Jason Masters

The Thirteenth Slave Boy

"Even slaves have rights."

Simon was sick of hearing his father say that. It was practically his mantra, but now that Simon had his own little slave to torment, he intended to show his father how a slave should really be treated.

It was Simon's thirteenth birthday and his father had finally allowed him to have a cute little seven-year-old slave boy for his own. It was only a year later than most other boys were allowed to have a slave, but Simon resented the wait. His father had said that Simon 'wasn't ready yet'. Even now, he still seemed to think that Simon wasn't ready, but most boys got their own little slave to play with at twelve, so Simon's father hadn't wanted to wait any longer.

After all, Simon's father was the most sought-after slave Transporter in the business. He had the best delivery record ever, having never failed to deliver slaves on time and in good condition, both physically and mentally. He had his reputation to think of, and it wouldn't look good if he waited too long before allowing his son to have his own slave boy.

That evening, after his birthday celebrations, Simon decided to try out Percy, his new slave, by using the whip on his little bum. He'd had the hapless child stretched out with his hands over his head and his feet spread wide apart and had started in with vigor. Simon was so eager that he at first forgot to turn down the Vocalisation Suppression Collar (VSC) so that he could hear the child's squeals of pain as he was whipped.

The VSC was standard equipment for all slaves. It controlled all vocalisations without preventing necessary oral actions. When set to the correct level, it could prevent a slave from even whispering while allowing swallowing and tongue movement so that the slave could still eat or perform oral sex.

Simon was fascinated by the way little Percy squealed and wriggled frantically as the whip rose and fell, striking his little bum over and over. Rapidly, the punished boy's buttocks turned pink, then red and began to edge toward purple.

The VSC was still set high enough to prevent Percy from properly forming words, but it was obvious to anyone within earshot that the child was frantic with agony and desperately trying to plead for mercy. Simon wasn't about to give Percy any. He'd show his father. Percy would be the most submissive little boy in the world, once Simon was done with him. The welts raised on Percy's behind by the whip blows began to weep and finally to bleed as Simon thrashed his tiny slave mercilessly. Only at the sight of the blood did Simon finally stop.

Simon called in one of his father's Handlers and told the man to put the boy in the truck with the other slaves for the night. The man looked angry at the sight of Percy's bleeding buttocks, but said nothing. Simon guessed the man would report this to Simon's father, though. Good. Let him. Let his father see the correct way to treat a slave. The boy was his, now, and long tradition held that only the slave's owner had the right to decide how to treat the slave. Even his father dared not go against that tradition.

Only after the Handler had left with the sobbing Percy did Simon realise that he was as horny as heck. Darn. He should have had Percy suck him off. But, not to worry. He'd enjoy that another time. For now, Simon's right hand would suffice. That, and a little visual stimulation.

Simon had always liked to look at the little slave boys, trapped in their transport cages in the truck while hooked up to tubes for feeding and waste disposal. Imagining how they felt helped him to get a better orgasm. He couldn't understand why his father insisted on not only always packing two or three boys to a cage but also in securing the boys to each other, with a lot of skin to skin contact. His father had tried to explain that it was for the boys' mental health, so they would be able to comfort each other with their presence, but Simon couldn't understand. Surely slaves didn't need either comfort or good mental health? They only needed to obey.

Simon checked to see if the coast was clear before stripping naked and sneaking out to the transport truck where he knew that a dozen little slave boys, including his own, were now awaiting their further disposition. Some of them were probably asleep. Not Percy, though. Even if the Handler had applied antiseptic ointment to the cuts, Percy's punished bottom would be keeping him awake. This idea provided sadistic entertainment for Simon as he climbed into the back of the truck and looked around at the prisoners.

Carefully, Simon almost completely closed the doors before turning on the small light so he could see. Percy lay in the far cage, tied to a slightly older boy who was moving his body the small amount possible to him, rubbing slowly against the still-weeping small boy. Simon wasn't sure if the boy was trying to masturbate (impossible, with a chastity pod clamped around his genitals) or more likely trying to comfort Percy. Simon didn't think that slaves needed or deserved comfort, but the sight of their slowly moving bodies was erotic to him so he didn't bother to interfere.

Simon allowed his gaze to travel around the back of the truck, taking in the sight of all those sexy little slave boys. Every one wore a VSC, a blindfold-hood, stiff leather mittens to hold their hands immobile and useless, and a metal chastity pod to prevent them from masturbating. They were also all fitted with butt plugs which had various functions, including waste extraction performed through tubes. More tubes to their penises allowed for liquid extraction (of either sort – there were two tubes and a diversion valve to allow selection of either tube).

