Chapter 1
Meet the Fisher Family.

(Narrated by Clarence)

My name is Clarence Fisher and I'm the oldest child in our family. At the start of this story, I was nearly an adult: my eighteenth birthday was just a few weeks away. Our mother, bless her heart, died a few years ago, so we lived with our father in a luxurious mansion in Florida. We were a family of four boys and a dad: half a Brady bunch plus one, my dad would joke. Hunter is the middle child, a jock, my father's favorite: he had just recently turned sixteen. The twins Tad and Chad were just over two years younger than him. My dad and mom had both inherited businesses from their parents: we're what you might call "Old Money."

I should mention that I am sort-of the black-sheep of the family. Dad, the twins, and Hunter all are athletic natural blonds, with a hint of red-hair from Dad's Irish side. By contrast, I was a brunette with thin hair, hirsute, naturally slouching, and already I was a bit overweight probably due to my proclivity for video games.

***

I was sitting at the breakfast table, reading the news on my tablet over a cup of coffee, a nice late start to the weekend. This quiet calm was shattered as Hunter waltzed in, bouncing a baseball hand to hand. He missed a catch and the ball bounced on the table, spilling my coffee. "Sorry dude," was his non-apology and he started talking about his baseball game from last night. As usual, I hadn't attended, and I couldn't figure out why he kept telling me about them. He was undeniably the "jock" type both in body and attitude. Although the twins enjoy sports, they also loved video games and were part of an active dungeons and dragons group. They were still young looking boys, thin and only recently hitting puberty.

"That's nice, Hunter," I responded flatly.

"You know, maybe you should take a little interest, or just get off your fat ass sometime." Hunter loved to insult me: I'm gay and sensitive about my weight, so I knew he was trying to get a reaction out of me.

Just then the twins came in, still clad in pajamas. They were talking about some online game they were playing. Hunter really hates that stuff. "You guys should get out and do something outdoors! Those games are for losers that can't handle reality!"

One twin sighed and the other rolled his eyes. This was not the first time Hunter had made that point. "We've got a big tournament this afternoon and we've got to…"

"Yeah, whatever," Hunter interrupted, "I've got real plans for this afternoon: a date with my girlfriend." He gestured at us, "Not like any of you guys know about girlfriends." He smirked, using the insinuation that I was gay as an insult. "Or sex for that matter: I probably get three times as much action as all you nerds put together." Unfortunately, he was right about that. It was obvious why, looking at his strawberry blond hair, blue eyes, high cheek bones, and nice lean physique: he was sexy as fuck. He was a moron and a douche-bag, but try telling teenage girls that.

By contrast, the primary sexual encounters I'd had were with a slave we owned, and they were a secret that Hunter had found out about and liked to hold over my head.

I suppose I should explain the slave thing. Like many weird things about this country, it started in our state of residency: Florida.

Florida had been having lots of economic trouble between flooding and poverty. The all-Republican legislature had led to an ever-widening gap between the rich and poor. The state needed revenue and they eyed an untapped resource: legions of poor, white-trash boys and men that mostly became criminals, beggars, and prostitutes.

And so slavery was legalized. You might have thought the 13^th and 14^th Amendment abolished slavery, but a Republican-packed Supreme Court handed the state a win: it accepted the ridiculous argument that those Amendments only applied to people alive during their passage! Slavery had effectively been put back into the states' hands, undoing the effects of the Civil War. People started calling Florida a "New Slave State." It was embarrassing and I often thought we should leave.

Regardless of my feelings on the matter, there were two main reasons people became slaves: they were breaking the law, or their family could enslave their teenage males for financial or other reasons before their 18^th birthday.

At first there were plenty of criminals to enslave, but enslavement scared a lot of would-be hoodlums away from serious crime or at least the state. But by that point, the state depended on slavery, and so the police began enforcing laws very harshly, particularly against poor boys who they thought would fetch serious money at auction whose families wouldn't be able to contest it in court: they received a small percent of the sale personally as a "commission", and the police force received a somewhat larger percent, so there was plenty of motivation to find reasons to arrest any cute teenagers they ran into.

Being from a wealthy family, I had always experienced the benefits of a slave society: rarely having to work hard, having all the cooking and cleaning taken care of by others. I was always kind to the slaves, since I thought it was wrong to enslave people at all.

By contrast, Hunter was a brute. He enjoyed being cruel and humiliating them. Whereas I had gentle, nearly consensual sex with one of them, Hunter would occasionally use one for an unceremonious, quick fuck, with no consideration for the well-being of the slave at all.

You see, fucking a slave was no big deal in our social circle: it wasn't even considered an indication that you were gay. Gay-slave-sex was treated incredibly casually; even incest with former family members was considered acceptable, so long as the slave was assuming the submissive role.

But, Hunter caught me sucking a slave's dick. This role-reversal was considered aberrant in our slave society: it was considered undignified to "fraternize" with a slave.

"Smell you later, douche-bags," Hunter's idea of a hilarious way to say goodbye to his brothers. "I'm off to practice." He sped off in his red Chevy Camaro, a car that seemed to emphasize his noxious personality. Dad had given it to him for his sixteenth birthday. I hadn't been given any sort of car for my 16^th or 17^th birthdays, I just got to use my mom's old car.

One of the reasons Hunter gets away with being an asshole is that he is clearly the golden son in our father's eyes. Dad always goes to Hunter's games, encourages him, hires tutors, and whatever else it takes to nudge Hunter's dumb jock ass toward success. On the other hand, Dad basically ignores me and the twins. Honestly, I prefer it most of the time, but when I need money it can be annoying.

And recently, I've been noticing that Dad's been more stingy than usual, even to Hunter. I think he must have already paid for the car or I don't reckon he would have got it. He had told all of us to look for summer work, even though his "job" is just pretending to manage the company his father founded. I know he was forced to sell a big chunk of the company, and since then he's been working even less.

I first knew times were hard two months ago when he sold all the slaves but one. Ours was a big property and one slave wasn't enough: we boys now had to actually do some housework although not Hunter, he apparently was too busy with his sports. I began to get a bit nervous: we needed money, he could sell me into slavery for money, and he didn't really like me that much. The significance of my eighteenth birthday was very clear to me: once I was 18, I couldn't be enslaved unless I broke a law.

Then on Hunter's birthday his new car arrived and our last slave went off with the delivery men. I was really worried a couple of days later when Dad wandered in as I was cleaning my dishes. "Hey Clarence, how's it going?" he was talking to me, which was a bit unusual. "Hey your school needs to get a mouth swab from the students to test for measles. Can you swab your cheeks with this?" he handed me a long q-tip.

I was pretty suspicious: I didn't know of any measles outbreaks, and I associated these swabs with DNA tests. He was trying to do it without me seeing it, but I saw the company's name where he was sending it. An internet search later, and I knew he was testing to see if he was really my father.

It was actually a bit of an open-question. I didn't look like my brothers or father at all. My dad had made a few comments over the years that made me think he doubted Mom's faithfulness.

Now, I was pretty sure I was destined for slavery. I was just a few weeks away from my eighteenth birthday, after which he couldn't just enslave me at will. I guess the test was just a way to make it easier for him: if I wasn't his kid, why not enslave me? It sounded like we'd have the results in 2-3 days.

In the evening, I noticed dad privately met with Hunter in his office. I was again nervous – I suspected they were colluding against me. I was right.

Chapter 2
Meet Hunter.

(Narrated by Hunter; the same day)

My Saturday morning started out with breakfast: chatting and joking with my brothers. They can't admit that I'm by far the most popular of the four of us, if you count the twins as two people which I don't. I just call them both CT. They're all just going to mope around the house while I do all the socializing. I can't really blame them for envying me, everybody does.

Anyway, I said goodbye and went off to baseball practice. There's been some competition but I've been the pitcher for the last two seasons and I am still a junior. I had to really fight to keep it this year though; I think I would have won naturally, but I got worried and just planted some drugs in the other pitcher's locker. He was lucky not to get enslaved but the school didn't want bad publicity so he got kicked off the team for the rest of the season. I felt bad about it, but then I didn't get caught, and I decided not to think about it any more.

The coach was kind-of annoying. He was always emphasizing team-work and cooperation even though it was pretty obvious that I was the one keeping the team afloat.

Instead of focusing on scoring wins, the coach would deliver monologues about the importance of team work, or honesty, or grades. I didn't really see the need for book learning myself, so I was usually on the verge of academic disqualification. The solution was simple: teachers don't make much money so I'd buy them lavish gifts with dad's money. They might have resisted the bribes, but I wasn't trying to get straight As, and most of them were happy to find excuses to avoid failing me as that wouldn't have been popular with the school board. The sport's teams success was really important to them and as star pitcher I was critical to their future.

One major thorn in my side was my math teacher. He was a hard grader, so I tried my best to butter him up. At first, he eyed the gifts with suspicion, and I noticed that, if anything, he was grading more harshly than ever! Dad wanted to hire a tutor, but I came up with a better idea: I had our lawyer hire a private detective, who quickly got pictures of him entering the seediest gay club in town. Score! The next day I gave him a manila envelope with some choice photos, saying, "I really hope my math scores are getting better!" I'm pretty sure he got the message; our little Florida town is viciously homophobic.

Anyway, I mostly hated the baseball coach, even though I also was careful to stay on his good side. That mostly meant persuading other teammates to "prank" him so that I wouldn't get caught. My favorite was this nerdy guy Kevin who was the team manager. He was always was trying to get on my good side. I think he was queer who I hate like by fat older brother. I decided to take advantage of his infatuation and I convinced him it'd be funny to put ex-lax in the coach's coffee. He actually did it: the poor guy took like fifteen bathroom breaks during that practice. Everybody on the team was laughing about it, the kid couldn't stop from boasting about his exploits! So then I ratted the kid out: I just wanted him off the team and out of the changing room. I felt pretty smart about that one!

As pitcher, I had a nickname for every member of the team, usually a bit of a taunt. Actually, I guess some were kind-of insulting, like "wheezy" or "short-stuff", but hey, everybody was laughing when I said it.

After practice, it was time to pay my girlfriend a booty call. It was actually getting a bit late and I needed to be home since dad wanted to have a private talk. But my girlfriend as usual wanted to chat forever and start with plenty of foreplay.

***

But that was her problem, I didn't have a choice: I had to get back and I had to get off. So, I fucked her hard and fast. My dick exploded in under a minute after we started: it wasn't great sex but I felt good afterward. She was begging me to stay, she was wildly horny by now, the sex had just acted as foreplay for her.

But I bailed and drove home. She left me like thirty angry text messages: what a bitch! Oh well, I knew she'd get over it. She'd been way more upset when she had to get the abortion, but she got over that too.

I was sweaty and a bit disheveled, but I knew dad wouldn't really care. I hurried to his office: I was ten minutes late. He was there, waiting.

"Did you have a nice day Hunter?" Dad began with niceties, but quickly got down to business. "As you may have noticed, I've been pruning our expenses."

"Like selling the slaves?"

"Exactly, and a bunch of other expenses. I had to borrow a ton of money to make an investment, and I still need more cash. It'll pay off eventually, probably within the year, but times are going to get even harder for us until then."

"Then there's a matter of a criminal fraud investigation, a complicated affair that I deeply regret. I thought I had gotten away with it, but there's a new rumor of subpoenas and depositions. I've been making plans to provide for you if I get sent down the river. To make matters worse, there were a number of deaths associated with the case, but I think it's unlikely I'd get the death penalty for fraud."

"Jesus, Dad, that's terrible." I was stunned by the insanely bad news. I knew little about finances or law, so I didn't have much to offer.

Dad seemed nervous, but added, "Anyway, I seriously don't think they'll catch up to me: I've concealed the evidence pretty well."

"These were gambles that I needed to make for our long-term security. But our short-term cash problem is very real and immediate. So, this means I'm going to have to make the difficult decision to sell Clarence into slavery. We should make enough with just a five year term and limited-use."

"Limited-Use?" It was a legal term meaning servants that wouldn't be used for sex. "Who'd want to have sex with Clarence anyway?"

Dad looked a bit miffed at the question: "Slavery will get him into shape, you'll see. Anyway, slavers have diverse tastes. We want someone who will be a good fit for Clarence. We need to start shopping for a buyer, and I want you to help me."

"Oh hell yeah, anything to get that weirdo out of the house." I paused and considered what he had just said, "Maybe we should just focus on cash, and not stress out about if it's a 'good fit for Clarence'."

"If he's my son, I'm going to take care of him. However, I'm suspicious, so I'm getting a paternity test done to find out."

"Wow! You should have done this a long time ago."

"Hunter, he's still your brother – be respectful! In any event, we'll tell him day-after tomorrow when I get the test results. Tonight, we'll have dinner out as a treat. Do not talk about the enslavement!"

"Of course not, Dad! He'd probably run away!"

We adjourned our meeting. Between the sex and my dad's secret, I was feeling almost high with self-satisfaction. We went to a fancy steakhouse – Dad let Clarence choose. As usual, Clarence couldn't get anything right. All my food was wrong, and I had to send it back. Everyone else seemed too stupid to see how bad it was.

The conversation was just as annoying. Clarence was talking about the slave laws calling them "an abomination" but Dad and I were defending the idea of stratifying society. Clarence mentioned the "brutal slave conditions" and I rolled my eyes in annoyance.

"Like getting blowjobs?" I retorted, knowing Clarence wouldn't want Dad to find out about that incident. "Maybe you should get some first-hand experience at slavery and find out!" I didn't think Clarence would connect that this was a serious threat but Dad gave me a very angry stare for alluding to it.

Anyway, everyone else seemed to have a good time, but I was just so excited about Clarence's enslavement that I couldn't relax.

***

The next morning I jogged and goofed around the house before going to my friend Charlie's house. He's from another wealthy slave-owning family. We've grown up together: he's more of a brother to me than Clarence.

He'd stolen a six-pack of beer from his dad, and we drank it furtively in his room before venturing out, fairly buzzed.

We walked by our school, for no reason. We were accosted by an anti-slave activist, a liberal black dude I had English class with. He was giving the usual spiel, but I interrupted him, "Watch out, we never should have freed your sorry asses to begin with."

He was taken aback, so I finished it off by dropping the N-word. My friend Charlie was laughing at the dude, and gave me a fist-bump.

"Y'all's a bunch of racists," the dude was pissed, but decided to try to find somebody else to bother.

We decided to cut through the junior high school, and we saw the 6^th-grade swim-team training.

We talked a while about what losers they were, and then he dared me to sneak in and steal their clothes from the locker room. I looked at my watch and could see they had just started practice. It was a Sunday so nobody was around. "I accept your challenge, captain," I announced with mock-formality and a salute.

Around the time slavery was reintroduced, all that liberal anti-hazing bullshit stopped, except for a few pockets of resistance, so the seniors and sports teams had restarted welcoming the new class of students to our school in the old traditional ways. I know the twins had got it pretty bad. I was just getting on the sports teams and the captain who was the starting quarterback and pitcher insisted I showed my loyalty to the team by being up front when they got hazed.

His name was Jordan and he had a brother in their grade who they didn't get on with. I was never sure if that was the reason they got it so bad or whether it was because I was trying for backup quarterback and pitcher and he wanted to get at me. Well he didn't break me and now I had both positions. Anyway everyone knows hazing doesn't hurt anyone, bet it was good for them, toughened them up, but they moaned a lot and were always begging me to protect them. They didn't seem to realize that baseball came first.

It was Jordan who decreed they should be known as CT which they were for some weeks but then everyone stopped calling them it except me. It was just so funny to see them getting angry and going red when I called them it; pretending I couldn't tell them apart. If they wanted something I would make them answer to CT which worked because it stopped them pestering me so much.

I knew that the lockers were grouped by class and team so finding the 6th-grade lockers was easy. I stuffed all the clothes into my backpack and hauled out of there. We figured we'd come back at the end of the class to watch everyone freak out.

As we were walking along a bridge, a police car bleeped his siren. There was nowhere to run so we complied with the officer. He handcuffed us and opened the backpack, seeing the clothes.

I tried to explain it was just a bit of hazing and we were going to return the clothes. When that didn't work I tried to pin the blame on Charlie, but he denied it. The cops said, "All the evidence is against you, Hunter. You are the only person on the tape, and you had the goods in your possession at the time of arrest. Charlie is free to go, because there's no evidence against him."

Apparently, I'd been caught on the security camera in the locker room. They had a video of the "theft" and they'd called the police immediately: the police acted quickly because they can get a bonus if an arrest leads to an enslavement and a valuable sale. Still, for such a petty crime I was sure Dad would bail me out.

In about an hour, Dad showed up at the station and posted bail. I could tell Dad was beyond pissed. I could also see he was freaking out – I remembered the financial situation and gulped.

When we got home, Mr Keller, the family lawyer was waiting for us. Good, I thought, he'll know what to do! He looked somber.

Dad told me to get Clarence while he spoke to Mr Keller. When we got back to his office Mr Keller went out to make a phone call. I thought about how cocky I'd been coming out of this office yesterday. Now, I felt like puking from stress.

Dad began, "Hunter, I can't believe you did this. After our discussion yesterday about Clarence, you must have realized how tenuous things were."

I was a bit aghast that he mentioned the Clarence situation. But I decided that throwing him under the bus was my best bet. "Can't we just make Clarence's indenture permanent for more cash?"

I could see Clarence grimace as I tried to make him take my punishment. Ever since I had caught him he had been desperate to persuade me not to mention that he was gay for fear Dad would enslave him.

I decided to go for it, "Dad, I walked in on Clarence blowing a slave. It's disgusting and wrong and you know it, you should enslave him for it!" Just then Mr Keller walked in with two burly guards. I thought that was fast and dad was going for it. They blocked the exit so Clarence couldn't make a run for it.

But then Mr Keller turned to me and said, "You won't want to slander free men anymore. Your rights as a free-man as of now are rescinded." Everybody knows those are the words that marked when a parent decided to enslave their child.

Dad said, "Son, your behavior has forced my hand. Mr Keller has explained that if we don't do this, you could be criminally enslaved…"

"Dad this is totally f — -" I protested, but I was cut short by the slave-cop zapping me with his miniature cattle prod that is standard issue for slave control. I realize why. The combination of pain and disorientation is really hard to get used to, but it's also quite temporary.

The lawyer finished reading the standard speech, and I was officially enslaved.

"Do you need to be so harsh?" Dad said with genuine concern to the man who had stunned me.

"Sir, we need you to maintain a professional distance if you're hoping to use this slave as collateral."

One of the slave-cops attached a simple, temporary collar to my neck, while the other held the electric cattle prod at the ready. "These new slaves can be quite jumpy," he explained. Resistance seemed hopeless though, and I didn't fight back. They locked cuffs around my wrists.

"Permission to speak, sir?" I asked hoping I could get some explanation.

The slave cop said, "I wouldn't indulge a new slave like this if I were you…"

But Dad allowed me to speak: "What do you mean by collateral? Why can't we enslave Clarence?"

The slave cop again said, "You are allowing this property to take an inappropriately familiar tone."

Dad persisted in answering though. He explained he was going to use me as collateral on a bank loan. As long as he didn't default, I'd be able to stay with my family, serving them. He didn't exactly explain the terms if he failed to make payments. Still, with Dad in charge, I figured it'd be easy, and I wasn't so nervous.

"Your comments make it sound like this is a sham indenture. If you continue, I may have to report it, which could cause your loan to be rejected." The slave cop sounded like he was getting annoyed. "Next step is to strip the slave." He turned to me: "Strip."

"Dad…" I began to complain but was once again shocked.

"I'm going to report this infraction." The slave cop locked my wrists to the back of my collar. Then he pushed a gag in my mouth and buckled it at the back of my head. "That should stop any more infractions."

He took out a knife and cut my T-shirt off. "Do you want to help him out of his pants or should I cut them off?"

He was speaking to Dad but Clarence leapt forward. He was pretty handsy as he removed my belt, pants, shoes, socks, and underwear. I could see he was sporting wood in his pants and was probably enjoying the view of my ass. Anyway, now I was completely naked. With my hands bound to my collar, I couldn't even cover myself at all. But I was aware that slaves aren't allowed to cover themselves anyway, and I knew the cop would love to find another infraction.

One of the cops got out a thing that looked like a gun. I recognized it as a GPS chipping device. I was restrained and held tightly so I couldn't move and then they injected it between my neck and shoulder. I knew now that escape was impossible.

Mr Keller glanced at his watch, "It appears to be too late to get Hunter to the slave processing center today as it is past 2pm. It'll have to be tomorrow. Can one of you get a transport cage for him to sleep in?"

"Is that really necessary?" my dad asked the lawyer.

"Oh yes, believe me, it's asking for trouble to have an unprocessed slave out of the cage. It's a bit unfortunate to delay the training, but we'll take him to the processing center at 8am tomorrow morning."

The transport cage was disturbingly small; my first experience of long cramped confinement. The lawyer and the cops agreed to be back tomorrow, and they left me alone with dad and Clarence.

Clarence asked Dad, "Were you really going to sell me to another household?"

"Oh Clarence, much as I love you, I was so near bankruptcy, I just didn't have a choice. It was only for five years, limited-use. I've tried for a long time to get the bank to accept you as collateral, so that you could have a home-indenture, but they said you were too out of shape. Honestly, I should have done it months ago, but I just couldn't bring myself to."

Clarence laughed, "So you mean that never working out got me out of being used as collateral?" He kicked my cage: "Hey, did you hear that? Glad you stayed in shape – I really appreciate it."

