Mister Red

The Fate of a Poor Man's Son

Chapters 10-15

Chapter 10
Some Comfort For Wally

That was the night I was placed in a cell together with Rye. It was tall enough for us to stand up, but not very roomy. One corner had a hole and a water hose, while the other corner had just one narrow sleeping shelf. I would have expected that a slave with the seniority and responsibilities of Rye would have a better personal space. But then again, Rye was just a slave, just property of the Winston family.

We stood naked together. His cock was fully erect and mine was half-way hard. I looked at the narrow sleeping shelf with its two-inch [5 cm] thick slab of foam and then looked at Rye. As if he read my mind, he said, "The floor is icy cold. You get on the shelf first."

I stood there for a long moment and then said, "You know I'm not like that. You know I'm not queer."

He had a half smile as he replied, "Yeah, I used to not be like that also. Relax, Wally, I don't intend to rape you."

What was I scared about? I had already been raped and humiliated by the free men in the house. But Rye was a fellow slave. There was something more intimate about this. And yet, he was right, the floor was very cold. I got onto the shelf facing the wall. Rye climbed on behind me and pressed his body against mine. I immediately felt his erect dick along the crack of my ass and I jumped up as if I'd been electrocuted.

After some negotiating, we both turned around so that I was spooning Rye. My dick went fully hard when pressed along the crack of Rye's muscular ass. I was telling myself, "I know I'm straight. It's just the feeling of warm flesh against my penis that's making me go hard. It's just a normal natural reaction that any guy would have." But even as I was repeating that in my head I began to sob. Nothing about my life was normal or natural anymore. I was not like any guy anymore. I was a sex slave.

Now I was lying in bed sobbing uncontrollably and Rye turned around to face me. He wrapped his arms around me and I pressed my face to his powerful chest. His large hands were rubbing my back and my shoulders as he said, "You can cry if you wanna. You can let it all out."

That only made me weep harder. Why was I crying now? I had remained stoic during all sorts of disgusting sex acts and humiliation? Maybe I was finally letting go just because there was someone holding me in his powerful arms; there was someone who was comforting me. I knew I would never again get that kind of comfort from my father.

I wiped my eyes and my nose and looked up into the face of this handsome slave. I don't know how long the two of us just stayed like that looking into each other's eyes. I don't know which of us moved our lips forward first, but our lips met in a tender kiss. An instant later my mouth was opening and my tongue was in a passionate wrestling match with the big slave's tongue. My hands were moving all over his body feeling him up and his hands were doing the same to me.

Then my hand reached for my rock-hard erection and grabbed it together with Rye's stiff cock. They were both leaking and I was stroking them together. I had so many questions. Why was I erect for a man when I knew I was straight? Why did it feel so right? But I knew that if I stopped to ask any of those questions the moment would be ruined. And the important thing just then was how good the moment felt. I was touching and kissing and caressing someone of my own free will. I had doubted that my free will existed anymore. Maybe it only existed in the darkness in the confines of my sleeping cell?

Rye started kissing down my body. He licked my chest. His tongue went into my belly button and I squirmed. He was off the sleeping shelf now, on his knees next to the narrow bed, and his mouth engulfed my stiff cock. I grabbed the back of his head. I felt his lips make contact with my balls. His nose dug into the area where my pubic hair used to be. I had become an expert cocksucker in just a matter of days. But this was the first time my cock had been encased in a mouth. Rye didn't have any time to suck me. I just started shooting instantly. My cream exploded down his throat and as he swallowed my cockhead was tickled and stimulated even more.

He sucked the end of my cock to get every drop. I moaned and reached down to caress the big slave's neck. He moved up the bed and I grabbed his face to mine and kissed him, sticking my tongue deep into his mouth to taste my own spunk. Then I urged him back onto the sleeping shelf and I moved to the side of it. Now it was my face moving down his powerful body. Now it was my tongue that licked all around the base of his cock. Now it was my mouth that engulfed his thick long erection and sucked deeply.

I looked up to see the satisfied smile on Rye's face. He whispered, "You don't have to do this you know." I nodded and grinned and even with his cock in my mouth I managed to say, "I really wanna suck your cock, you big handsome slave." He chuckled and I got down to work. I wanted to give him the best blowjob I'd ever given. I'd been forced to suck on the captain's cock and Brad's cock. I'd even been forced to suck on my father's cock. But Rye had been kind to me. Rye was a fellow slave. I remembered Rye saying that, "the only comfort a slave gets is in the arms of other slaves." He had given me comfort and now I was determined to give him comfort.

Rye shouted a warning that he was going to shoot, but I stayed all the way down on his big hard cock and swallowed his sperm eagerly. Then he pulled me up alongside him on the narrow sleeping shelf. We kissed once again, our tongues intertwining.

"B-but, you know I'm not queer…" I began to stammer, not sure why I was even saying that.

Rye put his fingers to my lips again and said, "Shhhh, this isn't a time to worry about anything or think about anything. This is our only time to relax."

He was right. I slept in his arms that night and it was the best night's sleep I had since my enslavement.

Everything went as usual the following day. In the early evening, Rye helped shave me and give me my series of enemas. I didn't know whether I was going to be servicing the captain, Brad, or both of them, but I knew what was expected of me.

But when Rye led me upstairs dressed only in slave briefs, he brought me to a different door. He rapped softly, opened the door, and ushered me inside. This room was not nearly as grand as the captain's room or Brad's room. We walked through the sitting room and into the bedroom where there was a small figure sitting on a very large bed and sorting through books.

Rye nodded his head and said, "The new slave boy, Master Randy."

I recognized Randy when he looked up from the books. He still had that cute face, still looked so young although he was my age. When he looked at me he seemed to blush and look down again. Then he stood and approached us. There was something in his manner, something in the way he walked toward us, that was so different from his father or his brother. He looked me up and down and then seemed to bow his head as he said, "Wally, I'm so sorry my father did this to you."

How was I supposed to respond to that? Mechanically I said, "I'm here to serve you, Master Randy."

Rye stepped back and left the room. Randy guided me to sit beside him on the bed. He was fully dressed in a white shirt and gray slacks, and I was only wearing the small white slave briefs. I sat on the very edge of the bed, wondering if there would be some nasty trick happening. I remembered the way the captain had sat beside me in such a friendly way before he pounced on me and used me for sex.

There seemed to be a sparkle in Randy's eyes as he looked at me. "You're still as good looking as ever, Wally. I really wanted to be your friend back when you visited us here." My face showed no emotion. I still wasn't sure how I was supposed to respond to my third master.

He seemed to blush deeper and his fingers made contact with my hand. He was acting like a nervous schoolboy on a first date. It seemed to take all the courage he could muster for him to look up at me and ask, "May I kiss you, Wally?"

"I am here to serve you, Master Randy."

"No," he cut me off. "I want to know if you'd like me to… if you wouldn't mind having me… ummm, kiss you."

His face went so red I actually felt sorry for his nervousness. I leaned toward him and pressed my lips softly to his lips. He sighed softly and I relaxed my lips so that my tongue was playing along his lips.

Just then I heard the door open sharply. Randy pushed my shoulders and pushed me off the bed so that my face was in the crotch of his pants. I didn't look up. I heard the voice of the captain say, "Ahhh, I see you're making use of our new slave boy. Now don't be all namby pamby with him, boy. Assert yourself." Then I heard Brad's voice say, "We'll be at the big industry banquet till late, so he's all yours tonight, little brother." As I listened I moved my mouth around Randy's crotch and moved my lips to outline the obvious erection the boy showed through his gray slacks.

Randy was breathing hard. I looked up at him and he reached his arms down as if to raise me up. "I'm so sorry, Wally. I'm so very sorry." Then there were tears running from his eyes. I leaned in and kissed away his tears. The feeling of my tongue must have tickled because Randy began to giggle. Then he smiled and we kissed once more.

The youngest of my masters did not give me any commands. We ended up lying side-by-side on the bed. I was unbuttoning and pulling off his shirt. Then I was unzipping his pants and pushing them down. Soon we were both in white briefs. Two smooth teenage boys rubbing our erections together through the cotton of our briefs.

We rolled over and over on the bed. Then when I was on the bottom, Randy pulled back from our kiss and looked in my eyes. "C-could we have been like this, Wally? I mean, if you weren't enslaved, c-could we have just been two buddies together doing this?"

As sweet as he was, as gentle as he was, as different as he was from the rest of his family, I couldn't lie to Randy. I shook my head and said, "Before I was enslaved I only ever wanted… well, Randy, before I was a slave I was totally straight." Oh my god, what had I done? I had just called him by his first name! I hadn't called him sir or master.

For a moment there seemed to be a dark cloud in front of Randy's face and I wondered if he was going to explode in anger over my lack of respect. But then he smiled brightly and said, "Oh, that's OK. I like that you're a straight boy." With that he slid down my body and started to work his lips on my erection through the fabric of my white briefs.

Then Randy pulled my boner out of the leg opening of the briefs and began to lick it all over. I had just received my first blowjob the previous night from Rye, but that had been over in less than a minute. Now here was a cute boy licking the pre-cum off the tip of my cock and then wrapping his lips around it and sliding all the way down. But this cute boy was supposed to be one of my masters!

Randy was acting like a starving man and my stiff dick was the only source of nutrition. He was panting, lapping, sucking noisily and making slurping noises. Then he slowly slid his lips back up off my cock and looked up at me. He jumped off the bed and took my hand, leading me to the bathroom. He didn't order me to go there, he led me there with a big smile on his face.

Once in the bathroom, he knelt down and took something from a secret hiding place. When I saw that it was an enema kit I said, "I already had three enemas downstairs. I assure you I'm totally…."

But before I could finish that sentence, Randy had knelt down on a towel. His briefs were pushed to his knees, his butt was raised and his head was on the ground. He looked back over his shoulder and smiled sheepishly at me. For a moment I was stunned. I was dazed and didn't know how to respond. But I quickly got down beside him and began to administer an enema to my cruel master's youngest son. He moaned when the nozzle entered his rectum and his eyes had a dreamy faraway look.

"Ha," I snorted. "So your asshole is like a vagina that gets all hot and wet to have something stuffed into it?" Where did I get the nerve to say that? If I said something like that to Brad he would have had me flayed to death with a bullwhip. But Randy just smiled broadly, his face still on the floor and he moaned, "Mmmmmmmm." I knew then that what I had said was correct. Randy wanted his asshole to be used like a vagina.

Once the boy was all cleaned out, he got up on his knees and once again his lips were at the fabric of my white slave briefs, toying with my erection. "Please," he whispered, looking up at me with puppy dog eyes. "I know you're a straight boy. But please I need dick up my boypussy."

My cock had never been stiffer in my life. I lifted the boy into my arms and carried him to the bed. But I didn't lay him gently on the bed. I dropped him on the floor beside the bed. I bent him over the bed. Then I positioned the head of my very stiff prick at his butthole and, without any lubricant, I shoved the full length of it into him.

He moaned. I thought for a moment I had hurt him. And for that moment I was happy thinking I hurt him. This was the son and brother of the men who had tormented me, who had brought me so low. I would make sure this boy was brought even lower. But he wasn't hurt. He was crying out in pleasure. I started fucking in and out as hard as I could. "Fuck, you are one fucked-up cock-hungry little pussyboy, aren't you?"

"Yessssssssss," he moaned.

I kept on pumping into him hard and fast. I lifted him up onto the bed and swung his legs around. I kept my cock inside him the whole time but now he was lying on his back, his legs wrapped around my middle, and I was on top of him pounding for all I was worth. I sneered at him, "So Captain Winston's little boy is a great big homo who can't live without slave cocks up his ass and down his throat." The boy kept on moaning and repeating, "Yes, yes," so I kept on going, "You're the one who should be the pussyboy slave, Randy. You're the one who should service real men." And still he kept on moaning, "Yes, yes."

"Open your mouth, bitch!" I spoke to him as a master would speak to a slave and he obediently opened his mouth. I was over him fucking his ass with long hard strokes and I looked down, gathered all the spit from my mouth and hawked a glob of spit right into his mouth. A serene look came across his features and he swallowed.

"We should chain Slave Randy down in the toilet of the barracks where they put all the African slaves. Yeah, all those real powerful men, so big, so many muscles, with cocks like baseball bats – and they'd come in and use you. They wouldn't even need toilets in there, they'd have such a pretty little pussyboy for their toilet."

Randy's howl may have been the loudest human voice I ever heard. I looked down in amazement. He hadn't even touched his leaking cock, but now it was spurting streams of semen all the way up to his face. But I had no time to think about that. Just as he started to cum, my cock had thrust into his ass as deep as it could go. Now my cock was being milked by every muscle inside his butt. The spunk was being pulled out of me by his hungry asshole. I collapsed on top of him glued to him by all the white cream on his torso.

Both of us were breathing so hard. I could feel both our heartbeats in unison. I was gripped with fear. Now that he shot his load, would Randy turn on me. But then I felt Randy softly kissing my neck and his voice had a sob in it as he said, "I w-wish we could be like this always, Wally."

I pulled out of him abruptly. Was my grin as evil as the grin that Randy's father always showed me? It sure felt that way as I glared at him and said, "Clean off my cock, bitch!"