The automatic feeding tubes leading to the slaves' mouths were empty at the moment. The next feeding would be supper time, in about an hour. Simon liked to watch the feeding. Before each feed, the stimulators in each boy's butt plug would force him to ejaculate and his semen would be collected. The semen from all the boys would be mixed together and then a boy would be selected at random to be fed with the semen just before the main meal was tube-fed to the boys.

Not that the main meal was much better, since the nutrient mix which the boys ate had been deliberately formulated to simulate both the consistency and the taste of semen. It was supposed to be good training, so that the boys would no longer gag on the taste when it came time for them to service their masters orally.

Simon liked the fact that his little Percy was, so he had been told, an early developer and could already ejaculate a few drops of semen. Simon's penis jumped at the thought of Percy being forced to drink his own cum along with the cum of all the other boys in the truck who were able to ejaculate.

As Simon looked around at the helpless slaves, his eye chanced upon the spare sets of slave equipment clipped to the wall of the truck. Simon had sometimes played with the equipment, pretending that he was one of the slaves. For some reason, he tended to have stronger and better orgasms after playing those games. He didn't understand exactly why this was so, but anything which increased his pleasure must be good. Right?

Simon examined the equipment again and suddenly had a wonderfully naughty thought. What if he tried on all of the equipment at once? He'd tried a couple of things in the past, one at a time, such as a chastity pod and blindfold-hood, but trying everything on at once? Did he dare? Yes. He dared!

Simon selected a chastity cage which he knew would just nicely fit him. He couldn't get it on of course, with his erection in the way, but there were at least two solutions to that. Simon wanted to try the obvious solution, but he knew that after an orgasm, he'd probably lose all interest in trying on the equipment, so he instead went to the small freezer in the truck and extracted an ice-pack. These were usually used on the slaves, in case one became excited during cleaning and needed to be 'calmed down' so that his chastity pod could be refitted. Simon gingerly applied one to his own genitals now.

The cold had the desired effect and before long, Simon was able to fit the pod, enclosing his modestly-sized penis inescapably in the device. Now, Simon couldn't even become erect until he removed the pod using the key which he put carefully to one side.

Wrist and ankle cuffs came next, followed by the leather harness with its crotch belt. Simon considered adding a butt plug but the only time he'd tried to insert one, it had hurt too much for him to continue, so he left the crotch belt bare.

Simon fitted himself with an appropriately sized VSC next and carefully adjusted the setting until he found it impossible to talk. He could make some noise by breathing in and out quickly, but his voice box was totally paralysed and he no longer had enough control over either his tongue or lips to articulate even a whisper.

The penultimate step was the leather blindfold-hood. This would be followed by the stiff leather mittens which would hold Simon's fingers and thumbs immobile, making his hands useless. He needed to be careful with those, Simon knew. If he couldn't get them off again, he'd be in real trouble. All the same, there were none quite large enough for him so he had to settle for a pair which were just a shade too small.

Laying the mittens where he knew he could find them without sight, Simon fitted the blindfold-hood on himself, tightening all of the straps so that it was impossible to remove without unfastening the straps again.

Now blind, Simon reached out and found the mittens, then began to wriggle his fingers and thumbs into them. They fitted, but tightly and Simon had to slowly ease them on bit by bit. At last, they were fully on his hands. Simon tested them by trying to flex his fingers. He was satisfied when he found that his fingers were quite immobile, unable to flex even the tiniest bit.

Simon tried to imagine what it would be like to wear this gear for two or three days in a row. Lord, a boy could go crazy! His penis was straining in the chastity pod but an erection was totally impossible until it was removed. How did slaves manage to cope? Simon was sure that he'd go completely insane if he couldn't masturbate at least once a day. He'd heard that the milking the boys were subjected to each meal time didn't produce a satisfying orgasm. In fact, it only made the boys more horny than before, so that they'd try their best to please their masters in hopes of being allowed a 'real' orgasm once in a while.

Footsteps suddenly approached the truck and Simon, in a panic, grabbed at the mittens, trying to pull them off as quickly as he could. He didn't want to be caught like this! Naked and jerking himself off to the sight of the caged slaves, he could have coped with. It was more or less expected of a thirteen-year-old boy. But being in slave gear was just too humiliating for words. Simon struggled frantically to get the mittens off his hands.

But the mittens wouldn't come off quickly. Being just a shade too small, they stuck to Simon's hands and would not slide off easily. Simon had barely managed to move them at all before the doors opened and the truck jerked as someone stepped inside.

