortunately for him, mouthed no words.

The next items he would not so blithely surrender to. I picked up a rather cruel looking mouth gag, with its 16 pegs exiting its surface in two curved rows. These would be pushed through the boy's upper and lower lips. The piercings were already well established. I had to warn the boy not to struggle.

"Just open your mouth boy, and do not dare resist. This will happen. You cannot avoid it."

He meekly opened his toothless mouth and I maneuvered the large apparatus inside, lining up all the pegs. It was a rigid composite that would fill his entire mouth. It had some small give except for the surfaces holding the pegs. When I was satisfied with its seating, still allowing the boy to swallow, I then pulled up his upper lip and gradually lined up all eight pegs and pushed them through.

The boy I could see tried not to struggle, but for a first time, this had to be a quite scary and taxing procedure. I petted the thin layer of tightly napped hair which was allowed to remain on his head. I so loved the feel of that springy mesh. He actually seemed to take some comfort in my touch. The pegs, a tarnish free metal, stuck out about a good quarter of an inch [5 mm]; I did his lower lip in like manner, which was a bit more struggle for both of us. But it to was finally accomplished.

I stepped back to see the near finished product. It was startling to see the boy's mouth, held open with an interior structure, and especially seeing sixteen closely spaced pins sticking through his very flesh. I was so aroused myself just looking at the manipulated boy. His mouth was now forced to remain open about an inch and a half [4 cm]. I then fitted onto the lower portion of his face, a sizeable outer muzzle which extended from his nose to fully under his chin, making sure its own 16 holes were also pushed through where they were intended. The muzzle was a creamy white, in contrast to the boy's skin. After securing its several straps about the boy's head, and tightening the entire muzzle until it was snug, the only thing a person could see of the boy's lower face was a heavy leather-like muzzle, and a round opening in the middle of his mouth. That would be for the boy's forced feeding apparatus. The forced feeding apparatus would fasten onto those 16 pegs, adhering quite tightly, and compressing the boy's lips and muzzle into a leak proof seal.

The boy made numerous sounds of complaint throughout the procedure, but otherwise remained submissive. I then attached the feeding tube to the front, and another cable to the ring at the top of the boy's head harness, formed from the straps holding the heavy muzzle in place. One reinforcing strap, which circled the boy's head from under his chin and around the top of his head I further tightened eliciting a moan from the boy. This reinforced strap would come into play later.

I then stood back, admiring my handy work. The boy was still able to see and hear. Other attachments, at some later date, would frequently be used to change that scenario. I then hit a control and all five cables began to pull in unison. There were tension controls in the lines to stop the tightening before any injury could occur, but the boy would be pulled into a quite strong spread-eagle. The one atop his head not as severe.

The boy started screaming, albeit with a squelched decibel rating due to his gag and muzzle. His eyes I deliberately left uncovered this time. I wanted to see his eyes as his body was pulled into extreme tightness. His screams hit a new octave as his body was lifted off the bed. His struggles were a joy to watch. I finally hit another control and the tension dropped to a manageable level for the boy's muscles and ligaments. Though they had been strengthened during modification I did not want to injure the boy nor even keep him in discomfort. Just enough tension to maintain his body in a strong bondage restraint. The boy's toes, with their individual tightly fitted permanent doubled rings of metal, (the outer rings to be used as attachment points), would not be used in this current bondage scenario.

I held the boy's muzzle to get his attention. "Boy, now you are beginning to understand how my toy will be stored every day. Except when in your master's bed at night, you will be put into extreme bondage as you are now. Though the specific type of bondage will vary."

The boy started struggling anew, this time with muffled moaning and copious tears.

I parted with a final thrust. "Boy, you now understand the severity of your enslavement. During your days, you will never again be allowed the freedom of movement, let alone be allowed to actually do anything other than merely enjoy your storage."

This time the boy could at least flex his fingers and toes, and move a trifle. Future bondage situations will not even allow that much movement.

There was one final stage to make the bondage scenario complete. This was more high-tech. The devices seemed simple but were works of technology. The first seemed to be a simple hollow rod which was fitted with a tube for urine disposal. I grabbed the boy's black 5-inch [12½ cm] boy-tube of nearly rigid flesh and pushed in the tube. The boy gave out a muffled squeal as I slowly pushed it inward, a full 6 [15 cm] inches. I touched a control and an interior tube snaked through the boy's urethra, eventually breaching the bladder's sphincter. Urine started to flow through the tube. (The boy would never again be allowed to urinate in any other manner. That sphincter was no longer under the boy's willful control).

Next, I pushed a sizeable plug into the boy's butt hole, and about 8 inches [20 cm] into his rectum. The boy's rectum was modified to automatically lubricate. I reveled in the boy's reaction both verbal and physical. I again touched another control and the boy screamed (I presumed) with great force as the tube expanded and self-adhered to the boy's interior flesh.

I again stood back to admire the finished product. I took great delight in knowing that the black body in front of me was well on its way in becoming nothing more than an object. A quite delightful sex toy.

Then I hit a control and smiled as that object's sex parts came alive, and its ineffectual struggles, and tears, suddenly stopped. His intense sexual stimulation during storage would be a normal condition. With only rare exceptions, however, he would be kept at the edge of orgasm, without the luxury of climax. I smiled as I left the boy writhing in sexual heat.

My sex toy will be quite ready (and randy) tonight.

***

As those first weeks went by, Toy #1, I was surprised to see, very quickly learned never to disobey, and with only minor lapses, stopped trying to do anything not specifically ordered, though I could see that he thoroughly hated that portion of his limited existence. It took him quite some time before he stopped struggling against his bondage. Well, he never quite did quite stop all of those struggles. Perhaps he was exercising the little actual freedom he was given.

One thing did happen, however, as intended. He soon became quite addicted to his use as a sex toy. Of course, it was one of the few things he was allowed the freedom to enjoy. I also wondered from time to time, how well did he resign himself to the fact that he was now merely an object to be used as a sex toy. This was one aspect of my ownership of a (former) human being in which I took such monumental delight.

Chapter 3
Dante, Toy #2

I was delighted with the news that Toy #2 would soon be back from modification at the BoyToys, Inc. labs. It had nearly the same modifications done to him as I had with Toy #1, with two major exceptions. The differences being that instead of an ebony black Negroid of 11½ years, Dante, or Toy #2, would be a slightly more mature Latino, in the body of a 13-year-old, forever locked into the very beginnings of pubescence. (Yes, I enslaved my 'faithful' servant). I had his smoldering Latino looks push to their extreme, and he come out looking absolutely magnificent. He was now a light brown boy with slightly darker sex parts and butt-hole. Oh, the second exception, I took away his ability to use language. It was quite simple. That part of his brain which enabled a person to speak, was redirected to another use. To allow the boy greater perception of his butt-gasms! This would be one ultra-sexified boy!

I adamantly deny that I should be castigated for enslaving my (former) 'faithful' servant. Some individuals are only destined to be used.

To think it was only four months ago when I took that same boy to a gathering of boy-lovers along with their slaveboys. A meeting which I attended under an alias. I used the opportunity to gage whether it would be possibly to make my faithful servant Dante, into my next (faithful) slave-toy. Unknown to the boy, I had recently started him on a sexual maturation blocker, just in case. He had already sexually progressed to the very cusp of pubescence, and I did not want him to mature any further. Just in case he was to become Toy #2.

I laughed to myself remembering back to when Dante had prepared his own alcove of subjugation, as I now thought of them. While in those alcoves, the boys would be maintained in quite unforgiving and rigid bondage. Only able to contemplate what they will never be able to do again, like even move a finger without their master's wish. Being forever reduced to a mere object. And poor Dante, he would go absolutely bonkers when he realized what I had in store for him. We would see. I remember Dante's curiosity when he asked me about the boy in alcove number 1, not quite four months ago.

***

Dante was about to get the second alcove readied for its prospective occupant, having been well educated in what was to go into it, and how the items were to be put in place. I was at the time so wanting to find my next boytoy. Dante had been cleaning out Toy #1's forced feeding apparatus.

"Sir, don't he ever get out? He can't even talk with that thing around his face."

"Dante, I see this gets you excited, or is that something else trying to poke through your shorts?"

Dante covered himself, as even his dark complexion could not keep the evidence of his embarrassment from being obvious. And he eventually started to laugh with me as I could not restrain myself.

"Don't worry boy, I suspect you too are starting to get interested in boy-boy sex. Don't deny it."

"Si, señor. I think. But that boy there, he never leaves that frame-thing he's strapped into? I mean except when…" Dante left the sentence hanging.

"Yes Dante, he's my slave. He will never be freed from his alcove except when he's in my bed doing sex stuff with his master. I can assure you, he enjoys that part of his existence almost as much as his master. Understand boy?"