He grinned as wide as he could as he nodded, "Yes sir." Then I was lying with my head on the soft pillows and he was kneeling between my legs licking and slurping on my cock. This was all so mind-blowing and so erotic that I was fully stiff again just moment after I shot that huge load up Randy's tight ass.

As I watched Randy lick all around my cock and then suck it into his mouth, I knew just what flavors he was tasting. I had licked the residue of spunk and ass juices off his father's and his brother's cocks plenty of times since my enslavement. But I looked down at the small-framed teenager with sadness. I knew this was a dangerous game he was playing. I knew that if the other Winston men found me dominating Randy, I would be in for a severe punishment.

But I couldn't help wonder, if his father and brother had found Randy submitting eagerly to a slave boy's cock, what would happen to Randy?

Chapter 11
Rye Tells His Story

Now I lay spread out on his big bed, my head on fluffy pillows. For the first time since my enslavement I felt fully human. How odd! I had been so dehumanized. Did it take dehumanizing someone else for me to regain my humanity? The very thought seemed to pervert the word 'humanity.'

Randy was eagerly slobbering off his ass juices from my cock and seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly. But I knew things would go badly for both of us if his father or brother ever learned the nature of our encounter. That's why I lurched up when I heard a door softly open. But Randy seemed calm and just kept licking my crotch. I looked up and saw Rye approaching the bed. The tall blond slave slid his briefs down his legs as he joined us on the bed and playfully smacked Randy's round butt.

I watched with wonder as my two bedmates kissed each other passionately, then smiled and laughed into each other's faces. Randy spoke, "I hope you've been making things nice for my friend Wally here." It seemed an odd thing for the wealthy free boy to say. Everyone knows you can't be friends with a slave!

Rye put one arm around my shoulders and pulled Randy to his powerful body with his other arm as he said, "Smoothed things over the best I could, little buddy." Little buddy? Was this any way for a slave to speak to one of his masters?

The two of them turned to me and explained their relationship. They cut each other off and finished each other's sentences. Indeed, they were like two buddies. And indeed, in spite of the difference in status, I could see that they had a loving friendship.

We talked together like any three buddies might have talked. Well, except that we were naked on the bed and playfully touching each other's bodies. I learned that Randy had chosen to go to a small boarding school the following year rather than following the family tradition of going to the big sports and frat school where his brother was already big man on campus at prep school. I also learned that Randy had secretly joined abolitionist organizations. He explained his opposition to slavery. But deep down I felt he truly did believe in the institution of slavery – he was just concerned that the wrong people were being enslaved.

Then Randy asked Rye to tell me his story. Rye shook his head and looked around nervously. "You know my father will never bug the room of a member of the family. He says it would set a dangerous precedent," Randy remarked. "Besides, I'm your master and I'm ordering you to tell the story."

Slave and master smiled at each other softly. Then a troubled look went across Rye's face. "My father," Rye began slowly, "worked closely with Captain Winston and considered the captain a good friend and mentor. In fact my brothers and I would visit here often. We would call the captain 'Uncle' and we would go swimming in the pool. We thought it was so cool that Uncle let us swim in our underpants or sometimes even naked in the pool. I used to giggle when uncle would dry me off naked with a big fluffy towel. I remember my father just watching and smiling. My father was as much of a naïve fool as I was."

"You and your brothers?" I asked.

Without looking at me Rye said, "I was the youngest of three." I noticed how he said 'was' in the past tense and I felt a sense of dread. But I remained silent and let him continue.

"Then my father got into some business trouble. He was accused of industrial espionage. It was a troubled time for our family. We made a lot of visits to this house and the captain always seemed like such a good friend. Finally there was a momentous day when dad brought me and my two brothers over here and brought us all into the captain's study. I had never seen my father looking so grim before. The captain sat behind his desk watching and dad was pacing the floor trying to find the words to tell us what was happening."

Rye looked up at me and took a deep breath. "The upshot was that my father was in even worse trouble than we had realized. It looked likely that he would be convicted and that the sentence would be lifetime enslavement. Before that could even sink in, he told us that since his sons were considered assets the courts would enslave all three of us boys. Then he said that he had found a solution to save us from that fate. Well, it didn't really save us as it turned out.

"Our father looked over to Captain Winston and explained that his good friend had agreed to buy us. Dad would enslave us for five years and the captain would be our owner. Dad explained that if we were enslaved by the court we couldn't know what sort of person might buy us. But if we were already enslaved before our dad's sentencing, then the courts couldn't touch us and we would be assured of the captain as our owner. Then dad went on and on about what a good person the captain was and how much he trusted the captain.

"I remember that's the point where the captain stood up to speak to us. He was stern but kindly. He explained that this wouldn't be just a game. He said we would be slaves and would have to be inducted the way any other slaves were, that we would have to be stripped and shaved and collared, and that we would have to call him master or sir.

"It was very sobering news for a boy my age to hear, but the captain had always been kind to us and I felt certain it would all work out OK."

"H-how old were you and your brothers at the time?" I asked.

Rye answered flatly, "My oldest brother was 16 years old. My middle brother was three years younger than him and then there was another two years before I was born."

I did the math in my head. My mouth fell open when I realized how young Rye had been when he was first enslaved.

"Of course dad made a point of saying that there were restrictions on the uses of underage slaves. Then he quickly said that even though there could be no restrictions on the use of my oldest brother, dad trusted the captain to do the right thing. The captain kept nodding his head and mumbling his agreement. Dad looked at me and smiled saying that since I was only enslaved for five years I would only serve my time as a juvenile slave. Back all those years ago legal age for using a slave was sixteen.

"When dad left he reassured us that he was certain he'd be found innocent of the charges against him. He said that he'd probably return to buy us back in a few days. What I didn't know then was that my father went directly from the captain's house to the courthouse and he would never emerge as a free man again. I would never see my father again."

Rye looked down to take a breath. I felt his pain since I also now felt certain that I would never see my father again. But at least my father wasn't enslaved. At least he wasn't enslaved as far as I knew.

Randy broke the silence by loudly saying, "His father's trial was presided over by Judge Snow and I suspect that my father…."

Rye raised a cautionary hand and said, "Please, that's a serious charge. We can't know that for sure." Then he took a deep breath and continued his story. "The captain told us he wanted to personally supervise our enslavement, but he had a uniformed slave policeman along. Suddenly it all became very intimidating. The three of us were taken to the slave bathing room downstairs. It's the place I work now, but back then I'd never seen a room like it. We were ordered to strip naked. All three of us had gone skinny dipping in the captain's pool, but this felt so very different. The three of us stood in a row while the captain and slave cop were fully clothed and staring right at us.

"Of course the nervousness made my penis fully stiff. I glanced down the row and saw that each of my brothers was in a state of arousal. The slave cop started by shaving my oldest brother. I watched the shave cream and the cop's fingers at the base of my brother's hard cock. I had seen both of my brothers naked plenty of times but had never seen either of them with an erection. In a few minutes every hair on my big brother's body had been shaved off: under his arms, on his calves, around his penis, on his balls, and even in the crack of his ass although I don't know if there really were any hairs there to begin with. Then they gave my brother a very short slave haircut, much like the one I have now; they put on a collar and cuffed his hands to the D-rings on the back of the collar. They even put a cockring behind his balls – it matched the collar – and that made his cock and balls stand out from his body, again much like the one I'm wearing now.

"My oldest brother was left standing there looking every inch the slave and the captain and slave cop turned their attention to my middle brother. The two men seemed to spend a lot of time putting their hands all over my middle brother. I couldn't understand why. But then I noticed that both of these men had big tents in the front of their pants. You know the slave cops' black uniform pants, how tight they are. I could make out the shape of the man's rod going down his leg. I remember the captain was wearing tan pants and not only was there a tent but there was a wet spot. And yet the captain was doing nothing to try to hide it. I figured he must not be aware of it and that when he realized what was showing in his pants he would be very embarrassed. Yes, I was terribly naïve."

Rye took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes as if it was painful for him to envision this scene from his past. "Then they were touching me. The slave cop looked at the base of my penis and then told the captain that he didn't think I needed shaving. But the captain had to doublecheck that by feeling around. Then the slave cop bent me over a chair and took an awful long time to determine that I also didn't need anything shaved around my butthole. But the captain insisted that he had to investigate for himself. The captain's finger was working around my previously-untouched anus. I had never known such sensations before. Suddenly without any warning I lost some piss onto the chair. The captain lifted my face and shouted, 'Look what you've done.' Then he ordered me to lick it up.

"My oldest brother protested. But before he could get a full sentence out of his mouth the slave cop had zapped my brother's tits with a slave prod. There he was, the older teen I idolized above anyone else, writhing on the floor and peeing uncontrollably. The captain was giving a lecture about slaves being obedient and not talking out of turn, but I don't know if my brother heard a word of it.

"Meanwhile, seeing my brother zapped like that I just got down on my knees and started licking my pee off the chair. I didn't even think of it as something sexual. I had messed up the chair and so my master had demanded that I clean it with my tongue. The idea of what I was licking repulsed me. But I had no choice.

"As my big brother caught his breath and tried to stand up, the captain ordered him to lick his piss off the floor. My brother weakly said something about that being wrong, that the captain couldn't ask him to do something like that. That's when the captain held the slave prod just an inch away from my middle brother's balls. The slave cop held my middle brother firmly in place. Captain Winston gave my brothers the most evil grin and told them that if my oldest brother didn't lick up the piss, my middle brother would get an electric shock on his balls. My middle brother was bawling and sobbing so loud by then. My oldest brother just bowed his head looking so defeated and was licking his own piss off the floor.

"By that time all three of us were so scared that we followed the captain's commands and administered enemas to each other. I thought licking my pee off the chair was the worst humiliation, but having both my brothers shove a nozzle up my ass and then watch as I squatted over a hole in the floor – I felt I had reached a new level of humiliation and I feared that things would get worse.

"Soon enough my middle brother and I were chained to the wall naked where we could watch the proceedings. My oldest brother was strapped down bent over the leather horse and the captain spent a long time testing various switches and canes and straps, swishing them through the air and trying to determine what would be an appropriate punishment for my brother. Then he grinned that evil grin again and let out that creepy laugh and said, 'Why should I mark up this pretty white ass when I could fuck it instead.' I watched helplessly as my hero, my oldest brother, was raped on the horse by our new master, the man who had been such a good friend to my father, the man to whom he had entrusted his sons."

Was that a tear I saw in Rye's eye? He turned away and cleared his throat. "Our master knows how to control and shape slaves. He knew that my oldest brother would withstand any sort of punishment rather than face degradation – especially in front of his two younger brothers. But the captain twisted it around so that if my brother did not follow an order instantly, the punishment would be meted out to me or my middle brother. That made my oldest brother obey."

"B-but as for you," I started hesitantly. "You were SO YOUNG then."

"Right," Rye looked up at me with a sardonic smile. "But the captain could legally use me for any standard household services. The captain decided I should wash him in the shower. I remember the first time that bathroom door was closed and he was naked showing me how he wanted me to soap up my hands, how he wanted me to use my hands."

I clasped Rye's hand in mine and squeezed. I was currently serving the captain in the shower. Most mornings he would have me soap up his penis until it was good and stiff and then I would have to use my tongue to make sure I had gotten him 'clean enough.' I wondered how much that evil old man had dared to do with Rye back then.

"Then one day I was cleaned up real good inside and out and brought up to the captain's sitting room in my slave briefs." Rye had a stoic look on his face. "He was dressed in a suit and drinking whiskey. He seemed very friendly and I was glad for that. He had me sit beside me, offered me cookies, and then he showed me some paperwork from the court. I didn't understand what it was. The captain explained that according to this paperwork I was of legal age. What he was saying seemed absurd. Anyone who looked at me could tell I was still just a small boy. And remember back then legal age to use a slaveboy was 16. I tried to laugh about the error but that got the captain very angry. He roared something about, 'Who's gonna believe a slave boy over a respected judge.' And for sure there was Judge Snow's signature on the document."

Rye didn't have to continue his story. The impact of what he was saying sank in. I shook my head and whispered, "That would mean the captain is guilty of…."

"That's a very serious charge," Rye said with a defeated tone in his voice. "And if the only evidence is the word of a slave boy…" He shrugged his shoulders.

The captain's snide remarks to my father echoed in my head. My master had talked about how a man might circumvent the laws that protected slave boys who were not yet legal age. The captain had said that if everything was in private and the only two who knew about it were the master and the slave boy, no police force or court could ever touch the perpetrator.

I looked to Randy who had been silent for such a long time. He was hunched over looking down at his hands as if he were weighed down with his own family's sins. As if he felt my eyes on him he softly intoned, "I study philosophy. I believe there is a just universe. I believe that in the end all will receive justice." I wanted to spit in the wealthy free boy's face.

Another thought struck me and I turned to Rye to ask, "But the five years? You were only enslaved for five years? Surely that was over some time ago."

Rye chuckled under his breath and said, "Between the captain and his buddy, Judge Snow, they can get anything through the court."

There was a cold sinking feeling in my stomach. What did that mean to the five years and fifteen days of my enslavement? I didn't want to ask. I didn't need to ask. I knew that I was now facing lifetime enslavement.

Then I found myself with another question I didn't want to ask, but I knew I had to ask it. "Y-your brothers, Rye? W-what happened to your brothers?"