"Clarence don't be cruel. Hunter's making an incredible sacrifice for us."

"Well, not by choice. He's just an idiot for committing the world's dumbest crime."

"OK, I'm not going to defend that. Maybe we should hear Hunter's perspective on it?"

"Actually, the slave cop mentioned that he locked the gag and cuffs on: he must have guessed you'd try to take them off. You'd better be careful that you don't piss that guy off."

"I know, I know. It's just so shockingly sudden."

I was furious that I couldn't discuss anything with Clarence and Dad because of the gag. I could see it had only been thirty minutes by Dad's clock. There was still about 17 hours to go before I got picked up, and who knows how long until I was un-caged and un-gagged. Ugh.

Clarence left and Dad just ignored me while he worked at his desk. He did sound like he was holding back tears when he finally said, "Good night, Hunter," turned off the lights, and went to bed.

Chapter 3
The Slave Processing Center.

(Hunter continues narrating)

As you can imagine, I slept terribly, cramped in a tiny cage. It seemed unnecessary when I was GPS-chipped and there was a perfectly good bed in my room. But there were several obstructions in between me and that comfortable bed, so I was unable to do anything but wait.

Clarence came in first, to taunt me. "Man, I can't believe you fucked yourself over like this. Just think; it could have been me in that cage. My only regret is that Dad's obviously going to go too easy on you." He sipped his coffee loudly. "But Dad won't be able to protect you all the time."

This smug monologue was interrupted by the twins and dad coming in. "Holy crap," said one of the twins.

"I didn't really believe it until now," said the other, looking at me jammed in the cage. "Guess your days of calling us nerds are over, huh?"

The other kicked the cage hard to rattle me.

"Wow, that really reminds me of what an ass Hunter could be," Clarence said as he walked over. He spat in my gagged face through the bars of the cage; with my hands bound, I couldn't wipe it off and it rolled down my cheek. The twins laughed and copied Clarence. I couldn't move to avoid the spit, and I was gagged so I couldn't respond, so I just had to sit there, taking it.

Dad tried to come to my rescue: "Boys, knock it off! He's your brother."

"Dad," Clarence began lecturing him. "Now that he's a slave, he should not be treated like family. Any guide to slave training will tell you that. You'd better get your act together here, or else the bank will reject the loan! All that slave-cop needs to do is find a couple more infractions."

"Okay, okay," Dad backed down but was obviously unhappy. I knew he would work it out given a bit of time.

Just then the slave-transport people came. Fortunately they got me out of the cage, but, less fortunately, didn't uncuff or ungag me.

"If a family member wants to accompany Hunter in the van, that's OK."

Clarence volunteered for the job.

In the back of the truck, my ankles were cuffed to the floor. I was between one slave-cop and Clarence, both of who unabashedly felt all over my body.

"That's some pretty fine slave-meat you got here."

"Yeah, I don't think Dad's going to let us do much with him though. He was a very spoiled child."

"Yeah, I can tell. That's why my report will recommend you as his primary trainer."

Clarence's eyes lit up. I suppose it was some kind of fantasy come true for him. "Well, his contracts will still be limited-use."

"Well, that includes oral, doesn't your dad know that?"

I could feel the color drain from my face, as Clarence smiled broadly. "Well, Dad still probably won't allow it."

"Well, it's contractually standard for many slave-worker jobs. I'm allowed to use his mouth as a result of this job, if I want. Hmm, I am a bit horny now. Yeah, fuck, let's break this bitch in."

I was freaking out. Getting used for sex had been probably my biggest worry from the second I was enslaved. But I didn't expect it would come so soon, just away from my dad for less than two minutes. My hands were cuffed behind me. The slave cop brandished a different gag which resembled a piece of dental equipment, "Open wide!"

I hesitated, and, without missing a beat, he grabbed a nipple and twisted it, hard. I screamed out in pain. He expertly took advantage of my scream and removed one gag and shoved the new one in. He strapped it behind my head, and turned a screw which forced my mouth to open a bit more with each turn. When it was stretched to his satisfaction, he pushed me to my knees and thrust his dick into my mouth, holding me by the back of the head.

The guard was all business. It was obvious he got blowjobs like this everyday. So it was a messed up "first BJ" story. He probably only lasted thirty seconds, but I probably gagged on every thrust. He was fast but my throat was getting raw by the time he came. "Swallow it!" he ordered, but I couldn't coordinate my raw throat to swallow with the big gag holding my mouth open. So some of it ran out of my mouth instead.

"This dude needs a lot of training," the slave cop said.

"Agreed." Clarence said. He had already got his dick out. He followed the cop's lead and gripped the back of my head so he could fuck my throat. Blowjob #2 I thought. I'd lose count pretty soon. "You're going to regret your douche-bag attitude," he warned me, but I had already realized that Clarence was going to make my life hell. I couldn't stop recalling incidents with Clarence that I regretted now. Fortunately I knew Dad would provide a lot of protection especially once I told him what had happened. He was going to be so mad at Clarence.

"Hey, we're pretty close so don't take too long," the slave cop warned Clarence, snapping me back from those thoughts, although Clarence's nasty cock pumping into my face was never too far away. "There's plenty of time later…" he patted my shoulder as he said it.

Clarence was horny and inexperienced and didn't last long; I didn't think I could take much more.

They switched gags again and unlocked my ankles as the van came to a stop. I squinted in the bright daylight as they pushed me out. My dad was waiting there. If I hadn't been gagged, I might have tried to talk. Instead I was fuming, the taste of the two loads of cum in my mouth, mixing with the ballgag's rubber flavor.

***

(Clarence narrates)

I was pretty worried about using Hunter's mouth on the ride, but the slave-cop was so confident and tough and Hunter looked so hot on the end of his dick… really, I couldn't refuse. I figured the cop would talk to Dad if it came up.

So, it was kind-of a sneaky situation; I always love the nervous excitement of furtive sex. Hunter and I sharing this secret blowjob but Dad being totally unaware, and of course, Hunter couldn't even tell him!

Dad continued to do exactly what I'd warned him against: pampering the slave. He always chose the minimum option. Temporary slave-id tattoos; lightweight, no-frills collar; simple shaving instead of waxing or laser-hair removal; no piercings; etc. Any individual choice might have been justified but the guard was making it obvious that he was taking note.

This place was a dream for gay perverts: dozens of hot young men, usually bound or gagged, and a bunch of muscular, uniformed slave-cops who had a very broad leeway, and were armed with prods, tasers, and whips. I didn't support slavery on moral grounds, but the bustling scene was making me reconsider a bit.

Anyway, it all went too quickly. After he had been given all the soft options there was an hour-long introductory class which laid out all the rules, even though, as I explained to the staff, we owned slaves and he was familiar with their rules. They replied that many owners hadn't used or seen the extreme punishments, and slaves would be more obedient if they were aware of them. "Sort of a 'scared straight' program for slaves," I joked.

The guard leading Hunter away laughed, "Not straight but really scared." It was a popular joke that I would hear again.

During his training, Dad and I looked over an exhibit on slave correction tools. He looked so sad, but I was still elated from the blowjob and my general good fortune.

When Hunter got back, he looked totally shaken. He was gagged, which was probably just as well, since I'm sure the guard would have taken note if Dad had tried to talk to him. The only thing left was picking out a slave uniform. I said we should save cash and leave him naked, but Dad insisted on the most modest outfit – so boring – and I could see the guard noting that down as well.

Finally, we were done, and we went back to Dad's car. Dad opened the car door for Hunter.

"Dad!" I yelled to stop him. "Don't you know it's illegal for an uncaged slave to ride in the cab of the car?" Although I quite liked the idea of Hunter being properly enslaved I didn't want to lose my chance of doing more stuff with him.

"Oh yeah, I guess so…" Dad seemed almost dazed.

I popped the trunk for Hunter and ordered: "Get in." On the ride home I chastised Dad for all the leniency, "We'll be lucky if that guard doesn't report you! Then you won't get the loan and you will lose Hunter."

He whined, "I just hate seeing him enslaved like that."

"But if it was me, it'd be fine, right?"

"Don't say that, Clarence," he responded, but I noticed that he didn't dispute my assessment.

Chapter 4
A Slight Change of Plans.

(Clarence continues narrating)

When we got back, the twins were excited to see Hunter. At first they were just curious, inspecting the flawless professional grooming he'd received and his little uniform – really just a pair of shorts and vest-like top – but still very modest by house-slave standards.

Dad received a call on his phone from the lawyer, who he said would be arriving shortly.

He arrived looking grim, although I noticed he did a double-take when he saw Hunter. Perhaps he was shocked to see the boy enslaved, but it seemed more salacious, like he was checking the slave out.

Either way, he gathered Hunter, my dad, and me into the office and explained the news he had.

"Firstly, I got a note from the bank concerning some comments made by a slave-guard at the processing center. It seems he raised a number of minor points that he felt indicated that this was a 'sham indenture'. On his suggestion the bank is insisting you transfer Hunter to Clarence's stewardship."

"What? They can't do that! Clarence isn't an adult." Dad was worried now that his leniency was having consequences; I suspect he wished he'd listened to what I had said earlier.

"Well, Clarence's close enough to eighteen that they'll grant a waiver for a few weeks. We can appeal, but the list of complaints is long and the slave courts are slow. Before we won we would have lost the loan."

"But there's another problem: the parents of the kids that Hunter stole from are making a big fuss about this case and it's going to be more expensive than I thought to stop him being prosecuted and criminally enslaved, so we need to raise more money. I think the only options are to upgrade Hunter to full-use or to enslave Clarence. But of course, if we enslave Clarence he can't train Hunter and we would still lose the loan."

Dad really had no choice, but he was hemming and hawing, probably trying not to think about Hunter taking it in the ass. Perhaps to stall, he said, "Wait, let me get the paternity test results!" Apparently there wasn't time to be subtle about it any more. The implication was clear: if I wasn't his son, I'd be enslaved. I thought about making a run for it, but I can't run more than two minutes, and I wondered if Mr Keller had set up slave cops outside anyway.

A minute later, Dad returned.

"I can't believe everything is coming down to this," he said, talking to himself quietly. His hands were shaking badly and he was sweating profusely, holding the letter with the paternity test results. He managed to jam a thumb under one end of the envelope's seal.

He tore the seal open with a crude tug, but was interrupted by the breaking of glass and we were suddenly swarmed by heavily-armed federal agents. They grabbed Dad, saying, "Patrick Fisher, you are under arrest for criminal fraud and first-degree murder!" They cuffed him and hauled him away, leaving us and the lawyer stunned. The agents were efficient: they scanned dad's computer and were gone twenty minutes later.

Mr Keller said, "Well, I guess he was right about that investigation closing in on him. I tried to learn about it, but they were very tight-lipped." He ungagged Hunter and asked him what he knew about it.

"He told me yesterday, but I didn't really believe it was real." He paused and said, "He said that somehow he'd provided for us."

Hunter was crying now, weeping for his dad, I think. But I'm sure he also knew that without his father, he'd be at my mercy, given that I was going be an adult in a few weeks! I felt terrible for Dad, but I couldn't deny that I was getting a boner thinking about the possibilities.

"That he did," Mr Keller said. "Clarence, you are now head of family. So, you should probably think about raising the money your Dad needed. If you need more time, I understand, but time is of the essence."

"Well, is there really a choice? I'm not going to enslave myself."

Through tears, Hunter tried a last-ditch appeal, "Wait, we should check the paternity test…" He hadn't been re-gagged but was interrupted by Keller's prod. He dropped to the floor and Keller re-gagged him.

"Obviously nobody here cares about that!" He slapped the lad in the face for emphasis. Turning to me, he added: "You've really got your work cut out training this one."

"OK, well, I'm ready. Where do I sign?" I had to sign several documents which I only scanned through quickly and asked, "Does he need to sign anything?" I pointed to Hunter.

"Nope, it's entirely your decision. He has no rights at all in the matter. You can also freely extend his term."

"Sweet," I said, causing Hunter to shudder. "I guess we'll save that as a way to motivate you to be a proper slave Hunter. If you do well, it'll be five years. Otherwise, life. So behave." I patted him on the head condescendingly.

"Well, if we can't get the criminal charges dropped, it could become life anyways."

Mr Keller later confided to me that he had said that just to needlessly further scare Hunter. He continued, "You'll need to head back to Slave Processing to get his status changed tomorrow," he advised.

I had been annoyed that Dad had been so soft. Not so much because I was worried about the loan, but simply because I was horny and vengeful. So I was now very eager to get Hunter a little better prepared.

We led Hunter to his room to put him to bed where the twins, still very worked up about Dad's incarceration, joined us. The recommendation was to keep new slaves in bondage for obvious reasons. The bag of items from the Slave Processing center contained ankles cuffs that matched his wrist cuffs, and after that we could bind each limb to a post on his bed, until we got something more appropriate.

Mr Keller balked at the expensive mattress. "That's far too nice for a slave."

I knew Dad would have tried to protect him and argue that the mattress was OK. But I was not Dad, and agreed and made Hunter remove it: he'd sleep on the box springs for now.

After locking him down, face up, Mr Keller said that he'd return for a full debrief tomorrow – as he said it he was idly playing with Hunter's cock. I could see he had been inhibited with Dad around but clearly didn't have the same concerns around me. He gave a quick wave goodbye and added, "I can't wait for tomorrow!"

Before turning out the lights, I drew out the paternity test results which I'd taken from Dad and threw the envelope in Hunter's face. I read the results silently: I was not Dad's son. I poker-faced it though, and just said, "Hmm, that's interesting."

I crumbled the letter up and threw it into the small trashcan next to Hunter's bed. It was almost within reach, but I knew he couldn't get it. He'd find out the results eventually, but it would take a lot longer.

Chapter 5
Slave Processing Center, Again.

(Hunter narrates his second visit to the Processing Center)

There was little doubt Clarence wanted revenge for me scheming with Dad to enslave him. And I couldn't even talk to him to try to explain things, since he had one of those prods as well, plus I had been gagged most of the time.

And now I was back in the trunk, being driven by him to the Slave Processing Center so he could convert me into a "full-use" slave. I knew he'd have no trouble exacting his revenge today.

And this time I was not gagged as there was no one who was going to take any notice of any pleas from me. At every stop Clarence selected an "upgrade" from what dad had chosen.

My minimal, lightweight collar was replaced by a heavier electric model that could deliver shocks activated by my voice (so-called "silent mode"), or by a remote control. Clarence got three remotes, so the twins could have one each as well.

He also got the "scrotal control" upgrade, which was basically another shock collar, but this one went round my balls. After it was locked on, Clarence asked, "How can we be sure it's working?"

The installation guy wordlessly took Clarence's remote and pressed a button. It was like getting kicked in the nuts by an entire soccer team. I was down on the floor writhing. "Looks like it's working…" the dude deadpanned his response to Clarence, who agreed, smirking.

***

We got to an enema booth. Dad had spared me this indignity last time, but Clarence plainly had plans for my ass. I was given the "triple clean special." It sucked but it more embarrassing, foreign, gross, and uncomfortable than painful.

Clarence said, "Pay attention, you'll be doing this at home from now on."

The slave cop nearby prodded me with his baton, "Thank your master for the advice, slave!"

I managed to choke out a fake thank-you to my douche-bag brother "for the advice" as I knew he was itching to shock me.

He whispered menacingly in my ear, "I've got a lot more advice for you."

He decided he needed to check the enemas had done their job and roughly fingered my ass.

"Watch the fingernail!" the guard advised. Clarence seemed satisfied that my ass was clean but wiped it on my naked back anyway.

***

At the slave-id booth, dad had gotten the least painful option: a small, temporary tattoo, and even paid for the anesthetic upgrade. Clarence immediately went to the bottom of the list. "Branding?" he asked, "can we brand a five-year slave?"

"As long as the owner consents."

"Oh that's me," Clarence laughed. "Great, let's do it!"

I freaked out: I was pretty scared of the branding iron.

"Oh wait, what's this 'branding plus' option?"

"It has the same result, but we make it a more memorable experience for the slave, using sensory deprivation and giving him caffeine and extra oxygen for maximum alertness during the procedure. It's often a punishment or a way of conditioning new slaves."

"Great idea – let's go for it!" my new master enthused.

I was terrified as they strapped a hood over my head. The air inside tasted strange and I was feeling very alert. I was strapped down very firmly as the branding iron was adjusted to be my slave id number. There was a wait while it heated up. I was shaking in a panic: I had no idea how much time had past or how much longer I'd have to wait.

When the iron was applied to the top of my left buttock, I tensed up completely, every muscle straining against my bondage. It didn't matter; they were experts and nothing I did would mess up the brand.

I was given a few minutes to "savor the experience" as the clerk said before the iron was applied to my left foot and right shoulder.

We had to wait about 30 minutes for the brand to "finish setting", and then they were ready to take me to the next booth.

***

The next booth was "training." They offered a wide variety of options, but the only section that interested Clarence was "Sex Training". So he signed me up for one hour of Basic Sex Training. "I'll be testing you later!" he joked, only he wasn't really joking.

The basic sex training had two parts: oral and anal. In both cases, the slave was only trained in his appropriate role.

For oral, I had to memorize five different patterns to perform on an artificial cock:

1. Harmonica Style: going along the left and right sides of the shaft in kind-of a U shape. This was easy because you didn't have to take too much cock in your mouth and you could still breathe
2. Suckling the Tip: you needed to gently suck, but not continuously – lots of little tiny "kisses" where I'd have to pull just for a fraction of a second
3. Bobbing up and down lightly: it was important just to gently graze the dick which was hard if you went down too fast and started gagging, but the machine didn't let you go slow or shallow
4. Deep-throat: I gagged constantly for this one, barely learning anything about getting it under control. I would get plenty of practice with this later though
5. Bobbing with tongue: like 3 but more suction, and you had to actively wiggle your tongue around the whole time. This was very tiring and the hardest one to maintain.

It'd shock me if I didn't do it right or did the wrong pattern. There was no human involvement, and it wasn't designed to be sexy for the slave in the least. Still, I learned a lot about giving head in that half-hour.

The anal part of the lesson was a bit different. I had to learn to tighten or loosen my ass with various dildos inside it. Again it was all automated and I'd get a shock if I wasn't tight or loose enough. There were also five "patterns" to memorize:

1. Loosen
2. Medium tightness
3. Clench lightly
4. Clench in short bursts
5. Alternately loosen and tighten

In a way, it was similar to lots of the sports training I had done, lots of repetitions but I'd never thought of sex that way before. I didn't like it, but I knew that nobody cared about my opinion.

After the training portion, it was apparently time for "evaluation" where my skills would be tested. I was positioned in front of the oral training dildo and the anal training plug was reinserted into my ass. Every few seconds I'd be given a new command "A" or "5" and I'd have to obey with my ass or mouth while my other hole maintained the old pattern. It was extremely confusing and difficult with no practice. By the end I was starting to learn a little how to do it, but I was also mentally exhausted so I kept making mistakes. Then the test stopped. I later learned it was only 15 minutes, but it felt like two hours. The technician looked disapprovingly at my test results, and said "We'll give the results to your master so he can deal with it." That didn't sound good.

After I completed the course I was taken back to Clarence, who was chowing down on a hamburger and shake, surrounded by fast food wrappers. I could see he had ordered too much, even for his fat stomach. I was famished, not having eaten for more than 24 hours. He had left half a burger and fries, and told me to clean it all away. I had no choice but to throw it away. He was holding the control watching me carefully and I knew he would shock me if I tried to eat it.

After that, he made me haul around my food, a giant bag of store-brand "lean slave chow" which apparently I would get for dinner later, if I was a good slave.

***

Earlier Clarence had walked past the Piercing Section, but suddenly he decided to go there on a whim.

Oh great! I thought. I was sure a dick-piercing was on the itinerary but he limited it to just my nipples. Trust me they were plenty painful. But then the clerk mentioned that tongue-piercings were good for oral sex and Clarence was sold. "Sure, throw in one of those," he said cavalierly. It stung like a bitch! I was glad when we left that area.

***

The final area was uniforms. Clarence said he had spent too much money and said I would have to be naked for the foreseeable future. Great. I knew it wasn't worth mentioning the uniform dad had got me.

Clarence attached my new wrist cuffs to my new collar, and paid up and we left the Center. For the second day, I got in the trunk to go home. My whole body was hurting but particularly the bits that had been branded or pierced. I wondered what new misery awaited me. I feared it would be worse even than yesterday.

Chapter 6
The Rise of Clarence.

(Clarence narrates)

Mr Keller looked like he was about to faint when he saw the fully enslaved Hunter. He took a few seconds to regain his composure. He walked slowly around Hunter, tapping and patting his muscles and groin.

Once he had circled and leered at every detail of Hunter's physique, he circled around again, studying every inch of smooth, taut flesh on our perfect specimen of a high school athlete.

"Really unbelievable! Such an opportunity!" he said giddily under his breath, shaking his head and unable to suppress a giant grin.

As the twins rushed down the stairs he went back to his lawyerly manner, and gave us an update on our family's situation. Dad had pled guilty and taken life imprisonment, since a trial could have led to the death penalty, which he was very afraid of, along with the financial costs that would be incurred from a trial. He would be eligible for parole after a number of years. With Dad in prison, and due to technical requirements surrounding the slavery, I had been appointed the head of family and I had new rights and responsibilities, once certain legal formalities had been approved at least.

"Legal formalities?" I asked, "I hope there's no problem."