"What the…" It was his father's voice. Simon felt some relief that at least he hadn't made a fool of himself in front of a Handler. He opened his mouth to speak.

And nothing came out but air.

Simon had forgotten the VSC, still activated and keeping him voiceless. He automatically took another breath and tried again. Once again, his exhalation was practically noiseless. He couldn't talk. He couldn't even utter a whisper. The VSC ruthlessly and efficiently kept Simon silent.

Simon felt his father grab him. "So, trying to escape, eh?" Simon wondered what his father was talking about. Escape? He wasn't a slave.

"However did you manage to get these undone?" asked Simon's father, pushing the mittens fully back over Simon's hands and then fastening the straps to keep them on. Simon was in shock. Why was his father doing this? With the straps done up, he couldn't remove the mittens and with them on, he couldn't remove the rest of the slave gear. What was his father playing at?

"I'd better put you back in your cage," said Simon's father. Simon suddenly understood. His father didn't recognise him with the blindfold-hood on. He thought Simon was a slave, trying to escape! He began to shake his head, trying to get his father to understand. He wasn't a slave! Father! I'm your son! Help me!

Simon's father ignored the boy's gestures and silent pleas for help as he led him toward the cages. Then he stopped.

"Huh. All here. So where did you come from? How'd you manage to escape your owner with that lot on? Never mind. I'll hold onto you until we can find your owner. Your ID chip will soon tell us who owns you."

The ID chip! Simon suddenly had a flash of hope. All slaves had one, so that the chain of ownership could be tracked. Simon was a free child. He didn't have a chip. Surely his father would realise, once he scanned Simon and found he had no chip?

Simon was led to the work area at the back wall of the truck where he heard his father getting something out of a drawer. Then there were the beeps of the ID chip scanner being turned on. Simon felt the air movement as his father waved the scanner near the back of his neck, where the chips were always inserted.

"Blasted thing must be broken. Well, I don't have time to fiddle with it now. Let's get you comfortable for the night and I'll see if I can find a working scanner tomorrow."

Simon tried to protest, but still was only able to produce voiceless panting noises as his father led him to a cage and opened it. Simon began to struggle as he was lifted to be placed in the cage. This couldn't be happening to him! He wanted to shout, I'm not a slave, let me go, I'm not a slave! But the VSC forced him to remain silent.

Simon's father suddenly grabbed his hands and pulled them behind the collar, clipping the mittens to the collar so that his hands were secured there, effectively stopping most of Simon's struggles. Without much more trouble, Simon was bundled into a cage and he heard the door close and lock behind him.

"Got rid of your butt plug too, I see," said Simon's father. "Don't worry, we have spares. You look like a virgin, though how that can be so at your age, I don't know. New slave? New ones are usually the ones who try to escape. You need to learn that slaves just don't escape. I'd better override the random cum-feeding tonight to make sure you get a dose. It will help you to better understand you're a slave now."

Cum-feeding? Simon was overwhelmed with horror. No! Anything but that! Slaves drank cum, not masters. Simon was a master, not a slave! Desperately, Simon tried to at least form words with his lips in hopes that his father would see and understand, but the VSC prevented him from even doing that much.

Simon could only sit in the cage and listen as his father walked around doing things which Simon could only imagine, since he could see nothing. After a few minutes, his father opened Simon's cage and pulled Simon out, then led him back to the work area and bent Simon over a pedestal then strapped him into that position. The crotch belt was undone and Simon began to panic as he realised that he was about to be butt plugged for the first time in his life. No! Please, no!

"I'd usually start off a virgin with a number one plug but you look big enough for a number two plug, at least," Simon's father mused. Simon struggled as best he could, although his best was far from being even remotely adequate. The pedestal with its straps held him in exactly the right position for either insertion of a plug or a spanking, whichever his father wanted to do.

Simon felt his father's fingers rub over his arse-hole, spreading a cold, slippery wetness there. Then there was a short pause.

Simon screamed… or at least it would have been a scream if the VSC hadn't transformed it into nothing but a forceful exhalation. His arse-hole felt like it had been torn open and a red-hot poker rammed inside. Frantically, he struggled against the straps, but it was useless. Simon's father pushed the butt plug fully home in Simon's rectum then fastened the crotch belt tightly to keep the plug firmly inside Simon.

"You do make a lot of fuss. Surely this can't be your first plug? Well, it's small enough that it won't do anything permanent to you anyway. And you need a plug if you're going to stay the night with us." Simon cried behind the blindfold-hood. The plug didn't feel small at all. It felt absolutely huge, massive and oversized. It felt like he'd been torn open, damaged forever. Simon wondered if he'd even be able to control his bowels again after this. Perhaps he'd need to wear a butt plug the rest of his life just so he didn't shit in his pants? The prospect was far from attractive.