Now there were tears streaming down Rye's cheeks as he softly said, "I had been here a little less than a year. One morning I woke up and they were gone. They had been sold. Nobody said anything to me about where they had gone. I knew enough not to ask questions. I just put my head down and did the work I was ordered to do."

There was a long silence and I didn't think Rye was going to say anything else, but then he broke the silence to add, "Then sometime later the captain showed me a full-page ad in the newspaper for a show in Las Vegas, a sex show with all sorts of performers. You know that since so much is legal in Las Vegas the newspapers all over the country let them advertise those sorts of shows. And there in the center was a picture of my two brothers with my father standing between them. All of them were naked and looked very fit. Apparently the selling point of that act was that these three slaves who performed sex together right in front of the audience were truly a father and his two sons. It said that the club had authentication that they really were blood relations. It also said that these performers were available to be booked for private sex or parties.

"The captain then made the point that the owner of that club had offered him a huge sum of money for me. But the captain wanted to keep me. He told me I was the lucky one. I was somehow special to him. He has this theory that the very best slaves are the ones you can break at a young age. I suppose I was the youngest he ever had. Maybe his theory is right. I have always been an obedient and faithful slave to my master."

Rye shook his head. "I don't know what's happened to the three of them since. My father was a very fit and handsome man. But he would be around fifty by now. I don't want to think of what his probable fate has been. My brothers? Well, I understand the audience gets tired of performers in Las Vegas after about three or four years. The performers are then sold to brothels. They start off in high-class brothels in New York or London where clients are paying a small fortune to use them. But as time goes on they are transferred and transferred again until they end up in some flea-infested shanty in Thailand or in Nigeria where they're chained to the bed and servicing dozens of men a day.

"Yes, I suppose my master was right. I am the lucky one." Randy wrapped his arms around Rye and held him. I wrapped my arms around both of them and wished we could just stay like this and not have to face this terrible world again. But I knew we would have to face the world. And I knew that the captain's party was coming up very soon.

Chapter 12
The Winston Party

And then it was the night of the party. Middle School graduation had just taken place the day before. It seemed like all the kids from school, all the faculty, and even the parents of the kids had all been invited to this big outdoor party. I was dressed in something that looked like a jockstrap except there was only one strap up the middle of the butt and the fabric was much softer and thinner than a jockstrap. But as the party started I didn't know what my assignment was or where I should be.

I saw Captain Winston striding toward me flanked by my coach and the school principal. All three men took me by the arms without saying a word and tossed me on my back onto one of the big wooden tables that had been built. I felt each wrist being strapped to the legs on one end of the table and then each ankle being strapped to a leg on the other end of the table. I was stretched out on the table in the shape of an X looking around at the people who were surrounding the table.

Then I watched as my former middle school coach pulled off his jacket and tie. He unbuttoned his shirt so that he was left in his white undershirt that showed his muscular chest. He grinned at me and said, "You don't want me to do this later on after I've gotten good and plastered, do you, boy?" He was pulling out equipment that I didn't recognize.

"B-but I'm a temporary slave and you can't…."

The coach smacked my face hard and then shouted, "Stuff something in this slave boy's mouth to shut him up."

I saw Eddie, the obnoxious football player, bounding up to the table enthusiastically with his gym bag. He pulled out a raunchy pair of his boxer shorts announcing to all assembled, "I jacked off into these three times and wiped my ball sweat off with them." Then Eddie unceremoniously stuffed the filthy boxers into my mouth. I could taste his cum and his sweat as well as a distinct flavor of piss.

And then I saw the light glisten off the sharp small knife in the coach's hand. It looked something like the exacto blades we used to cut posterboard in art class. He was moving it toward my cock. My cock instantly shriveled up practically trying to hide inside my body. What the fuck was this man going to do to me?

"We got any homos here?" Coach called out merrily. "We need to get this slave boy cock at full mast and I ain't about to rub it for him."

Someone pushed Rye forward. Obedient slave that he is, Rye just fell to his knees beside the table and started to suck my cock. There were jeers and catcalls from the men gathered around, including some cries of, "I'll give you a real man's cock to suck on." I was trying to will myself to stay soft, but Rye's tender ministrations were more than I could resist. My cock was fully stiff. Rye was pulled away only to have free boy cock shoved down his throat. And once again I saw the blade of the knife coming toward me.

The bonds were holding me very tightly in place. In retrospect it was a good thing I couldn't shift around on the table. The very tip of the knife blade sliced along the side of my cock as the coach began to lecture the assembled, "There was a time in America, the last century, when just about every baby boy born in a hospital was circumcised. But once slavery was reintroduced and it was established that slave boys would all be circumcised, people stopped getting their baby boys cut. They didn't want their sons mistaken for slaves."

I felt the pain searing through me. It was like getting a paper cut, only this very thin cut was on my cock. I gritted my teeth. At least I knew now that the coach wasn't planning to slice off my penis. He was just going to circumcise me. Just going to? Damn, wasn't that bad enough? I was having my foreskin removed against my will.

There was a slice made perpendicular to the first. Fortunately, the coach had a steady hand and seemed to know just how deep to press the blade. But still there was a large quantity of blood. I felt lightheaded. I blacked out for a moment. Water was thrown in my face and the coach was holding up the bloody piece of skin, waving it around. Then he tossed my foreskin in the barbecue fire. "A hunk of useless fat for the fire," he joked and the crowd roared with laughter.

He turned his attention back to me and wrapped gauze around my bleeding penis. He taped it in place and then pressed it down against my groin. He put a gauze pad over my penis so that it was flattened against my body. My balls were still revealed below. Then I was untied and given a small cup to place over my cock and balls. It snapped in place. There was no belt, nothing covering my ass, just the cup over my bandaged genitals.

I looked around but I didn't see Randy. I learned later that the captain's younger son hated parties. Not so with Brad Winston. From out of nowhere, Brad grabbed my arm and said, "There you are, boy. You're needed." I was positioned on my knees just behind the table with beverages. Then Brad announced, "OK, guys, we have a urinal in place now."

Eddie the football player was first in line and already had his cock out as he approached. He shoved it quickly into my throat and began to piss with a powerful stream, his hands on his hips. He grinned from ear to ear looking down at me and snickered, "Finally found your rightful place in the world, eh, Wally?" I tried to suck off the final drops but he pulled out of my mouth. He wanted to smack his pissy cock on my face so the final drops would splash in my eyes and my nose.

The line kept moving. I lost track of which boys had used my mouth and of how many boys had used my mouth. The pain in my recently circumcised dick was throbbing but I had no time to think about it. I had to concentrate on swallowing the piss as fast as I could.

I heard some shouting. From the corner of my eye I saw Eric, the boy who used to be my best friend and co-captain of the track team. He was angrily telling someone, "No, I'm not a slave lover. It's just that's Wally, someone I used to know, it's gross to piss in the mouth of someone who used to be your friend."

The person in front of me at that moment must have saved up his urine for days because he just kept going. I couldn't turn to look but I recognized Brad's voice saying, "I'll show all of you something that'll change your mind about Wally."

There were large video screens set up all over the property, most of them showing music videos, but some showing financial news or sports. I was startled when I heard Rye's voice coming from the speakers: "You don't have to do this, you know." I knew what would follow. There was my voice booming from the speakers: "I really wanna suck your cock, you big handsome slave." Then there were loud groans from male voices. Someone called out, "Gross!" That was followed my Brad's voice saying, "Well Wally sure didn't think it was gross." Raucous laughter.

Just then my current customer finished pissing in my mouth and zipped up. There was a commotion. I looked up and there was Erik pushing away the other men and boys in the line. He snarled, "Excuse me but I really gotta stick my prick in there right now." I heard cheers from the other boys. Were those the boys who had been on the track team with Erik and me? I glanced at the screen and saw me kissing Rye and rubbing our cocks together. Rye had been right about the surveillance equipment. But I had never imagined the uses that might be made of the footage.

Erik grabbed my face roughly and forced me to look up at him. "Please Erik," I whispered, "I'm not like that."

He smacked me so hard across the face I thought I would lose my balance and fall over. "Shut up you fuckin' uppity slave. Who gave you permission to talk to a free boy?" Then he roughly pulled open his jeans and reached into his boxer shorts. He stuffed his thick young cock into my mouth and I got ready for the onslaught of piss.

No urine came. As my tongue moved along the bottom of his cock, I felt his tool getting stiffer and longer. I looked up at his face and saw him sweating. One of the boys called to him, "What'sa matter, man? Are you pee shy?" Erik called back, "This cocksucker's tongue is so hot he got me all boned up." There was laughter as the other boy called back, "So make that hungry little homo slave happy and feed him your spunk!"

I saw a dark look across Erik's face as he reached for my ears. He started to fuck my mouth in a way I had never experienced before. He was slamming into me so hard I thought his pubic bone would break my nose. Over and over unrelenting he yelled out, "Yee-haw" and indeed he was acting like he was riding a bronco with his cock.

"Damn, Wally," he grunted as he rode hot and heavy. "You're a cock-hungry little fag. Shit, all that time I had the locker next to you I'll bet you were looking at my cock and boning up. Shit, you little cumdump, if you were looking at my ass I'll fuckin' really hurt you bad, toiletface."

Then he began to shout out, "Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven…" By this time the gang of boys had joined in with the rest of the numbers. "Six… Five… Four… Three… Two…" And then when Erik slammed in on number one his cock spurted load after load of steamy cream down my throat. I swallowed as fast as I could. He pulled out of my mouth so that I got the last spurt of spunk right in the eyes.

Erik held his dick in his hand now. The look on his face seemed as evil as the look I usually got from Brad Winston. I knew what he was going to do. I leaned forward and tried to take his cock in my mouth, but he slapped my face with his tool and began pissing all over me. He pissed in my hair, on my face, down my chest. I just bowed my head and took it. I tried to block out the sound of the other boys cheering. Damn, I had heard them cheer for me at the state track finals, and now they were cheering for my degradation.

I was hosed down and moved further back to an area where only men would go. The boys who had been my teammates on the track team were first in line to get blowjobs from me. But Eddie's pals from the football team cut into the line. Every so often a dad would come along and they'd let him go to the front of the line. There was Erik's dad. I had been going to his house to play since second grade. And now he was gloating as he shoved his uncut cheesy dick into my mouth for a cleaning. Were people really so nasty? Were men really so perverse?

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, I heard the captain's voice. I glanced to the side while still sucking on the cock in my mouth and was horrified by what I saw. The captain had his big arm around my younger brother's shoulder. My brother, Will, was wearing the gray pants of a school uniform, but had removed the white shirt and tie so that he was just wearing a white undershirt from the waist up.

My brother was saying, "My dad told me but I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen that video." I knew just what he was talking about.

The captain chuckled softly and said, "Show me you're a real man, little buddy, heheheheh."

Then the boys on line were being moved aside by the captain. My brother was standing right in front of me. I could smell alcohol on him and from the way he was unsteady I knew he was already drunk. He was only twelve and I can't imagine my brother had ever been drunk before. When I looked up at his face, Will blushed and turned away. All through this he was struggling with the snap and zipper on his gray slacks.

Captain Winston came up to my kid brother and grabbed his pants and pulled them down to his knees along with his briefs. Will was shy and put a hand over his dick. But the captain just laughed and slurred, "Be a man. Stick it in the slave boy's mouth."

Will hesitated so I just leaned forward and gobbled his cock and began working my tongue over it. What the hell! I had already sucked my father's cock. I had sucked the cocks of my former friends and the nasty jocks from school that I'd always hated. Now that I was giving my younger brother what was probably his first blowjob, I was gonna suck him good.

His dick stretched to full length as my tongue massaged right under the head. Will called out, "Fuck, he does love sucking cocks." Then the boy caressed my head and started humping his hips never really pulling his meat too far from the warmth of my mouth, but moving it around on my tongue.

I was trying not to look up into Will's face knowing that embarrassed him. When I looked to the side I saw Captain Winston standing there with his hand in his pocket glaring at Will's ass. Then I looked and realized I could see Will's back reflected in a shiny cabinet across the way. I saw the way Will's firm ass cheeks moved in and out, clenching and then releasing, as he rode his cock in my mouth. I looked back at the captain and saw the way he was moving his hand in his pocket and the way he was staring. He was staring at the crack in Will's ass. I could read the captain's mind. He was thinking how nice those firm young cheeks would feel clenching and unclenching as they rode on his stiff prick.

Will's boner slapped against the roof of my mouth. His eyes were closed. He was looking up at the sky and I thought he would start howling. I tasted his sweet cream sliding down my throat. He immediately pulled out of me and turned away. The captain was coming close. There was no way I could warn Will about the fate that awaited him. I knew now how powerful the captain was; how manipulative; how unscrupulous he was; and how much he loved young smooth flesh.

My younger brother was trying to keep his genitals covered as he struggled to pull his underwear and slacks up from his knees. So very naïve! The boy was bending over and turning his back in an effort to keep his dick hidden from the captain, not realizing that the evil old man was much more interested in looking at his backside.

Did I really think that would be the low point of my night? How could I underestimate the nastiness and perversity of the men in the town of Winston?