Keller replied reassuringly: "I certainly don't expect any – we interviewed staff members, guards and observers from the Slave's processing, who all provided glowing testimonials. I'm just waiting on the waiver that's needed since you are not eighteen yet. When can we schedule a private meeting to go through your family's financial arrangements?"

"Now would be great, except I've got to get the slave sorted out."

"Actually, he can come into our private meeting."

"Well, I'm not really sure I want to talk with him around. It wouldn't really be private then, right?"

"Actually, it will, thanks to technology! Which I happen to have in my briefcase, by coincidence. Another client gave it to me as a gift when they were upgrading."

Now I was pretty curious what he was talking about, but I realized that the twins probably needed to be occupied since they had had quite a stressful day. So I said, "Guys, I'm sorry that it's been a scary couple of days where a lot has happened. I'll come and talk to you both after meeting with Mr Keller. Can you play quietly until we've finished and then we'll order pizza?"

The twins were still obviously upset, but that seemed to calm them down and I had noticed they had been really staring at Hunter's new look. My main goal was to make sure they were on my side to help with his training, and to make sure they weren't going to do anything stupid to try to help Hunter. Hopefully the pizza would distract them.

With that, I attached an old dog leash to Hunter's collar and tugged him along, still with his wrists bound to his neck. We walked over to Dad's spacious, sound-insulated office since it seemed like the natural place to conduct this business.

Dad had this crazily nice mahogany desk that we were never even allowed to touch. I don't even know why this bothered me so much, but I sat down at it, and kicked up my muddy feet, making a mess of the perfect surface. Looking over at Hunter, I could see him fuming, barely able to contain how pissed off he was about my behavior. I removed my shoes and left them there, more-or-less as a test.

"Don't worry Hunter, you'll get to clean it up later."

And that pushed him over the edge.

"Fuck You," he said, quietly, but audibly, and with a real tone of defiance. It looked like he was about to say something else, but Mr Keller, who had opened his briefcase, removed a mini cattle prod, which sent Hunter to the floor, writhing.

"Didn't Slave Processing give you a remote for those shockers?" he asked, referring to the electric control devices locked onto Hunter's neck and balls. "You should always keep it at the ready, trust me!"

"OK, Tough guy," Keller said. "Fortunately, I expected there might be some issues with this one, so I brought along some simple arm binders. And the device I mentioned earlier, a high-tech 'sucker's muzzle'."

"First, the arm binders. Locking his wrists like they are is good for preventing him from doing anything stupid, but it interferes with the muzzle."

Hunter, still quite shaken from the shock and still not used to being enslaved burst out, "Don't worry it's not necessary," which of course earned him another prodding, and he was quivering as the lawyer pulled each wrist up behind his back to the other shoulder, pinning it high and ineffective, fastening it to the collar with a short chain.

After that, he pulled little leather mittens over Hunter's hands and buckled them on as well. Now he couldn't use his fingers either.

"You know," Keller said, "that is good enough, but I happen to have a spreader bar for his ankles. Don't you think that would complete the picture?"

I agreed completely and Hunter's ankles were now fastened two feet [60cm] apart with an adjustable spreader bar. Both the lawyer and I had been rock hard this whole time and we were both painfully horny. Still, I had the reserve to say, – "I am saving his cherry for the moment, so I like the spreader but don't get any ideas." I thought for a moment. "Still you can use his mouth."

"Excellent, in fact, I was going to waive my fees in exchange for some play time so it's nice that you made it less awkward by offering. It's a fucked-up kink of mine that I like throat-fucking the really fresh boys who haven't learned how to avoid gagging and all that."

As the lawyer was talking, he was buckling the muzzle around Hunter's cute little head. It was quite adjustable. It had big pads that went over the ears, and holes that could be opened or closed for the eyes. There were handles behind the boy's ears that could be used for really fucking his throat. There was a plastic insert that went into his mouth and it could be screwed open as far as you wanted. The lawyer seemed to know exactly how far to open it – it was clear he had some experience. "You know, I think you might enjoy watching through the table over there as we discuss the legal matters," he said, gesturing to a glass conference table.

We moved there and the lawyer unbuckled his pants, his massive erection jutting out. "I'm not sure he's ready for a cock like that!" I joked.

He responded completely seriously: "There's a reason I use the muzzle".

He snapped his fingers and Hunter hobbled over there, being careful not to lose his balance. Once he got to the table he seemed confused about what to do, so Keller pushed him to his knees and pushed him backward under the table. He sat down in a rolling chair angled his dick into the perfect waiting open mouth. Hunter was having trouble swallowing with the gag and little drops of drool were slowly traveling down his chin, neck, and chest. He was of course unable to wipe them away, or do much of anything.

Keller grabbed the handles as his dick's head pushed passed the lips and brushed against the tongue and palate. It was a good thing, because when the dick hit the back of his throat, Hunter gagged and pulled back. Keller said, "Slave boy, you'll be punished for pulling back in future. I saved you this time."

"This glass table really does provide a great view of the action," I commented, noticing how shapely his muscular butt was. The arm binders kept his back arched and chest out, which made him stick his ass out. The leg spreaders kept his cheeks apart so I could see his virgin hole, so tight and flawless, cleaned by professional enemas, waiting for its first use. I fully intended to be the person to take that cherry…

"OK," he said, switching to a slow gentle rhythm as he turned to talk to me across the table. "I always like to fuck the boy's mouth at the same time I'm fucking the boy's life." Hunter was helplessly fellating this guy as he was saying this – Even from behind I could tell Hunter was seething with anger and humiliation but his bondage gave him no release at all. He was crying and his nose was running from all the gagging and choking. He was going to look like a wreck by the end of the meeting.

"But what about privacy? Can he hear through those pads?"

"Good question – if he strains, he would just about be able to hear us talking through them. So for total privacy, you flip this switch and the builtin white noise generator will guarantee total privacy." He pointed to a label that said "PRIVACY" with an LED next to it. "Whenever that light is on, you have privacy."

He continued: "This model is not bottom of the line, because it has record-and-repeat functionality for when you need to drill in a certain idea. But the latest models take it all to the next level."

"Anyway, we have several things to discuss. First, arrangements regarding this estate, the life insurance, and your father's investment portfolio. Next, any adjustments you might want to make to Hunter's status. Finally, we should talk about the twins."

He paused catching his breath. "That's a lot of heavy stuff," I said, sighing. Then, glancing down at the muzzle I noticed the privacy light was off! "Hey, can he hear us?"

Keller flushed red saying "oops" and hastily flipped the switch, leaving Hunter unable to hear the details that would critically change his life.

Something about it caused Keller to speed up his pumping into Hunter's slaveboy mouth. I could see he was getting close and gestured that I would wait while he finished off, which he did with ten long pumping motions, each one punctuated by intense gagging as Hunter struggled and sweated against his tight bondage. He finished with a look of intense satisfaction as the gagging turned to a gargling sound. He left his softening penis in the boy's mouth. Hunter was breathing hard through his nose when Keller squeezed it, cutting off the teen's air supply. After about twenty seconds of struggling and trying to breathe, he released it and Hunter started hyperventilating through his nose. Keller repeated this a few times.

Deeply content, Keller rolled back from the table, roughly pulling Hunter with him, out from under the table. He turned off the "Privacy Mode" so Hunter could hear him He spat in his face, saying, "Look at what a fucking mess you've made," as he pointed at the puddle of spit and cum on the floor. "Another demerit." Then he slapped him, hard.

"Clarence," Keller called out, "want some?" He pointed to Hunter's waiting face.

"Sure, why not? It's been a long day." Keller grabbed Hunter's hair and twisted his head to face me. I beckoned him with my finger and pointed under the table. Hunter hesitated for a few seconds before beginning to reluctantly get up. Keller may have been relaxed but he was quick with the prod.

"What was that for?" I asked.

Keller responded, "I'll explain to him. Check out this 'Push to Talk' feature which lets me say a sentence or two that he will hear loud and clear. In fact, you can adjust this knob to repeat your message a few times."

Pushing the button, he enunciated into the mike slowly and carefully, "When a master gives you an order, obey it quickly and without thinking. Any slave that attempts to think will be punished." Turning to me, "So, I set that for 100 repetitions. I hope that'll be long enough for us to wrap up our business. So, he'll be listening to that brainwashing instead of information about his future." Keller was a total asshole, but I definitely liked him.

I gestured again and this time Hunter moved faster. Within a few minutes, he was choking on my dick instead of Keller's. Not only was Keller's dick huge, but he really enjoyed being rough. Hunter was probably relieved for the break, even though I'm sure he was pissed about almost everything else.

"OK, so, first, the estate and your father's business. Your father had to take out a loan to save his business, but the shares are already recovering. Most likely the loan will be able to be paid back within the year! However, that does little to solve your current cash problems."

"However, your father provided well for you in the form of three separate life insurance policies which we managed to recently alter to pay out in the event of long term incapacity which includes life imprisonment. Your dad instructed that Hunter would be responsible for disbursing this money, so that falls to you now!"

"I've done some calculations and there is enough to un-enslave Hunter and back out of the loan, but it'll be tight for you guys. Still, I'm sure that's what your dad would want. You are not obliged to do that though. You can leave Hunter enslaved to have more spending cash, or for any other reason."

We both paused to watch Hunter blow me for a little while. I laughed, "I think I prefer having a margin of safety, and the side-benefits."

"The will disperses the estate in a similar way. Your father was leaving you and the twins 10% each, and Hunter would have had 'discretion' to allocate the 70% as he wished. That will also fall to you on your father's death unless Hunter was no longer enslaved at that time. You of course have control of the estate while your father is in prison but he would regain control on his release."

"To further help the present cashflow problems you should really consider renting Hunter out for extra cash. I know several brokers specializing in virgin stud ass like this." He reached under the table to give Hunter's exposed butt a nice slap. On my end, I picked up the pace causing him to choke a little. "I have a guy who I can introduce you to, or you can shop around for other brokers. It's a seller's market for this thing," he said, swatting Hunter's ass again, pretty hard this time.

I was embarrassed but thought that I needed to be honest with 'my' lawyer and told him I wanted to be the one to take Hunter's ass cherry but he explained that a slave was still considered technically a 'virgin' if he had only had been fucked by a sibling while they were both under eighteen. It sounded weird to me but who was I to complain about rich men and their strange ideas.

"The final thing to discuss is the twins. I understand that you are probably not ready to make any decisions, but I just wanted to pre-offer my services for their enslavement if you decide to do it."

"Yeah, confidentially, I do intend to enslave them, but only after they help me get Hunter trained into top-notch condition. Nonetheless, it'd be great to have you on-call in case an emergency enslavement is needed. I can imagine they might try to run away and I'll need to stop them. For now, I want them on my side against this slave asset." As I said the word "asset," I went over the edge, pushing his face down all the way and coming deep in his throat.

Keller took out a card and wrote a code number on the back. "Text me that code on my phone and I'll know exactly the emergency and come prepared immediately. Of course, call me for referrals for everything from trainers and coaches, to designers who will build up your slave quarters. I know someone for all your needs."

I pulled Hunter out from under the desk and Keller beckoned to him who this time crawled over as quickly as his bondage allowed. With a quick few unbuckles, he tugged the sucker muzzle off. Hunter's face, chest, abs, and legs were sweaty and covered in cum, tears, drool. He looked dazed as he was finally able to hear again.

His arms were still bound behind him and he couldn't clean himself. Keller grabbed his shoulders and pushed his head towards the ground. "Clean it," he ordered, pointing to the messy spit puddle. Hunter looked adorably cute and scared and confused. Again Keller slapped him hard across the face, "With your tongue!" He grabbed Hunter again by the collar, and shoved his face down hard into the spit-pool he had made earlier. Hunter almost lost his balance but quickly got very low so he could lap up the puddle without falling onto his face. He managed to awkwardly lap up the fluids in less than a minute. After this amusement at Hunter's expense, Keller gestured for Hunter to stand up and removed the arm binders and spreader. "Now if you had come a little more quickly, I'd have taken those off before making you clean up your mess," he lied.

Inserting a small perforated ballgag from his processing center takeaway bag, I told Hunter to shower and be standing still in the center of his room in three minutes. There would be a family meeting later. I would monitor his GPS on my laptop to check. He looked a bit stiff and sore but he went quickly.

"Wow!" I said, "that was amazing. I need to get a muzzle like that. Actually, maybe I should buy yours? It sounded like maybe you didn't need it."

"No, I actually use it pretty often," the lawyer said. "Critical for safety in my line of work. However, I will introduce you to my slave gear guy." He took out a card and handed it to me.

Then he paused and said, "Actually, I also have a slave gear company that's looking for a model. They give the owners all kinds of extra gear for free, and they pay for the modeling. Hunter has the rare looks they want which is why I can't usually extend this offer." He handed me a second card. The company name on the card was "BondCo".

We shook hands, sensing that this was the start of a lucrative and enjoyable venture. As he pulled out of the driveway, I checked my laptop to verify Hunter's location and went to bring the twins out to the office so I could talk to them privately.

Chapter 7
Hunter Watches Clarence Rise

(Hunter narrates)

If I thought the treatment at the slave processing center was bad, Dad's shady lawyer really showed me that I didn't know what I was talking about. He was acting way creepier than he used to around Dad, but with the combination of Dad being gone and me having no rights at all meant there would be no limit to my degradation.

Clearly, both Clarence and Mr Keller like it that way.

At first I thought that I was actually going to in some way participate in the meeting that would determine my future, which was completely stolen from me by bad luck. And yeah, I was kind-of a dick to Clarence, but at least I didn't rat his gayness out. Well, not until the last minute when I really had no choice. Of course, I should have done it earlier, but like so many aspects of this situation, it is now out of reach.

Of course, Clarence never respected Dad at all, and just immediately started trashing his desk and stuff. Would it really kill him to wait just a little while to start being a total asshole? I wanted to murder him. And then he just kept provoking me, knowing that even the slightest reaction on my part would lead to more punishment. But he got me… eventually I couldn't contain myself, and that's when Keller started showing his meaner streak.

The so-called "sucker muzzle" was horrible, for a start. He buckled all the straps way too tight, and opened my mouth much wider than he (much less Clarence's smaller dick) needed. My head was pounding and my jaw was aching by the end. He didn't intend to I don't think, but the straps were partly in my eyes and it was hard to see what was going on.

Keller used the muzzle as a starting place for a merciless face-fucking. His gross cock smelled of feet and cheap cologne and his flabby thighs were moist, dampening my face with each thrust. His belly was resting on my forehead, making it hard to see. It didn't matter because my head was pretty well held in place so all I could see was the area immediately above his dick.

My arms and legs were tied up so I couldn't resist at all. My arms ached – he'd pulled them way too far up, I thought – and my fingers were sweaty and cramped in the small gloves.

My throat and tongue were getting raw from so much rough use. And then he gets off by suffocating me repeatedly. You might think passing out would actually give me some relief, but the way he did it just made me constantly panicked, but my bondage was too tight to do shit.

And just when I thought I was done, my fucking fat-ass brother decides he wants to prove something, so then I had to blow him too. He had a different aroma, not a good one. It reminded me of kids who played video games, or maybe a mall food-court. I found it revolting. But of course, I had nothing resembling a choice in the matter.

And I was exhausted so I didn't move fast enough for Dad's lawyer, but he doesn't even explain it at first, he just shocks me. And then, instead of just explaining, he recorded himself lecturing me in the most irritating and insulting tone. And he plays it on repeat at full volume! It was so bad even the first time and it's so incredibly annoying after five times, but I heard it like 50 times or more. My ears were ringing with his smug voice. I hate that I can remember every word still going round my head.

Anyway, soon enough I was on my knees between my brother's legs, choking on his engorged cock. His dick is actually bigger than I thought. They were still discussing about our dad and my slavery, but now I would have preferred the neutral white-noise generator that the muzzle originally used, which was almost soothing. Now I had to listen to my Dad's lawyer treating me like an idiot. Over and over.

I had to spend all my energy to stop myself from puking as he crudely rammed my head and throat down on his cock, over and over again. The back of my throat was sore from all the traffic.

Eventually my former brother flooded my mouth with his jizz. It tasted horrible, like coffee and fish, but I did my best to swallow it, knowing from experience that that's what slaves were expected to do. It clearly seemed to genuinely relax my brother, of course it did – it's a blowjob!

I had a few minutes to listen to the last few iterations of the recording while Clarence sat with his flaccid cock in my mouth. The recording ended right as the lawyer called me over. I was incredibly relieved when he took that horrible muzzle off. I seriously wasn't sure how much more I could've taken.

I didn't have to wait long before the lawyer found another way to degrade me. He pointed at a cold puddle of sweat, cum, drool and tears on the floor and told me to lick it up. It was utter agony because I'd been tied up for almost an hour. Even though I was quite flexible, I could barely get my body to cooperate to prostrate myself low enough to reach the oozing puddle, but I had to try, lest I get the cattle prod again. Even then, just the way he ordered me around with no consideration really rubbed in how most people no longer regarded me even as human.

After all that, by adjusting a couple of buckles, Keller took off the arm binders and leg spreaders and mitts. It probably only took him five seconds to remove all that gear. If he had done it first, licking up the puddle wouldn't have been so hard. But of course, it was just to demonstrate that he knew precisely how to make my life miserable.

As they concluded their discussion, my mind wandered and I realized I'd become just a sex toy for these guys … a sex toy who can do light housekeeping. I hoped my younger brothers would allow me to retain a bit of dignity. They've always liked me, and admired my athletic accomplishments. I remember Mom would always make them come to my baseball games and they'd cheer the whole time. I knew I hadn't been that nice to them recently but brothers are meant to tease their younger siblings, aren't they? Hopefully they will remember all the fun we used to have when we were kids. I'm sure they'll still want to be friends with me, even though I'm temporarily a slave. I'm doing it to help them, right?

I was transported back from my daydream by a few face slaps, which I guess was Keller's way of letting me know the meeting was over.

Clarence gagged me and sent me to my room, saying that there would be a family meeting later. I'm sure he just doesn't want me to have a chance to talk to the twins. Seriously couldn't he have just told me not to talk and trusted me? Man, that guy is such an asshole.

He was an asshole, but he had downloaded the collar-tracking app, and it logs your motions, so I knew he could check on me at any time. In the old days, slaves could dream of running away. Being a modern slave with technology sucked, the GPS implant rendered escape, and even minor cheating, completely impossible. It is so accurate nowadays it shows where you are to within a foot.

I realized I was daydreaming again, and I had to rush to make it to the shower and I jumped in while the water was still cold. I knew Clarence really wanted to punish me more and would be checking on my collar GPS. Even so, I was so used to wanking in the shower and it made me think about my girlfriend's soft lips blowing me and I started to harden up. My teenage hormones couldn't handle any thoughts about sex without being aroused.

As I got out of the shower and went and stood in the center of the room, not knowing how long I would have to stand there, with a hard-on that just wouldn't go away, I knew I couldn't move from that spot but resolved to just quickly jack off. Even with all the abuse I had undergone, it only took about 90 seconds to cum, I just had so much pent-up horniness! I had never been over 48 hours without getting off once since I was like 10. Unfortunately, I now had all this cum over my hand and body and wasn't allowed to leave this place and with the gag in my mouth I couldn't lick it up. In the end, I just kind-of smeared it into the perforations in the ball-gag, but what that meant was the strong taste and smell would just linger until the ball-gag came out – I had no idea how long I'd be waiting.

Even with the trouble concealing the evidence, I felt like I had gotten away with something, a welcome taste of freedom despite the taste of my cum. I sort-of smiled around the gag and stood and waited for my stupid brother and their "family meeting". I had to stand there more than three hours, but I did, just because I knew Clarence would be checking.

Chapter 8
In which the Twins are Recruited as Trainers.

(Clarence narrates)

I went up to the twins' room and asked them to come downstairs to Dad's office.

I asked them to sit down in front of the desk, while I stood behind it, as Dad had on many solemn occasions.

"I know we are all extremely sad about Dad's arrest, and the timing of Hunter's enslavement is frankly terrible. But we need to pull together to get through this. Dad made a very hard choice when he enslaved Hunter, one that I'm not sure I agree with," I said, lying. "But it cannot be undone, because Dad already spent the money." I neglected to mention the life insurance.

The twins were stunned. They felt that their Dad had betrayed us, and that's because he had, basically.

"In many ways, Dad was like a gambling addict, always believing the lucky hand was right around the corner. One thing that is true though, is that the stock he bought was undervalued. In a year, he may be proven right and we'll be able to buy Hunter out of his enslavement."

"Will we be able to visit Dad?" the twins despite his indifference to them already seemed to be missing him a bit. I suppose their age and the fact they had lost mom when they were so young probably meant they still felt the need for a parent although now being teenagers they wouldn't have admitted that.

"Of course we will," I replied, but I had no intention of actually going.

"For now, though, the best thing is to train Hunter well. If anyone from the bank shows up and Hunter is misbehaving, his worth could go down, then the interest goes up. I believe that even as a five-year slave, he has plenty of value as collateral. But if he misbehaves, his value will fall…"

"What happens then?" one of the twins asked.

"Unfortunately, we will need to raise more money, and the only way might be to make him a permanent slave. Or I guess we could look into five-year indentures for you two if you don't want that."

"NO!!! Honestly, Hunter was a jerk, better to make him a permanent slave," screeched Chad with Tad vigorously nodding his head in agreement. The idea of their indenture was clearly going to be a good motivator for these boys.