"Si, I think so señor. I like the sex feelings I get when I make myself have a boy-gasm." As soon as he said it, Dante realized his apparent gaff. And again, turned a bit red.

"Look Dante, in front of me there's no need to dissemble." (I realized he didn't understand that word). "To not say exactly what you mean. You certainly know that I use this boy here for intimate sex. No need to be embarrassed about your own desires."

Dante smiled. "Si señor. I think I also like boy-boy sex." He then looked up at me. "Or maybe even boy-man sex. You are very handsome Señor, for a real old guy."

I was in my late 30s but to Dante that had to seem quite old. I did keep my body young looking and fit (for an old guy), and used all the measures of modern medicine to keep it that way. I was probably quite typical of our society on Bundus III, with a very mixed ethnicity. According to my own DNA profile, I was a lot of Oriental mixed in with a smattering of Arabian and Caucasian, plus a few other ingredients. I considered myself rather good looking. I stood a smidge under 6 feet [1.80 m], and hit the scales, (when I didn't cheat on my diet), at a respectful 164 pounds [74 kg]. I was apparently well formed for my size frame.

"Good, with that settled, you know exactly what to do. I want this next alcove prepared for my next slaveboy."

"Si señor."

Dante had to rip his attention away from the boy who was weakly struggling in his bondage in the alcove immediately to his left. I'd put toy #1, this time, into a real-replica straight jacket. I didn't even know what such a thing was at first; it had been mentioned in the text of one of my books in my other collection. When I had first described it to the company I had make the replica (I actually had several types made with additional portions thought up by myself), I was asked what it was for.

The model in which my boy was entrapped also had an extension which held his head quite rigidly. He was quite immobilized as the straight jacket itself was held nearly immobile with straps connecting its entire outer edge to various stanchions around the boy's frame or cage. Besides the arm extensions being pulled tight, there was also a wide strap which was pulled quite tightly through his groin, also holding the jacket in place lengthwise. The boy's genitals extended through a hole in this extension, his penis currently equipped with a urethral sound which, let's just say, kept the boy exceedingly stimulated.

The extension of the straight jacket turned into a thick cord which tightly wound through his cute butt cheeks, where it kept anther sizeable stimulating device in place, which was itself quite a distance into the boy's rectum. He had writhed quite nicely as I had forced the item into his rear sex hole. I made sure it was not excessively thick as I wanted his butt to be able to give his master full and tight pleasure when I used it for the main purpose for which butt hole now existed.

The boy's legs were wound tightly in their own bag, each leg in its sperate compartment, which was in turn anchored to the bottom of his cage. Even the boy's fingers and toes were held separately. The jacket and leg bag were held quite tightly within the framed structure. There was also a quite constricting head encasement, made from breathable polymer like the jacket and leg bag, which tightly ensconced the entirety of the boy's head except for his eyes. Within the boy's mouth was a sizeable gag with a small port where Dante gave him some liquid from time to time. His present gag and head encasement, unlike his other sometimes utilized gags and muzzles, did not make use of the 16 holes piercing his flesh above and below his heavy lips.

Through the opening, the boy could actually look outward and see me standing in front of him, although his sexual arousal barely allowed him the wherewithal to actually think about anything other than his excruciating need for climax. Between the boy's stimulation devices, and even his bondage, he was one quite sexually aroused boy. The devices were connected wirelessly to a computer which would only permit the boy to reach the edge of climax but never actually achieve it. He would surely be a dervish in my bed tonight.

I took delight as the boy, even after several weeks, had yet to accommodate himself to his enforced bondage, still struggling against the inevitable, as I physically restrained him each morning in any one of the many bondage complexes available.

***

As for Dante, I had decided to test him out so to speak, and at the same time use him to gain entry into a well-known gathering of boylovers together with their slaveboys. I took Dante with me on my limited range grav-air-car, to a city only 500 km [300 mi] distant. Dante amused himself trying on the collection of slave harnesses which I had purchased just for this outing.

"Sir, how does this one stay up?" Dante had tried to put on a third harness.

"Dante, that one needs a slave collar to which it is attached. Come here."

The naked boy scampered over, excited about the trip, and not at all concerned with his naked boy body, in spite of the fact that boys about his age were discovering the concept of modesty. I suppose he was inured by his exposure to my naked slave whom he was required to feed during the day.

"Here boy, try this on. It's a replica slave collar. The straps of that harness attach both front and back. "

Dante held the harness as I attached it to his (fake) slave collar. He was thrilled as he modeled the thing for me, his genitals thrust through an opening, putting them on exhibit. He seemed to take delight in showing off his barely starting to mature, family jewels. His penis on rigid display to its full 5 inches [12 cm]. (At that moment I decided that if the boy were to become Toy #2, I'd also have the boy tightly circumcised. The chastity device was needed to pull back his foreskin).

That was the harness he wore, as I guided the boy on leash, into the assembly. Even without modification, Dante was a strikingly beautiful boy. Because his naked audaciousness seemed to have been short-circuited by the prospect of being on display before a congregation of virtual strangers, I had his cuffed wrists attached to a portion of his harness which had loops encircling his thighs immediately adjacent to his displayed genitals. The cuffs attached to the outside of this harness, so he could not come close to covering himself up. There were additional cuffs around his upper arms which connected to the harness's waist belt. His arms and hands were going nowhere. The part not being covered up was also encased into a relatively harmless chastity device which still allowed a good view of his light brown penis which was kept in full arousal by the expedient of giving the boy a drug, specifically designed to keep prepubescent (and barely pubescent) boys strongly erect, right before the event.

After the boy got over the wonder of seeing all the other mostly naked slaves on display, he seemed to loosen up and liven up. There were a few who were truly scary to my quite innocent boy. Several of the slaves had been visibly castrated, and one was totally smooth. I wondered how that boy peed since I could see no opening whatsoever. I never did find out but could imagine several methods.

I mingled and had a good time, though I thought most of the slaves excessively coddled. And I did find out one thing I had determined to discover. Dante was certainly a boy-boy kind of boy, and on the way home had even allowed me to bring him to climax on several occasions, once with my finger firmly lodged into his small rectal opening. When we got back to my abode I immediately sent his DNA to the BoyToys, Inc. labs to find out whether he was able to be modified by gene-splice.

Two days later I knew I had my Toy #2. Now to inform the boy himself. It would be a real challenge to single handedly divest the boy of his clothes and install him into the SafeSecure™ Boy Transportation Cage, which I had him have in readiness in the main hall.

I had already had the paperwork rushed through which would prove that the boy had reached his majority of 16 years (his appearance explained away by his having been put on anti-maturation drugs). It was then easy, with my billions, to secure both collar and documentation of his voluntary Class Two Enslavement. All was in readiness. I was excited, anticipating the boy's reaction.

When I reached the hall, all was in readiness.

"Sir, who's the cage being readied for?"

"I will explain in a moment. First, I want you to read something. Put this cube into the multi-comp."

"What is it sir?"

"You will discover that when you read it."

He did so. "I hereby grant the wish of the petitioner, Dante Menendez, citizen # 45628756, of the Province of Crimea, on this day 24 June, 787 AF, to be enslaved under the provisions of the Unified Statutes, Number 2158, Section 1, and in accord with the Aligned Nations Consensual Slavery Act, section 7. So be it recorded."

"Sir, I don't understand. What is this?"

"That, Dante, is the official and legal acceptance by this Province's Slave Court of your petition to become a Class Two voluntary slave, made just yesterday."

"But sir, I never did that. And besides don't you have to be 16 to petition to become a Class Two Slave?"

"Absolutely, boy. And I also have the legal proof that you reached your 16th birthday just yesterday."

I smiled, wondering when the poor boy would finally understand what I had just done. The boy was not unintelligent. He started turning away with almost no outward sign of alarm. He then suddenly sprinted towards the door. I laughed as he found it impossible to open.

He yelled "No!" loud enough to break glass as I reached for him. I deliberately avoided using anything but physical force to divest him of all his clothes and force his small naked body onto a side counter where I finally had to use a voluntary muscle inhibitor to make him manageable.

He started crying when he realized he could no longer avoid what I was doing to him. He kept looking at me and then at that cage. His eyes about the only thing he could move. I soon had most of the two main attachments adhered to his small naked body, the butt evacuation plug and catheter, and proceeded to put him into the Transportation Cage. His legs were glided into their sleeves, and then after putting him into a sitting position, his arms then went into their separate compartments. I switched on the micro force-fields, and he was trapped. Only his face was yet free. I deliberately waited for the drug to wear off, sitting on a nearby chair, sipping on a 50-year-old cognac. Watching my former 'faithful servant'. Soon to be my 'faithful' Toy #2.