I found myself inside a musty room with a pool table in the middle. Men were gathered around. Of course Captain Winston was there along with the principal, my coach, a few men I didn't recognize, but some I knew from the town. There was Aldo, the barber who had been cutting my hair since I was ten. There was Mr. Blank, father of the twins I used to babysit. They were smoking cigars and drinking brandy. And I knew I had been brought in as entertainment.

All I had on was the cup that covered my genitals. I hadn't realized before but with the gauze taped over my recently circumcised penis and the cup covering it all, it looked as if I didn't have anything down there.

I was told to wash out my mouth and was supervised to gargle and rinse and scrub my lips numerous times until all trace of urine would be gone. Then the coach tossed me a pair of pink panties with flowers on them. I just looked at him, my eyes wide, and shook my head slowly. "Please," I whispered. The principal slapped me across the face for speaking without permission and the coach tossed me a pink bra with small bows on it. I obediently put on the bra and panties wishing I could just sink into the earth and disappear.

Aldo placed a blond wig on my head. The hair color was close to my own, the cut seemed very young and girlish. The barber then pushed me down into a seat and began applying makeup. He brushed pink blush on my cheeks, smeared lipstick on my lips and then worked on my eyes. "Careful," someone exclaimed. "Don't make her look too slutty." Another voice added in, "Yeah, she's still such a sweet young thing, hardly any titties yet."

Drunken laughter filled the room. Almost as an afterthought I was given a pink satin slip to pull up my legs. It was very short and barely covered my flowered panties. I couldn't look anyone in the eyes.

"Awwww, look how shy our little girl is," Mr Blank said in a mocking way, the back of his hand brushing along my cheek. I cowered away from him and he laughed.

Then the men lifted me onto the edge of the pool table. My high school principal stood in front of me, his fingers playing with my nipples through the fabric of the pink bra. "Sure she's shy. She's such a sweet young thing, doesn't even fill out her training bra yet." Then he kissed me full on the mouth. His tongue was wet and sloppy. Even his moustache was wet and sloppy and his kiss was disgusting. I tried to pull back from the principal.

I was grabbed by my former coach who laughed, "Aw, our little lady don't like being stripped to her panties in front of all these big nasty men." Coach kissed me in a violent way, shoving his tongue hard down my throat. Simultaneously, his fingers went into the back of the flowered panties and he shoved one finger hard and dry up my ass, making me howl in pain in spite of all the ass fucking I had experienced. The cruel coach just laughed and snarled, "Our little lady don't even have any bush on her pussy." My utter disgust for these evil men multiplied a hundredfold just then. Fuck, these sick bastards not only wanted to pretend I was a girl, but they were playing a scene in which I was a young girl and I was their victim!

Suddenly I was pushed back so my head hit the pool table and my legs were in the air. Just the back of my flowered panties were pulled far enough so my ass crack was revealed. Then I felt the thick head of the coach's cock shoving against my anal opening. Fuck, didn't this man know anything about lubricant? Or maybe he just wanted to make me hurt?

The principal grabbed my face and looked down at me with an expression that almost implied sympathy. "Look at how pretty she is," he said in a soft voice. "You must be the little sister of that boy Wally. Yes, you're Wally's little sister and your lips are just as soft and inviting as his ever were."

His cock was surprisingly thick when he shoved it into my mouth. It tasted as if he hadn't washed under the foreskin in weeks. I gagged on it. He pulled back and then pushed it in harder. The coach was now firmly embedded in my butt and men were encouraging him to "fuck that twat, nice tight little pussy."

I could no longer keep track of which man was fucking which hole. I was defeated. They had won. Whatever the game they wanted to play, they were the winners. I looked around at all the men surrounding the pool table. Yes, they were all good heterosexuals. They had only fucked me after they could pretend I was a young girl. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine a place in hell worthy of these vile perverts.

Chapter 13
Summer Of Degradation

Rye was beside me wiping my forehead with a damp cloth when I awoke. I looked around disoriented. I was in the small cage where Rye and I slept. He put the nipple of a water bottle to my lips and encouraged me to drink. "It has vitamins and also an analgesic for the pain." Then he told me I could stay in bed. "Until your circumcision heals you only have to work a few hours a day," he assured me.

As I sucked on the nipple of the water bottle I found myself thinking how kind my masters were. I was a slave, after all. Any master would expect a full day of hard labor from every slave. But my masters were allowing me extra time to rest.

Then my brain rebelled at the thought. They were allowing me just a few extra hours to try to recuperate from the pain caused by the circumcision they had forced upon me, the knife wielded by the sadistic man whom I had once looked up to when he was my high school coach, a crowd of dirty old men looking on and reveling in my agony. I tried to feel anger at my masters for all they'd put me through. But I continued sucking on the water bottle and before I could fully form the thought I was once again asleep.

For the next three days, although there was a lot of work to do cleaning up and dismantling the remnants of the big party, I wasn't made to do any work around the grounds. I also wasn't called upon for sexual service. My only duties were helping Rye in the bathing and grooming of other household slaves. Meanwhile, Rye was solicitous in changing the bandages and putting ointment on my surgically-scarred penis. At one point he softly told me that the same thing had been done to him, also in front of an audience, except he had been even younger when his foreskin was removed. But when I asked questions about his experience, he refused to discuss it further.

On the fourth day things were back to normal – well as normal as they'd be for me as a slave on the Winston estate. Within another week I had an all-over tan from working around the grounds nude. I lost track of which nights I serviced the captain and which nights I serviced Brad. It was only when both the father and older brother were out of the house that Randy dared to have me come to his room. My sessions fucking Randy's ass were so different from anything I experienced with the other Winston men I knew they had to be kept secret.

As weeks went by I also began developing friendly relationships with some of the other slaves, the ones I was frequently shaving and cleaning. One boy named Scott was just half a year older than me. He had dark eyes and dark hair and a lean swimmer's body. It turned out Scott had also been on his school's swim team and we had both been at the state championships two years earlier. Scott's father had a gambling problem and the boy was philosophical about the fact that he had been enslaved because of the older man's debts.

It seems Scott had been the captain's favorite prior to my arrival and the dark-eyed swimmer was grateful that I had provided a break from his sexual services. But when I was recuperating from my circumcision, Scott was pulled back into daily service. After that, the captain and Brad rotated between me, Scott and a few other boys for their pleasure.

One night Scott came down from the captain's rooms at a very late hour. Rye and I joked with him about having endured a long fucking session, but Scott shook his head. He whispered that the captain had fallen asleep with his fat cock deep inside the slave boy's ass. When the captain woke up, he pushed Scott out of his bed and sent him on the way, so Scott had experienced hours of being filled with a thick cock, but virtually no fucking.

I'm not sure how the conversation turned the way it did, but soon enough Scott was bent over and guiding my erection into his already-spread asshole. Rye had explained that if any slave had fucked Scott before the boy's session with the captain there would have been hell to pay (and at least one slave flayed with a whip). But after a boy left the captain's chambers, any slave was welcome to 'sloppy seconds.'

As my hard cock slid easily into Scott's ass, I looked down at his broad shoulders and tapered torso. I remembered seeing him in his Speedos competing in the state swimming championships. I had been a Speedo-clad swimmer in the same competition where he was champion. But now we were both slave boys – sex slaves to be exact.

Scott's ass gripped my cock firmly. I was a little surprised he wasn't more stretched out, but I suppose the hole and chute beyond it are elastic and had snapped back into shape. I was afraid I would shoot my load too quickly, but I took a few deep breaths and then plunged in. In the back of my mind a little voice was protesting, "I'm straight!" But that voice was soon drowned out by the squishy rhythm of my quickly sliding cock.

When I came deep inside Scott I was able to forget for a moment that I was a slave. I was a fourteen-year old boy with a hard cock that was pulsating and shooting cream deep into a tight hole. Then my head cleared. I looked down and saw Scott's SIN number tattooed across his ass cheek. I saw Scott's collar reflecting the ceiling lights. I looked to the side and saw Rye stroking his cock. At that moment, Rye's sperm landed all over my chest and Scott's back.

The following night when I was called to the captain's rooms, I found him watching his widescreen television. He grinned at me and then looked back at the screen. The image of me fucking Scott was larger than life. I couldn't blame Scott. He had only been following orders, as any slave must. He had been told to make sure I fucked him up the ass. He had even been told exactly where in the slave bathing room it should be done for the best camera angles.

Of course the captain didn't know that I had already fucked his younger son Randy a half dozen times. As far as my master knew, my experience with Scott was the first time I fucked a boy up the ass – also the first time I had ever fucked. Knowing how deadly it would be if the secret of my sessions dominating the submissive Randy was ever revealed, I went along with Captain Winston's assertion that Scott had been my first fuck.

That was the night when the captain's verbal humiliation of me hit a new level. Actually, the captain made me the tool of my own verbal humiliation. I had a lot of new phrases to learn. From that day forward I would be a 'queer pussyboy,' 'hot for throbbing man meat,' with a 'dick-hungry cunt' and a 'cocksucking homo mouth.' I learned to sound convincing as I told the captain (and soon enough Brad) that I was 'made to service real men' like them and that I 'need to be fucked hard and long and to worship free man pricks.'

Although I had only been a slave for a few weeks, I took this latest round of humiliation in stride. Being ordered to swallow my master's piss was the same as being ordered to scrub the bathroom floor with a small handheld brush. It was all part of my humiliating duties.

In fact after leaving the captain's room that night I made plans to reassure Scott the following day that I didn't hold any grudge against him. He had offered me his ass to fuck, it turned out, only on orders from our master. But none of us had any choice. In fact, I found it oddly amusing.

The following morning when I awoke I took inventory and doublechecked for cleanliness in the bathing room. The large windows of that room looked out on a broad driveway that was only used for deliveries to the slave barracks or through the slave entrance to the house.

There was an open-backed truck parked in the driveway. I looked out and saw a cage on the truck with Scott inside it facing the window. His hands were cuffed to the back of his collar and he was chained within the cage so that he couldn't move his body. There was a ballgag in his mouth, the kind with holes in it so a slave can still breathe.

I was stunned, frozen on the spot. Rye entered and grabbed me by the arm to see what was wrong. Then he looked out the window and saw what I'd reacted to. He urged me to turn away. I stammered, "B-but I thought the captain l-liked Scott. Did Scott do anything wrong?"

Rye rubbed my neck and softly said, "I heard some talk that the captain was going to give a gift to seal a business contract. I guess that Japanese industrialist liked Scott." Rye urged me to get back to work. I kept glancing at Scott in the truck. How many hours did they need to keep that truck parked right in that spot? At one point I thought Scott had made eye contact with me through the window and I raised my hand in a thumb's up sign to him. I wasn't sure if I saw tears in Scott's eyes or just a glassy expression. Finally the truck drove away.

"You've heard the phrase 'You can't be friends with a slave,' right?" Rye asked, putting an arm around my shoulders. "That's not only true for free men. Between slaves – well, you never know when your master may sell you or lease you or give you away or simply move you somewhere else."

I wrapped my arms around Rye and hugged myself so tight against his large body. I had lost so much. I lost my father and my brother. I lost my friends and my education. I lost the respect of everyone in my hometown and I'd lost all respect for myself. I lost my freedom. With all that loss, Rye had come to mean a great deal to me. But I knew he was right. I knew I could easily lose him based on the whims of our masters.

That night I was fucked by the captain and gave a quick blowjob to Brad. When I returned to the small cage I shared with Rye, I snuggled up against him. It was our habit to masturbate each other. Often we would suck each other as well. But on this night I turned my back to him. I reached behind me and took hold of his erect cock sliding it in my ass crack. Rye kissed me on the neck and asked, "Are you sure, Wally?" I simply pushed my ass back against him.

I had been fucked so many times on the order of my masters, but now I was freely offering my ass. I invited Rye to fuck me that night and it was great. He started off by taking me from behind. Then he flipped me on my back. He fucked me face-to-face, kissing and caressing me in a loving way. I gave myself to him as if we were lovers. I suppose, in a way, we were lovers.

That night I slept very peacefully. Rye had been telling me that slaves needed to learn to live in the moment. I put everything out of my mind. I forced myself to forget that at any time Rye and I could be separated and I would never see him again. I just enjoyed that moment, feeling his strong arms holding me against his powerful chest.

One week blended into the next as the summer progressed. I had lost all track of the date or days of the week. What did it matter what day it was? I was still a slave.

Then one night as I was being cleaned inside and out, Rye told me that I would be providing after dinner entertainment for the captain's guests. I looked at Rye, swallowed hard and asked, "What does that mean?"

He wouldn't meet my eyes. He kept very busy as he explained that I would be given a costume to wear, that there would be other slaves, and that he would narrate a story for us to act out. "B-but, w-what kind of story?" I blurted out.

"I don't know that, Wally," he said calmly. "And even if I did know I couldn't tell you."

Clad in only my white slave briefs, Rye led me to a backstage area. I looked through a curtain. There was a well-lit stage with comfortable chairs, couches and divans forming a semi-circle in front of it.

I was startled by the appearance of two enormous ebony pony slaves beside me. I had to crane my neck to look up since each of them was at least a foot [30 cm] taller than me. One black pony grinned down at me while the other one remained expressionless. The smiling pony said, "I am Tar and my buddy here is called Pitch. Don't mind Pitch. He got his vocal chords cut so I do all the talking."