"Well the best thing is to make sure Hunter keeps his value so will you help me to train Hunter? We can save a lot of money by training him at home and it might be nicer for him, and for us, too."

The twins' jaws dropped as they tried to picture themselves training Hunter, not really having any idea what that would entail. They turned to each other and did their sort of silent communication and both switched to excitement.

"Awesome!" they said, "we've been worried you might unenslave him, because we've already teased him a bunch. Plus he used to make our lives hell, sneering at our games and our friends when they came over! He was really mean calling us both CT like he didn't know who was who."

"So, do you guys think you'll have any trouble disciplining him if he ever falls short of our expectations?"

"Like spanking?" one asked incredulously. I could almost see their small dicks tenting up their shorts.

"Of course. In fact, so far Hunter's behavior hasn't been great. He spoke without permission and was out-of-line several times with our lawyer, and so we'll need to give him his first discipline session tonight. Do you boys want to participate?"

"YES!" They seemed very excited and enthusiastic all of a sudden. I was happy they had found something to distract them from Dad's imprisonment.

"It's important not to be gentle with him just because he was your brother. Social Servant Services takes no excuses for lax training, and we don't want to be penalized!"

I paused, then continued onto another topic of interest to teenage boys, "There's another duty of slave training which is more controversial, and so I will leave the choice up to you. As you probably know, most household slaves are also used for sex. I know you guys are old enough to know what that is. My question is: would you be prepared to help train Hunter for sexual activities, or do you want to be left out of it? As you are both thirteen the law allows you help Hunter practice so he learns how to give perfect blow-jobs. Do you know what a blowjob is?"

The twins were now bright red with embarrassment, and wouldn't make eye contact. I paused for a minute to let them think. Finally I said, "I'd like to know before we meet with Hunter. Yes or no?"

Again the twins looked and each other, smiled and both yelled "Yes!" at the exact same time.

"Great! I think we're going to learn a lot about each other training Hunter, and hopefully everything will work out and we won't need to make him a permanent slave. I told Hunter we were going to have a family meeting, let's first get our laptops, we can spend an hour researching slave training, then we can give Hunter his first list of rules. Everyone says the most important thing is to make sure you have rules, because slaves are too stupid to function without them."

They giggled at the casual insult. I was hoping to foster a sadistic attitude in the twins and they seemed to be taking to it quite naturally.

In a couple of minutes, the twins were back and we quietly studied some of the online sites about slave discipline and training techniques.

Both the twins got very excited about all kinds of bondage equipment they came across, and they kept asking if we could buy various gadgets. I explained that we were going to see if we could get free stuff from a company that needed a model. I called the BondCo number on the card Mr Keller had given me and made an appointment for an audition the next day.

They also laughed with each other about making Hunter wear all kinds of silly costumes. I put a damper on their enthusiasm by saying we were supposed to use Hunter's enslavement to make money, not to spend it on him. They were so clearly disappointed that I said we would order some of the maid costumes they had found – which ranged from practical to lacy lingerie as he really would be doing a lot of housework which they cheered at. It is true Dad had made them do most of the extra chores around the house after he had sold the slaves.

Another gadget they were excited about was a high-tech collar. It turns out they have ones that integrate with sucker muzzles and included an amazing array of features, but many of them implemented a "Demerit System" which was an old slaver trick.

Basically, whenever someone tells a slave they have earned a demerit, then they have to remember why. Each evening they are required to remember all the demerits they got, and they are punished for each one. But if they forget a demerit, and if someone else remembers it, they get ten times the punishment! In the old world, they made slaves keep track of their own punishments, which was very convenient for the owner but sometimes some of the demerits got forgotten. In the new world, most people used these modern collars as they are more reliable, but I proposed we would use the old approach until we figured out which collar to buy.

In the end, we came up with these rules:

1. Every evening after dinner, we carry out all the punishments the slave has earned.

2. The slave must remember all demerits. Any forgotten demerits will incur ten times the punishment.

3. The slave must never speak except to request permission to speak, and must not do that more than three times a week.

4. The slave must never attempt to speak about their life before slavery.

5. The slave must have no possessions or privacy.

6. The slave must always immediately and unquestioningly obey a free person.

7. The slave must obey all slave laws.

I printed them out so that Hunter could memorize them.

If I could go back in time, I'd add "No Jacking Off" to this list, but we ultimately found another solution for that.

"OK, boys," I said, "There's one more thing to consider: what should Hunter's slave name be?"

Chad said, "I heard some of the guys call him bootlicker because he used to always be creeping around the coaches, trying to kiss their asses. So we could call him 'Bootlicker'."

"Or 'Ass Kisser',", I said.

"Or 'Ass Licker'," he jokingly shot back.

Tad added that one of their friends from summer camp said his sister was Hunter's girlfriend, and she once called him a pussylicker because she said his dick was too small. "So we could call him 'Pussylicker'." Then he paused and looked all confused and said, "Actually, I'm not sure that was Hunter." I reassured him that it didn't really matter; we were just trying to come up with a name.

And then I remembered a time in elementary school, where a boy left the toilet seat up and his mom made him lick every doorknob in the house, and we called him knoblicker for weeks afterward.

"'Bootlicker', 'Ass Kisser', 'Ass Licker', 'Pussylicker' or 'Knoblicker'? Um let's just call him Licker!" I proposed.

Having remembered all these silly stories, and having come up with the perfect name for Hunter… I mean, Licker, we were all in a very good mood. Laughing out loud until we almost had hiccups.

"Anyway, he'll understand. Of course his slave name is chosen by his family, not by him."

Eventually, though we stopped laughing, because it was time for a very serious family meeting.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The name Licker of course comes from Randall Austin's classic Christopher Enslaved. It doesn't seem like any rationale was given there, but this trifecta of terrible reasons seems in line with these types of stories :)

Chapter 9
Family Meeting.

(Clarence narrates)

Having agreed on all the rules, our family meeting was coming up and we could present a unified front. We walked along to his bedroom and I made a point of opening the door quickly without knocking. Hunter was obediently standing motionless in Display Position in the center of the room. The ball gag was still in. Everything seemed to be just as I had asked. I was impressed, but secretly disappointed because I was in the mood to punish him. But then I remembered his outbursts earlier and smiled. I had an excuse. Not that I even needed one – he was a slave after all.

But as I got close to him, I was pretty sure I smelled cum and saw some residual traces on the gag and his lower lip. I guessed what had happened but I decided to ignore it for now. I'd have to look into chastity devices at the bondage place tomorrow, just to be safe.

Anyway, the twins paraded in and were looking their brother over, who was very nervously – moving as little as possible – still standing in slave position. You could tell he was worn down, having been standing there for more than three hours, but he was doing admirably. The twins were pinching him and twisting his nipple piercings and horsing around.

"OK," I said, "Let's get this meeting started." Gesturing toward Hunter, I said, "We'll give the slave a chance to provide input at the end of the meeting, if time allows."

"The first order of business is to tell the slave his name. You are now 'Licker'. You should no longer respond to your old name, nor should you ever use it." It was a good rule, but we still used his old name a lot by accident. It put him in a quandary: if he responded, he was violating this rule. If he didn't, he'd be punished for not responding. When the twins were upset with him, they'd boss him around like this for a while, each time giving him a demerit to memorize.

"The second order of business is to present the rules." I read out the rules we had just agreed and stuck them on his wall.

"Just to re-emphasize rule #2, Licker, you are required to remember every demerit you receive and recite them at the nightly punishment meeting. Failure to remember an infraction will cause tenfold punishment, and I think you don't want that!"

I wanted to restate that, since a large portion of his stupid slave brain needed to be used for memorizing his daily demerits.

"As you know, Licker," I paused here, loving how visibly pissed off Hunter was at his new name. "We are instituting a demerit system so your punishments don't interfere with your duties. Next time we give you permission to speak, you should thank us. We didn't keep good track of demerits during Mr Keller's visit so I thought I'd just be nice and only give you two. As per the rules, you'll need to repeat these at the demerit meeting so pay attention."

"Demerit 1: saying 'fuck you' under your breath. Demerit 2: saying 'Don't worry it's not necessary.' to weasel out of required restraints."

"OK Licker, I think we've come to the end of the presentation. Twins, do either of you have anything to add? We only have ten more minutes for Licker to ask questions."

"What are we going to do with his room?"

"It'll now be our slave quarters. Currently, though, Licker will be the only occupant, unless our business interests perk up and we get more slaves."

There were a few more questions about dividing Hunter's possessions, and Hunter himself seemed increasingly anxious about wanting his turn to talk.

With about three minutes remaining there was a lull, and I asked the twins: "Which one of you two wants to ungag ol' Licker there so he can ask us any questions?"

In perfect unison the twins shrugged and said "Neither of us!" with a sadistic smile.

"Sorry Licker, apparently your masters aren't interested in your input tonight. Guys, you'll need to supervise the slave as he cleans out this room." Turning to the enslaved golden child, "Licker: haul an empty trash can down here."

Hunter's old room was basically the entire basement floor, and was obviously going to be perfect for a slave quarters, with a large area for slave exercise and punishment.

"OK, I want you to throw away anything that isn't furniture. If you think the twins might like it, show them and let them decide if they want to keep it. Otherwise, in the bin."

"As usual, waste too much time, or throw away something that the twins want, and you will be given more demerits. And the punishment meeting is after this. We only have an hour so hurry the fuck up…"

The twins giggled at the swear word but Hunter jumped into gear, ran to get a bin and started tossing stuff into it as fast as possible. I guess he knew this was coming, although we were making it as degrading as possible.

I showed the twins the remotes for the shock collars on Licker's neck and balls. I told them if he brought them something they didn't want to shock his balls, or if they saw him throwing something away they wanted to shock his neck.

At one point, he brought them his most treasured baseball trophies, visibly crying about having to throw away all his hard-earned prizes. "Uh, baseball blows, loser." Then they shocked him in the balls about twenty times. "That's a demerit for wasting our time with the trophies."

At another point, he was about to throw away a set of training weights, probably since none of us did weight training. I neck-shocked him and he brought the weights over. "One demerit for throwing away equipment that will be useful for your slave training."

So that was a productive yet fun game that actually lasted for almost two hours, which delayed the punishment time a lot. The twins decided they liked the rugs that were on the floor so he had to roll them up and carry them to their room. Once he had done that the original bare concrete was fully exposed, much more suitable for our new slave quarters I thought. It was getting late by then for the twins – we wouldn't be able to figure out his chores tonight, but I wanted to try out the demerit game.

So, we moved back to the office, and the ball gag was finally removed. "OK, Licker, now's your chance to avoid extra punishment. List each demerit that you have received."

Hunter stretched his tired jaw and started blubbering, "I'm so tired, and I can't believe this is happening, please I can't remember, I'm so sorry." Perhaps he was expecting some clemency but he looked up at my angry scowl, and added "Masters…".

Watching a boy, even a slave, cry can be hard and Tad started to approach him to try and comfort him but I admonished him: "Being tough with Licker will ultimately be easier on him, and it's safer to keep his training schedule moving forward as fast as possible." He backed off as Chad teasingly scolded him.

"OK, well I remember two demerits from your outbursts with Mr Keller."

"And one demerit over the baseball trophies." Chad helpfully piped up.

"And one demerit for taking too long in clearing your room."

"And you get two demerits for tomorrow over your outburst just now. One for not answering the question directly, and another for not addressing us as master."

Hunter sighed in resignation and looked down in shame.

"And another demerit for sighing back at your master. For the remainder of the time that we are deciding on your punishment, I want to see a big smile on your face. And when we are done, you'll be given an opportunity to thank us, and it better sound sincere." I motioned to the remote shocking device. Hunter was getting too dazed to be really angry by this point.

"OK, normally I'd say five paddles per demerit if he had remembered would be OK. So, because he didn't remember his two demerits from Mr Keeler, those would be 100 paddles. Then I think the incident where he was going to throw away the weights will be another 50. Then another 50 for the trophies."

"Actually, I'd say 100 since he was breaking the rule about talking about his pre-slave life." helpfully chimed in Chad.

"OK then fifty for taking too long so that adds up to 300 smacks with the paddles. Except I don't want him bruised up for the modeling audition tomorrow. So we'll give him ten whacks each, and we can throw in some collar shocks too. Then we'll make him maintain a 'Punishment Pose' to work off the rest of his punishment."

Chapter 10
First Punishment Session.

(Clarence continues narrating.)

We had agreed on a punishment session equivalent to 300 strikes with the paddle, but decided we needed to avoid bruising the merchandise, if you will, so we decided to mix things up a bit.

I decided that the punishment sessions should be conducted in our slave's quarters, that is, Hunter's old room. With its concrete floor and overhead piping it was already a bit dungeon-like.

The twins were pretty disappointed to see the cheap plastic paddles that the slave processing center had given us, but they were the only ones we had. I assured them that though the paddles were stupid looking they were actually quite painful, and designed not to leave bruises.

"They're quite high-tech, using a new material that's designed to be painful without damaging. Here let me give you both a light stroke to show you." I gently tapped it on each of their forearms, using almost no force at all. They were both left stung, massaging their arms to soothe the pain. We were all very impressed with the effectiveness and ingenuity of modern slave handling equipment!

We made him bend over the leather sofa. Chad found a pair of handcuffs, a blindfold and ball gag in the small bag of stuff from the slave processing center.

"Let's play a game!" he said, giddily. "Instead of counting out his punishment, let's do it at random times when he isn't expecting it." I got out the shocker remote so we could mix up shocking and paddling to further surprise his little ex-jock brain.

We had a conversation about what we wanted to see at the bondage shop tomorrow. There was a lot of speculation about how Hunter's audition would go. The twins were really excited about the prospect of free gear since they reckoned the company's stuff was the best they had seen earlier and they assumed well outside our budget. All the while, mid-sentence or whenever Hunter wasn't expecting it, one of us would give him a very hard swat with the paddle, or a shock, or both. The twins were having a great time, unable to stop giggling and laughing. They really enjoyed as one of them paddled him, the other would shock his balls. It was great to see them so involved, but I figured Hunter had worked off the equivalent of 100 paddles-worth of punishment, and it was time to move to the next phase of tonight's punishment.

Leaving Hunter over the couch, I pulled up one of his feet. I explained to the twins, "The feet are full of nerves that are actually quite sensitive. Worse, if you beat the soles of the feet it'll be temporarily quite painful for Licker here to put weight on them. We'll use that in this punishment." The twins were listening intently with wide-open eyes. "It's called bastinado, and it's one of the older disciplining techniques. Every slave handler should be familiar with it."

"So, I want each of you to use a paddle to beat one of his feet 30 times. Pick a foot!" I motioned to the twins. At first the twins didn't understand that they really had to use force, and I made them restart telling them it wasn't hard enough. Once they got the hang of it, though, there was no more time wasting, and about four minutes later the bottoms of both his feet were very red.

"OK, let's call that 50 paddles worth. Just 150 more to go. Good jobs bros because he's going to be on his feet for this last bit." Turning to the slave, "Licker, stand. If you fall, it'll be a demerit."

He managed to stand, but he was obviously in a lot of pain since standing put so much weight on his tender feet. I made him stand under a tall horizontal pipe and I tossed one end of a nylon cord over it. I tied the end to his handcuffs and pulled the rope, wrenching his arms upward, causing him to bend forward. I pulled until he was just about to be pulled onto his tiptoes. I advised the twins, "You can make this position a lot more severe by pulling until he has to stand on his tiptoes. But for now, we'll leave him like this so all of his feet feel that concrete."

"This will normally work off one paddle stroke per minute, so it would take two-and-a-half hours to work off his punishment."

Looking over at Hunter's sweating quivering form I did wonder if he'd make it. He looked perfect to me, his toned skin shiny with a thin layer of sweat but I didn't want the twins up so late.. "But after the bastinado, let's count each minute as 2 strokes. However we're going to combine it with 2 other techniques to speed it up to 4 paddles per minute, and he'll be done in just 37½ minutes, but who's counting, let's round it up to 40 minutes."

First, I showed them a box of alligator clips and told them to apply as many as possible to his nipples, dick, balls, and any other places they fancied like ears and nose. They managed to distribute 42 clips around his body.

Secondly, I showed them how to stretch his balls. "Low balls are valued by some people in unneutered slaveboys," I casually informed them. I tightened the shocker belt around his balls even more, cinching it as tight as possible. Then I attached a ten-pound dumbbell from his weight set to it.

"OK, he's good to go. Always remember to set a timer when you have him in a position like this. But it's equally important that he doesn't know how long has passed or how much time remains. So get that clock off the wall and we'll go and get something to eat while he is hanging around down here."

We all went upstairs to have a snack while we waited. I let the kids have some soda and I had a beer, which our dad would never have allowed.

They played a video game while I looked through the contents of dad's laptop.

Eventually, the timer went off and we went back down to check on our trainee. He looked a wreck. A continuous line of drool reached from his gagged mouth to the floor. He had lost control of his bladder and there was a puddle of piss on the ground. He was shaking and the handcuffs were digging into his wrists. His dick and balls were bright red from the many alligator clips.

I removed the ball stretcher, then uncuffed him and he fell to the ground curling up into a fetal position, crying.

"Remove all the alligator clips," I barked at him. "NOW!" when he took a second to react. Still he managed to get moving before I decided to give him another demerit.

It appeared the clips were as painful to remove as they had been on, but in a few minutes they were all off, and neatly placed in the box until the next time they would be needed.

"OK, boy, nearly bedtime. But first it's your opportunity to thank your masters for your first punishment session. I think it has been very successful, and so you should too. You will thank each of us in turn for our help, and if we don't think you sound sincerely grateful, then you can look forward to working off that demerit tomorrow. Of course, if you fail, you can still try to at least remember the demerit – that'll make things easier for you. Anyway, start by crawling over to your master and kissing his feet. When he gestures for you to talk, you may thank him.

With that, I removed the ball-gag and motioned to Tad.

I think Hunter had been steeling himself for more abuse and this wasn't too bad. He had probably by now realized that the best thing was to avoid more demerits at all cost. That's exactly how I wanted him to think, so that suited me perfectly.

He managed to crawl pretty fast on the hard floor, probably knowing that all his former brothers were looking for excuses to hand out further demerits, and started effusively kissing Tad's foot without even a shred of hesitation. The 13 year old let his older brother's humiliation go on and on. I think he had forgotten that he had to tell the slave to speak because he suddenly started and said "OK Hunter go ahead."

I hissed "Licker" admonishing him to always use the slave name, but let it go otherwise.

Hunter began his thanking: "Thank you, Master."

His tormentor responded: "Why did you misbehave then?"

Hunter seemed like he was going to cry before saying, "I can't handle this…"

Tad didn't seem to know how to handle this partial breakdown. I knew. I walked over and grabbed him by the neck, and slapped him in the face. "I'm not going to waste time giving you another demerit, but you're going to have to learn to grovel, and fast. Now smile and bow to your master, then go to Chad and start kissing."

Hunter did the smile, bow, crawl and kiss. "Thank you master." He wasn't very convincing, but I let it slide.

"No problem, slaveboy."Chad said, mockingly, lightly kicking Hunter's face away.

"Alright, now come over here," I ordered Hunter.

He crawled over and began frantically kissing my feet. "Licker, you've got to put more care into it when following instructions. I want you to focus on kissing my feet passionately, like they were a beautiful girl… not that you'll be kissing any of those while you're a slave. So my feet will have to replace chicks for you." He began kissing slower and harder. "Much better I said," letting him kneel at my feet for two full minutes. Eventually I let him stop: "That was fine for today, but your attitude is going to need improvement. For now though, it's bedtime."

I threw Licker a toothbrush and a large bottle of water, which he drained so I let him have a second which he also finished off: he must have been really thirsty.

Chapter 11
Hunter Services His Brothers.

(Clarence continues narrating)

The twins turned to each other nervously, and Chad quietly asked, "What about the sucking?"

Once one twin broaches a topic, the other will often charge in, and that's what happened here. "Yeah, what about the cocksucking training? You promised us we'd get our dicks sucked tonight!"

"WHAT!" Hunter burst out, not having realized that he was going to be his younger brothers' sex toy as well. "You can't make me do that!"

I pressed both buttons hard on the remote control for a full ten seconds, leaving him stunned, slumped on the floor.

"You have no say in the matter. You can do it willingly and avoid punishment, or we'll put a gag in and make you do it, followed by severe punishment. You're sucking their dicks either way."

I turned to the twins, "I did NOT promise that you'd get sucked tonight, but I think we can squeeze it in before bed. He can probably get you to come pretty fast."

I had an idea "Licker, it's a demerit for each minute over five minutes per boy. Twins, decide who's first."

Chad who often seemed the leader of the pair, dropped his pants revealing a small but very hard erection. "Clock's ticking," I said to Licker, starting a stopwatch. Licker crawled over and put the dick in his mouth and began sucking as well as he knew how. Because the dick was relatively small, he managed to take the whole thing into his mouth. He bobbed his head up-and-down on the glans, then switched to running his tongue along the shaft, then finished the boy off by taking his whole cock into his mouth. These were all tricks he'd learned earlier at Oral Sex Training: it looked like he had paid more attention than he used to at school!

I didn't want to talk over the twin's first blowjob, but I instructed Licker, "When he comes, hold it on your tongue and stick it out so we can see it. You can swallow once told to do so!"