About ten minutes later I heard a faint noise from his mouth. Two minutes more, a loud wail. "Why? I was always a good boy. Why you doing this to me?"

"Dante, you're a beautiful boy. And I know you like man-boy sex. I want you around, just at your current age, forever. You'll make me a wonderful slave and become my Toy #2."

He started again crying. "Por favor, Señor Brown, por favor, no me meke un esclavo!"

"English boy, use English."

"Please Señor Brown, I don't what to be a slave. Please don't make me a slave."

"Dante, according to that document, you already are a slave. I'm now sending you in for modification, just like Toy #1. Just think, in about three months you will be in alcove 2, right next to Toy #1."

"No, noooo! Por favor, no."

Dante yelled and then cursed in several languages as I secured the slave collar about his neck. It was at that point that there was absolutely no way back for him. The collar I couldn't remove even if I wanted to. He then fought as I forced the feeding tube into his mouth and touched the control which made it adhere to his mouth. He could no longer speak, but his tears cascaded down. I was in joyous rapture. It was even more satisfying making a boy I had known for most of his life, into a slave, and the thought that he will eventually be forced to become no more than an object for my pleasure and sexual use, was so ultra-satisfying.

I finished with his attachments, closed the cage, and put it onto the awaiting cradle. That night, Dante was shipped to the BoyToys. Inc. lab. They already had their detailed instructions. I wondered what he would think when he was released after his modification and realized that he was just another toy. Yes, turning a human boy into a sex toy was so rapturously joyful. I would soon have my Toy #2.

***

Of the three toys who so far made it into my final collection, it was Dante, Toy #2, who maintained, by far, the longest struggle before he finally acquiesced to the inevitable. It was almost a full two months, receiving a full measure of punishments, before he stopped trying to avoid his being put into storage after his night of man-boy sex. It was almost three months before he had stopped trying to speak without permission. It was over five months before he would allow himself to be thought of as an object. A toy, only existing for his master's pleasure and amusement.

But on the other hand, he was definitely the most enthusiastic when in bed with his owner. His beautiful light brown skin was a delight to caress, his penis was almost always begging to be sucked to orgasm, his tight brown sex hole literally clamped down on his owner's penis. And most surprisingly, he absolutely went crazy licking his way into his master's rectum, driving his lengthened tongue well into its velvety depths. Of all of my toys, he became my favorite, and that was why my use of his body was the most flagrant. That was why I made sure that his bondage was the most severe. That was why I was so determined to have him eventually break, admitting to both me and himself that he was now only an object.

Thus, for him, I had commissioned possibly the most severe of restraints. In form it was quite simple. Its engineering was a feat of immense proportions. In its use, it was absolutely the most diabolical. It consisted of two halves. Each weighing no more than 15 pounds [7 kg]. A quite form fitting front and back. The boy would be laid out onto one half, and the other lowered over him. When a control was touched, the thing became a rigid whole, totally encasing the boy into absolute rigid encasement, only allowing him to breathe. There were openings for nose, eyes, mouth, genitals, and butt hole. To the boy inside, it was as if two rigid halves were pressed tightly against every portion of his body, separating even toes and fingers. To the onlooker, it was as if the boy were dipped into molten metal and pulled out to have the metal congeal about him.

Another amazing aspect of this item, the boy could be in various positions though there were only limited arrangements. In later months, I occasionally had toy #2 encased while bent over, or in a sitting position, with excellent access to the boy's butt hole.

Though all openings could be closed if I so wished, usually I had other things I wanted to do with the boy's butt hole and genitals. At times I allowed the boy to both see and hear, other times he was deprived of these senses, the encasement then actually invading the boy's ear canals. The boy, still to this day, shudders when he sees the item sitting in his alcove. It was the one thing he most feared.

I only used it sparingly, since I did not want the boy to ever get use to this method of bondage.

But it wasn't the very first time I put Dante, or toy #2, into this kind of encasement, when I got the most determined struggle; it was the second time. After he understood what it was all about, and its consequences. I remember I had brought the boy down to his alcove that one morning after a quite athletic night of man-boy sex. It was nearly a month after I had made him toy #2.

When he saw that bottom shell awaiting him on his alcove bed, he went berserk. Even after repeatedly using his collar against him (the pain is not debilitating), he still tried to escape, even knowing that escape was impossible. Finally, I merely used a neural dampener on him. And discovered this was a beautiful way to put him into what he called the shell storage.

In desperation, because I really didn't want to harm the boy, I grabbed the first thing I could find in the drug cabinet and wound up fully sedating him. I lay him out on top of that bottom shell wondering how to proceed. Then the idea came to me. What gave me the greatest charge was watching him as he was put into the shell while he knew what was going to happen once the thing first sealed. After it sealed, there was nothing more the boy could do to stop the inevitable. Hearing first the screams, and then the whimpering yells, and then the muffled moans, as the structure became rigid was exquisitely entertaining.

One feature of the double shell capture, was that it could be programed to become fully rigid over a protracted period of time, up to about ten minutes, all the while the person inside is helpless. And screaming. And then eventually barely moaning as the facial portion gradually became rigid with the rest of the shell. Eventually, even though there is a mouth opening, as the facial portion becomes rigid, the boy's facial muscles have less and less ability to fully function, finally limiting its occupant to the barest mouthings. Of course, when the boy's forced-feeding tube is implanted into his front sex hole, he can do nothing more. Except wildly move his eyes.

That was when I got the idea for the neural dampener. The one I had was a small wafer-thin disk which could be adhered to the back of the boy's neck. If I put it inside the boy's slave collar, he cannot remove it. Then it can be activated at will. It has various settings but what it does is dampen the neural commands which are transmitted up and down the person's spinal column. Sort of, but not exactly, slowing the boy's movements. I put it on its highest setting and toy #2 was totally at my mercy. It would take him ten minutes just to open his mouth.

I placed the disk, and waited for the boy to recover from the sedation. When the monitors showed that he was awake I spoke.

"Boy, you know now that escape from what I wish to do to you is impossible." I then explained his situation and exactly what I was going to do. I placed the top shell on his body and then sealed it, and only then deactivated the neural dampener. He immediately started alternating from screaming, to crying, to pleading. It was all music to my ears. And I told him that. I timed it. It took 10.1 minutes to become fully rigid. I then pushed into his butt the plug and put it on its highest setting. His moans, I think, hit a half octave higher. Then I toyed with his genitals, and after playing with them for several minutes, pushed the stimulation rod into his urethra. And turned it also to its highest setting. Making sure that he could not climax, I left him that way for over 30 straight hours. For the last 24 hours, I shut off his sight and hearing. He'd know now not to try to defy me.

The third time he saw that shell awaiting him, knowing that he could do absolutely nothing to stop it from happening, he merely collapsed into a puddle on the floor crying. Begging me not to put him into the 'shell-thing'. Of course, the more he reacted like that, the more enjoyment I got out of doing it.

Eventually, about the three-month mark, he saw the shell and meekly climbed onto the table and lay down on the shell. I asked him specifically what he was thinking. In a voice of pure despair, he lugubriously replied: "I don't have the energy to fight any more." Quiet tears were siding down his cheeks. "You win. I'm your toy."

"You're not quite there yet boy. Until you passively, with perfect willingness, allow me to put you into this restraint, you will not have really admitted to yourself that you indeed are my toy. Only then will you have arrived where I eventually want you. A toy never even considers whether or not it wants something to happen. Even an intelligent, thinking toy, comes to the realization that any objection to being used in whatever manner its owner wishes, is totally irrelevant."

As I previously stated, it took toy #2 over five months to arrive at that point. And it wasn't when he voluntarily climbed onto that bed and lay down onto the bottom half of that shell. It was when he didn't even look to see what had been prepared for him, merely awaiting my command. Realizing that absolutely nothing was at his own will. That night I rejoiced, recognizing that my most difficult boy had finally been totally defeated. Dante had truly become toy #2.

Chapter 4
Excursion to Old Earth and Acquisition of Aren, Toy #3

Foy my next boy, who would be turned into Toy #3, I decided I wanted a cute, young, blue-eyed blond. Perhaps 8 or 9 years of age. I was assured by BoyToys, Inc. that the boy's sex parts could be made to accommodate my fairly average 7 inches [18 cm], and that he could be made to totally enjoy his boy-man sex. I further decided that this boy would never be able to climax only by penile stimulation alone. It would dribble out its aphrodisiac and sex enhancement elixir of enzymes, but no matter how it was stimulated, his arousal will always fall short of climax. Instead, this boy would only experience orgasm, and as the doctor assured me, the boy would be so modified to enjoy long lasting and intense orgasm, by rectal stimulation. He used the term 'butt-gasm'. After the boy came to understand what was happening, would be begging for rectal insertion of anything.