There was a musical lilt to Tar's voice that told me he was from Africa. I had never seen skin so black as on these two towering figures. If their size and color wasn't enough to be intimidating, each was decorated all over with geometric tattoos and what appeared to be cuttings in their flesh. Each of them wore a mesh pouch that could barely contain their oversized genitals.

"I-I'm s-sorry," I stammered. "I didn't mean to stare."

Tar let out a hearty laugh and Pitch opened his mouth as if laughing, even though no sound was emitted. But then Tar became very serious. He moved close to me and talked softly as he said, "Look, boy, we are not bad. But there are things we will do out there… to play out the scene…."

"Then you know what scene the captain wants us to play?"

"It changes each time, boy. At least the costume and the characters change. Oh, sometimes he'll repeat a favorite scene. But… well… all the scenes end up with…" Tar looked at Pitch and then looked back to me. He didn't need to finish the sentence. I knew that, for the entertainment of the captain's dinner guests, I was going to be raped by the two Africans. I had been fucked plenty of times. But as I looked at the pouches each of these slaves wore, my mouth went dry. Each black cock looked literally as thick around as my arm.

Pitch tapped his partner on the shoulder and made some movements with his hands. Tar turned back to me and said, "Please also remember that for us… well, we are kept with the other ponies, all big brutes like us. These entertainments for the captain are the only times we get to be with someone… to be with a boy like you, so tender and young and pretty." Pitch's fingers moved down my arm sensually. A tingling went through me and I automatically pulled away.

It was as if they were waiting for me to say something. But what could I say? Tar continued, "One time the captain had Scott dress up in a gym uniform from his old high school. We were each dressed in sweats like we were coaches. There were lockers and benches on the stage." Pitch made some gestures at Tar who nodded and went on, "The most humiliating was when we were supposed to be African natives, some kind of cannibals…." I could tell from the way he spoke that Tar was well educated. But all that education didn't matter now. He was a pony slave.

Rye came backstage and handed each of us our outfits. I was given a grey prison uniform, including grey boxer shorts. Pitch would be dressed the same. Tar was given dark grey slacks with a light grey shirt and a black tie. He was even given black shoes and striped boxer shorts to wear as well as a guard's cap. It was clear that Pitch and I were going to be prisoners while Tar would play the role of a prison guard.

Rye whispered to me explaining that he would be reading the story and it was up to the three of us to act out the scene. "You're allowed to speak as long as it's in character." There was sadness in his eyes as he turned away and went out onto the stage.

I heard Rye's voice starting the scene. "There was a boy who got in trouble with the law. He was so young and cute but he had a free boy attitude, typical of many spoiled brat teenagers. So the guard at the county jail decided to teach the boy a lesson." (Yes, the script had definitely been written by Captain Winston!)

Tar's powerful hand was on my neck leading me onto the stage. I glanced out at the audience. There was Mr. Blank – I used to baby-sit for his twin sons. Beside him was Coach Baker, the head of the athletic program at my high school and the man who had performed my circumcision.

Then I looked around the stage. There were two cots and a wall of bars behind them, as if this was a prison cell – well actually it looked more like a stage set of a prison cell. Pitch stood watching as Tar pushed me into the mock cell. I looked from one to the other.

The three of us acted out the scene as Rye read through it. I was ordered to show my ass and begged the black men not to make me do it. When I was bent over and my hairless cheeks revealed, there were cheers from the men in the audience. Those evil pigs in the town! They were cheering and laughing and encouraging my rape!

Granted, we were playing out a scene, but soon enough it became all too real for me. Those African cocks were half again as large as any cocks I'd had before. It was very real as I tried to push Pitch away from my mouth. Why was I even expending the effort trying to push the man away? He weighed twice what I did, with muscles more powerful than my scrawny body could hope to develop. It was hopeless. And yet I suppose there is a survival instinct. Barely half his cock went down my throat and I gagged fully believing I would choke on it.

That was nothing compared to the scream I let out when Tar's thick black tool went all the way into my asshole. I was howling and sobbing, "Take it out. Please, I can't take it." I turned in the direction of the audience. In between my sobs, I saw that men were rubbing their erections, laughing and snickering with each other. My pain and degradation was a turn on for these bastards!

Finally my ordeal came to an end. The audience applauded enthusiastically. Tar and Pitch pulled me to my feet to face the free men who had enjoyed our performance. Tears were still streaming down my cheeks as the captain announced, "Well, needless to say the boy's asshole won't be much fun to us normal-sized men" (chuckles from the audience). "But his throat should be nicely warmed up."

Rye led me offstage into the audience and Coach Baker was the first to shove his cock in my mouth. It took him less than two minutes to feed his load of cum down my throat. I figured he had been very aroused at seeing me raped onstage. As he pulled his cock out of me, Coach Baker called to the captain, "Hey, if you ever decide to redo that locker room scene with Wally here as the star, I could play the coach and make it real authentic." Then he laughed at his own joke.

I lost count of how many cocks I sucked that night. But when everyone else was done and most of the guests had departed, I was dragged by my collar to a back corner of the big room. I could smell the man as we approached. I could hear the ugly rasp of his breathing. I didn't need to glance up. I knew that the mountain of flesh filling up the big chair was Judge Snow. His stomach was round as a globe and protruded. His thighs were massive. Yet somehow he managed to spread his legs and lean his body back so that his hard cock stuck up stiff in front of me.

The huge man was pulling his hairy balls out of his fly. He grabbed my collar and pushed my face to his fat testicles. I started licking and had to use all my willpower to keep from gagging. Did this man ever shower? There was a sour smell from his crotch. And my tongue seemed to be licking up layers of cheesy sweat from his balls. Judge Snow wheezed loudly and he had a laugh that was more of a cackle.

For an instant I wondered how a man in such poor health could sport such a stiff erection. But then I remembered Rye's warning – there were so many pills that men could take these days to keep their erections for as long as they liked. That must have been the case with the judge.

My lips were going numb from moving up and down his pole when the judge finally grunted and his cock pulsed a few times. There was just a trickle of watery cum in my mouth, but I slurped loudly and made a big show of swallowing. Rye had also taught me that men like these needed their egos boosted especially when other men were watching. I pretended to be choking on a volume of spunk that did not exist. Then I slid my mouth off the old man's cock, licked it clean, and put it away. The room was quiet. I sensed I was done for the night.

The judge wheezed and coughed and then said, "Captain, you'll have to loan me this little one. He's so slim and looks so young. He's a real delight."

Captain Winston offhandedly remarked, "Sorry, chum, but I actually bought the boy for Brad as a campus dorm house slave. I'm afraid this will be his only performance with us before being shipped off to the college prep school."

Slaves are never told anything about their master's plans. I'm sure that when Scott was chained up in that cage he had no advance warning and he had no idea what fate held in store for him. But I had just learned what was in store for my future. I remembered Brad and the captain both saying that I was Brad's property.

All my life I had dreamed about going away to preparaty school and than college or university. I had counted the years and months. I had worked so hard to get good grades and to excel at sports in hopes that I might get to a high-class prep school where I'd mingle with the sons of the rich and powerful. It was August now. This would have been the time when I would have become a high school freshman. Well, I was going away to a fancy prep school after all. I would live in the coolest dorm house at that prep school with boys who were destined to become leaders of our country. But I would be there as a slave to scrub their toilets and suck their cocks.

Chapter 14
Surprising Enslavements At Prep School

Most of the boys at Bush were children of wealth and power. There were a few scholarships available for athletes, but students were not seriously stressed at Bush. Professors were paid well compared to other prep schools, but they were expected to adhere to school policies: Grades were based on a student's value to the school and on family wealth.

My former friend Erik, whose father was an executive with Winston Industries, would have to work hard for his grades – just as his father had to work hard to send him to Bush. Eddie, who would be attending Bush on a football scholarship, would never be expected to do any schoolwork – as long as he did well on the football field. And Brad Winston would spend all his time partying, would never attend class, and would still end the year with a 3.5 GPA (Captain Winston decided that a 4.0 was just too ostentatious).

I had been shipped as freight, but it was only a one-day trip. My discomfort at being packaged, having a catheter inserted in my penis and a hydration tube up my nose, was mitigated by the powerful tranquilizer jabbed into my ass cheeks. I woke up and became aware of my very cramped state, feeling slightly panicky about how long I would remain in the crate. But it was only a few hours later when I came to a stop and was being uncrated by a group of slaves in the backyard of the dorm house.

How wonderful! There were other slaves, many around my age, so I would have mates. I knew what a difference that could make in a slave's life. But that was not the way things worked out. All the other slaves shared quarters down in the underground basement of the dorm house. Since Brad had brought me along to serve as slave to the entire dorm house, I slept on the floor at the foot of my young master's bed.

Any thought I had about seeing or experiencing the prep school campus was also shot down. Other slaves may have accompanied their masters to class or done chores around the campus, but my assignments were totally in the confines of the dorm house. During the day when I did laundry or scrubbed the toilets or swept the floors I would see the other slaves at work, but we were not allowed to speak to each other. Slaves, I was instructed, could only speak to each other in the downstairs slave quarters. But, since I did not stay in those barracks with the other slaves, that meant I could never speak to any of them.

Brad Winston immediately declared that I was to be on a cum-only diet. No slave biscuits. No slave chow. Only cum. Aside from helping Brad in the shower and to dress, my mornings were spent kneeling at the foot of the stairs as the dorm brothers stopped to use my mouth in any way they chose. For some of the rich teenage boys I was a cum dump, for others simply a toilet. Some would stop to pee, get stiff in the process, and give my mouth a quick fucking to shoot a wad before their first class (or more likely their first tennis date or swimming date or lunch date).

Eddie, the football star from my high school, had just moved into Brad's dormitory. This was not unusual. Although Eddie came from a working family, he was big and powerful and had enough promise on the football field to be considered desirable by these dorm boy snobs. It was surprising that my former friend Erik was also pledged by the dorm. His father was wealthy, but not nearly wealthy enough to qualify for Brad's dorm. I figured it was only Brad's intercession that had gotten Erik into such rarefied company.

I noticed that Erik rarely used my mouth in the mornings. Even when the dorm brothers had beer parties (and it was considered uncool for anyone to leave the room just to go the bathroom) Erik would usually use a different slave to swallow his piss. There was even one morning when I thought I was alone in the front hallway of the dorm house, still kneeling, waiting to see if there were any more cocks for me to service that morning. Erik came up beside me and caressed my face tenderly. I looked up, surprised, and saw him looking down at me with sadness in his eyes. He sighed heavily, shook his head, and left the house quickly.

Of course Eddie was the opposite. He never let a chance pass by to humiliate me. He would pull his cock out of my mouth before he'd completely finished pissing, so that his urine would splash all over me and all over the floor. Then he'd smack me and blame me for the sloppiness, forcing me to lick up the floor while the other dorm brothers laughed. Eddie talked about becoming a big football star and someday being as wealthy as the other boys in the dorm. I would shudder when I'd hear that talk, dreading the fate of the many slaves he would one day own.

There was one time I got to be in the central quad of the campus. There was some charity fundraiser event and each of the male and female dormitories had booths like some sort of carnival. I was kept chained on my knees beside the table of Brad's dormitory. At first the dorm brothers were going to sell my blowjobs for $10 each. But then one of the dorm officers raised the prospect that my lips could get sore and scraped raw from so much mouth fucking.

The resolution was that for $10 I would kneel and jerk each customer's cock into my open mouth. My jaw was aching. My tongue was burning from the loads of cum. And my hand was cramped from all the stroking I did. That was the only chance I had to see the campus.

One night I was curled up in the corner of Brad's room trying desperately to sleep. The problem for me was that I was expected to wake up early and work hard all day. But at night, since I was sleeping on the floor of Brad's room, I would get no peace until hours after midnight. And of course if Brad decided he wanted anything – either a blowjob or a sandwich, I needed to be quickly alert no matter what the time.

Just as I was starting to doze off, I heard Brad speak quite insistently and loudly into the phone. "Yeah, just like last year's boy. Why did he think we were taking a boy from his socioeconomic background into the dorm anyway? You saw the photo before we even pledged him. Real good legs and butt from track team. I expect a good price for him." A chill ran down my spine. He could only be talking about Erik.

"We've been using that same pledge contract for eight years now. All it requires is that we find just cause. You know how good my dorm brothers have always been at coming up with just cause." The boy's laugh was just as twisted and evil as his father's. The last words I heard were the ominous, "We already have a collar ready in his size."

I felt a stabbing pain in my chest. All that had happened to me since being enslaved by the Winston family – would Erik go through the same experiences? I knew I had to find a way to warn my former friend. But how? Erik left along with a group of other dorm brothers the next morning. I didn't see him the rest of the day.

The following afternoon all of the dorm brothers disappeared out to the backyard. I was left indoors cleaning the filthy kitchen and had no idea what was going on nearby until one of the personal slaves ran in and ordered, "They want beers." I helped the other slave carry a cooler of beers out to the yard, where I saw another cooler already emptied and bar cans strewn across the grass and flowers.

But what caught my attention was a naked slave kneeling in front of Brad, sucking the dorm president's cock. Brad was gripping the close-cropped head against his torso and grunting. I heard the slave gagging and choking and saw the way his body was flailing. My first thought was that this slave certainly wasn't well trained in sucking cock.