For the first minute or so, the twin was quite gentle, letting Licker do all the work. But after he was deep-sucking the twin's whole penis, the twin grabbed Licker's head and began mouth-fucking him. He started at a slow pace, but quickly picked up as he neared orgasm. By the end, he was pumping furiously, Licker gurgling and choking as he tried to keep up but couldn't.

Chad's body was flushed from head to toe. Finally he couldn't hold back, his dick was fully in Hunter's mouth, but he pressed hard on the back of his kneeling brother's head to try to fuck harder, even though he was as deep as possible. Shuddering he released wave after wave of sweet boy cum, at 2:45 on the stopwatch. Some of it did go down Hunter's throat accidentally, but he remembered his master's instruction and dutifully stuck out his cum-covered tongue and awaited his next order.

Chad took a few selfies while Licker held the load on his tongue, and also some dick pics that included Licker.

Tad wouldn't have lasted much longer, but Chad decided he wanted photos and videos so he kept stopping the action to change filming angles. I could see Licker getting worried, as I counted off each minute on the stopwatch. In the end, it took 7 minutes and so Licker got 2 demerits. While he was waiting for permission to swallow, some cum dripped off his tongue, so he also got a demerit for that!

After swallowing, he was allowed to lick up the cum he had spilled on the floor. He looked up at me.

It was my turn. I beckoned him to crawl over. He took a deep breath and looked resigned to his fate as he closed his eyes and opened his mouth. "Stop." I instructed. I didn't want this to go too fast. I'd already raped his face, now I wanted the opposite, a careful high-quality blowjob. "Kiss the tip gently!"

He did as instructed and a spider-web-thin strand of precum connected my dick with his face, until it gradually dropped and split into two strands. He repeated the process a few time.

"Good, now gently suckle the tip!" He put my glans in his mouth and sucked very gently. "Massage it with your tongue!" I shuddered with giddy pleasure as he inadvertently tickled me. I let him linger on this activity, not wanting the experience to end.

"Look up at me!" I enjoyed staring into his vividly blue eyes, his handsome face distorted by his wide-open mouth. "Put your hands behind your back!" Getting a hands-free blowjob this way was my favorite. His deep supplication reminded me that I had total control of this brat who'd formerly been such a pain in the ass; his humiliated expression was almost as satisfying as the blowjob. I grabbed his hair and pulled him off me. He closed his mouth and looked wordlessly up at me, clearly worried about what was next.

"Open your mouth!" He did, but I needed a bigger target. "Wider!" He stretched open a bit more. I spat in his open mouth, just to surprise and humiliate him. Some of it landed on his upper lip.

"Now, focus on my dick and take it all in."

Hunter slowly went down on my dick, but as he got toward the base he started gagging and coughing up spit. I held his head by the hair with my left hand and smacked him across the face three or four times, saying: "Slaves must control their gag reflex." I decided it'd be fun to spit on him again at that point, so I did between his eyes and watched it start to slide over his face. "And they, in no circumstances pull back unless they are ordered to do so!" I pulled his head back down onto my cock. He gagged again, but I didn't allow him to fuck up and pull back. Still, I tried to use him slowly to prolong the experience.

However, at some point, I was done waiting. I started to speed up a bit, still trying to encourage Hunter to do some of the work. The buildup was worth it when I finally came. I pushed and held Hunter's head down on my dick until I'd completely finished.

I had to pee, but I was enjoying the view so much I didn't want to reposition. My dick was still in Hunter's mouth, so I simply said: "Drink!" and let it rip!

He was pretty surprised and tried to pull off, but I held his head. Nonetheless, a lot of piss went out the sides of his mouth and onto the floor. He choked at some point, and a trickle got blown out his nose. His final slave duty for the evening was to lick it up.

After all that was over, I locked Hunter to his bed (sans mattress) on his back, having removed all the pillows and blankets. His wrists and legs were attached to the bed posts using leg-irons and handcuffs from the slave processing center.

"Twins," I said to the twins, "I hope you've had a fun and educational experience. It's getting late, and I assume you want to come with Licker and me for his audition with the bondage company tomorrow."

"Oh, hell yeah!" the twins said in unison.

"OK, so go to bed and I'll see you in the morning. Licker will be up to see if you want a wake-up blowjob early in the morning. Of course, it'll be a demerit if he doesn't give you one, so hopefully he'll be persuasive," I joked, knowing they weren't going to turn down a BJ. They went away without argument and with identical great big smiles on their faces.

I went to dad's office and poured myself a final beer for the evening, before bidding goodnight to our fresh slave.

"Master, permission to speak," he pleaded.

"I hope you aren't going to get your dumb self into more trouble, but granted…" I said.

"Master, I really really need to pee."

"Ah, you should have gone earlier and drunk less water. Normally, it'd be a demerit for asking, and you'd have to hold it anyway. Of course, you'd be punished for bedwetting. But, just this once I'll use the diaper provided by the slave processing center. Next time, do better."

He looked dejected then remembered to say, "Oh, thank you master for your kind gift," as I strapped the diaper on him. I didn't want the bed messed and I thought he would be suitably embarrassed in the morning if he had a wet diaper. I regagged him to avoid any more trouble.

I decided that instead of turning the lights off, I would blindfold him. That way, we could check in on him more easily.

"Good night," I said. "Sleep well, you've got to do well at your audition tomorrow!"

Chapter 12
First Morning as a Slave.

(Clarence narrates)

I started the day off making coffee, knowing that soon this menial task would be part of the slave's repertoire.

After relaxing a bit, I unlocked Hunter and made him deal with his soaking wet diaper. He looked so humiliated as he took it off and squeezed it out onto the floor as I commanded. I didn't think he could look any more despondent but he might have managed it as I then made him lick the stale piss up of the rough concrete floor. When he had cleaned the floor to my satisfaction I told him to hang the diaper in the shower in case we needed it again. I explained that normally he'd be in charge of breakfast, but since we hadn't figured out the routine, he could just start with the blowjobs.

With that, I unzipped my fly and let my morning wood stick out. I looked at Hunter expectantly and he hurriedly fell to his knees with my dick in his mouth. His form was terrible, and he was just far too stiff and nervous, but he eventually got the job done and I let him swallow my seed, even though he was supposed to be fasting for the audition.

"Hurry up and blow the twins," I said, after buttoning my fly. With that, he got on his feet and scurried up to the twins' room.

When he came down to the kitchen, he insolently reached out to take a piece of human food. Fortunately, I had the remote shocker at the ready to instantly discipline him. We needed him fasting for the audition, for some reason, but I didn't bother to explain that to him. I asked him how the blowjobs went.

He looked confused and stammered "Master, I sucked their cocks and they came. I swallowed it." Gulp. "Master."

"That's not really very perceptive. I think you need to pay more attention as part of your cocksucking training. You need to become obsessed with cocks, noticing the littlest details. Tell me a difference between their cocks."

"Um, I didn't notice any Master."

"I'm going to let you off without a demerit today, but you need to pay more attention. Whenever you suck a cock from now on, I want you to remember three things about it."

"Yes, Master."

"And each morning as you suck the twins, I want you to discover new difference so that whenever I want to know how to tell the twins' dicks apart, you will have a new answer for me, from now on. Understood?" I was sure the twins would like that after the last two years when he pretended he couldn't tell them apart so just called them both CT.

"Good, now wait with your nose touching the corner." I motioned to the far corner of the kitchen, "Stand there quietly in Slave Display until we have all finished our breakfast."

Hunter did as he was told, wedging himself into the corner of our kitchen and then lacing his fingers behind his head. His elbows didn't quite fit and were pressed back by the walls of the corner. I inspected his position, noting that his nose was directly in contact with the wall, as required. "Good job," I said, encouragingly patting his firm shoulder.

I made a delicious breakfast for the free members of the household, and then I called the twins down. Their post-blowjob glow was obvious. As Hunter smelled and listened to us eat, his stomach growled out of hunger. "Oh geez, I cannot eat with that noise. Go and give yourself your enemas." I complained. Adding, "And don't even think about playing with your dick. I suspect you jacked off yesterday afternoon after your shower, don't bother to deny it. We'll need to get something at the store to deal with that problem."

After Hunter left, Chad asked "Don't you think he needs to be supervised? What if he jacks off?"

"Very good question, my young trainer in training," I said, hoping to amuse and congratulate him. "That's why I installed a hidden camera in his bathroom and bedroom." I didn't mention that I had installed them before he was even a slave, nor that I had cameras in the twins' room and bathroom too.

On my laptop, I opened the password protected page with his bathroom feed, and turned it to face the twins. "Watch him closely, and if he touches himself, shock his balls. Make sure he gets a few strokes in so he can't say it was an accident." I handed him my shocker remote while telling them they should always keep theirs with them. They watched him giving himself a series of enemas, just as the professionals at the slave processing center had taught him.

As I was cleaning up breakfast, the twins started shouting excitedly, "He's doing it, he's doing it." And indeed he was stroking it on the video. What a disappointing slave! "Give him a few shocks to his balls." The very first shock caused him to jump making him fall straight on the floor. Slowly he began to get up and the twins shocked him again! After their third shock I said, "OK, that's enough boys, he's got a long day ahead of him."

I called out "Hunter" and he came to the kitchen. "You know why we shocked you. I didn't tell you about the cameras so I could learn if we could trust you, and unfortunately, it appears that we can't." Hunter looked like he wanted to say something but wisely kept his mouth shut.

I continued, "A lot of slave training gear comes in different levels of bondage and pain. Do you want equipment geared for a well-behaved slave or an ill-mannered ass like you? Which type of gear do you think is more comfortable, well-behaved slave gear or ill-mannered?"

Hunter hesitantly said, "Well-behaved, master"?

"Yes, and the punishments are less painful, the bondage less restrictive. So which type of slave do you want to be Licker?"

"Well-behaved, master".

"Good. One demerit for jacking off without permission. Now, get your travel carrier loaded into the trunk and lock yourself in. We'll close the trunk door when we are ready to leave."

I looked at my watch and realized we actually didn't have to leave for over an hour, but it would be convenient to have Hunter out of our hair while we got ready.

One of the twins followed up on my discussion with Hunter, now that he was gone, "So what level of equipment are we really going to get him? Good slave or bad slave?"

"Bad slave or worse," I replied, to the twins' evident approval.

From the breakfast table I sat sipping my orange juice and coffee as Hunter struggled to wedge the cage into the trunk, and then he crawled inside backward and pulled the latching cage door closed, sealing himself inside. He squirmed around turning his head this way and that, trying, in vain, to get comfortable. At one point, we accidentally made eye contact. He looked angry and scared. I smiled, blew him a kiss, and lifted up my newspaper to finish the article before getting ready to go.

I went upstairs to see if the twins had any concerns, but they were just excited to get going. I told them to browse the web or play video games for a while.

For my part, I went online and ordered some books on slave training, discipline and punishment, including a series intended for young teens like the twins. Even though it was for kids, it still warned that many of the illustrations were graphic and some of the techniques were controversial or disturbing. I knew immediately that the twins would love it.

I also called a security company to transform Hunter's area into a proper slave area. The furniture and extra walls would be removed to make a more austere area that could be used for sleeping and training. They said they had had a job cancelled so promised to complete the work while we were gone, so that it'd be ready if we needed anything large delivered from the bondage factory. Also, it'd be a surprise for the boys.

Anyway, eventually we all strolled downstairs to join our cramped slave. I slammed the trunk closed without speaking to or looking at Hunter – I was in a hurry. On the drive, I remarked to the twins how our car had been cramped with dad and Hunter always sitting in the front and us three squashed in the back but now it felt luxurious.

"Yeah, I have to admit – this is pretty sweet," Chad replied. "Hey, I wanted to show you this." he pulled out a notebook.

"What's that?"

"I've been tracking all of Hunter's mistakes, just so we don't let him off the hook for any. But I don't want him to know I'm keeping track."

"I see, if he thinks we've forgotten about something, maybe he won't mention it, and he'll get ten times the punishment!" Both the twins burst out laughing and high fived each other. What a pair of psychopaths I was raising. I was so proud.

We pulled up at a large block building with the words "BONDCO" written in the world's least sexy font.

"Um, is this it?" Apparently, it was, and they were just trying to be discreet. We got out of the car, unlocking Hunter from the trunk. He quickly stretched out and then assumed rest position.

We found the side door labeled "Auditions" and rang the bell.

Chapter 13
Hunter Becomes a Bondage Model.

(Clarence continues narrating)

I introduced myself as the one who had made the appointment, and was ushered over to the Slave Models section and a specialist named Mr Brown began our interview.

"Let me introduce the Slave Modeling end of our business," he began. "The big advantage of slave models is that we can do much more extreme scenes – more pain, more bondage, more humiliation, much longer and more repetitive scenes than a free actor would tolerate. The only problem is that very attractive slaves are expensive and their owners aren't generally interested in sharing them. But attractive slaves – like Licker here – cute name by the way – sell our products much more effectively, it's basic marketing that attractive models sell well. And videos featuring them sell too." He showed us a website of extreme S+M videos, saying that these expensive videos sold "like hotcakes".

He continued: "So, fill out this form, letting us know what kinds of things we can make Licker do – we will never do things the owner doesn't consent to. Of course, the more we can do, the more we can offer in exchange. OK, let us physically examine the model while you fill that out."

As Licker was led away I realized that I needed to mention that I was planning to auction his virginity, and Mr Brown immediately knew how to handle it, saying that they wouldn't do anything to stretch his ass or leave marks until he had lost his virginity, but my answers on the form should be for after that time. He added a rider clause to the contract as we sat there specifying that.

"Will you pay me the full rate during that time, even though you can't fully use him?"

"Yeah, we'll offer that as a signing on bonus for you, since Mr Keller referred you here although we wouldn't want the period to be longer than a month at the most."

I laughed and said it wouldn't be that long. After that, the form was easy to fill out. "Yes," to everything that wouldn't permanently damage him, incapacitate him or leave a mark for more than two weeks. There was an interesting series of questions about which types of extreme roles he could take on:

Pain Threshold _____ (1 – 10)

Discomfort Tolerance _____ (1 – 10)

Cramped space Tolerance _____ (1 – 10)

Flexibility / Agility _____ (1 – 10)

Strength _____ (1 – 10)

Endurance _____ (1 – 10)

Mental Fortitude _____ (1 – 10)

Balance _____ (1 – 10)

Seeing that he was a star athlete, I marked 10 for all of them.

Eventually Hunter's physical was over and we all reconvened in Mr Brown's office. Hunter was once again wearing an arm-binder and was gagged with a penis gag that was held in place with a wide leather strap. He couldn't make even the smallest sound. The gag and arm-binder were both emblazoned with the company's logo.

"Well Hunter's physical body is in mint condition. Just stellar, everything came back really top notch. He apparently kicked and screamed during some of the tests, but that's really common."

"In fact, everyone agrees that Hunter is adorably cute, and he somehow looks even cuter when he's under duress! That's exactly how we like our models!"

"Now turning to your form, I think we are mostly in agreement. Of course, we actually measured his pain and discomfort levels, and he's kind-of a baby actually, more like a 2 or a 2.5 max. But it's very popular to watch a 2 go into a scene with a much higher level, you can just tell by their faces they're in over their heads," he said, chuckling and shaking his head. "Anyway, we are happy to include him in scenes above his measured level, so long as his master or masters approve."

"We approve," all of us three ex-brothers said in unison. Hunter looked terrified at the previous discussion, but he couldn't object or prevent his brothers from renting him out.

"Um, I haven't even told you what we are offering!" Mr Brown was amused, clearly he was dealing with amateurs. "We expect Hunter to work at least one four hour shift per week. He may work up to six shifts, as long as we both agree, meaning his owners and BondCo. Obviously we don't take the slave's opinion into consideration."

"Obviously!" I agreed.

"In exchange, as a perk, you are entitled to one copy of any small punishment, bondage gear, and other devices from our store room up to a certain value. The amount increases with the number of sessions your slave does. You may also have on loan larger items that you want. Again the amount you may borrow depends on Licker's attendance but you can increase that amount by posting photos and videos weekly on the Social Servant Network."

Neither the twins nor I had really looked at the Social Servant Network so we didn't know about it. But free gear sounded good to us all.

"I think you'll get a following on the Social Servant Network. Attractive slaves usually do. Just make sure you put him in lots of amusing situations and lots of punishment, especially humiliating or sexual punishments: those will make Licker here a star." He paused, "And once you do, there are lots of ways to turn that following into cash. For now, focus on attracting a following!"

Great, I thought, the twins probably understand that stuff better than I do. I asked, "Can you guys help build his following?"

"Hell yeah, we got lots of viral slave challenges for Hunter, I mean, Licker to try out. He's going to be super popular," Tad, our very own internet guru, said.

Hearing this, Hunter blushed, knowing that a popular slave was a humiliated one.

Since we didn't really know what we were doing, Mr Brown, I found out later, rather low-balled us, offering a modest amount of cash per shift, around the value of a TV, but was reasonably generous on the equipment side. At the time we were happy to accept it; just glad that our slave was already starting to earn his keep. Unlike the twins, of course, I knew there was no real need for this money now but they were excited Hunter was going to get them a load of new toys to play with.

"We can start his first shift now," Mr Brown helpfully offered, "and you can browse our inventory to see what you want to take home."

"No time like the present," I quipped, and Mr Brown snapped his fingers and two guards quickly led Licker through a door marked Studios.

Mr Brown said that he was too busy to personally lead us on a tour of the giant facilities, but he called a salesman over to show us around the massive floor room. After briefly explaining the financial arrangement, he left us to explore with the salesman.

I told him that we needed furnishings for a new slave, as well as something for a masturbation problem.

I asked the twins what they wanted to see. Chad answered, "Punishment and bondage equipment."

The salesman laughed and said that that was probably too much for one day. I agreed and told the twins we could get more punishment equipment as we needed it, but the other stuff we needed right away. The twins were too excited for this to dampen their enthusiasm much.

I explained that the slave quarters were too large and he needed somewhere smaller to sleep – a slave just should not take up that much room. The associate walked us over to a large section called "Sleeping Cages". Some were very small and he said that those were considered too small by modern standards but were still legal and some masters swore by them.

"But," he cautioned, "if you want to get a full day's work out of a boy, you gotta let him stretch out. That's why modern sleeping cages are usually the size of a single mattress and come in various heights. It used to be common for slaves to have to crawl into their cage, but it limited the kinds of poses and activities they could do in them, so most owners go for a mid-height model, in between crawling and standing height. Finally, some owners like a full-height model, which means the slave's head touches the ceiling when they stand on their toes: it seems ridiculously tall to me, but some owners like to keep their slaves in stand-up bondage in the cage."

I turned to the twins, "I think mid-height makes most sense, especially since we aren't paying."

"It'll be easier for photographing him and of course many come with a false ceiling you can slide in at any height so you can turn them into low cages for a time," the salesman pointed out. OK, anyway, now that that's decided, you can the pick out the model of cage you want!" He walked us over to the mid-size cage section. These were ordered from cheapest to most expensive." He gestured first to some wrought-iron and chicken-wire cages that looked very amateur, then moved through some elegant glass and metal affairs, finally pointing at a smooth plexiglass box.

"Whoa," the twins said, "that one looks really nice."

We walked over to the cuboid cell. It was about the size of the beds we used to have when we were little kids. With the touch of a button the cell changed from blue to transparent, exposing the contents of the cell. "All the controls are on the outside, of course," he began. "It's got complete control of temperature, humidity, air speed and odor. You can control a stereo that's louder than a jet engine. But it's completely soundproofed so you can't hear it at all." He opened the door a crack and loud music blared out. He closed it again, completely silencing the music.

He continued, "The floor is slightly padded, so no separate mattress, blankets or pillows are needed, and in fact, are discouraged for slave use. The entire thing is waterproof and can be washed out with a hose. The thing can even be filled with water. One of our clients even used it to waterboard his slave after he over-salted his master's food." He shook his head, "Some of this stuff you just can't make up!"

"Anyway, inside the cube, all the sides and top can act as video screens that can be set to any video feed you desire, either individually or in any combination; training videos are the usual things slaves watch. When not showing videos they act as mirrors, so all the slave can see is himself. This encourages good behavior, because the slave has no way to know if he is being watched."

"Wow, that seems amazing." I glanced at the price tag, similar to a low-end new car. "Good thing we are being comped, because there's no way in hell I could afford that!"

Chad asked diffidently, "You mentioned odor?"

"I'm glad you caught that," he complimented the eager learner. "It used to be that odor was for rewards or punishments. Make the slave sleep in the scent of a dumpster if they were bad. Once I heard of an owner that would punish his slaves by making the thing smell like rotten garbage so strongly that their eyes would water." He chuckled, "The guy would throw a few rats in there with his slaves just to complete the effect."

"Whoa," the twins said, not quite knowing what to do with that story.

"Sometimes it was also used as a reward, letting the slave rest in a bed of lilacs for example. But nowadays, most owners just have their own scent duplicated."

"Why would they do that?"

"Our scientists have discovered that used in conjunction with our special program of drugs and supplements a slave that sleeps in the concentrated odor of someone will develop a very strong bond and affection for that person. It doesn't matter if the person is cruel or abusive, the drugs and scent overtime will overpower the normal reaction to such behavior. The slave cannot prevent the effect in the long term, even if they initially resist it. Unfortunately, so far we have not been able to make it work for full siblings, it appears as they share the same genes they have too similar an odor."