Unfortunately, pure blue-eyed blonds were so uncommon on Bundus III, especially in the two countries where they could be obtained to be enslaved as Class Three Slaves, it could be closer to never when I could get my next boy. Unfortunately, I'd been told by an agent of BoyAbductions, Lmt., that the boy could be had from either Tringus IV, or from old earth. Quite expensive undertakings.

Fortunately, I was a billionaire. And I suddenly decided that I wanted the joy of participating in the boy's abduction. I wanted to look into the boy's eyes when he finally realized that he was being kidnapped. And later when he realized that he was to be enslaved. That would be very expensive, necessitating a trip to old earth. But what is the use of being filthy rich if you could not enjoy all those riches and the power it brings with it?

I contacted BoyAbductions, Lmt., and since they understood that money was no object, (and they would bill me cost plus), they immediately sent to my abode on the beautiful Whatever Peninsula (a name euphemistically accrued from centuries ago when the area was a bastion of lawlessness, and whatever you wanted to do, was the order of the day), two of their agents. The one fellow I could see was quite the type of person one would seem to have confidence in as soon as you saw him. His name was Vasili Dumitrov, a man of a rather stark and foreboding visage.

I stood to greet my guest, only to discover a small naked slave who had accompanied him, come belatedly through the door and who interrupted us, having the audacity to actually announce without even getting permission to speak: "Master, the grav car is secured."

I did understand that they had arrived in their own grav-car, a somewhat difficult vehicle for an amateur piolet to master, so I was amused at this pronouncement from a small prepubescent slaveboy, starkly obvious by the collar about his neck, and the strange slave harness he was wearing.

I was rather appalled at the apparent lack of discipline exhibited by the slave, but was determined to ignore it. I decided that the first gentleman was quite my image of what an experienced abduction agent would be. Of course, I had already looked up the record of this person and had read that it was stellar. It was he whom I addressed. The slave I was not even aware of his name as he had not been introduced.

"Mr. Dumitrov, I'm glad to make your acquaintance. I'll be quite happy to discipline your slave if you wish."

The man laughed. He laughed. "Mr. Brown. Good luck. I've had the boy for over almost 20 years and I haven't had too much luck myself."

The slave had the temerity to smile. I decided then and there that I would try to find an opportunity to discipline the slave myself. At the very least, I would demand the slave's obedience and absolute respect. For now, I took pains to ignore the creature.

After the usual bantering of newly met people I got right down to business. "Mr. Dumitrov, I would like to hire you to help me in obtaining a boy from old earth. I know that you have not previously worked off planet, but I assure you I can financially make it worth your time and effort. Money is no object."

He again chuckled. "Mr. Brown, we need to apologize. You asked for two agents but only acquired one. I'm sorry but just most recently, I became merely an executive. I no longer have a valid license with the Slave Authority to obtain any boy, let alone one from earth."

I was sorely disgruntled, but being a well-honed man of business, made no show of even annoyance. "That is most unfortunate, but then is there another agent coming?"

"He is here. My slave is well capable; he is a currently licensed abduction agent and quite well trained."

The slave, rose from his kneeling position next to his master and bowed in my direction. He looked at his master (getting permission I presumed) and spoke: "Mr. Brown. I have not been off Bundus III since before my enslavement but I would be free and willing to do your bidding. Perhaps if you can outline exactly the attributes of the boy you are seeking and we can at least advise."

This is a rare time when I missed my former servant. He always seemed to appear when needed. I needed time to rethink things. And I am certain that that slave deliberated baited me using the phrase 'I would be free and willing'. I barely tolerate impertinence even in a business acquaintance. I rang for my current boy, and addressed the older agent.

"Mr. Dumitrov, I believe I have made a grave error. I made an assumption and I apologize both to you and your slave. My I address him directly?"

Mr. Dumitrov replied rather curtly. "Mr. Brown, let's stop trying to be polite. I'm a man of few words. I had been an agent but am now retired. My slave, however, is not, and although I will be with him to give advice, I assure you he is fully capable of carrying out this assignment, even if it happens to take us off planet."

At that propitious moment, my current servant boy appeared and I instructed him to bring in the drink cart. I needed time to regroup and rethink.

"Mr. Dumitrov, I believe I have a cognac you could enjoy. It's 50-year-old Gold Dominion Reserve. Shall I offer your slave anything?"

This was the very first time that the older man cracked a smile. That indeed was a near unmatched cognac. I had discovered that cognac was his favored drink. However, I knew nothing about the slave, and was in a minor quandary. He hadn't even been listed in my databanks. Which I find remarkable.

Mr. Dumitrov replied as he poured a generous portion into a crystal goblet. "Ah! This superior cognac has won you my appreciation. As for my support and that of my slave, I await particulars. I would direct you to my file and under it you will find the name Kon Yan. If you enter the following, TSC99231, you can retrieve his file. By law, the file is under his slave number." After a healthy sip he added: "This is the best cognac I have tasted since my reception by the owners of the Xanadu resort, several years past. I will assume you have heard of it."

Now I even laughed. The old codger was playing my game. My regard went up a notch. And I decided to read that file later.

"Good. I must inquire what the particular cognac was that was offered. It had been my belief that this Gold Dominion was the best. But I would invite your evaluation. As for trusting your slave, I'm ready to do so. I'll read that file later."

And I now did notice that his slave was indeed well trained. The obedience and submission were covered up by a demeaner of aplomb. I was finally picking up some quite subtle signals between them. They must have been master and slave for many years. The boy had obviously been long stabilized at his apparent age

My servant left, picking up my signal.

Mr. Dumitrov then spoke. "Mr. Brown, you will learn that my slaveboy is a superior agent. And is remarkably adept at many tasks. And if we are to join forces, let me give both you and my slave permission to converse at will. Any other arrangement would be absurd."

I agreed. "Boy, what name would prefer I use?"

"Sir, my master calls me by many names, some even polite. But when I am behaving, I go by the name of Kon." The slave smiled. I also noted a small interaction which quite shocked me. It would never have occurred to me that a master and slave could be in some kind of relationship. The very idea was disquieting.

I wanted no misunderstandings. "And Kon, you need to know that the boy I would have you abduct will become my sexslave, and be regarded and treated as mere property. If you would object to this I will find another agent."

"I am a slave, sir. Like other slaves I obey and submit. I will obey my master. That I do so quite willingly seems irrelevant."

My master spoiled my line by giving out a loud guffaw.

Kon Yan's perspective

Ten days later we were on the way to earth in a private null-time ship. I had never before known a private individual to own one. I told my master to double his charge. He laughed and said he'd already quadrupled it. Quite a shame that I would receive nothing. A slave owns nothing. Not even his own slave collar. And I could tell that this super rich Mr. Brown is a bit reticent around me. I suspect that he does not understand how a slave can be treated as anything but absolute property.

OK, I am property, but my master still cares for me. I would assume that this Mr. Brown will use his own slaves as merely objects. But if not us, there would always be another. My master may as well be the one to get rich. So long as there are human beings, there will be slaves. And as long as there are slaves, there will be those treated as mere objects.

We reached earth orbit and docked at a space station. I had never been on a sky-hook. Or even seen one except on a holo. It's very concept is mind boggling. Here was a large space station in stationary orbit above the South American Federation. At the earth's equator for reasons not deemed necessary to explain here. Then imagine a super-macro molecule, gram for gram about 1,000 times stronger than hi-steel, and more resilient than spider silk. On a cable made of billions of strands of this substance, connect it to a base on earth, about 22,000 miles [36,000 km] downward. Then attach to it, cable cars. That is the sky-hook on which we were traveling down to earth. Infinity less expensive than putting us into orbit or out of orbit, by any other means.

"Master, do you know where we'll be traveling yet?"

"Yes. Mr. Brown has engaged an air car similar in design to the Tuskagee IV that you piolet, but about five times the size. It seatst ten comfortably. It will take us immediately to a country called the Scandinavian Republic. A name dredged up from earth, pre-collapse. According to our sources, at least 7% of the population are of a sufficient genome to be blue eyed blonds. It's there where we will be put to work. The difficulty will be in hacking into a database from which we can find the information we need. I'd rather abduct a boy from their equivalent of a State Home for Children. The real difficulty is that Mr. Brown wants an 8 or 9-year-old. It may become necessary to abduct several dozen boys, or more, and conduct our own test for the desired DNA, and run our own brain scans."

"Master, why doesn't Mr. Brown merely abduct his own boy and smuggle him back to Bundus III? He has his own Null-Time craft."

A voice from behind us replied: "I will be glad to answer that boy."

I turned to see Mr. Brown behind us. He had been in the observation dome below.