Then when Brad pulled his cock out and pushed the slave to the ground, I saw that it was Erik. He was naked with a slave collar, his hair cropped close, and SINs tattooed across his collarbone and on one butt cheek. I froze to the spot. My ass was slapped hard by a drunken senior who yelled "You're blocking the view, stupid slave. Get back in the kitchen and get back to work."

I moved as if in a daze. As I neared the back door I heard Erik whimper, "P-please, B-brad, don't do this to me. How c-could you?" Then I heard a smack.

There were three well-dressed middle-aged men standing near the back door. I hadn't noticed them earlier when I brought out the cooler with beer. But as I passed them now, I saw they were each fingering the front of their pants. Brad called to these men, "We're saving the ass for you bunch of fruits. But breaking in the mouth just like you wanted."

When I returned to work I tried to make my mind a blank. Everything seemed hopeless. Not just hopeless for me. It was as if the entire world was hopeless. People like Captain Winston and Brad Winston and Eddie, the football player, would rule the world. These selfish bastards would crush anyone with a shred of decency.

It was way into the night and I was still tossing on the floor trying to get to sleep. The vision of Erik's one moment of kindness to me, the one moment when he smiled down at me, touched my face softly, when nobody else was there – I couldn't get that moment out of my mind. In some twisted way I imagined that he had been enslaved as punishment for showing me that little bit of tenderness.

I remembered all the years I had played together with Erik. The games we played, the secrets we shared. I never even had a chance to say goodbye to him. I fell asleep wondering how Erik had felt when he learned that I had been enslaved. I know he had acted in a cruel way when he saw me at school. He had to protect his status. But I wondered if he had felt any sadness late at night, if he thought of the same memories that haunted me now. For the first time in a long while, I cried myself to sleep.

Did I wish a curse on Brad and on Eddie? Perhaps deep down I did. What I know is that when the dorm brothers came back from the football game the following day in a somber mood talking about Eddie being taken to the hospital I smiled to myself.

That night when I was trying to fall asleep in the corner of Brad's room I heard a heated exchange between Brad and two of the other dorm officers. "Of course I know what this means for his scholarship at Bush," Brad said impatiently.

"We could've sent Eddie to that bunch of rich homos instead of sending Erik. Erik was a cool guy."

"Fuck, those fruits have enough money. I'll bet they'd pay even more for Eddie than for Erik. Hell, Eddie's a football jock."

Brad came back into the conversation with, "Don't worry about the disposition of Eddie. I have plans for Eddie's future."

"Eddie asked us to bring him some candy to the hospital tomorrow," one of the other dorm officers tossed in.

"Have one of the slaves put chocolate over crumbled slave biscuits. Eddie might think the candy tastes funny, but it'll get him started on his future diet." Brad's laugh really was as evil and twisted as his father's.

Their conversation continued but I just wrapped my arms around myself and fell asleep with a feeling of contentment washing over me.

I hadn't realized how close we were to winter vacation from college. Because it was just a one-day shipment, Brad decided to send me back to the Winston estate for the four-week break. I was still unconscious when the crate arrived and woke up lying on the floor of the slave bathing room. Rye was looking down at me and smiling. I tried to leap up to hug him, but was too shaky on my feet.

An hour later I was working alongside Rye shaving and cleaning slaves. There were a few new ones and some of the slaves I had cleaned a few months earlier were now gone. But it was good to be back with Rye and good to be away from the bastards in the dormitory.

Soon enough it was my turn to be cleaned inside and out. Captain Winston spent hours fondling and molesting and abusing my body. I knew all his moves by that point and I slept fitfully with his erection deep inside my guts.

Eddie was still in the hospital when I left the campus. So it came as some surprise when Rye appeared at the door of the slave bathing room, pushing the naked ex-football star by his slave collar. I couldn't help but smile.

Eddie did not stop crying the entire time we were shaving him and preparing him for the captain. He was bawling and sniffling until Rye finally smacked him across his beefy white ass. "Hey, you can't do that!" the former college jock protested.

Rye pulled himself up to his full height, eye-to-eye with Eddie. "Listen, slaveboy, I'm a senior slave here. You are the newest and lowest slave here. Now shut up. We have a job to do."

I was kneeling beside Eddie, scraping a straight razor over his already denuded pubic area. Scowling down at me, the big blond snarled, "You probably enjoy this, you little pussyb…." Before he could complete the last word, he howled a high-pitched screech.

My fingers dug into his balls as I pressed the side of the straight razor against his flesh and broke out laughing. "Damn, Eddie, you're even more stupid than I always thought. Don't open your dumb jock mouth to someone that's holding a razor so close to your balls."

He whimpered a weak apology. Then his voice was whiney as he insisted, "When I see Captain Winston he'll straighten out this whole thing. Maybe I had to be enslaved because of the money and the prep school. Well I can lift and carry and do whatever hard work he wants. But he certainly wouldn't treat me like just some common slave, certainly not like some lowlife sex slave."

It took all my effort to keep from bursting out laughing right then. Eddie grumbled as he pulled on a tight-fitting pair of white briefs. Then Rye and I escorted the former football star up to the captain's suite of rooms. Eddie was standing up tall and proud. Rye tried to warn the arrogant college boy to get into slave rest position, but Eddie ignored the older slave.

When Captain Winston gave us permission to enter, Eddie was still standing tall while Rye and I humbly maintained our slave posture on either side of him. The captain sat on his plush sofa with Brad Winston standing behind. The older man's face flushed red as he shouted, "What the hell is this?"

Eddie looked from side to side nervously, stunned into silence. Then the captain continued, "Didn't the bath slaves teach you the proper postures for a slave?"

"No, Captain… er, sir."

Captain Winston leaped from his seat toward Eddie and swung his hand wide smacking Eddie so hard across the face that the muscular boy stumbled backwards. I saw Eddie's fist start to rise up and I saw Rye grab Eddie's powerful arm with both his hands.

"You stupid little piece of shit slaveboy!" the captain snarled, walking around Eddie. "You start off by telling your master a bald-faced lie. Of course Rye taught you the slave postures. I saw him on camera outside my door just now trying to get you to take slave rest position. Slaves do not lie to free men!

The captain spent a long moment in thought before continuing. "You were starting to raise your hand after I smacked you, Eddie. I must give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you were about to scratch your nose. Because the other assumption would be that you were going to raise your hand to your master. Do you know what happens to a slaveboy that raises his hand to his master?"

There was a dramatic pause during which Eddie began softly weeping. The captain seemed to be enjoying the big blond boy's downfall. "If you had raised your hand in a way that even suggested you might wish to strike your master… well, let's just say you owe a great debt of thanks to Rye for clutching your arm as he did. You owe a debt to him that includes your balls, your penis, and every square inch of skin on your body. Do you understand me, slaveboy?"

Eddie nodded his head. Captain Winston gave a disgusted look and then scowled to Rye, who grabbed a slave prod from the side table and zapped Eddie's right tit. Eddie fell to the floor howling. "If this one doesn't shut the hell up, his vocal chords will be gone before midday tomorrow." At that Eddie continued writhing but did so silently.

The captain turned to his oldest son and snarled, "I thought we could have fun with this one. But I think he's too stupid and too cowardly." Then the captain turned to us and said, "Just strap him over the horse and we'll get this over with."

As I was strapping down Eddie, I started thinking to myself, "If Eddie is too stupid and cowardly, does that mean I'm smart and brave, since the captain certainly had a lot of fun playing with me?" Even as the thought hit me it seemed twisted for me to think of it as a compliment.

"Damn, father," Brad finally broke his silence. "I said I'd take him. He'll be perfect to serve our dorm." (Damn, was I going to be slaving side-by-side with Eddie?)

"You might as well go first then." The older man sounded bored. I looked over Eddie. He was definitely a fine specimen of manhood, with powerful arms and chest and legs. He was built solidly as you'd expect from a football player. But I knew the captain preferred his slaveboys more boyish. Eddie was as manly as a 15-year-old could be.

Eddie was struggling with the bonds on the horse. Brad motioned for me to come over and pointed to Eddie's uncut cock, saying just one word, "Lubricant." I began stroking Eddie's foreskin up and down, wondering how long the boy would keep that extra flesh. I cupped my left hand at his cockhead to catch his spunk. Eddie was breathing hard.

The bound football player was wide eyed as Brad, now naked, stood in front of him. "P-please, b-brothers forever?" Eddie barely whispered.

Brad smacked Eddie's face back and forth and back and forth at least five times as he called out, "This slave really is as stupid as you say, father. Doesn't know how to address free men." Then Brad grabbed Eddie's jaw and forced the new slave's mouth open. "If I so much as feel these teeth making contact with my cock, I will personally supervise the removal of each tooth – with no anesthetic."

I kept on stroking Eddie's cock as Brad slid his hardon into Eddie's mouth. Just as Eddie's nose made contact with Brad's pubic hair, the big slave started to shoot his cum into my left hand. Brad laughed and said, "Looks like you shot your load from tasting my cock, slaveboy. The guys in the dorm are really gonna enjoy this sweet mouth."

Eddie gave forth a guttural whimper as I worked his own spunk around his asshole. I wet my fingers and did my best to lube up the virgin entrance. No matter how much I hated Eddie, I didn't want him to lose his cherry to a dry fuck.

Seeing what I was doing, Brad withdrew from the new slave's mouth and moved around to Eddie's rump. I smoothed some of Eddie's cream onto Brad's erection and then my young master pushed me aside. I had a close-up view of Brad's long cock pressed against Eddie's virgin hole. Then, as if by magic trick, the full length disappeared deep inside the handsome blond boy's guts. Eddie screamed again and began bawling.

I looked over and realized that Rye had been undressing Captain Winston, who now stood in just his boxer shorts. The captain gave just a light smack to Eddie's face and then plunged his fat cock down the boy's throat. I watched in amazement as the big hunk that had been captain of our middle school's football team was being spit roasted by father and son masters, getting fucked at both ends.

The captain was going slowly. It was clear he didn't want to pop in Eddie's mouth. When Brad finished fucking his former dorm brother, he pulled out and made way for his father. "I'm already way late," Brad called out and Rye went with the boy to help him dress for a dinner party.

The captain seemed bored fucking Eddie's ass. I stood aside at slave rest position. The captain motioned for me to move around to Eddie's face. "This new slave needs to learn humility. Sucking slave dick is a good way to start, heheheh." There was that creepy laugh again.

I pulled down the front of my slave briefs and shoved my stiff cock down Eddie's throat. Looking down and seeing that handsome boy's face with his lips stretched around my hard-on was almost enough to make me cum. I fought against the sensations. I wanted to enjoy this for a while.

The captain surprised me by pulling me over toward him. I couldn't believe it, but apparently my master wanted me to shove my cock up Eddie's powerful ass. But I soon understood the man's motives. As soon as I was fully buried inside Eddie's bottom hole, I felt the captain's stiff cock press against my butthole.

I was the middle of a sandwich. I wasn't able to move of my own volition. As the captain slammed into my ass, I was thrust forward slamming hard into Eddie's ass. Finally as the captain's cock was pulsing and shooting cream deep inside me, I was pushed as far as I could go inside Eddie and my cock began to slap around at his guts and spew my hot cream inside the blond boy.

When I came out of my daze I realized that Rye was standing there watching us. The captain ordered the two of us to use the new slave's holes. "He has to get used to taking cock down his throat. And as for his asshole, I don't give a damn about that. Also, be sure to give him at least twenty hard ones with a wooden paddle. If you go soft on him, if I don't see enough damage done to that white ass, I shall administer forty extremely hard ones on each of you. Oh yeah," the captain said as an afterthought. "You two are not to use toilets. The new slave needs to have his mouth trained as a toilet."

That night was the most fun I had since becoming a slave. I enjoyed using Eddie's body. I suppose I enjoyed paddling his beefy ass. But my experience as a slave had given me compassion. At the end of the night, Rye and I snuggled up on either side of Eddie and held the new slave as he cried.

Brad had gone away the very next day on an invitation from some girl. "Very rich family," I heard him tell his father.

The captain put us to work preparing a barbecue for a group of his friends. As I saw some hard labor slaves setting up a stage outdoors, my blood went cold. Was I going to provide entertainment once again? But it turned out that Brad was to be the star of this show and the performance took place before food was served.

The low stage was set up right among the barbecue. There was a whole pig turning on a spit over a fire to the right of the stage and the hindquarters of a cow turning on a spit over a fire to the left of the stage. There was another fire with an empty spit upstage. The setting was made to seem tropical. Instead of a curtain there was a grass hut.

I was sent backstage to hand out costumes. Eddie was going to be dressed in khaki shorts and shirt, boots, and a colorful pair of boxer shorts. He seemed pleased when I gave him the clothes. Apparently nobody had warned Eddie what was about to happen. Tar and Pitch looked at each other with disgruntled expressions when I handled them tiny cloth pouches to put over their cocks. Tar mumbled, "It's that African hogwash again." I suppose since they were both from Africa, this white man's fantasy offended them.

I stood behind the crowd of men at slave rest position in case anyone needed anything. But the audience was so wrapped up in the action once it started that I was able to watch the show all the way through without interruption.