"I'm just a half-sibling." I announced, although I wasn't really interested. I knew the treatment would be expensive and we didn't have any money to waste even though the idea of Hunter not being able to stop himself lusting after me gave me a good feeling. While a few years ago, when he and the twins were so close and they looked up to him rather than me the oldest, I would have loved it. And of course I had perved on him for years. Now I was just happy to have him as a slave.

"Oh yeah, it should work for you but it might take a big longer than with a non-relative. Just send in a swab!" He handed me a box with a swab in it, which I took but had no intention of using. He turned to the twins, "Remember to send a picture or video every week of cool ways you use the sleep cage!"

I could see the twins scheming among themselves already.

"OK," the associate said, glancing at his watch, "anything else in home furnishings?"

We looked at each other and shook our heads.

"OK, on to chastity devices for this masturbation problem… I think you're making a wise move, curbing this problem instead of relying on the slave to obey. Sex drive is very hard to resist, and with Slave Research becoming a standard major at colleges, we have study after study to back up the result: a slave in chastity will be a better slave. So let's look at your options. Fortunately, they sent over your slave's sizes, both flaccid and erect, so we don't have to try them on for size." The sales associate said all this while walking briskly to a new corner of the store.

There, a long counter had a huge selection of devices shaped like flaccid cocks. There were industrial looking ones, made of thick steel painted a shiny white. There were stylish ones with bent tubes of stainless steel. There were leather and plastic devices. Some had spikes, and some had electrodes . All of them in various sizes. The clerk could sense that we were overwhelmed.

"To my paying clients I recommend two devices. First, you need a looser one for everyday use. This plexiglass one, in this size, should prevent any erections, but is comfortable, even if he gets a bit excited. It is sized halfway between his erect and flaccid sizes."

"That looks too bulky. Won't it be seen under his slave shorts?" Tad asked.

"Yes, it will be visible, if you find it too much we can go down one size. Or if you still find that too much, we can go down two sizes to his flaccid size. It will still be fine, just not as comfortable."

I didn't want his dick looking any bigger than it had to, so the decision was easy: he would get the small one for his everyday device.

"One other nice feature I forgot to mention. This hose attachment lets him wash his dick without the need for removal of the cage. This really makes the maintenance easier. Just add soap and warm water and the slave can clean himself daily, which is needed for hygiene."

"Wait a minute," I asked, "won't that be pleasurable? Doesn't that defeat the purpose of a chastity device?"

"Yeah, it actually feels amazing, like a soapy blowjob. In fact, the manufacture invented a BJ machine using the same principle. But, the size of the tube prevents an erection, so although the slave will get hornier and hornier as he washes, we guarantee he cannot get any release in a properly-sized device!"

"OK, so we'll take the smallest one. You mentioned another device?"

This is what we call a "Preventative Chastity Device," he said, holding up another device made of plexiglass. He opened it up and we could see the walls were covered in spikes. The empty space between the spikes was shaped like a flaccid penis. "These will be custom made from the mold of your slave's dick, which we took earlier." (I didn't remember that in the contract, but I didn't care either.) "If you decide you want it, we will 3-D print and overnight ship it to you."

I looked over my shoulder at the twins, who shrugged. I said, "I'm not sure we need it, but sure, we'll take it."

"Now for our paying clients, that's usually enough for most slaves. But since you asked about these devices, I think you should also get a Punishment device, which is like the PCD, with sharper spikes, and you get it ½ a size smaller, so it's painful even when flaccid!"

Messed up as it sounds, the idea of punishing Hunter that way was making me horny. "Yeah, we'll take that too".

"Hey, what's that little latch that all the chastity tubes have?" Tad had noticed that all the devices had a tiny but identical bar and tube mechanism.

"Ah, that's an industry-standard attachment point. Most modern houses are built with several of them but installation is a snap if not! It's a convenient way to lock a slave to a wall by his chastity device. It's a completely rigid attachment to reduce fidgeting, and the slave can lock himself up, even without his hands."

"But he can't get out right?" Chad asked, unsure.

"Of course not! That would completely defeat the purpose. It's all about making it convenient for masters to control their property." We all smiled and nodded in agreement.

"OK, so I guess we will finish up with Bondage Gear, but that's really our entire company, and we only have 30 minutes left. So what I'll do is throw in the 200 piece Deluxe Master set. It has all the whips, chains, cuffs, butt plugs, binders, spreaders, paddles, and ropes you'll ever need. It comes with a book telling you how to use all that stuff, I'll make it the Teen edition, in case that's easier for you to read. I think it's in comic form.

"Now, is there any specific gear you want?"

I happened to have a fetish for stocks, so I asked about those. Needless to say, they had a million. I asked for advice, and he pointed at a modern contraption. "This one's quite popular in modern households. It's designed to be space efficient: you mount it into a wall by cutting a hole in the drywall. That way the slave's head is inside the wall, and the whole contraption takes almost no space. The deluxe model let's you adjust the height of the slave's head and body independently, to accommodate all your sexual or punishment needs."

He pointed below the head hole where there were a series of LED lights. "There is a camera here so you can see your slave's expression. We usually mount a monitor right over the stocks themselves so you can see the slave's expression as you punish or fuck them."

"That sounds hot!"

"Trust me, it is! Anyway, I believe your slave is due back, so I guess your shopping will continue on his next shift, right?" Checking his tablet, he said, "The next delivery window is tonight. Looks like they can install your stocks too. Will you be around?"

"Yes, the sooner the better," I said, picking up the heavy duffel bag containing the Deluxe Master Teen Starter Kit. "Thanks so much for helping us! Your store is amazing!" We were all really impressed. The twins were bouncing with excitement.

We circled back around to pick up Hunter who looked a bit dazed. He still didn't have too much trouble hauling that giant duffel bag. He locked himself into the cage without any discussion. I slammed the trunk closed.

I jumped in the car, floored the accelerator and opened the sunroof. Two cute twins in the car, a massive amount of bondage equipment to play with, and best of all, the finest sex toy imaginable, my studly half-brother Hunter. Oh how far the cocky prick had fallen.

We were all exuberant and very excited to play with our toys. We all kept thinking of things to see next time at the store… they had a large selection of uniforms and costumes we hadn't seen. There was an entire world of slave disciplining equipment that the twins had seen in their online catalog. I really needed a spanking/fucking bench. The list went on and on. "Don't worry boys, we can go back in a few days for Hunter's next shift, and we'll get more stuff then. Just make a list!"

By the time we got home, we were all hard as rocks, thinking about all this stuff. I popped open the trunk before we even came to a stop in the driveway. The twins jumped out as soon as the car stopped and opened up the cage and Licker followed us down to what had been his former favorite room. He had loved bringing his friends there and showing off. In the past, he had stopped the twins going down there saying it wasn't for little kids which had upset them. Now they didn't even need to knock.

Chapter 14
Dinner Time.

(Clarence narrates)

Hunter's room had been absolutely transformed and was now much more suitable for slaves. The bathroom and extra walls and all furniture had been removed, just leaving one large area. Under the shower head was now a hole in the ground with two footprints each side. Hunter now had his own toilet. The sliding glass doors that formerly gave a scenic view had been replaced with solid wooden shutters and a security door. That's standard, because traditionally slaves being punished are not supposed to know the time: the shutters would rarely be opened. The interior had a very simple look, not unlike the demonstration areas at BondCo. It was appropriate for training and punishment sessions. There were now cameras everywhere, not just my old hidden one, which is standard for slave quarters.

A giant monitor had been attached to the wall. Although it could play videos, I'd mostly wanted it to provide Hunter with an inspirational quote to improve morale. I thought about the various slave adages and decided to enter this classic: "A Good Slave Does Not Think."

"Um, where's his bed?" one of the twin's asked.

"He's going to sleep in the sleeping cage we ordered, don't you remember?"

"Oh yeah."

Well, the delivery was still an hour away, so I asked the boys what they wanted to eat. Hunter's eyes lit up so big, I knew he was famished – he hadn't really eaten since he'd been enslaved 48 hours ago. "You can eat too now Licker," I said, condescendingly patting him on the head.

"What do you guys want?"

"Pizza!" they both said instantly

"Seriously, you can't eat pizza every night…"

"They have the Slaver Special: two pizzas and two pounds of slave pizza for free," Tad begged.

"Um, what's slave pizza?"

"Does it actually matter? It's for Hunter!" Chad retorted and they both burst out in a fit of giggling laughter.

We ordered the Slaver Special. As usual the twins never try anything new, and only wanted pepperoni.

When the delivery guy arrived, I tipped the driver and said that our slave needed BJ practice. "Wanna let him blow you?"

The young male driver checked his watch, then said, "Hell yeah," dropping his shorts literally as he walked in the door. Then his jaw dropped as he saw Hunter. "No way! Hunter! Head of our rival high school's team? This is too good to be true." He turned to me, saying: "He spent the last year teasing me, all so that he could upset me in the final game. And the worst part was that it worked: he spooked me and we lost. I'm so fucking happy to hear he's a slave."

"Open up, big guy!" he said, thrusting his dick into Hunter's mouth.

"His slave name's Licker, by the way," I helpfully suggested.

The pizza guy burst out laughing, "Oh man, that's perfect." He grabbed Licker's ears and switched to fucking his face.

After a few minutes, he grew annoyed with the position and made Hunter lie on his back on the table, with his head hanging down off the end. "Open your slave mouth!" he barked and proceeded to give his former rival a ruthless face fucking.

As it turns out, "slave pizza" was just table scraps from the dine-in restaurant, indiscriminately packed into a box. There was salad, garlic bread, pizza crust. All cold and stale. I even saw a paper wrapper from a straw as I was dumping it into an old dog bowl for Hunter. I was going to pick it out, but I decided it might provide some nutrients for our slave. I decided to throw the second pound of slave pizza into the fridge for later.

"Licker, the installation guys from BondCo are coming soon, so you need to eat this quickly," I said, setting the unappetizing slop in front of him.

Gross as it looked, he was so hungry that he started shoving it into his face with his hand. I could see he was famished. But he stopped when one of the twins collar-shocked him.

"Licker, you know that slaves don't eat with their hands." Chad said. And it was true, he really should have known that. After that, he ate by burying his face in the bowl, like a dog.

Meanwhile, the twins and I ate excellent hot pizza, with sodas and beer, and talked excitedly about collars and tawses and training, and all manner of other stuff that excites the teenage mind.

The doorbell rang and I showed the installers the room. I pointed out where to put the stocks and the cage, and came back to be with the family.

Licker seemed to be done eating, and I noticed that the straw wrapper was still sitting in his dish. "That's one demerit for not eating everything your owners have graciously provided," I said. "Eat up."

He crawled over, picked up the paper with his mouth, and slowly chewed and swallowed it. "You don't look happy, smile!"

With a ton of effort, he managed to force his lips into a grimace. "Good job! I want more smiles! It'll be demerits from now on if you aren't smiling enough." I wasn't really serious, but I ultimately did give him some demerits for this.

When the installers were done, I took everyone downstairs to show them the new equipment from BondCo.

First I showed off the stocks. I locked Licker's head and wrists in it, and showed how it could be lowered so his neck was almost flush against the floor (inside the wall, his nose was pressed into a stud at floor level), or raised so high he had to stand on something. There was a pedestal for him to stand or kneel on that could also be adjusted. I raised his body up but kept his head low, so he was doubled over at the waist, his shapely ass sticking out. .

"Now, check this out," I said, turning on the TV. The image on the TV was filled with Hunter's cute boyish face, lit in a very attractive, natural lighting.

"He can't hear us, and he doesn't know we turned the TV on – he can't tell whether we're watching or not!"

I picked a polished wooden paddle from the assortment of paddles, belts, whips and tawses, held it an inch away from his unprotected butt, and without warning wound up and took literally the hardest swing I could. It took a fraction of a second for him to yelp in pain, because it was so unexpected. The volume was way down, but you could see from his facial expression that it really hurt and he screamed hard.

The twins found this very amusing, and took turns seeing what expressions that they could get with all the various devices. I grew a bit bored, "You can play with our slave whenever you want. Let's try out his cage now."

* * *

Reluctantly, the boys released Hunter from the stocks, and forced him into the plexiglass box/cage that was now where he would sleep. The twins thought this was pretty boring. I said: "We can demonstrate the sound system using white noise, which was the factory default. But wouldn't it be more fun to pick a song that would annoy him? Do you know any?"

They instantly came up with "Hop Hop Like A Bunny". They began singing it in unison, forcing me to tell them to shut the hell up. It's meant to torment Hunter, not me. Anyway, it was a good choice: it's a very annoying song, so it's no surprise that it was in the catalog on the cage's jukebox. I clicked it to start playing.

"OK, so now it's playing on repeat. He can't stop it, only we can stop it. Right now, it's playing at a quiet volume, 30 dB. Turning it up to 60 dB it's playing at normal speaking volume. Turning it to 80 dB it's pretty loud."

All the while we were watching Hunter react. I cranked it up to 120 dB. "It's like a jet engine. Too long at this volume will damage his hearing." Hunter was curled up in a fetal position, hands trying to protect his ears. "Wow, the box really is completely soundproof!" I said, as we strained to hear even the slightest hint of noise from the song that was deafening inside the box.

I turned it back down to 60 dB. "Let's leave it like this to annoy him, but not hurt him."

"OK, check out these other settings." I cranked the temperature down to 40°F (5°C). He was naked, of course, so it didn't take long at that temperature for him to start shivering. He huddled in the corner hugging his knees for warmth. Then I cranked it the other way, and soon we could see beads of perspiration. "If we turn the humidity up as well, we can really get him to sweat," I said, adjusting that slider on the control box. Now he was really dripping.

"Do you want to quickly review the slave's demerits?" I asked, "while he sweats it out a little," I joked looking at the pool of perspiration Hunter was making. I cranked Hop Hop up a little, and we spent a few minutes going over the list in preparation for the demerit meeting.

"OK, it's time for the slave's demerits, and then bed." The twins groaned but I reset the cage. Chad opened it up, and told Hunter to get out. I looked at the large amount of sweat that Hunter had generated and gave him some water. He was so thirsty he drank it all, even though he didn't want to be diapered again.

"That reminds me," Tad said, looking at the Quick-Start Guide of the cage, "we should probably set up the water dispenser and urine disposal systems."

The water dispenser attached inside the cage but could still be controlled remotely. It was a rubber phallus-like nozzle that's length and girth, could be changed from the console. The slave had to get the whole thing in his mouth to release any water. Chad put Hunter back into the box.

Tad read, "You can control how big the dick is, how long he has to suck, how hard, and how much water he gets."

The controls looked complicated. Tad was fiddling with it as Hunter was trying to drink; an indicator on the screen suggested that he wasn't getting much.

"Guys, let's just leave it on default and move on…"

"But the manual says to set up urine disposal too!"

"OK, fine. How does it work?"

"There are two modes, with and without chastity belt."

"Let's set it up 'with', since we cannot trust him yet, even though he isn't wearing the belt… not yet anyway." That would change in a few minutes.

"OK," Tad pressed a button. A small circular hole opened in the wall of the cage and a label appeared above it saying "TRASH". "Put your cock and balls in that hole,Licker,"Tad commanded, "It will automatically seal closed," Tad told us. We were all laughing at the little joke about the worth of slave dicks: "trash". The twins later posted a lot of photos of the proceedings.

Nervously Hunter obeyed. He had to spread his knees far apart in order to get his dick low enough but eventually got it in. From his perspective, he was pressed against a mirror, staring at his own reflection. But outside the cage it gave us an excellent chance to study his body in this slightly awkward position.

The machine sealed the hole and Hunter's dick and balls were enclosed in the wall of the cube. The control indicated the seal was tight, as did the startled expression on Hunter's face. "OK Hunter," Tad yelled, "let 'er rip!" The onscreen display showed how many milliliters he had pissed as well as its salt content and pH. Tad thought this was all awesome.

"Now it's going to clean his penis off."

"Oh, interesting!" Jets of soapy water started massaging his dick and he started to harden up. "Wait is he getting an erection?"

Tad looked in the manual and said "Oh shit! There's a warning that without a chastity device a slave might use this to self-pleasure." I could see from Hunter's expression that that was indeed happening.

"Stop it!" I yelled, and Chad pressed the red ABORT button on the touchscreen. We later learned that that delivered a shock to his balls and released him. The shock caused him to jump backward, his hardon still raging. I desperately opened the cube and pulled him out as he was trying to touch his dick – I guessed he was really close to orgasm. Even though I had stopped him touching his dick, he kept thrusting it into the air, trying as hard as he could to cum.

"Hold him," I commanded, and fetched a bucket of ice water.

Once his dick and balls were fully submerged in the freezing water, I said, "Whew, we dodged a bullet with that one. I guess it shows it's never too soon to put him in a belt. OK, let's leave his junk to shrivel up while we get on with the demerits since the last punishment session."

"Remain sitting but put your hands in Display position," I barked and he quickly put his hands on the back of his head.

"OK, tell us your demerits."

He did a better job remembering them than any of us expected given the situation, but with the help of his little notebook, Chad remembered three more. I announced this meant he had earned 200 paddle smacks to work off, and again, I didn't really want to bruise his butt, possibly damaging his auction value. I judged that locking him in the stocks with the punishment chastity device for two hours would be enough.

I hadn't put the device on him before and it looked way too small to fit. But his dick and balls had shrunk considerably after soaking in iced water for so long.

"Look at those tiny dinky little things," I pointed out to the twins, "reminds me of you two when I used to help mum give you your bath when you were six."

Luckily the shrinkage was enough to allow me to close the punishing device. I could see the plastic ridges and bumps digging into his delicate flesh which would only go in deeper as it warmed up. He was whimpering with pain, moving around, and involuntarily reaching down to try to soothe things. I thwacked his hand with a riding crop when he did.

Before it got too bad, I made him get back in the stocks in the doubled over position. Even though we didn't want to bruise his butt, we couldn't resist giving him ten whacks each.

I turned the monitor on in order to see his facial expression, but there wasn't much to see as he was suffering so much as his dick and balls were getting raw and bruised from the cruel device the pain from the paddle didn't make a lot of difference.

I told the twins I'd move him when his punishment was over, in two hours. They looked tired and didn't argue. I thanked them for their help during this big day, and told them to expect wake-up blowjobs again tomorrow.

I got myself a beer and continued looking through dad's computer. It was actually nearer three hours before I went back to check on the slave, but who was counting? He was a sweaty mess, as he should be after punishment, I guess.

I decided to switch chastity devices while he was still in the stocks, since the position was convenient. After removing the punisher device, his dick and balls were a rainbow of raw pink abrasions, purple bruises, and red sores. Everything was swollen, and, I'm sure, very sensitive. Nonetheless, I jammed it into the Everyday Chastity tube that we'd gotten. I took pictures of every step in case we wanted to put them on the Social Servant Network.

Doing all this manual labor on his dick had made me hard again, and, I opened the stocks and told him to suck my cock before making him get in his cage. After he obliged, I locked it shut. I decided to put a training film called "Cocksucking for Beginners" on repeat for him to watch as he went to sleep, deciding that a bit above normal volume would probably be appropriate, given that he needed to learn the material.

I watched him try to get comfortable with the loud TV and sore dick and no blankets or pillows for a while, drinking in his perfect naked form. He couldn't seem to find a position he liked, but it didn't matter to me: it was cool looking at him toss and turn, switching from one sexy position to another.

Finally I turned the temperature down to 50°F [10°C] and went up to my bedroom. I turned on the CCTV and got hard again looking at that perfect boymeat. I called Mr Keller and asked him to set up the auction of his "virgin" ass for a couple of week's time. He seemed confident it was going to be a ferocious bidding war. After that, we wouldn't have to keep treating him so delicately and he could fully earn his money at BondCo. My life just felt so great to me!

Chapter 15
New Duties, New Job, New Room

(Narrated by Hunter)

I woke up praying that it had all been a nightmare, but the chains attaching my limbs to my bed, as well as the piss-soaked diaper, now cold and clammy, told me otherwise. My groin was sore and raw and itchy all at the same time. I realized I was experiencing diaper rash for the first time since infancy. God, could this get any worse? I had to lie there waiting for my fat brother to get off his ass and release me. If I yelled, I knew there would be hell to pay, so I had to patiently lie there, soaking in my own piss.

Clarence began talking, coffee in one hand. He talked as he ate a granola bar sending little chunks flying into the room. "It sucks that you needed a diaper, I guess turning into a slave really does make you dumber," he began condescendingly. A raisin flew across and landed in the middle of my chest, but I couldn't use my hands to brush it off, so it just lay there as he talked obliviously. I was so hungry I hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast two days ago.

When he released me he made me take the diaper off and squeeze it out on the floor. there was a large puddle of piss and he made me lick it all up. "Hang your diaper in the shower to dry… We will reuse it if necessary." Reuse a diaper? If everything else hadn't happened I would have thought that was a new low, but it didn't really register. Not like I had any choice. "Then go upstairs and blow the twins. I expect to hear details." What kind of details does this dumb-fuck want?

I hustled up to the twins' room. They were both pretending to be asleep but I could see they were both squinting to look at me. "Which one of you guys wants a blow job?" One raised his hand, while the other continued to feign sleep.

As I went across to him he asked me what his name was. Well that was easy he was in Chad's bed so I said, "Chad."

He giggled and shouted, "Demerit!" The little shits had swapped beds. I realized then that my saying I couldn't tell them apart and calling them both CT or the CTs was likely to come back to bite me now they were in charge. As I began sucking his hard little dick, he began talking, "Hunter, we care about you but you can't go around addressing us casually like that. You gotta use 'Master'."