My master replied for me. "I suspect there is an economic reason for it?"

"Not quite. If I smuggled my own boy in, the cost will probably about 35 to 40 percent less. But anytime you break a law, there comes with it a risk. One must decide if one is willing to beak that law, and then decide if the risk warrants it. In this case I say not. The law which is in effect regarding the importation of kidnapped individuals into Bundus III to be enslaved is scrupulously and assiduously enforced. I have deemed it not a suitable risk. Thus, I hired a person who can legal import such a kidnapped individual for enslavement. You Kon are that individual, although I find it exceeding ironic that a slave is legally an agent who will import another person to be enslaved."

I would call it quite something else. If I knew that Mr. Brown would not merely hire someone else, I would have refused. Well, I mean my master would have refused. I must obey my master.

"Mr. Brown, I merely obey my master. That is the law I follow."

My master then spoke up. "My slave speaks for me."

It took two seconds before our host understood what my master had just said and for only the second time this entire trip, did I hear him laugh.

For the remainder of the trip downward, I went down to the observation bay to watch landfall. The views were spectacular with a sky scarcely sprinkled with fleecy clouds. We landed at a big hub called New Amazon.

It took longer to get to where we boarded the air car, then the time it took to go from the space station to earth. The flight to the Scandinavian Republic took another three hours. I was almost sleeping on my feet as my master nearly carried me to our room. Our sleep, for the first time in weeks, was not preceded with my master making use of his slave as a sex object.

I, being merely a slave, was not allowed to object.

Mr. Brown's perspective

I carefully watched that particular slave throughout the trip. I'm not sure I trust a slave who doesn't seem to obey his master out of fear. If he doesn't fear his master, then he is liable to disobey when the he decides there is something he doesn't want to do. A slave must be put into a position where if he disobeys, there are catastrophic consequences. And this Vasili guy, though he puts up a hard exterior, seems like he would fold at the first grave difficulty. Why else would he have retired from a quite remunerative job and become merely an 'executive'? The morning after arrival in one of the major cities, we got a shock. Many of the people here spoke a different language. How can a society function like that? But we eventually employed someone who was highly recommended by an affiliate of mine (having the right contacts in the world of business is an imperative), who for a nominal fee, would break into the whatever database we wanted. So long as it did not have any advanced security. That was OK since the information we sought was far from some state secret.

I no sooner sat down to a sumptuous breakfast (room service), served by the boy servant I brought with me, and I was interrupted by a com call. I was about to deny the call until I discovered it was this Vasili guy.

"Connect."

"Mr. Brown, we are currently armed with sufficient information we believe, to start our search. Any instructions?"

"Perfidious Pontifications of Petrifaction!" I thought to myself, can't this person operate without instructions?

"Only one, get me my boy! Inform me when you have a suitable candidate."

Kon Yan's perspective

"Master, I really don't like that man."

"Neither do I, but our bank balance will be quite healthy after this. How about a trip to the Thrones of the Gods on Pondor III after this trip? I've heard that they have recently installed a tram to the very top."

"Master, your will is my… is my… ah, oops, I forgot the last word."

"Fortunately for you, most of my best toys are back on Bundus III, or I'd make you pay for that attitude of yours tonight."

"Master, I agree with your assessment, but fun must wait. Of the three places about which we have information, I believe that the first stop is this Institute place. Why do people insist on abusing their children? And Master, why can't they make clothes which don't make one want to rip them off?"

"Boy, I agree with your assessment."

My master said he was a man of few words. Now if I can only decipher them.

We proceeded to our first place of observation, as I kept trying to feel comfortable with the clothes I had to wear. Geesh. What a mixed-up society, where a small boy can't be naked but where some of the woman can.

"Master, ever get tempted by a woman?"

"There have been a few times when I wanted to run. As far as possible."

I snickered as my master cringed passing two such examples of female bosoms with barely a string to hold them up.

"And Master, this once I'm not merely trying to be annoying. Where did you put my collar? I feel naked without it. It's quite disconcerting."

"Boy, when are you ever not annoying? Don't answer that. We don't want to advertise your status here on a planet where slavery is only legal when the authorities are paid off to look the other way. By the way, I order you not to escape. You are aware that here you can declare your freedom."

I snickered. "Master, since I am the only one among us who has any weapons, perhaps… Or perhaps I won't complete that thought. I am sure you would have no difficulty in purchasing a few more toys here."

My master then snickered. When he does it, it's frightening. Finally, we came to where we needed to reconnoiter. There was no obvious security in place. We decided to do a soft monitor, nothing where people could get suspicious. We left shielded mini-cams at all the exits, retired to a nearby bistro, and ordered drinks. We would be alerted if any of the boys we had on our list emerged. Grrr. New it would happen. I didn't even finish my triple chocolate frappe when my ear bud beeped.

"Master, boy 3, right exit."

"Well, you're the agent. Get agenting. I'll wait here and monitor."

Grrrr.

It was simplicity itself. Two blocks from the edifice the boy was alone. He seemed to be going somewhere with his own mini-comp which he had attached to his wrist. It was equipped with virtual screen and controls. Wow, allowing a 9-year-old with that tech.

I approached him from behind, and told the boy to come with me. He had no choice. He seemed confused for only a couple of seconds while the hypnotic I drugged him with took effect. He followed me to a prearranged sight where we had parked a fully equipped mobile medical lab. Fifteen minutes later, a still confused boy was dropped off in front of his state-run home. He was told that he was feeling ill and had to return. He would never remember the series of scans.

I returned to find another triple chocolate frappe awaiting me. Sometimes my master even surprises me after all these years.

"Master you have surprised me. How did you time that?"

"I placed a monitor on you. Can't have my most valuable possession get into trouble without my knowing about it."

"But Master, I disposed of that monitor."

"Not the one you swallowed in that previous triple chocolate frappe."

Grrrrr.

The day ended with seven boys out of eight crossed off our list. None sufficiently boy-boy oriented. The next two days went the same. 21 boys crossed off, three not yet scanned. Good thing Mr. Brown was paying for that portable lab on wheels.

I finally opined. "Master, this Aren boy in that first Institute. He had been the best prospect but he has not emerged."

"I agree boy. As much as I didn't want to allow you a hard reconnoiter. If you get caught, remember to act your age."

I snickered loudly. My apparent age was 10. I'd been stabilized many years before. "And you appear with the Marines?"

"Touch your com and I will appear. And not the Marines. Here I will have the credentials of someone much more formidable. I will pose as a government agent of child welfare. Here they call it Child Reform Services."

I was surprised with the ease of entry. I had reached this boy's room with only one challenge. It was from a 5-year-old I would judge. He looked at me with umbrage: "Who're you? This is the little boy's floor."

As I said, I looked like a 10-year-old. I withdrew to the big boy's floor, found the correct room, and simply touched the door's lock with a multi-pic and entered. The boy, lifted his head from the bed he was lying on and asked: "Where's Billy? He was to bring me dinner."

The boy Aren, was on escape watch. He'd run away from the home at least on two other occasions. He was awaiting a room opening in a more secure facility, the only state-run boy's home we hadn't yet approached. I hoped we wouldn't have too. We had done our homework. And wow, was Aren a cutie. 55 pounds [25 kg] of blond-haired, blue-eyed, boy sex on the hoof. A wonder that he'd not been kidnapped by some boy lover long before this.

"Aren, Sven sent me. I can take you to him."

"No. I won't go. He was doing stuff to me and he got mean. My butt hurt for a week."

OK, maybe not enough homework. So the hard way. That Sven character wasn't his uncle. At least legally. The boy apparently had no close family. That boy must have been exceptional. It took four seconds before he would follow without any questions. To make a short story shorter. The boy was now in our 'care'. In a tangle suit; wow could he fight for in 8-year-old. Now to get him off planet.

As instructed by the guy with the money, we lured the boy to our hotel after his scans all showed we finally got our man. Ooops, I mean boy. That was where Mr. Brown grabbed the boy and recklessly, without even drugging him, said he was being kidnapped. I hope that kick to his shin is still hurting him.

I looked to my master of few words: "Master, now to get to the ship."

"Yes. Your license with the Slave Authority on Bundus III is useless here. There is no regulation of the slave trade on this world."

I was at least with the comfort of my collar and slave harness while in our room. I had discovered a transponder imbedded in the boy's shoulder blade and disposed of it. Its removal alone will have alerted the authorities. And surveillance had to have shown my escorting that boy from that Institute place.

"Master, plan A?"

"It's getting off planet that will be the problem. With facial recognition available, and every person getting onto that sky-hook being scanned. No. We do it the old-fashioned way."

"Wow. Really? Plan D?"

"No way around it. We haven't had time to hire our own orbital."