Rye took his place and began his recitation. "The party of intrepid explorers had been captured by the savage cannibal tribe. They had already feasted on all the others in the party and had saved the teenage boy for last. He was the most handsome with the best muscles. So of course they figured he'd be tastiest."

The two large African slaves came onstage carrying a pole between them. Eddie was hanging down from the pole. His hands and elbows were tied to the pole at one end and his knees and feet were tied to the other end of the pole. He was dressed in the khaki clothes, but his face was drained of color.

Eddie's eyes went wide as he looked upstage and saw the fire with the empty spit. Meanwhile the two Africans had pulled out knives and were slicing off Eddie's clothes, leaving the boy in just his colorful boxer shorts. Eddie was squealing, "Nooooooo, not that. You can't! Somebody help me, ple-e-e-e-ease." The audience was roaring with laughter. Damn, Eddie actually thought the cannibal scenario was real.

Then two more big pony slaves appeared carrying an enormous pot. I hadn't noticed another low fire burning next to the middle spit. It was just logs piled up with flames licking up from them. Once the pot was placed on the fire, a line of slaves appeared, each slave pouring water into the pot. This took quite a long time since the pot was certainly large enough to fit a person. Now Eddie was squawking, bouncing in his restraints since he was still hanging from the pole and in a terrible panic.

The captain whispered something to Rye – an addition to the script no doubt – and then the tall slave intoned, "The natives smacked their captive to get him to shut up." Once again the audience roared with laughter as Tar smacked Eddie's face and Pitch smacked Eddie's ass. Rye maintained his composure as he continued, "The natives knew there was only one way to tenderize young white meat like this. They had to fill the boy with cream."

Eddie had been stripped to his boxer shorts. The knives had been put aside and the two big ponies used their hands to strip Eddie bare-ass naked. Then they were stuffing their enormous cocks into the boy. But before Pitch could get very far into Eddie's ass, Coach Baker called out from the audience, "Hey, Captain, why let the ponies get him all stretched out. If that boy needs to be filled with cream to tenderize him for cooking, I'll volunteer a load of mine."

The captain rose and strode over to Rye, a merry look on his face. After a moment of listening to his master's whispers, Rye faced the audience and said, "Then the white men came to save the boy. They drove the natives away. They were planning to release the teen but when they saw how nice his ass looked and how soft his lips were they decided they would fill him with cream, then cook and eat him themselves."

I saw the look of disappointment on the faces of Tar and Pitch as all the men in the audience surrounded Eddie. Coach Baker was the first at Eddie's ass. He spouted off obscenities to the former football star as he pounded hard into the boy. I was soon put to work licking clean the cocks of the men who had just finished fucking Eddie's ass. It hardly mattered. I knew Eddie's ass was totally clean since I had administered the enemas. And after the first six or eight men had finished fucking him, all I tasted was cum and no more ass juices.

The following morning I heard Brad yelling at his father. "You knew I was bringing him for my dorm brothers. My dorm includes the son of a U.S. senator and the sons of two industrial tycoons and a media mogul. And you let some tradesmen and townies put their dicks into him? You were even prepared to let pony slaves up his ass?"

But the morning after that the house was peaceful again. Brad had returned to his school, taking Eddie with him. And I had been left at the Winston mansion. At least I was together with Rye.

Chapter 15
Wally's Kid Brother Is Enslaved

Soon enough I lost track of days at the estate. I would service the captain sexually or I might be called upon to service his houseguests. More and more the captain would call me up to his rooms along with another slave – at first it was always with Rye, but soon there was variety – and have us perform for him. Our master would pass out in a drunken stupor before our sex act was complete. But since he was capable of waking up at surprising moments, we would continue our scene. Many times I found myself enjoying the sex – I had stopped worrying about what that meant to my heterosexuality.

There was another evening where I was cast in the after dinner entertainment. This was indoors but when I was handed the khaki outfit and the pony slaves were given their small bits of cloth to wear, I knew we would be re-enacting the cannibal scene that I'd so recently seen Eddie perform. I acted panicky and jostled about hanging from the pole as the tall black men carried me onstage, but it was all an act for me. I had already taken both African dicks inside me. I felt I was beyond letting anything effect me.

After our performance I sucked about a dozen cocks. I noticed that Erik's father was not in the crowd this time. When I thought I had finished, I was dragged over to a dark corner of the room once again. I thought I remembered the foul smell of Judge Snow's crotch and the bitter taste of his cheesy cock, but once again I was overpowered by the sheer unpleasantness of the morbidly obese man.

When I finished swallowing the judge's meager load, he again called to his friend, my master, to ask whether he could borrow me. The captain simply said, "We shall see."

That night as I fell asleep in Rye's arms, I thought about the prospect of being loaned out to Judge Snow. As repulsive as the fat man was, I told myself, "I'm beyond letting anything effect me." I repeated that mantra till I was sound asleep, calm, living in the moment.

But my resolve to remain unaffected was shattered the next morning. I served the captain in his morning shower, but he hadn't asked for his usual morning blowjob. As I was drying him, he seemed eager to get to his sitting room. I had to follow him with the towel still patting at his big wet body. He stopped, stood beside his desk, and then indicated he was ready for his blowjob.

I slurped up and down his meat, feeling it jump quickly to full size in my mouth. Usually he didn't bother speaking to me, especially not while I was sucking his cock. But that morning he looked down and said, "I just wanted to look at some pictures of the slaveboy I'm expecting in a few weeks."

His behavior was out of the ordinary, but I just kept on sucking the man's stiff cock as he took a manila folder from his desk and opened it. He chuckled a bit as he said, "My good friend, the headmaster, had such hopes for this lad. Too bad this boy is going to be caught red-handed stealing from the school two weeks from Sunday." I knew he was talking about my little brother, but I tried to stay focused on the cock in my mouth. "The new boy has such a soft-looking lower lip, Wally, so much like yours." With that the captain grabbed the back of my head and thrust forward so that his pulsing cockhead slammed against the back of my throat. I gulped as fast as I could while my master shot his hot cream.

There was that evil laugh again. I was cleaning his cock with my tongue as the captain turned one of the pictures in his manila folder to face me. The picture showed my little brother, Will, in a Speedo – it must have been as part of the school swim team. Will was bending over so that the top of his crack was exposed above the waistband of the tiny swimsuit, and the valley between his cheeks was a thin shadow.

The captain licked one finger and ran it along the shadow that was Will's crack. He just grinned at me and snarled, "Heheheh."

I looked up at him. I actually met his eyes. I spoke, "Captain… Master, sir, please you ca-ca-ca…." I couldn't get myself to finish that sentence.

He stood to his full height towering over me and bellowed, "Aside from the impudence of speaking without permission, were you going to tell your master what he could and could not do, slaveboy?"

That was the moment I was supposed to grovel and beg his forgiveness. But I knew I had already earned a punishment and if I let this moment pass it would never come again.

"P-please, M-master, forgive this unworthy slave for speaking. B-but the boy is still so young. The boy is only…."

His hammy fist slammed across the side of my head as he lifted up a piece of paper and pushed it against my face. "The boy is fourteen!" he screamed at me. "Slaves are not worthy to even look at legal documents, but I'm showing it to you! Damn ungrateful brats in your whole family! I have a legal document signed by Judge Snow stating that the new slave I will receive next week is legal age."

I was frozen to the spot. Where had I heard that scenario before? Of course, it was Rye's story about his enslavement. When he was still so young and he had reminded Captain Winston of his age, the captain had waved a legal document declaring that the boy was already fourteen – and therefore available for sex. I thought of what Will looked like in the swimsuit picture. Nobody could believe the boyish twelve-year-old was fourteen. But then again, nobody in the town of Winston ever questioned the actions of Captain Winston or of Judge Snow.

The next thing I knew Rye and another slave were dragging me out the back of the house. I was being strapped into an X-shape on the whipping frame. Rye whispered trying not to move his lips as he asked, "What the hell did you do, you fool? How did you get our master so angry?" But I couldn't answer.

All the slaves were gathered around in a semi-circle to watch my punishment. I heard the voice of the captain, but I couldn't turn to see him. "This slave not only spoke without permission, but he had the audacity to question his master's actions. He will be punished and you will all witness the punishment."

Captain Winston brushed the whip around my neck and shoulders so I could see it. He announced to the crowd, "As terrible as his actions were today, this is the slave's first time on the whipping frame. Therefore, I am being merciful and only giving him twenty lashes with the short whip." The captain moved closer to my ear and grumbled, "You went without a whipping or even a caning for quite some time, boy. That was because I wanted to keep your pretty ass all tender and fresh. But now that I'm bored with fucking you, it'll be fun to put some stripes there."

They say that once a slave has been whipped he is never the same again. The first slice of the whip across my back was so intense I could not even scream in pain. The second whiplash hit my buttocks and the third went across my thighs. It was the fourth lash that finally caused me to howl in agony. The captain had purposely crossed the first lash mark and the spot where they met felt like a burning knife wound. I continued sobbing and howling through the next ten or twelve lashes. But my throat was too sore to yell and my eyes too puffy to cry by the time my master neared the twentieth lash mark across my butt.

He grabbed my face and in a loud voice said, "The next time it will be a horsewhip and I'll be sure to lash it a couple of times across your cock and balls." Then he spat at me and yelled, "What do you say, slaveboy?"

Without a moment's hesitation I called out as loudly as my weakened state would allow, "Master, thank you, Master!" Then I was aware of the captain's creepy, evil laugh and after that I passed out.

Rye cared for me. I was given the rest of that day to heal, but put to work the following day. Of course it was painful for me to move when I was assigned to carry and place heavy paving stones. But I worked as hard and as fast as I could. I was not about to do anything to displease my master.

As Rye and I were digging in the garden I spoke under my breath and told him about the captain's plans to enslave my younger brother. It was clear that the captain had set me up so that I would speak out and he would have cause to punish me. I then told Rye about the phony document from the court attesting to my brother's age. There was a faraway look in the big slave's eyes and I thought for a moment that he would cry. He looked at me as if thinking what to say. Finally he looked to the ground and said, "You're a slave, Wally. You just have to be concerned with your own survival." Then he returned to digging.

There was a salve that helped whip marks heal faster. But as I felt the flesh on my ass cheeks, Rye remarked that even if the marks did not show, there would now always be some tougher skin under the surface. My ass would never be the tender smooth flesh it was when I'd first become a slave on the Winston estate.

More days passed and on a sunny afternoon I was sent to serve drinks at the gazebo overlooking the swimming pool. This was the same pool where I had played with the captain's sons so many years earlier. As I approached I saw the captain with Mr. Blank and I headed toward them. But then I saw splashes in the pool and Mr. Blank's twin sons popped out of the water, laughing and chasing each other.

I brought the iced teas to the table. The ones for the two men were spiked with gin while the boys' teas were sweetened with extra sugar. The twins leaped out of the pool and I saw the two ten-year-olds had both been swimming in their white underpants. The thin cotton was virtually see-through from the water. The weight of the water made one pair of briefs droop down revealing one boy's backside.

"Don't show your bottom in front of a slave, boys," Mr. Blank called out. "You were warned how nasty and sex-obsessed slaves can be." Then the man turned to the captain and added, "Would you believe when this slaveboy was still free I used to let him baby-sit for my sons?"

I saw the look on the captain's face. He chuckled softly but I don't know if he even heard what Mr. Blank said. He was mesmerized by the slim sleek bodies of the wet boys. His eyes seemed glazed over and his tongue flicked out to quickly lick his lips. My stomach turned.

The indulgent father sent his boys down to the far end of the pool so he could talk business with Captain Winston. I stood at slave rest position, ready to serve the men, but treated like a piece of furniture. I heard the two of them talking about a contract, about a loan from the captain, about collateral to secure the contract. And then the captain mentioned the twins.

"If it weren't for my bankers I'd simply forego the very question of collateral, since I have such confidence in your venture." Captain Winston sounded so solicitous. "But even if the very worst happened – well, the boys would come to me and you know how I feel about the little fellas, heheheh."

Mr. Blank was looking down at the contract. Clearly the man did not know how the twisted pervert truly felt about his young sons. I saw the captain gazing off into the distance. I followed his gaze and saw that the blond brothers were wrestling, each one pulling down the wet underpants of the other one.

"Boys!" Mr. Blank shouted. "What did I tell you about letting the slaveboy see your bottoms?"

Then Mr. Blank turned his attention to me in another way. He whispered something to the captain who smiled and said, "Go ahead, I'll keep an eye on the twins."

Mr. Blank grabbed me by my slave collar and pulled me into the changing room. As the door closed behind us, I heard the captain call out to his young charges, "You can drop the undies if you like, boys. The slaveboy can't see you now."

Damn! The twins were even younger than my brother. How long till Mr. Blank's contract would come due and the captain would take possession of the boys?

I turned to Mr. Blank. For a moment I wanted to warn him. I wanted to tell him not to sign his contract and to take his boys as far away from the captain as he could. It was too late for me and would soon be too late for my brother, but there was no reason he had to put his twin boys in the hands of the sex-obsessed captain.