Simon struggled for a minute or two more before his father's voice came again, "You really need to learn your place, slave. When your master puts a plug in you, you just accept it. You don't struggle and make a fuss. I'm sure your master will be happy if I help teach you this important lesson." Simon wriggled and struggled, wondering what his father was talking about.

'CRACK!'

Simon felt like he almost leapt off the pedestal, although the straps actually held him firmly in place as his bottom erupted into pain. It felt like a red-hot rod of iron had been swiped hard across his bottom cheeks. Simon again attempted to scream. Again, nothing but air silently exited his lungs.

'CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!'

Six times in all that burning agony erupted into flame across Simon's rear. Without the VSC, Simon would have been screaming at the top of his voice. The pain was unbelievable; incredible; unthinkable. And all Simon could do in response was exhale forcefully, over and over. Never in all his life had Simon so wanted to scream. This was worse than a nightmare!

Simon cried under the blindfold-hood as his father released him from the pedestal and led him to a cage. Now completely cowed by the pain, Simon no longer thought of resisting as he was put into the cage and made to lean back against one wall.

Simon could hear his father moving around and then he felt skin touch his own skin as Simon's father seated a small boy on one of Simon's knees. Then another small boy was placed on Simon's other knee. Simon's hands were pulled around the two little boys in a hug and the mittens fastened together to keep them there, then Simon felt the boys' arms being wrapped around his own body and secured in that pose.

After a moment, a tube was inserted into Simon's mouth and clipped to the blindfold-hood so that it could not be removed. It went right to the back of Simon's throat and only just avoided making him gag. Then Simon could feel something being inserted into his urethra and fastened to the chastity pod. Finally, Simon felt something being attached to his butt plug. The cage door was closed and Simon heard the lock click.

"I'd better make sure you're cleaned out. Lord only knows when you were cleaned last," came his father's voice. Simon recalled, with horror, that slaves in transport had no bowel control. Instead, they were automatically 'cleaned out' with infusions of water. Again, Simon wanted to shout, NO! Don't do it! Please! But again the VSC forced him to stay silent.

"One good thing: You're just in time for supper! I'll make sure you get a good cum-feed tonight. I'm sure you must be hungry." The trapped boy wept in despair as his father moved away from the cage. While it was true that Simon was hungry, the last thing in the world that he wanted to eat was cum. Simon listened helplessly to the beeping noises as his father reprogrammed the cum-feeder and the cleaner. Then Simon heard the light being turned off before his father left, closing the doors as he went. Simon wept again.

There was a click followed by the whirring of an electric pump and warm water began to flood Simon's bowels. Helpless to do anything to stop it, Simon could only sit in his cage and cry as water was pumped into his rectum. As more and more water entered him, Simon tried to groan in pain but still could only produce quiet gasps.

Unexpectedly, one of the small boys with Simon hugged him. Then the other did the same. They both held tightly onto Simon, trying to comfort him in his distress as much as they could. Simon was astonished. Slaves comforting slaves? But he wasn't a slave! Was he? As the water inflow shut off, Simon wasn't sure any more.

Simon sat, gasping in pain for a long ten minutes before there was another click and the water began to drain out of him. But, once he was empty, the process started again. A second time, Simon's bowels were filled with water. A second time, he had to endure the pain as it was held inside him for ten minutes before the machine allowed him to expel the water.

And again, both of the little slaves hugged Simon comfortingly, helping him to endure the totally unwanted experience.

Was this what his father had meant, Simon wondered? That even slaves have rights? What a precious right this was. The right to be comforted, even in such distress.

Simon suddenly began to realise how totally selfish and self-centred he'd been. He'd dismissed slaves' rights totally and out of hand, without any understanding of what he was talking about. Simon wept yet again, this time in repentance. He promised himself that if he ever got out of this, he'd be nicer to his own little slave.

Poor Percy, thought Simon. He hadn't deserved what Simon had done to him. Simon had brutally beaten his little slave just because he could. Simon cried bitterly as he realised that what was happening to him now was exactly what he deserved. He hugged the two little slaves, hoping they'd feel comforted.

Another click, and Simon suddenly felt an orgasmic pleasure clutch at his groin, his prostate madly squeezing out semen in response to the computer-controlled external stimulus. Simon could feel the semen flowing along his penis and into the tube inserted into his urethra. He gasped in pleasure and could hear identical gasping noises from the two boys with him as well as from the boys in the other cages as they were all milked of their semen at the same time.