The next morning two nearly-naked, off-world slaves (supposedly), on leash no less, appeared with my Master at the service desk at the South American Federation shy-hook. The planes on Aren's face had been disguised to defeat facial recognition, and then given an hypnotic. We then allowed his natural predilections to take over. After being made to believe he was escaping to a new life on Bundus III (not actually a lie but definitely not the one he was expecting), he was delighted to 'dress up' in a slave collar and slave-harness, with his cute naked genitals on prominent display, his little boy penis, all 2½ rigid inches [6 cm] of it, leading the way. We approached the attendant and the two security guards.

The boy was so excited, and even with the hypnotic, he was looking all about, quite excited about showing off his 'peepee' in front of everyone. That particular hypnotic eliminated one's inhibitions.

"My name's Vasili Dumitrov. I've already alerted your security and have the necessary identification and documents."

My master handed the guard the small data-cube. The man didn't seem to want to allow us entry to the sky-hook. He kept looking at his computer screen trying to not see that everything was legal. Or appeared that way. Our exit from the sky-hook was not as scrutinized. And my own 5-inch [13 cm] penis (a medium shade of brown), also led the way. That slave harness I frequently wore deliberately brought focus to my assets.

The other guard had to make a remark. "I think it's a disgrace, your government condoning such a thing. And here you are brazenly putting them on display."

I looked at my master and he nodded. "Sir, we have just come from three full days on your planet. The country we visited would have allowed me to stay. All I had to do was walk into any of the government run agencies there and I could have declared my freedom. Notice I am here instead. Does this information compute? I like being with my master. And so does Aren here."

Aren merely giggled. The guard turned away without answering.

On the sky-hook, I looked at my master and he congratulated me.

"Boy, an excellent display. That second guard was about to call someone in higher authority; he was reaching for his com. We might not have passed scrutiny. It wasn't the earth documents I was worried about. But the one declaring Aren a Class Three Slave of Bundus III was not full-proof to scrutiny by our own governmental agencies."

Mr. Brown's perspective

Success! And the boy was a marvel even before modification. I could not wait. That very first night I had the boy in my bed. He was apparently not entirely without experience. I was slightly miffed about that fact. I would have liked being the very first (and only) one to deflower the boy. But it only took a bit of persuasion in the form of a powerful sex intensifier, and he was totally mine. My attention to his own little boy penis dried his former tears, especially since I had also him on a drug which destroys one's inhibitions. Similar to an hypnotic, but still allowing the boy heavy emotion.

Kon Yan's perspective

The next day, in the stateroom, there were two naked boys sitting on their master's laps, both smiling.

Aren, apparently without the hypnotic, looked about with substantial degree of anxiety, not sure what to expect. But as Mr. Brown started playing with the boy's small but well responding genitals, the boy leaned back and gave himself up to the experience. I suspected that he was being drugged with one of the newer aphrodisiacs. A couple of them had been specifically designed for prepubescent boys. One had been outlawed when it was discovered to cause irrecoverable changes in the boy's brain structure. The still immature child's brain, especially with boys under the age of 13, seemed to obtain an unusually high sex drive. In other words, become very horny. In some cases, their libidos never recovered to normal levels. Of course, in Aren's case, that might be a good thing.

My master offered the first salvo: "So Mr. Brown, it seems that your new slave boy pleases you. My own slave will bring him to the Slave Authorities at Calais, and it will take only several days before he is officially taken before the Slave Court and is declared a Class Three Slave. Of course, then you have to still buy him at auction."

A voluble Mr. Brown replied. "And as a bonus, you as legal owner of Kon Yan, will receive that payment, less the government's slice. Think of it as a bonus. And speaking of remuneration, here."

He handed my master a small chip cube which my master scanned. "Satisfactory Mr. Brown. Even generous."

"Not at all. What else is there to do with my billions than to obtain what one most desires. This will be the third boy in my collection."

The boy gasped as he appeared to have quite a drawn-out orgasm. I wondered if I could get ahold of that drug.

Chapter 5
Captives and Captivated

Mr. Brown's perspective

My new boy had garnered quite a price at auction. Of course, on a planet nearly bereft of blue-eyed blonds, he was quite the attraction. And he was already so spectacularly cute, there were a number of boy brothels engaged in a bidding war. Fortunately, I was a billionaire.

I was also considering. With earth's wealth of nearly ethnically pure boy specimens, I thought I might spend some venture capital on some group who could be set up to arrange further kidnappings. If I could find people with requisite intelligence and daring. That was what I was quite good at. Finding new ways to exploit otherwise relatively untapped resources. There would be quite a market on both Bundus III and the Icarus Ring-world for such morsels of boy pulchritude, even without modification. Other than perhaps physiological stabilization.

The boy Aren I immediately shipped in a boy cage to BoyToys, Inc. labs for modification. I was happy to discover that he could be modified to have both penile and butt-hole orgasms with an extreme in libido level.

This time I bypassed the usual representative and asked to deal with that Dr. Macumbo directly. It seemed the more I decided on modifications to turn the boy into an advanced sex toy, the bigger his smile got.

"Look Dr. Macumbo, now that we have decided on his looks, and that sure didn't take much tweaking, he was already quite a specimen, we need to talk about his ability to respond to sexual molestation. He's not quite 9 years old after all. I was just wondering."

The doctor was smiling. I wasn't sure if it was about the boy, or about my fee. "With the newest gene-splice, and newest implants, we can make the boy hornier than a two-peckered pedo in an all boy's nudist colony."

"I want the boy in maximum need for climax with no let up. I want him thinking about his penis 100% of the time."

"And might I suggest, since the boy's DNA can indeed handle the gene-splice, making the boy's tongue an erogenous zone. Perhaps even enabling the thing to have an orgasm-like climax when stimulated."

I was stunned. I assented immediately. "Of course, I would then need the tongue to have several piercings so that I can cage up the thing. Don't want the boy to have any control over his body except when I allow it. Perhaps I'll have an engineer construct a mouth and head cage with this in mind."

"Actually, Mr. Brown, we can so modify the boy that no amount of self-stimulation will bring him to climax. And in a boy this immature, we can increase his libido just about off the charts."

I was taking pleasure with the images of that boy in total bondage, struggling to reach his penis. Maybe even having the boy on some kind of machine keeping him forever just at the edge of orgasmic climax but never permitting release. The scenarios racing through my mind were nearly endless. And I was rich enough to indulge them.

"And doctor, I was thinking about something else, perhaps unique in the realm of bondage. Can you have permanent holes put through the boy's arms and legs? Perhaps right through near each end of the larger bones? I have envisioned several frameworks in which to mount the boy."

"Absolutely. And not unique. We did something similar to a 15-year-old just several months ago. And, as with that teen, we can reinforce all of the holes to make sure that no amount of pressure can cause difficulties. Wouldn't want the boy's bones to break."

When I left the establishment, I was certain little Aren, in a few months, would never again have a thought not associated with sex or bondage. Now to have those new frameworks built. And the various cages I would from time to time attach to various parts of the boy's body.

***

Aren was quietly struggling to get out of the boy cage, after I had accepted delivery several months later. When I released him, he immediately started masturbating himself, or trying to. He was also seemingly munching on his own tongue.

"Boy, how about I take care of that for you?"

The boy looked up as if he just realized I was there in spite of feeling my hands on his intimate part just minutes ago.

"Yes, Master. Please. I can't seem to make my peepee work right. It won't 'gasm!"

His voice was one of desperation. I worked my finger into the boy's poop chute while engulfing his rod-like penis. He 'gasmed almost immediately, after which his penis wilted a bit, and I was wondering how long it would take him to recharge.

I picked up the small boy and brought him into my bedroom suite. I was delighted in his beautiful flawless light skin, with its perfect light tan, and tossed the boy onto my bed. He giggled as he bounced. And almost immediately attacked his 'peepee' again, already stretched out to its slender and rigid 3 inches [7½ cm]. (Lengthened just a bit during modification). I smiled. This boy was going to be a delight. Or I should say 'this toy'.

I quickly divested myself of clothing and pounced on the boy. I had his body so modified that he could take my weight on top of him. I ravished every portal on his body beginning with that mouth; I wondered how he would handle that. I had to sort of convince my boy that he was to engage in kissing, sometimes not an automatic response in such a young boy no matter how sexed-up they were. But as his tongue was so stimulated by an outside agency he got into it with abandon. Several minutes into a tongue wrestling match he suddenly bucked away from me, his eyes rolled back, and his entire body shook, starting with his head. I suspected that was his very first face orgasm. I was quite envious.

The boy recovered after a few minutes and exclaimed: "Master, what happened? It felt… It felt like…" He had no words for it.

"Did you like it boy?"