But Mr. Blank was determined to be brutal and cruel to me. He pushed me over and grabbed my hips. He shoved his cock into me without any lubricant and he fucked me hard. "Yeah, I saw the way you were looking at my little boys," the nasty man said. "I know all about slaves – that story of the trusted household slave who went berserk and raped the master's son and all his young friends at his sleepover!" (It had been proved many times over that this was an urban myth. But the myth kept being repeated because it suited the tough-on-slavery lobby that dominated American politics.)

Mr. Blank was panting, fucking my bottom, and rambling on, "But the doctor checked their sphincters. I took them to the captain's doctor for a checkup so they could be collateral for my loan. The captain's doctor said nobody had tampered with my sons back there." My mind was screaming, 'You bloody moron! How could you be so blind to the captain's motives?'

And then Mr. Blank collapsed on top of me, filling me with his cum and then giving me his cock to clean off. He laughed as he walked out of the changing room without looking back.

Yes, the father was an asshole. But it would be the sons who would suffer. But I remembered what Rye had reminded me: I'm a slave. I just had to be concerned with my own survival.

Once again I lost track of days. That happens so easily when you're a slave and one day seems like the last. So I was taken by surprise when Rye led my little brother Will into the slave bathing room. The boy was collared, with a SIN tattooed across his collarbone. He undoubtedly had the same SIN tattooed across one butt cheek, but it was hidden by the boy's white briefs – the same brand of underpants he wore when we had lived at home as a happy family.

I wanted to run and hug my brother, but I couldn't bring myself to move. I merely mumbled, "I'm sorry to see you like this, Will."

"It's OK," the boy said, trying to muster what confidence he could. "The captain saved me from having to be auctioned off. He promised to investigate the police report that got me sentenced. At least I have a good master. Right, Wally?"

At that moment I must have turned to adjust a faucet. I heard my younger brother gasp. "Damn, you must have been a very disobedient slave to get whipped like that, Wally. What did you do that was so bad?"

I had gotten used to the marks on my back. They were mostly healed and only bothered me at rare moments. But there were welts and discoloration where the whip had struck. "It's a long story," I mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

Then Rye led Will forward and said, "When you see the marks of the whip on Wally's back and ass it's to make you understand that you have to be obedient and follow all your master's commands quickly and eagerly."

"No!" I blurted out before I even realized what I'd said.

Rye grabbed my arm and muttered, "Think about the horsewhip across your dick and your balls, Wally." That was a blunt enough way to tell me to shut up.

"Does the boy need his pubes shaved?" I asked Rye, trying to get down to work.

Will protested, "I have the start of some fuzz!" He really was so young and so innocent.

As I lathered the shaving cream I thought back to the morning when the captain had showed me Will's picture. I'd had the captain's cock in my mouth at the time. If I could turn back time… I thought, if only I would have bitten the man's cock off. If only! Of course I would have suffered the most agonizing and torturous death. But at least that evil pervert wouldn't be able to use his cock on my little brother.

It only took two swipes of the blade to remove the dusting of blond fuzz above the boy's penis. Through the cleaning and the enemas, my eyes kept clouding up with tears. Fortunately, Rye took the lead and I only had to assist. Then we dressed Will in his own white briefs and Rye led him upstairs to the captain's quarters.

But the two of them returned downstairs less than five minutes later. Rye looked ashen. In a soft voice he said, "The captain wants you to escort the new slaveboy upstairs."

I walked like a zombie up to the captain's familiar door. I made sure Will was in proper slave rest position. Then, knowing that the captain was probably watching from his remote hidden camera, I whispered, "Remember, you're a slave. You have to do what your master commands." Then I knocked on the door and heard the booming voice say, "Enter."

It was hours later when I returned downstairs to Rye. He tried to hug me but I pulled away from him. I spent the next five hours polishing fixtures in the room and then polishing them all again. I never looked at Rye. I tried to stay as far from him as I could. And he had the sense to know I didn't want any conversation.

After five hours there was a bell. Rye went upstairs and returned a few minutes later with Will. The boy was dressed in his white briefs, but the fabric was torn from the elastic waistband. His eyes were red and puffy from crying. I turned away. I didn't want to be witness to any further damage.

Rye looked to me and then said to Will, "I'll get you cleaned up, boy. Wally needs a break; he's been working too hard."

Will glared at me his lips set in a scowl I had never before seen on his cute face. "Good," he snapped. "I don't want my filthy pervert big brother touching me ever again."

I refused to tell Rye what happened inside the captain's rooms that night. I've still never told anyone. I have refused to even replay the incidents of that night in my head. And, although time has passed and many pains have faded, I cannot recount it now.

(See chapter 16 for Will's account of everything that happened the first night he was taken to Captain Winston's rooms.)

The following day Rye and I once again prepared Will for the captain. Will and I never spoke and never met each other's eyes. At one point, Will turned to Rye and snapped, "Does he need to be here?"

Rye seemed caught off guard but regained his composure and softly said, "We have a job to do. New slaves should just keep their mouths shut and let us do our job." Still I let Rye take the lead and did my best not to have any physical contact with Will.

This time Rye brought Will upstairs to the captain's room. As soon as Rye had left the bathing room and I was putting things in order, a tall overseer appeared in the room and grunted for me to approach him. Since I served in the house and the gardens I didn't have contact with the free men overseers who supervised the hard labor slaves.

I stood obediently in front of the overseer, fearful that he was here to give me some further punishment. He simply turned and said, "Follow me." He never looked over his shoulder as he strode quickly out the back of the house and across the lawns to the slave quarters. The overseer walked to one of the slave barracks, unlocked the bolt on the door, and pushed me in front of him.

There was a room crowded with narrow cots. I would later count twenty cots and twenty hard labor slaves. Every one of the big brutes looked up toward me as I entered. "You got a new roommate," the overseer shouted. Then he turned and left as quickly as he had come. I turned toward him. My slave contract specifically said I was not to be housed with the hard labor slaves.

It's just as well I hadn't tried to protest. I'm sure it would have earned me another punishment and I'm sure I still would have ended up facing a night of hell in that smelly slave barracks.

Each of my new roommates was at least six inches [15 cm] taller than me and must have outweighed me by 100 pounds [45 kg] – there were black men, white men, and every color in-between. None of them had their bodies shaved – some had thick mats of fur not only on their chests and legs, but also on their backs and butts and arms. From the stench in the room I wondered if any of them ever had a chance to shower or bathe.

There was a moment of stunned silence after the overseer left. This was followed by a commotion of men surrounding me and grabbing me and lifting me off the floor. Hands were everywhere on me and I felt the big sweaty bodies of the hard labor slaves rub against my slim smoothness. For an instant I thought I'd be torn limb from limb as they fought over me. For that instant I thought such a gruesome death might be preferable to my present fate.

But just as the noise and the pressure and the limbs were about to totally envelope me, there was one voice raised above all the rest. The sea of flesh parted and revealed one man who towered above his mates. I was to learn that his name was Press; he was easily six-feet-eight [2 m] and weighed almost three times what I weighed. Press was covered with thick, scraggly black hair everywhere on his body. His cock stood upright in front of him and looked more like a baseball bat than a human appendage.

Press lifted my whole body with one hand and tossed me down on a bed nearby. He grabbed my legs so my feet were on his shoulders and then he pressed down against me. My knees pushed into my tits and I thought I would break from the pressure. But the greatest pressure was the battering ram against my bottom hole.

He grinned, showing his uneven, dirty teeth as he pushed forward into me. When I screamed he laughed loud and said, "This kid is used to the pencil dicks of the gentry!" Then the air was knocked out of me as he shoved his penis all the way inside me and I felt his massive weight pressing down against me.

Without any pause Press began fucking my ass hard and long. As he fucked he seemed to be staring intently into my face. "You don't know who I am, do you, boy?"

Was he someone I knew before he was enslaved? Was he someone I was supposed to know? I just stared back into his face dumbly. He never missed a beat of his cock pistoning in and out of my ass as he continued, "I was arrested for fucking boys who claimed they didn't want dick up their butts!"

Still looking into his eyes I recognized his face. If he was cleaned up, with his hair combed and his beard shaved, this was a face I remembered from news reports three and four years earlier. There had been a series of rapes of preteen and young teen boys and the man eventually arrested for the crimes had the memorable name of Preston P Preston – the man who now bore the slave name Press.

Being the age I was at that time, my classmates and I all made crude jokes about it. "Hey I gave the boyraper your address with directions to your bedroom," or "I heard you've been wandering through the park late at night 'cause you want a date with the boyraper." The truth was Preston P Preston filled many youthful nightmares and made boys more careful about walking alone after dark. But now here I was, my upturned bottom being ravaged by the same cock that had caused such terror just a few years earlier.

Press called out to the crowd of slaves surrounding the bed, "This boy may be legal age, but I swear his ass is even sweeter than the one I got arrested for fucking!"

The irony was bitter indeed. Press had been arrested and enslaved for fucking boys the age of my younger brother. And even as I was experiencing the brutal slave's cock up my ass, I wondered what the captain was doing with my brother at that moment. The very same acts that were so roundly condemned and punished when Press did them were performed with impunity by the wealthy and powerful captain. I wondered whether the captain would grow tired of Will and whether my younger brother would end up with his ass pounded by the infamous boyraper Press.

Press's orgasmic grunts sounded like a harpooned walrus. I thought my ribcage was crushed for sure when the huge slave collapsed on top of me. But he was soon pulled off me as the other hard labor slaves pushed in for their turns. There was obviously some kind of hierarchy in this barracks as it was soon settled which two slaves would enter me next – one in my ass and one in my mouth.

Was it consideration for their mates? Or was it simply pent-up sexual frustration? Each of the slaves shot their loads within three minutes of entering me. I lost count of how many cocks were inside me, until I was aware of Press's fat erection at my lips. Obviously I had gone through all twenty and was starting through the crowd a second time. This time the men were more leisurely about getting their rocks off.

One powerfully built slave with a thick Russian accent held my ears and slid my face up and down on his thick erection as he sweetly recalled using his son in the same way – or as he called it 'teaching my boy to take care of his papa.' He didn't tell me the age of his son at the time of these lessons, but he told me that was the reason he had been arrested and enslaved, and he also told me I was even cuter than his son had been, with softer lips as well.

I had just finished sucking that big Russian when the door of the slave barracks rattled open. There stood another overseer announcing that their day was beginning and everyone needed to be in the showers within three minutes. So, they really did get to shower after all? But they were still smelly and sweaty by the end of the day. I stumbled toward the showers with the others. The night had passed and I hadn't had one instant of rest.

What next for me? Would I be sent out to work with these massive slaves? Or would I be returned to the house to work with Rye? Was this cramped, filthy barracks my new home? Or would I be returned to the cage I shared with Rye?

As often happens in the life of a slave, the answer to "What next?" was something unexpected. The overseer pulled me from the shower and snapped handcuffs on my wrists attaching them to the back of my slave collar. Then he marched me back toward the house. As soon as I saw the open-backed truck, the overseer shoved a ballgag into my mouth. It was the same kind I had seen on Scott, with holes so a slave could still breathe. At that point I knew that my fate would be the same as Scott's. I would be leaving the Winston estate.

Change is frightening. When you're a slave and have no control of what's going to happen to you and lack any knowledge of your destination, change is terrifying. As much as I hated Captain Winston and as much as I felt degraded and abused in my present situation, I knew that things could be much worse. Knowing how my master had treated me in the preceding weeks, I felt certain that whatever he had planned for me would be a great deal worse than anything I had already experienced.

I was shackled in the cage on the open-back truck facing the big window into the slave bathing room – the same as Scott had been. The nipple of a dildo-shaped water container was placed in my mouth. But I was helpless and couldn't move. All I could do was stare at Rye as he looked at me through the window and plaintively shook his head. Then he turned and went back to work, glancing at me occasionally.

The sun was getting hotter. I knew that hours were passing, but had no idea of the time. Captain Winston walked alongside the truck carrying a bag. I knew this was not accidental on his part. He looked up at me and grinned.

"I'm so glad you're gagged, slaveboy," the captain began coyly. "I'd hate to have to punish you for all the stupid things you'd say if you weren't. We both know slaves don't deserve explanations, but I find myself wanting to share some things with you. Your contract did indeed stipulate that you are to remain my property for two years and fifteen days of your enslavement. But Judge Snow and I changed that part of the contract to one year and fifteen days, boy. I'm sending you out on loan to a good friend of mine. You shall remain on loan to him until you reach the two year and sixteen day mark at which time you will become his property and his problem."

Then the captain reached into the bag he was carrying and pulled out a small pair of khaki shorts, waving them in front of my face. "I just picked these up in Will's size. That boy has such a narrow waist." I knew that was the costume slaveboys wore to play out the captain's twisted scenario about being captive to African natives. The evil man looked up at me once more and smiled serenely, "Oh, don't worry, I won't let those black ponies at the boy too soon. Not till I start getting bored with him, heheheh."

With that the captain walked away. How many hours had passed? I saw Will through the window being cleaned up and prepared by Rye. He looked my way, his eyes wide. Then he turned. I couldn't see his expression. He kept his back toward me. When I saw Will bend over for his enema, I remembered the day the captain had showed me a photograph of my brother in his Speedos. How innocent had my brother been on that morning some weeks past, never knowing the vile thoughts of the distinguished old man he trusted. Tears began rolling down my cheeks and the truck began to move down the driveway.

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