Three times the electronic stimulus was applied, draining Simon's prostate practically dry of semen. But worse was the type of pleasure it enforced on Simon. It was, put simply, unsatisfying. Unfulfilling. It wasn't a proper climax; this sterile, machine-driven milking. It left Simon wanting more, but without any way to obtain more.

Simon could hear the machine mixing the boys' cum into a single dose and realised, with horror, that it was about to be fed to him. Worse, there was nothing he could do to prevent it! Bizarrely, Simon suddenly realised that Percy was in the truck too and so he, Simon, would soon be drinking his own slave boy's cum! Simon's crying renewed itself as he admitted to himself that it was no more than he deserved.

The machine whirred and Simon suddenly found warm liquid squirting into his throat through the tube held in his mouth. With the VSC having removed all voluntary control of his throat muscles from Simon, his automatic reflexes took over, forcing the crying, penitent boy to gulp down the cum.

Again, the two little slave boys hugged Simon as, still gulping down cum, the boy came to realise all the more just how much he welcomed their comfort.

Simon was allowed a few seconds to breathe before a second dose of cum was forced into his throat, again causing the involuntary swallow reflex to trigger. Simon didn't even try to resist. There was no point.

There was a pause, then all of the boys, Simon included, were slowly fed the cum-like slave food. Simon noted, with a feeling of black humour, that he could detect no difference in taste between his previous genuine-cum meal, now residing in his stomach, and the cum-substitute nutrient which he was being forced to swallow at that moment.

Gulping. Breathe. Gulping. Breathe. The cycle repeated over and over until the boys had each swallowed their allotted allowance of the slimy stuff. Finally, the feeding ended, to Simon's relief. Although at least it did put something in his stomach. He'd been hungry.

Time passed. Simon was sleepy. He realised, with despairing resignation, that he was going to have to sleep here, in this cage. He could only hope that tomorrow, his disappearance would be discovered and a search made. Perhaps someone would connect the dots between his absence and the sudden appearance of an unchipped 'slave'? It was his only chance of regaining his freedom, he realised. Simon began to doze. His last thought before he drifted off into sleep was how desperate he was for a good wank!

Simon woke in the early morning to the sound of the truck engine starting. No! He couldn't be delivered to the slave market! In a total panic, Simon realised that he was completely helpless. There was nothing he could do to stop anything anyone wanted to do to him!

For some minutes, the truck just stood still, the idling engine seeming to match Simon's rapidly beating heart. Then Simon heard the rear doors opening. Someone entered and came to Simon's cage, then unlocked it. What was going on? Whoever it was, didn't speak.

The two little slave boys who had been with Simon all night were removed from the cage, causing Simon to realise just how much he was going to miss having them to hug. Then Simon was helped to climb out of the cage. Unable to see anything, Simon could only wait as the unknown person opened and closed cages, seemingly moving boys around.

Then, Simon felt something being attached to his collar. A tug on the collar and Simon obediently trotted a few steps in the direction of the pull. As he did so, he bumped into someone next to him. Someone short. A little slave boy, Simon realised. Probably one of the two who he had been with all night. Simon felt for the boy's shoulder so that they'd be able to walk without tripping over each other.

Simon and the little slave were taken out of the truck and made to walk a short distance before they entered a building. Behind them, the truck doors slammed shut.

Simon was left standing alone and helpless while, so far as he could tell by sound alone, the little slave was taken away to another room. In the distance, the truck engine revved and it began to drive off, heading to the slave market. For the first time since his ordeal had begun, Simon felt relief. At least that wasn't to be his fate.

Footsteps approached. Simon waited. A hand went to the controls for the VSC which had kept Simon silent for so long. As the control was moved to 'off', Simon heard his father's voice.

"Well, Simon, how do you feel about slave rights now?"

Epilogue

Simon and Percy lay together in Simon's bed. Simon had just had a wonderfully pleasant time fucking his little slave's sweet arse almost raw. Percy hadn't complained even once in spite of his VSC being turned off the whole time, although Simon was sure the fucking must have hurt him. The little boy must also be desperate for his own sexual release by now.

Simon's father had immediately admitted to Simon that he'd known the truth all along. After the happy accident of finding Simon playing with the slave gear, Simon's father had simply improvised an act, hoping that a small taste of a slave's life would change Simon's attitude.

Simon reached for Percy's chastity pod key. Yes, he'd give his little cutie a nice hand job. Perhaps even a blow job. Simon thought he owed Percy at least that much since, even though Percy didn't know it, he had been one of the two little boys comforting Simon during that horror night.

And after all, thought Simon, slaves have rights too.

The End