"I think. It was great but so strange. It felt like my peepee was in my mouth. I didn't want to pee in my mouth."

I tested out his other hole. It had been enhanced too, and his delightful rosebud and its interior could withstand a good plowing, and with my own enhanced equipment, I gave the boy a good ride. As I neared my own climax the boy shuddered and his rectum clamped down on my solid member and I too came with a strong climax of my own. Thanks to my own past upgrade I think I pumped for several minutes, even after I was drained of seed, I felt pleasurable spasms. That was when I noticed that the boy had passed out.

I took my own breather as the boy lay there spread out akimbo, with a white puddle forming below his small butt hole. I cleaned us up a bit and lay myself atop the boy, glad that I had upgraded his small body. The frottage was quite enjoyable. I must have dozed because I woke with my boy and I in reversed positions, he humping up and down on my now engorged penis. I'd never before witnessed a boy doing this without some training but then remembered that his butt muscles were also upgraded into an erogenous zone. His face was a picture of pure lust as he was also seemingly munching down on his own tongue. One small hand he had on my leg for balance, but the other was vigorously pulling up and down on his own rod. Only 3 inches [7½ cm] and thin, but it too was a source for his pleasure. I wondered if he could have a triple orgasm. I did not find out until several days later, being caught up in my own pleasure.

Yes, the boy could experience a triple orgasm if everything is timed correctly. But I know now to be prepared to have him pass out.

The night progressed the same way. I had real work to do the next day, so unfortunately, I had to end things early enough to get a modicum of sleep. The boy himself was totally drained also, and slept quite soundly.

The next morning, after I showed the boy his shower duties and taught him how to clean himself out, I brought him to the third alcove. The boy started to run after he saw the other two boys struggling away in their own unyielding bondage.

He screamed as I lifted him and brought him to his alcove.

"Master, please no. I'll be a good boy. I promise. You don't hafta punish me."

"I'm not punishing you boy."

"Master, thank you. What did those other boys do? Were they bad?"

"No boy. Not bad. Just in storage for the time being."

"I don't understand Master. What do you mean storage?"

"Well, they are my property, just as you are. When they are not being used, they stay here, in storage."

"Please master, you don't have to do that with me. I'll be a good boy, Master."

"I'm sure you will boy, but just the same, I enjoy doing this to you."

I put the boy momentarily into force-field containment as I prepared the frame that would hold his body. I looked about when I heard my servant taking care of the other two boys, including re-attaching their force-feeding nozzles, and turning on their rectal cleaners.

I momentarily looked into the other two alcoves, smiling with delight. I had already planned to eventually see what would happen if I left one of the boys in total unyielding bondage for an extended period. That trip off planet took less than a week. Perhaps I would gradually expand the time for one of the boys, maybe even to as long as a month. The scenarios seemed endless.

I again looked at my current servant, the one who I had replace Dante, and realized that he was getting too old. His body no longer pleased my prurient interest. I decided this time to get a slave for these services, one I can stabilize at an appropriate age.

But right then, I was in a hurry. I had an important com conference in about an hour. I returned to my new slave's alcove, and released the struggling boy from the tangle field. He started pleading through his tears.

"Please Master, no Master, please."

Delightful. And in a beautiful treble tenor.

I used the force-field to hold him upright in his frame. Then I adjusted his limbs to line up with the holes in the frame. I did his legs first. The first rod I pushed through from the inside of the frame, though the tibia right above the ankle, and then through the other part of the frame. It seated itself. That ankle was going nowhere. The next rod went through the upper end of his tibia, and the other two rods, through the frame, then the femur, and then the frame again. The top rod went through right next to his cute little scrotal pouch which I couldn't refrain from caressing. The boy kept shouting throughout, pleading me to stop. It was music to my ears. The right leg was completed next.

My toy looked quite beautiful with his legs splayed outward, held in place with those eight metal rods which pierced his very limbs. I added another degree of bondage by entrapping his little toes in a curved bar with cutouts for each toe. I lifted his left foot (with some difficulty as the force-field was not in effect down there) onto a projecting shelf, the toes sliding into five small grooves. A slightly curved bar, with corresponding divots for the tops of his toes, I pressed down onto the bottom projection and it too seated itself automatically, stopping even the slightest movement of both foot and tiny five toes. The boy started cursing. Wow, what language for an 8-year-old, both in my own language and I suspect one of his birth country. I did his second foot in like manner, having to take a strong grip as he was exerting downward muscular pressure with all his small muscle might. Now his feet too were nearly immobile when the top bar fused in place. The boy looked down, amazingly not crying now, and tried to wiggle his feet.

"Master, I can't move my legs at all."

"Of course you can't. That's the whole idea. Now stop trying to move, or I'll use a strap on your cute bottom." It was far easier to intimidate a young boy.

The boy suddenly stopped his squiggling. I then pushed his boy butt against the back of the frame and automatically a thick tube found the opening of his butt hole, entered, and expanded. The boy screamed delightfully. Then I pushed another form-fitting piece in place around his waist. With a similar curved piece being a part of the frame, he was quite immobile from his waist downward now. Next, I pushed his arms into place, each held a bit away from his body, and inserted the other eight rods. He squiggled his hands forcefully enough, that I used a small boy-sized tawse. The pain wasn't severe but accomplished its goal.

He wasn't going anywhere. He could still move the top part of his body. That was easily remedied by pushing him against the frame and pushing a form-fitting piece against his smooth chest. This too adhered itself.

I disengaged the force-field. He struggled mammothly for suck a tyke. His body was delightful to watch. His histrionics while trying to move portions of his cute boy body quite amusing, especially as he kept up a smattering of invective. I was impressed.

I then pushed his head against the back part of the frame and lowered the front over his face. He started screaming and struggling as I touched a control. Thin tubes entered his nostrils and a thick one forced its way into his toothless mouth. His face became merely a rounded blob of silver as it was totally encased. I had a mic set up next to his throat so I could still hear his muted struggles. I left his hands free. I wanted to see his continuing struggles. They moved back and forth in spastic style. That tube in the boy's mouth was designed to suck his tongue inside.

The final attachment was to the boy's stiff penis into which was planted a final rod.

As I was about to finish, I had a change of heart. I took two small hand cages off the shelf and grabbed his one hand. Again, with difficulty, I pushed the glove-type cage onto his small hand. It reached the bottom of his arm just below the first rod. I touched a control and presto, he was no longer able to move even a digit. He made a muffled squeal. I did the same to the other hand. It was much easier; I suppose he had given up the fight.

I touched a final control, and his throat gave out a high-pitched squeal. I think his voice hit high C. All his erogenous zones were now being stimulated in a cascade of impulses flooding his little boy body. A wireless comp was programmed to keep him only at the edge of climax for hours at a time. Someday, when I had the leisure time available to watch, either in person or on 360-holo, I would do the opposite, and find out how many orgasms I could force the boy to have in say a 12-hour period.

I wondered what the record was.

Vasili and Kon

Vasili and his slave Kon quite enjoyed their trip to the Thrones of the Gods on Pondor III. Mostly a barren world, with little water, almost no flora or fauna, (what little it had, had been imported), only mining and tourists. Tourists because those mountains were unequaled for height among the mountainous regions of the inhabited planets of the Federation. And the atmosphere was relatively enjoyable if one stayed away from the equatorial regions.

However, at present, Kon was not so enjoying that atmosphere.

"Master, stop. I'm sorry Master; I won't never do it again. Honest!"

The slave boy Kon was being held out the open window of the tram on its way back from the top of the highest point of the Thrones of the Gods. The weather was bracing, the wind was seemingly helping to support him. The boy was able to look more than 17,000 feet [5,000 m] straight down. There were no oceans on Pondor III, the valley below actually was more than 4,000 feet below [1,200 m] what was claimed to be sea level.

Vasili had a good grip on the slave's right ankle, otherwise the boy was totally unattached to anything. "My hand's getting tired boy. Exactly where are our travel visa's?"

"Master, I can't think, the blood has rushed to my head."

"Boy, I think I can hold you for maybe two more minutes."

"Master, OK, OK, I gave them away. Now let me back in."

Vasili pulled the boy back into the car. They had put on quite a show for the other four passengers. A mother and her three sons. Apparently only the slaveboy hadn't known there was a force-field envelope about the car which would have prevented his fall.

"Master. Those people. They're all just smiling or laughing. How come?"

He told Kon about the failsafe. "Not fair Master. I think I actually aged!"

The only other adult passengers, (the mother of the wealthy family from Tringus IV), asked the boy: "Are you really a slave?"

Kon, wearing minimal clothing, mandatory in this milieu, inquired of his master: "Master?"

"You may reply."