I took this as an invitation to speak somewhat freely and the words started gushing out. "I'm having so much trouble adapting and this is so unfair and I just want my old life back." At this point, I couldn't hold back, and started crying.

Chad couldn't take it any longer. "Stop trying to be friends with the slave. He's not Hunter; he's Licker. Don't let him manipulate you or speak out of turn. We should give him a million demerits but we might get in trouble if we don't hurry up and get our blowjobs and get moving."

He was right – I at least was playing with certain punishment, so I steeled myself and began concentrating on giving the best BJ I could.

The boys were talking. Tad said as I was blowing him, "Yeah, but we should give him a demerit."

Chad replied: "But then we'll have to tell Clarence what happened."

"OK, well, should we punish him."

"Definitely!" Chad said as Tad came in my mouth.

I showed him my tongue and swallowed on command, hoping to avoid further punishment. I began blowing Chad, who said he had read that some people like to have slaves lick their buttholes. I did NOT like where this was going, but now the twins were saying, "Let's just try it" and "We don't have to do it for long!"

Chad eventually went quiet, then let out a high-pitched whimper, and came in my mouth.

"OK, the deal is this," Chad said after I had shown him his cum and he'd "let" me swallow. "We aren't going to tell Clarence or give you demerits, but in future if you ever get it wrong or don't call us Master and by our right name we will. Now you're going to give us each thirty seconds of rimming." They were weirdly both aroused and disgusted by the idea, but they pulled their knees to their chests, revealing two identical buttholes.

Well, this isn't the first disgusting thing I've had to do, I thought, as I plunged my still piss tasting tongue deep into his tight hole. He moaned and whimpered, so I kept moving my tongue, wiggling and licking. Eventually Tad said, "Times up, switch." And then I got to rim my second ass. I asked myself whether an identical ass really counted as a second ass, just as Clarence called us down to eat. I was completely famished. I wanted to rinse the ass taste from my mouth, but my bathroom was down two floors and Clarence sounded urgent. I decided I would have to live with it.

***

I ran down to the kitchen, moving fast out of excitement instead of fear of reprisal for a change. The food was bacon, eggs, and coffee, all foods I love. I was excited to eat not having had anything for about 48 hours. As I reached for a slice of bacon, he shocked me, quizzed me about the twins' dicks, then made me go stand with my nose in the corner.

From his perspective he couldn't actually see, but I knew if he figured out that my nose wasn't physically touching the corner that there would be hell to pay. It was quite awkward, cramming myself into the corner like that. I'm not even sure if he ever bothered to check…

As I was wedged there, I could hear my fat brother and the twins taking seconds and thirds and fourths, gluttonously munching away. I realized that it was my enslavement that was paying for all that food, but what could I do? Nothing but stand and savor the residual taste of piss and ass I'd gotten this morning.

I was hoping to sneak a few leftovers or scraps as I cleaned up, since I was sure they'd make me do the cleaning. But one of the twins figured out my plan and said I'd "cheat" to use his word for eating. I'm not sure which one of the CTs it was I am going to have to start making sure I can tell the difference. Nobody wanted to supervise me, so Clarence dumped bleach over the delicious-looking leftovers, making sure there was nothing edible left. "Clean that shit up, get washed including enemas and get in your cage in the trunk," Clarence directed me. "Pronto. Or else." I knew that the threat wasn't idle: he'd punish me over much less.

So, I hauled ass. Throwing away food, loading the dishwasher, wiping up. Then I literally ran down for my shower and enemas, I managed to do it all in ten minutes. I didn't dare jerk off even though my dick rose as soon as I was in the shower. Then I ran back upstairs. The transport cage is very awkward for one person to move, but of course a slave can't ask a free person for help. I could just barely hold the corners with the tips of my fingers. I stumbled with the awkward device, slowly hauling it to the trunk of the car, then sliding it around to make it fit in the trunk.

I was aware that I probably wasn't going fast enough, and I was sweating with exertion and the sense of urgency to avoid punishment. Quickly I opened the cage door, and backed my muscled ass into the cage. I closed the cage door behind me, locking myself in. I breathed a sigh of relief.

After all the hurrying up, I expected the family to come down and get going in short order. At first, even though I was cramped, it was nice to be left alone. But then I started to get uncomfortable as the hot sun started shining right into the trunk, I shifted as much as I could, trying in vain to get a cooler or less cramped position. At one stage I was staring into the kitchen that I had just cleaned. Clarence was still relaxing and drinking his coffee, no apparent urgency at all. We accidentally made eye contact: he looked comfortable and composed in the spacious, air-conditioned house; I was sweaty and miserable. He raised his coffee in my direction to mock me.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, he got up, and he and the twins came out. One of the boys, I think it was Tad asked, "Why didn't Hunter use the cage-dolly?"

Clarence laughed as he replied: "As usual, whenever you have to work with slaves, you should assume that they're idiots." He slammed the trunk leaving me in total darkness.

The car started moving. It was warm and dark, and I couldn't see anything. I couldn't really even tell how long the drive was, although we made the same drive many times later, so now I know it's about an hour. The car came to a stop and the trunk popped open.

Clarence unlatched my cage and I struggled out, trying to get my bearings. "Hurry up," he said walking toward a door labeled "Auditions".

My ex-brother was given a few forms to fill out and then I was led to a part of the building that looked a bit like a doctor's office. Without any conversation, they took some blood and swabbed my mouth and nose with gauze.

A technician was handed a vial, pointed at me and told to collect a urine sample. I reached down to grab my dick to piss in the cup but he batted my hand away. Instead, he casually jammed a catheter up there. I screamed and the guy yelled, "Can we get a gag on this one?" without missing a beat. Turning a knob the pee flowed into the cup. Now that I was gagged he yanked the catheter out hard, deliberately. The inside of my dick felt like it was on fire.

Then it was time for a semen sample. Was there a small chance that I'd get to masturbate? I realized that I was actually really, really horny all of a sudden. Well only forty eight hours ago I was a healthy teen jock who was used to getting off at least three or four times a day. Since being enslaved I had only managed one sneaky jerk off. I was made to get on all fours, so my boner was hanging down. Another technician pushed a steel rod up my ass and spent a while moving it around. When it was positioned to his satisfaction, he attached a sample cup to my penis with a simple spring-loaded wooden clothespin.

He said simply "Go" and I felt an enormous electrical shock in my ass. It was incredibly painful. I shot the hardest load I can remember. It nearly knocked the sample jar off. "This one's got some kick," the nurse remarked, removing and labeling the sample jar. He looked around for a place to put the clothespin, and failing to find one, he just attached it to the very tip of my very sore dick.

Next there were some "flex tests" where I was strapped to things that would measure how far I could bend in various directions. It was more uncomfortable rather than painful, but nobody bothered to remove the clothespin, so my poor dick was really starting to hurt.

Finally they removed the clothespin and gag, but it wasn't for my benefit. It was time for the "pain tests". Apparently, these were so they could evaluate how I would look modeling various products that involve pain. It was as bad as it sounds. They had electrodes attached that displayed my pain level. They would pick a way of torturing me, for example, squeezing my balls, or sticking thumbtacks in my feet. They would slowly increase the level, videotaping me up close: they really wanted to see my facial expression for some reason. Eventually they'd get to an unbearable pain level. Then they'd stop and switch to a new test.

I was so happy when that was over… they regagged me, this time with a penis gag that had a thick belt that went all the way around my head. This gag completely silenced me. Most gags make it so you can't talk, but this one makes it so you can't make a sound at all. Obviously nobody explained anything. Then they handcuffed me, and led me back out to my brothers.

A businessman came out with a pile of papers. "OK, let's go over our offer for Licker!" He patted me on the shoulder and herded us into his modern private office.

The businessman spoke only to Clarence and the twins, even though I had a lot of questions and comments. But of course, I was gagged and handcuffed, so I was just left worrying. It was obvious now why they used the penis gag. I couldn't even interrupt unintelligibly- I was totally silenced. Clarence's only goal seemed to be to get the most money and gear possible from my exploitation, and was all too eager to sign me up for some unpleasant activities.

With me never having had a chance to say a word, the documents were signed. A BondCo employee grabbed my leash: I was apparently going to work my first shift now. And the others were going to go shopping. I was fresh enough to slavery to still be fuming at the repeated unfairness.

The dude escorting me shouted to a coworker: "Hey we're not supposed to mark this one up, or stretch him out."

"Well, what the hell are we going to do with him?"

They went back and forth about which products needed modeling that I could perform. For some reason, I had a weird feeling of inadequacy that I couldn't model some of the products they wanted to film.

The first product I was to model for was a shower, specifically a golden shower. I had heard of golden showers but had never really thought about them at all.

Anyway, what I had learned was that golden shower just meant a guy peeing on someone. What I modeled was a golden tsunami. The shower-sized box had fast pumps that went from the drain to the top. The top wasn't a faucet, instead the ceiling was a grid of holes, causing the piss to be a very even "rain". If it wasn't pee, it might have been nice.

At first, it was a light drizzle of urine. Because I wasn't used to it, the smell was pretty wretched. Then it became a gentle rain, then a thunderstorm. At the maximum, I could barely breathe. They turned on a fan and it really was like a tsunami. All this happened in slow motion so they could get lots of footage. I was in the shower for more than an hour.

Then they turned off the flow, but turned up the wind to demonstrate how fast it would dry you. The end result is that I stank of urine so badly It would make your eyes water. I'm not sure who is into this, but the device works as designed.

***

I was hoping for a real shower but they decided there wasn't time. They clearly weren't bothered for me but I noticed they were keeping their distance. I was locked to a St Andrew's cross and an electrical clip was attached to my balls, another to my glans, and a final lead was shoved into my dick. A monitor in front of me said:

BALLS 1 SHAFT 1 SOUND 1

A lab-coated guy explained it through a PA system, presumably not wanting to deal with my stench. "This is a technical video. We have to show our product functioning at every setting for at least two seconds. Each of these settings goes from 1 to 10, 10 is calibrated to be excruciating. So there are 1000 settings. See you in 5000 seconds or about 1.5 hours. With that, he closed the window leaving just me, the video cameras, and my suffering.

The numbers counted "in order," so the "SOUND" number, which meant the electrode inside my dick, would count to ten, before dropping to one and the "SHAFT" electrode advancing. This meant that my balls were just slowly getting shocked harder and harder over the whole ordeal. I was worried that they'd catch on fire by the end.

***

For the third product, I was dressed in a leather dog suit. It was designed so that you walked on your knees and elbows, while the suit forces you to bend completely. It was like you had four stubby short limbs. They said not to put a hood on me because my "expression was so marketable".

They were selling exercise equipment for "dog slaves" as they called this suit.

First I was filmed on a treadmill at many different speeds. This suit made it really hard to go very fast without falling on your face. Whenever I did, one guy would joke "One for the blooper reel." It was so annoying, but of course I had learned not to say anything.

Then they had a walking machine that pulled my leash in a big circle around some astroturf. That really hurt after a while.

Finally I had to play fetch with various BondCo branded toys. They made me "wag my tail" a lot, which just meant wiggling my butt. It only took a few blows of a paddle to make sure I was being enthusiastic enough for them.

It was a big relief when they let me out of the dogsuit. I left with my family (in the cage in the trunk as usual).

The ride home was very nice: I was getting used to being caged up, and nobody punished me for anything.

I was so hungry that I barely minded the humiliation of having the delivery guy recognize me from my halcyon pre-enslavement time. Which was about two days ago.

I really thought it was rude that he accepted the BJ offer, but, if I'm totally honest, I probably would have too if the roles had been reversed. I really wish the roles were reversed. I also thought the face-fucking was a little unnecessarily brutal. But again, things seemed different as a free man. I envy the pizza delivery guy so incredibly much. At least he came quickly, so I could eat.

Well, my enthusiasm went to nearly zero when I actually saw the grotesque mash that was slave pizza. It was just a block of food. There were scraps of bread, but they were soaked. I guess they just dump it in water if it isn't a full pound. (As it turns out, it's permitted for the employees to simply piss in the container and it counts as "food".) The lettuce was wilted. There was a half-chewed piece of gristle. It was nauseating, but I was famished, and I knew that it would probably be demerits for "wasting food" or some shit if I didn't finish. The only thing I left was actual paper trash that got into the slave pizza by mistake. Having to eat this mess without my hands kneeling on the floor completed my misery.

I could smell the delicious pizza just a few feet away. Delicious pizza that I had paid for.

And of course I got a demerit for not eating a piece of paper trash. Unbelievable.

***

After my disgusting dinner, I just wanted to curl up in bed and hide, so I was glad when Clarence announced that we were going to my room, or as he put it "The Slave Quarters".

When I stepped in the door, I was shocked. Everything had a minimalist industrial prison vibe to it. The walls round the shower had gone and it just had a big shower head over a hole in the floor with two footprints at the side. There was also what I had learned was an enema hose and all the controls had gone. There was an empty sort of glass box, about the size of a small single bed in the middle of the room and my old trophy shelf. Everything else had gone. I was to learn that the shelf was now for "training gear," not for any personal effects, which, of course, slaves don't have. Later on, Clarence would find some "trophies" to put there: sometimes he'd have an especially degrading or belittling photograph framed and put there. It was never to remind me of a nice time, always to force me to relive an event I wanted to forget.

Clarence explained some features of what he called a "low-profile stock system." It looked like three holes in the wall in the usual pattern of two small holes and a large center neck hole. I thought it would be detached from the wall when in use, but instead, my head was going to be in the wall. That was the "low-profile part": the whole thing just took up a few inches of space in the room.

"Get in slave!" Clarence didn't waste any time being nice. As fast as I could, I put my hands and head in the holes. I felt it closing and sealing snugly around me. It was insanely quiet and dark. Pure blackness, even my own breathing sounded muted.

Then, without warning it switched to a soft, even, featureless white light. It was very diffuse, like an expensive photographer's lamp. "Why would they spend that money on a slave?" I wondered.

My reflections were interrupted when the stocks started moving up. I had to slowly rise out of a crawl position, then stand taller and taller until I was as high as I could get, almost choking on the stocks. They paused there for a while, and I was sputtering when finally the floor started coming up. I almost lost my balance because I wasn't expecting that. Then my head came down, and they stopped when my neck and knees and calves were at the same level, my butt high in the air. I knew they couldn't resist spanking it. But first they grabbed my ankles, pulling them apart, locking them in place somehow. My butt was now spread wide, I could feel the cool air on my butthole. I knew Clarence was thinking of fucking it, but he probably wouldn't with the twins around.

"Bam!" I felt the first of many paddle blows against my ass. I couldn't actually hear it at all in the stocks, but I sure felt it. They kept catching me off-guard and I'd try to jump against my bondage, which made it much worse. At first they confined their blows to my butt cheeks, which stung but I could handle. They they started on my balls and hole, and they stung like nothing I had felt before. But just as it had started with no warning, it stopped abruptly.

The light went off and the stocks came apart. I was completely in a daze, I had no idea how long I'd been in that thing. I saw Clarence over by the large shiny cube. He was gesturing to me. I still was too disoriented to understand what was going on, but I knew I'd better be quick or be punished. I was just starting to stand on the floor after getting out of the stocks. "Crawl," he commanded sternly; I dropped to all fours, instantly, without thinking. I realized that was how a good slave obeyed. I crawled over to my loathsome master, knowing that everything depended on his whims.

He opened the small side of the glass cube thing, and pointed inside. I crawled inside and the door shut behind me. All four walls and the ceiling were dull mirrors. I couldn't see or hear the outside world at all.

***

The floor in the "cage" was a little padded, like a vinyl mat. It was completely nonabsorbent so it could be hosed out. At first I thought I was in some sort of punishment isolation chamber. But then I realized that I was in some sort of high-tech sleeping cage. I guess slaves aren't supposed to want to spend a lot of time in bed, so this kind of design discourages lounging around. It felt private, but I knew it wasn't really. Even though I couldn't see any cameras, I was sure they could see me. As I had seen when I came into my room you could see into the box so they must be one-way mirrors, and knew that people on the outside could see in. So, no privacy, of course.

Man this cell is so fucking boring I'm not going be able to take it, I thought. I'd better volunteer for every possible job outside this cell so I don't go crazy!

These thoughts were interrupted by a faint recording that grew louder. I recognized it was this horrible annoying song the twins listened to as children all the time. At first, they really liked it, but later on, they played it just to annoy me sometimes leaving the thing on in their room when they left just to piss me off. Once they even admitted that they hated the song too, now, but would just play it to "tease" me. To make matters worse, Dad had basically, for once, taken their side, saying they could play whatever music they wanted, as long as it wasn't too loud.

Well, there was no Dad to save me now, and it turned out that they didn't even have to listen to this horrible shit. I pounded on the cage, begging them to turn it off. I knew they were probably laughing at me, but I was so desperate that I kept doing it.

Then the volume just went up and up, I cupped my hands over my ears, but it barely helped and eventually I was curled on the ground with the painfully loud "do do do" line hammering into my head. My ears were ringing when they turned it back down. Of course, they didn't turn it off, just left it to torment me.

There was a minute or two where nothing else happened, and as is often the case for slaves, the waiting is really scary because you have no idea what's next.

Then I noticed I was cold, then really cold, then just freezing cold. My extremities: nose, ears, toes, dick were all hurting in the way that extreme cold will do. There was still no sound or visual to indicate what was happening. I wasn't sure how long I'd last at this temperature. I was curled up as tight as I could in a corner trying to stay warm.

Just as suddenly, the temperature started to rise. It was really nice at first to warm up, but I began to sweat and grow uncomfortable. And the temperature was going up. Now it was really warm. Now hot. Now extremely hot. I was sweating, even though it was a dry heat and my perspiration was cooling me. Then a fan turned on and it actually felt nice for a second.

The fan turned off, and I felt it get humid, like a swamp. Now, my sweat wasn't drying, and was dripping down my shaven body onto the padded floor, where a damp puddle was growing. In order to try and cool down, I laid on my back and spread out as best I could in the small space. My abundant sweat pooled around me on the mat, and I felt soggy having no real choice but to lie in it.

I thought I was going to pass out. I was burning up. I had no idea how much time had passed. And all the while, fucking Hop Hop was on repeat.

Then, again without warning things changed. The music stopped and the climate went back to normal.

The door opened and my brothers were excitedly talking, "And that's really just the tip of the iceberg on this thing. There are just hundreds of different settings and features to try out."

***

One of the twins said: "You need to be able to drink water in there." He attached a medium-sized penis-gag thing to a pipe in the wall of the cage. "Drink," he said pointing at it. I tried suckling on the tip of the phallus but he pushed my head onto it and I almost choked. "Suck," he commanded, and as I tried to not gag, nothing happened. As I learned to press harder on it and it went further into my mouth eventually a small trickle of water came out. They let me sit there for about five minutes drinking, before they got bored and turned the water pressure way up so they could move on.

Pissing in the cage was yet another necessary humiliation. Essentially I have to label my junk "Trash" every time. The pleasurable moment where it cleaned my dick was pretty amazing, but it was really just a further way to deny me release. Clarence proved what an ass he is, yet again. He makes it seem like a crisis if I get any pleasure from anything; if I were to orgasm, he'd call it an absolute disaster. Jesus.

Any pleasure from the machine was easily canceled out by the pain of freezing my nuts and dick off in a bucket of ice water. I was worried they'd get frostbite. Tad it turns out was really into all the technical stuff and read all the manuals. He soon found out how the water temperature could be lowered to almost frozen and with the cock cage I never even got that little bit of pleasure again. Although it wasn't the last time I had to sit with my junk in a bucket of iced water. The twins liked to make me do it and then compare their dicks with mine and I had to tell them Master Chad or Master Tad has a bigger dick than their slave Licker. And god forbid if I mixed them up

It was in that stressful position, literally freezing my nuts off, that Clarence ordered me to start listing my demerits, which is just like a fucked-up game to him. As I stuttered and stammered, Clarence's grin grew wider, basking in my failure.

Even so, I was proud of listing five demerits. I was sure none of my brothers could have done better. "Are you done?" Clarence asked flatly.

And with that Chad rattled off three infractions that I had completely forgotten about, or, in one case, totally didn't remember getting. Maybe he even made it up – what could I do about it anyway? At one point, I remembered a demerit that I had previously forgotten. When I tried to interject the response was "1 Demerit – talking out of turn," and they went back to listing other stuff to punish me for.

***

All told, in Clarence's estimation I needed too much punishment again to deliver via the paddle tonight. That might sound like good news, but knowing Clarence I had a bad feeling about it. I was right.

Clarence picked up a small piece of plastic and walked over to me, telling me to lean back. He opened the device, which was hollow but had spikes all over the interior. "Another high-tech device," he said, resting my delicate junk in one half of the device. He feigned disgust as he pushed my penis into place, then snapped it shut, the lock clicking into place.

I did not expect that level of pain! I jumped then started jumping around, grabbing my dick to try to stop the spikes, but of course, there was nothing I could do. Clarence whacked my hand with a riding crop. The twins and Clarence were busting up, thinking I was acting hilarious. I started to reflexively beg for mercy, but the twin reached for the remote for my shock collar, and I managed to shut up.

I didn't know if I could take it. My dick was warming up and I could feel it growing and digging harder against the torturous spiky cage. What was it going to be like in ten minutes?