"Definitely not. Not anymore. I just quit. The Daemons of the Danebian Depths take lessons from my Master. I mean former Master."

Vasili interrupted the boy's bluster. "Mam, he can't quit. He's my property. But he's in serious trouble." He turned to his slave. "What do you mean you gave them away?"

"Master, I had to. Those two boys we met. They were stranded here. That mine that went bust. Everyone left but the boys. They had just lost their Dad who worked there. There were no jobs, they were too young. I had to help them."

Vasili gave out a sound of frustration. "But boy, they can't go anywhere. They had no tickets for off planet."

Kon scampered away from his master. "I gave them our tickets too," Kon said in a weak voice.

By this time, the mother and three boys were intently listening. Vasili regarded them with what for him passed as a smile. "Anyone want a slaveboy? Cheap? Perhaps just the price of ONE ticket to my home planet of Bundus III?"

"Master, those boys, they were really in trouble. They had no way to get off-planet. And we can afford it."

Vasili gave the boy his most severe stare, but then realized his boy know him only too well. "We can afford it? Boy, we will be stuck here a couple weeks until we can replace those visas. And you, you own nothing. You're property!"

The youngest boy, about 10 years of age, tried to ask Kon a question: "You a real slave? Can people really own other people?"

Vasili replied: "Youngster, on Bundus III, there is limited slavery. It's regulated; unlike other worlds where they pretend it doesn't exist. And yes, I own this slave. And by the time we get back home, I will have devised adequate punishment. Perhaps a month in a punishment cage."

The young boy winced: "That's mean!"

Kon snickered: "Actually it might be fun. You have no idea…"

Vasili interrupted. "Kon, that is a young boy."

"Ain't your slave a boy too? He looks about my age."

"The boy's almost 20 years older than you are."

The Mom was stunned: "What. That can't be. He's barely 10, if that!"

"Boy, you explain. While I try to contact the embassy on my com."

"Mam, I was enslaved about 19 years ago. I was 10. They have a way of making boys not grow up."

The youngster grined and spoke: "Wow. A boy like me? Forever?"

"And we really can afford it. I mean my master can. We just got rich doing something on earth. And boy, you want to be a slaveboy too? Lots of guys like to own boys like me. But you want to get a good master like mine!"

The conversation degenerated from there. The mother believed Kon's string of amazing tales had to be largely fabricated. Especially the one about the boys at some fancy resort who were ponies.

The two older boys listened for a while, but then turned their attention to the amazing panorama through which their tram was traveling.

And when his mother wasn't listening he asked Kon quietly: "You get made to do sex stuff too?"

The smaller boy remained totally captivated.

Mr. Brown's perspective

Several weeks later, I had finally arranged to get a new servant. A boy more to my liking. But I decided also to exercise my perverse streak. I had been testing out the 12-year-old son of my grounds' keeper. By the name of Ahmed. He proved quite intelligent and not only caught on quickly, but even started anticipating my needs. Quite a gem.

But more importantly, the boy's looks were captivating. He was a somewhat dark-skinned boy of above average build for his age, and I noted, already at the cusp of sexual maturity. He was probably just over 5 feet [1.50 m] tall already and starting to get a bit of boy muscle. I would judge at about 100 pounds [45 kg]. Amazingly handsome, with long black hair, dark penetrating eyes, and a smile that lights up the room. (And quite active in bed at night with his 'best friend'. His boy tube and hanging balls were also quite advanced for his age. I had several cameras set up).

His friend Billy was just the opposite in build but not physical maturity. He was probably a good 20 pounds [9 kg] lighter and half a head shorter. A not so darkly colored boy, with quite mixed ethnicity. Not central African dark, more a mixture of everything else dark. Well except for his boy tackle, that was almost dusky brownish. Not nearly as handsome as his friend but OK to look at, especially between his legs. He too had a developing penis and scrotum, but his penis was unfortunately uncircumcised. Perhaps I will have that rectified.

I probably just caught them in time. Much later and they would be too far along the road of pubescence.

I decided to make Ahmed's father a deal.

A strikingly handsome man, fully 6½ feet [2 m] tall, entered my outer office, and waited to be recognized. I could see where his boy got his looks. He'd been ushered in by my current servant who knew that in a few months he would be 'promoted' to another position.

"Yes sir, you wanted to see me? Is there a problem with the gardens or grounds?"

"No. As usual your attention to detail and organizational abilities have been exemplary. So much so, that I have an offer which I hope you will take."

The man relaxed and I could see his eyes light up at the idea of an 'offer'. I suspect he could not have dreamed of what I was going to offer him.

"Here is a draft for 30,000 BHU. It's about ten times your yearly salary which I believe is already substantial."

His eyes lit up. "What do I have to do, sell myself to you?" He laughed.

"No. Just your son."

He stood there not quite believing what he'd just heard. "What sir?"

"I want to buy your boy Ahmed. You can Indenture him, say for 12 years, and I'll purchase him when he goes on auction. You can also keep the money from the auction. He would then have a choice of a voluntary enslavement for life, when he completes his Indenture, as a Class Two Slave. It's a curious statistic that about 28% of 12-year Indentures later opt for Class Two enslavement."

The man tightened his fingers about that cube documenting that draft, and I suspect trying to rearrange his conscience, rationalizing what he wanted to do.

I added: "Or the boy could opt to merely keep the Freedom Bonus at the end of his 12-year Indenture, and seek other employment."

"Sir, that's a very radical offer. I'm not sure. What would the boy be doing?"

"What he's been training for already. My personal servant. And no, I don't want him for my bed, if that's a concern." (He definitely was the kind of boy to grab my interest).

"Sir, have you spoken to my boy about this?"

"No. Not yet." (Another lie).

"I need to think about this sir. This is quite a shock. I have to talk to my boy."

"Of course. Please get back to me, say this time tomorrow."

The man left as if all the Daemons of the Danebian Depths were in pursuit. The man was a valuable employee. I would not want to lose him. What he did not know was that I had already talked to the boy. And after a suitable inducement, he had already agreed. I suspect there was soon going to be an interesting conversation. I had the boy wired unawares, and would be listening in.

Oh, the inducement? I would purchase his close friend at auction who had already just been Indentured for 12 years. And allow the two boys the run of my estate when their services were not needed. He was not quite as striking as Ahmed but still a quite well formed 12-year-old. I had already made a similar offer to another employee, and had indeed already purchased his son. Not nearly as pulchritudinous, but he would stay more in back of the house. The boy was Ahmed's playmate and they were joined at the hip when not engaged in other things. That other boy's father had settled for 5,000 BHU. The boy was currently already awaiting his own auction day.

I had already made arrangements at a nearby clinic to have the two boys maintained at their current ages. The drugs we had today will easily be able to keep both boys at their current ages for the entire 12 years of their Indenture.

Several hours later, Ahmed came into my private study and handed me a celebratory glass of 50-year-old cognac. "Your smile, Ahmed, says that your father has agreed. And I was listening in anyway."

"Yes sir. I'm still a little anxious about being made a slave, but I don't want to lose Billy. He's been my best friend all my life. You promised to buy him."

"Definitely. I have engaged a slave broker and Billy will be my slave two days from now. I'm a very selfish man Ahmed. I admit I deliberately coerced Billy's father into Indenturing him. He should not have tried to steal from me. But I will promise you that Billy will be well treated as you will too. Have you seen the outfit that I want you both to wear as my servants?"

"Yes sir. And wow, you can see right through the material."

"Yes boy. Why do you think I want you as my servant? Besides your intelligence and industry."

"Sir, with that outfit, you'll be seeing quite a lot of both my intelligence and my industry. My Dad will flip when he finds out."

"Cheeky brat. I like you boy. But remember, as my slaves, both you and Billy will be forced to obey me completely. And you didn't get your intelligence from thin air. I'm sure your Dad has it quite figured out. I suspect he already knows what you and Billy get up to at night too."

"Damn. I should have known that you were aware of that too. Now you know the main reason why both of us want to stay together."

"As soon as your father registers you for Indenture, you'll be taken by the Slave Authority. I must warn you that they will probably keep you naked after Indenture as you are being interviewed by prospective buyers. But be assured, I will not be outbid."

"Thank you, sir. Anything else sir?"

"No boy. Well yes, one more thing. You do know that 28% of 12-year Indentures opt for Class Two slavery at the end of their Indenture."

"I read about that too, sir, but almost all of them were in boy brothels or catamites, and treated very well. And sir, there's something I don't understand. Why enslave us? Why not just hire us as your servants? Wouldn't it be cheaper?"

"Two reasons boy. This way I can legally have you two maintained as 12-year-olds for your entire Indenture. And the other reason? I happen to like owning boys."

I started to think about those two alcoves downstairs which were still empty.

(Not quite?) The End