I decided to beg for mercy. They didn't want to damage their property right? Maybe that would make sense to these assholes. Clarence interrupted this thought, pointing to the stocks and saying, "Get In." I reflexively obeyed, knowing I'd probably be punished more if I didn't.

As the stocks closed, I knew I was fucked. The spiked chastity tube was becoming worse by the minute, but now there was no way to beg for relief, since the stocks were soundproof.

There were a few paddle spanks to my ass – I assume the twins couldn't resist, and my ankles were again spread and locked in place.

But then there was nothing. I realized that my punishment was just to endure the chastity thing. Would I pass out from the pain? I was starting to hope so…

I didn't get that release, but the pain led me to reflect about how the only thing I should think about is avoiding demerits, and so I had to focus on obedience. Fuck! They were brainwashing me, and I was cooperating.

***

I seemed to be there for hours and hours. I did wonder if Clarence had gone to bed and just left me there. I certainly wasn't getting used to the pain in my junk and I was vowing to myself to be a better slave.

Then, and much to my relief, he removed the chastity/punishment device (sometimes he'd refer to it simply as "The Punisher", and it was his favorite discipline device).

My relief was short-lived however, as usual. Another device was locked around my dick. It only hurt a little bit, mainly because I was so chafed from my punishment.

After he changed it, he released me and made me suck him.

***

When he had cum and I had shown him it and swallowed, wordlessly, he pointed at the cage. I crawled in and locked myself in, hoping I was done for the night and I could finally rest. I laid back and although I had to bend at the knees and there wasn't much space I was feeling relatively good.

And then some stupid ass blowjob instructional video started playing on all sides of the cage, on full volume, repeating. With no pillows and no blankets it was impossible to tune out, but exhaustion won out in the end and I fell asleep eventually.

Chapter 16
Hunter's Domestic Duties.

(Clarence narrates.)

It was time to give Hunter his chore list. We walked through every room and the three of us shouted out tasks for Hunter to add to the tall legal notepad we had given him for this purpose. Hunter's notes came out to more than twenty dense pages. I can't reproduce them all here, and, like most slave affairs, they are mostly boring as hell.

After we spent hours making him write this stuff down, we found out that the cage had a Slave Chore App that would make it easier to manage his many chores. On the website for slave owners, it was easy to edit and maintain his chores. There was also a slider: "Slave Interface Difficulty." It ranged from "Easy" to "Very Difficult". It explained that the Very Difficult mode was very frustrating and would take about ten times longer to use! Naturally, I set it to Very Difficult, since we like to challenge Hunter.

It was amusing watching him try to use it to type up his notes, at least for a while. It uses a virtual keyboard that slowly moves around the cage, requiring the slave to constantly try to move with it, causing a lot of typos. Of course the master can delete the work. It was fun to see his face when all his work suddenly disappeared and he had to start again I watched the slave spend a tedious hour in frustration entering the notes, then turned off the CCTV, satisfied that I'd successfully challenged my formerly alpha brother, I hoped he enjoyed it. "Hurry Up!" I yelled through the cage's speakers, turning the lights off for bed, knowing that he was making typos that would be more demerits in the future. Good work, Clarence, I congratulated myself.

Anyway, the chore list is boring, but you may enjoy some of it. Here are the kinkier excerpts from his notes, which I will comment on:

HUNTER'S CHORE LIST: "Wake all owners with blowjobs."

CLARENCE'S NOTES: Hunter is, of course, always required to drop what he's doing if his owners want to use him. But usually he waits for us to call him over. The mornings are the exception.

For me, he's required to start ten minutes before my alarm. It's a demerit if I wake up before my cock is in his mouth. It's a lovely way to start the day. I enjoy the challenge of trying to not cum. If I can hold out until the alarm, I give him a demerit, then make him finish the blowjob.

The twins usually wake up at the same time, so for them, he has to kneel in the center of their room and beg for permission to blow one of them. Initially they would try and trick him into getting it wrong when he had to say their name. They changed beds clothes and hairstyles to confuse him. They even fooled me a couple of times but eventually Hunter learned the things I had always known and so as there was no point they became more and more distinct from each other. They also loved to tease him by hemming and hawing, saying they didn't feel like it and make him grovel and beg to be allowed to suck Master Chad's (or Tad's) cock. It is punishable, of course, if he doesn't get both of their morning loads by the time their alarm goes off. Fortunately for him, they are usually too horny to last long.

HUNTER'S CHORE LIST: "I am required to clean all toilets without gloves using just a simple sponge."

CLARENCE'S NOTES: I believe this should encourage the humility expected in a slave. In fact, we may need to go further at some point.

HUNTER'S CHORE LIST: "No long handled tools, because I should be on my knees instead. For example, use a dustpan and brush instead of a long handled broom."

CLARENCE'S NOTES: It's just as efficient, and the slave does a better job since he can see the floor better when he is so close to it.

HUNTER'S CHORE LIST: "Cleaning water must be thrown in slave toilet."

CLARENCE'S NOTES: A good example of a rule I added just to be a dick. No normal maid service would put up with having to use a specific toilet to throw away mop water, especially in a large multistory house, but I thought it would build character. I am actually hoping to up this challenge later, somehow. Maybe I could forbid him from using buckets with handles? That's a good idea…

HUNTER'S CHORE LIST: "Must pick up clothing with teeth, not hands."

CLARENCE'S NOTES: This was actually Chad's addition. Hunter was cleaning and we saw him gingerly holding one of the twin's underwear at arm's length, just pinching it by a corner. What was going on? Then I saw that the underwear had not one but two skid marks. "Seriously, boys, how does that even happen?" I asked the twins.

"We forget to do laundry. A lot."

I imagined Chad picking up the underwear, grimacing and holding his nose as he noticed the stain, shrugging, and finally pulling the already dirty garment up his slender thighs.

"Hunter, your squeamishness about your masters' garments is unacceptable," I admonished him, hopefully teaching him about loving his masters unconditionally. "Put that nasty thing fully in your mouth until your work is completed."

He looked pretty unhappy even as he complied.

That was all pretty normal, but Chad figured out how to make it a stronger lesson: "From now on, only use your teeth to pick up our laundry." It seemed like a demeaning rule, so we had Hunter add it to the list.

HUNTER'S CHORE LIST: "Magazine stack must be sorted by date."

CLARENCE'S NOTES: Dad always subscribed to a lot of stupid magazines and always for the longest time possible, so we always have this pile of magazines that nobody reads. Sometimes they get lost or thrown away. But otherwise they just pile up. So to keep the slave busy, he has to sort them. Total waste of time, but it's fun to pull a magazine to the top and then give him a demerit because it's out of order. He's so cute when he's annoyed.

Maybe I should subscribe to some slave training mags in his dad's name, just to remind him how his beloved dad betrayed him.

HUNTER'S CHORE LIST. "All sponsored gear must be immaculate and polished."

CLARENCE'S NOTE: It's good policy to make slaves show respect for their training equipment, of course, as it adds a mental component to the discipline.

In this case, it's good economic sense. One of the ways we planned to monetize Hunter is to make him popular on Social Servant Media. For that, we needed posts containing beautiful shiny new modern equipment. Plus, BondCo obviously wanted their gear to look awesome.

It's been a source of many demerits because there's always a fingerprint or a smudge somewhere if you look hard enough.

HUNTER'S CHORE LIST. "Clean figurine shelf twice daily."

CLARENCE'S NOTE: For some reason, as a free boy, Hunter hated Dungeons and Dragons, even though the rest of the family enjoyed it. The twins in particular started collecting metal figurines when they were little, and they had about 1000 carefully organized on a big glass shelf.

The twins HATED dusting that shelf because they had to take all the figurines off, dust, and then replace them all, not messing up the organization. Dust was very visible on the shelf, and that tended to annoy dad, who hated dust.

When the twins suggested daily cleaning of the shelf, I suggested twice daily, saying "It's better to over-correct for any negative behavior the slave exhibited while free." This was classic training advice.

I added to the twins: "Make sure to check this often, Hunter will probably try to cheat on it."

It takes forever to move all those figurines, but the twins can somehow tell at a quick glance if a single one is out of place. Another frequent source of Hunter's demerits.

HUNTER CHORE LIST: "When doing Punishment Cleaning, it means that the cleaning tool must be attached to the front of my gag."

CLARENCE'S NOTE: BondCo makes a special gag system for this, with an array of attachments, for example, a short brush for cleaning a toilet.

His arms are bound behind his back for this, so in order to change tools, he must bring it to one of his masters, put it on the floor, and prostrate himself in front of it. If they feel like it, they can unscrew the old tool and screw on the new one. Then he can continue with his chores. This can add a lot to the time pressure… even though we used it as way to work off demerits, he usually ended up with more than he worked off.

Still, it's fun to watch him try!

HUNTER CHORE LIST: "I must clean the cum-wall WITH my chastity belt."

CLARENCE'S NOTE: Even with all of Hunter's blowjobs, the twins and I occasionally felt the need to jack off. I told the twins that I felt like we were wasting an opportunity. Then I had a stroke of genius: we should train Hunter to identify us by cum.

It never happened, but one thing led to another and we had our "cum-wall". Any free-males were allowed to jizz on it. Despite the name, it was actually a full-length mirror. As soon as it dried, Hunter had to clean off the dried stain. He wasn't allowed any cleaning product, instead he was required to scratch off the dried cum, little by little, using his chastity belt.

I thought it would be a neat challenge, since if he touched the polished surface with his skin it would definitely leave a smudge that would be easy to see.

I was hoping that this would help him by reminding him of his lower rank in society.

His brothers rarely bothered to use it, but when they were having a bad day they'd always find a reason to punish him for the state of his cum-wall.

The twins invited friends from school to come over and cum on the wall. I enjoyed watching a dozen horny young teens shooting off several times each, competing on height and width. Licker had his work really cut out that day to get the wall back to its required pristine condition; the twins gleefully videotaped him for social-servant media. It was impressive the contortions he'd have to do to get his crotch at certain heights, and then try to wiggle his hips to try and clean, all the while staring at himself, his breath repeatedly fogging the glass.

And then the video went viral, so we ordered Licker to make a series of cum-wall cleaning tip videos!

HUNTER CHORE LIST: "I must clean the dog bowls twice daily with my tongue."

CLARENCE'S NOTE: Licker is, of course, responsible for washing all the dishes in the house. One day I noticed that the dog bowl had a few hairs and a little scrap of stuck-on dog food. I'm not sure why, but I decided to have a little fun at Hunter's expense. I dragged him over by the collar and shoved his face into the bowl. I pushed down on his face with my bare foot, so that one of his cheeks was pressed against the bottom of the bowl. "From now on, clean this bowl out twice daily."

"Yes master," he tried to say through my foot.

"… with your tongue!" I finished the command. I paused and he didn't say anything. "Start!" I ordered.

He did his best to lick the bowl in this position. I lifted my foot and he kept lapping away until the hairs and scrap of food were gone.

The twins had come to see what was going on. "Hey, he's living up to his name, right, Licker?"

"Yes, Master," was the response before he went right back to it.

"If you boys think of other stuff that he should clean with his tongue, or really any part of his body, let me know. I think it'd be great to mix things up!"

His list of duties was never complete. The twins and I would frequently brainstorm new punishments and chores for the formerly bratty jock, with emphasis on humiliating revenge. Much of this was well in the future. At present Hunter had hardly adjusted to his new life at all. But we, his owners, were getting ready to advance his slavery to the next level. We would have an auction, make some cash, and Hunter could add a new profession to his résumé.

Chapter 17
Twin Time.

I woke up to the ego-boosting sound of Hunter arriving to suck our dicks. I was ready to let him but Chad spoke up first, "Sure Licker… come over here." We had made an agreement last night for one of us to refuse so he got a demerit for failing to get both of us off. It wasn't much of a sacrifice because we could always demand one at anytime but we both really enjoyed that first one of the day lying in our beds.

We were in our own beds this morning so I didn't think he would have any trouble addressing us by the correct name. In fact he was pretty good at it nowadays, we really had to work at it to fool him. There was no more of that CT crap. It was all started by that bastard Jordan. He was school god when we went into Junior High and he really made sure we got it bad as freshmen. Everyone got hazed but we got it worse. I don't know if he just didn't like us or it was because we (well Chad mainly) had had some run-ins with his brother who had been in our class in elementary school. Instead of sticking up for us Hunter was malicious. All freshmen got pantsed but with us we always got our pants and undies pulled right off so we were running around half the time flashing everyone, trying to get our clothes back.

As I said Jordan in the last term started calling us CT and forced the freshmen to do likewise. Even some of the teachers followed suit especially the coaches. Jordan decided that we should have CT written on our chests in big letters and a C on one butt cheek and a T on the other. Any time one of the team asked who we were we had to strip naked and say together, "I am CT and he is CT as well," then we had to bend over and show our asses with the letters on and we got a whack from a paddle. All the team members had them and they carried them around all the time. If we refused to strip they stripped us or if we didn't have the letters big or sharp enough they paddled us harder. We had to write on each other regularly to make sure the letters were sharp enough. We started staying apart in school when we weren't in classes because they only asked us when we were together. I hated that.

Once Jordan left, it all stopped and everyone apart from Hunter stopped the CT crap. Cos Dad insisted we wore the same clothes like when mum was alive Hunter kept saying he couldn't tell us apart and if we wanted him to do something for us he made us say we were CT. It was harder for Chad because he is more sporty and though Hunter was a total dick he was great at sports and could be helpful.

He wasn't always like that. When we were younger when mom was alive he was the best older brother anyone could want. He was fun and played with us all the time. He stuck up for us at elementary school and helped us with stuff. Clarence was okay but even then he was quite fat and lazy and spent all his time on his computer, wouldn't let us play, and didn't share his snacks and sweets.

Then mum died and Hunter was still okay but then we went to Junior High and Hunter changed. Suddenly he was mean to us and sucking up to Jordan all the time and he just continued being an ass until he was enslaved.

I looked across as Hunter crawled under Chad's blanket, between his legs. I could see Hunter was almost in position to start blowing, when Chad hooked his arms under his own knees and lifted his butt off the bed, his ass right next to Hunter's nose, and let out a big fart. Both of us started laughing. "What was it you were saying about wanting to suck my dick?" Chad was too horny to continue playing the game. He grabbed our older brother by the ears holding his head stationary, and started slowly fucking his face. All of this was happening under the blanket with the trapped fart smell, but it was a familiar enough scene that I could imagine Hunter's face and Chad's dick without needing to see.

***

As I watched Chad use Hunter, I recalled an incident from just a few months ago where Hunter had been decisively less helpful. Chad has always been a bit more outgoing than me, and he had begun to hit on girls, although never successfully. His latest crush was this girl named Linda. She was in the grade above us and for some unknown reason she'd flirt with Chad, perhaps she felt sorry for him. It was around the time when the slaves had been sold and dad was always going on about money being tight and how we needed to earn our money. None of us had got our allowance for months although dad always found money for Hunter and his sports. It was coming up to Valentine's Day and for some reason, Chad decided that he'd make a nice little wooden heart with their names on it for Linda. I warned him that it'd be creepy but he decided to do it anyway. So Chad decided we should go to woodwork club to do it and of course I had to help him. Well I didn't want him to cut a finger off or something.

In the end I had to agree it turned out to be quite an attractive present, well-made and suitable for Valentine's Day, although I still thought it was a bit forward. We were rummaging around in the back of the wood-shop looking for a box to wrap it in, when this bully named Dalton that was sort of friends with Hunter entered. He's a total dick, but he'd frequently show up with black-eyes so it was an open secret that his dad beat him. He'd come in to finish his class project — he was actually Hunter's partner for the project, but Hunter was making him do all the work. We had a long and unpleasant history with him so I was worried but for once he seemed okay, he even helped us find an appropriately sized box; meanwhile Hunter came in and started talking with him about their project. We went to put the gift in our locker, but discovered that the locker room was itself locked. Dalton shrugged and said he'd lock up the wood shop when he left, so it should be safe. It was stupid because we knew Dalton was a bully, but we didn't know he had a bit of a crush on Linda.

The next day, Chad gave the heart to Linda. She didn't take it fully out of the box, just read the inscription "Chad and Linda" and hugged him. Mission accomplished, I thought, amazed and excited that it might be so simple.

The next day, Linda came up to me, obviously angry. "You're a sick little pervert, Chad!" She handed the heart to me, face down. On the back had been etched: "I want to fuck you in the ass". My stomach dropped and I realized Dalton had messed up Chad's masterpiece.

Caught off guard, as she was walking away, I lamely yelled "But I'm Tad!"

"Yeah, whatever, tell your brother!"

Chad never forgave Hunter for the incident, although Hunter swore up-and-down that he never saw Dalton deface the heart. We were both very skeptical.

***

I was drawn back to the present by the sound of Hunter coughing and gurgling, a likely sign Chad had climaxed.

"Time's wasting, Licker!" I called out, now ready to get off.

As he started giving his third blowjob for the morning, I contemplated another time Hunter let us down. It was another of Chad's failed schemes to hit on girls and it also involved Dalton.

***

In our freshman year Chad said we should play tennis because it was a co-ed sport at our school. We spent a lot of time arguing about which of the girls was hottest. We'd often "call dibs" on one girl or another, but we never made any successful advances on them.

Someone had started a rumor that we were gay. We were always being teased about it, but I assumed most people believed us when we denied it. Chad said we had to make more of an effort to hit on girls to fight the slander, but in some ways that just intensified the joking around.

We tried turning the attention on this loser in our grade Eugene who we both hated, always making stuff up about seeing him looking at gay porn or staring at boys in the locker room. Unfortunately, nobody listened to us, except maybe Eugene who still always tried to avoid us. People didn't stop teasing us; if anything, it intensified.

Despite all this social mess and the hazing, we were doing great at tennis and were nearly in the top place in our grade (although this was less impressive than it sounds, because doubles-tennis wasn't popular). We just had to win one more match which just happened to be against Dalton's sister and her partner.

On the day of the final I knew something bad was about to happen when I saw Jordan, Dalton, Hunter, and some of the other members of the baseball team standing in the locker room when we arrived to get ready for the match. It started with the usual question of who are you. This hadn't happened for some weeks and we had stopped writing on each other but the letters were still there. With a sigh we both stripped and gave the required response and bent over. Jordan whacked us both hard but then declared that we had failed to look after our letters and decreed one whack from each of the team members there. A couple of the other seniors stepped up but didn't really hit too hard and then Dalton, who although he obviously tried, didn't really hurt. Unlike Hunter, he didn't get to play often just sat on the bench and now I knew why. As Hunter stepped up for his shots Jordan said, "Hope you're not going to pussy out on us Hunter, remember this is for the team." He did not: Chad and I yelled and agreed afterwards his was the hardest of the lot."

As the next team member stepped up and I tried to blink away my tears I saw Dalton collecting up all our stuff. "Hey stop!" I yelled but he shoved them in our bags with our tennis stuff and just tossed our tennis shoes on the floor. He handed the bags to Hunter who walked out telling us that he would put our clothes in his locker so they didn't get lost, and to come and find him in the library when we were finished. After the rest of the team had paddled us and we had redrawn the CTs on each other's chest and butt Dalton handed us two brightly colored wrestling leotards.

I sighed but Chad said, "Come on, it's cool, better them, than being naked. If we hurry we've just got time to get to the library and get our bags from Hunter and change into our tennis uniforms before the match starts."

We hastily donned the wrestling uniforms which were on the small side even for us and we ended up having to give ourselves a wedgie to get them on. So with the C and T clearly visible on our butts we rushed out of the changing room so we could catch up to Hunter. We ran to the library to find him, getting a lot of whistles and cat calls as we ran.

At the library there was no sign of Hunter but his friend Charlie, after laughing at us, said Hunter had gone off with this hot chick and said to tell us he would see us at home later. We asked if he had left us our bags but Charlie said no he had locked them in his locker to keep them safe.

"Fuck!" I said; I wanted to strangle Dalton and Hunter and Jordan. I looked at Chad and noticed properly for the first time that the wrestling uniforms we were wearing were basically rainbow color themed – with each color a big wide horizontal strip. We were wearing skin-tight gay-rainbow flags. "Everyone's going to think we're gay!" I said, stating the obvious.

"Even more than usual!" Chad moaned, somewhat despondently.

At that moment one of the coaches came past and yelled at us we should have been on the court by now so we had to brave the crowd in our ridiculous attire. Despite our embarrassment we played really well and we ultimately won the match, trying to ignore the comments from the spectators. There were a lot more of them than would usually watch a tennis match even if it was the final.

We heard, "It's so great they're so comfortable with being gay." "They're so brave to come out of the closet." "They're so cute I knew they couldn't be straight!" "Those butts are going to make some gay guy very happy." Many were a lot worse than that.

After winning the match, everyone came over to congratulate us. Everybody was so celebratory that we kind-of forgot our stupid outfits. Coach invited all the players to a popular ice cream parlor. We wanted to go home and change, but he insisted it wasn't necessary and wouldn't take no for an answer.

What's more, several girls was totally hitting on Chad, and Dalton's sister's teammate was kind-of flirting with me! We were having a pretty nice conversation talking about school and tennis, and she told me that she thought it was so mean that everyone teased us about being gay. I was in mid-sentence when she randomly gave me a tiny kiss on the cheek. I must've blushed and I smiled. I noticed Chad was holding hands with a chick he'd been lusting after for a few weeks.

***

I was jerked back to reality as I orgasmed and let Hunter swallow my ejaculate. I dismissed him to make breakfast, slightly sanguine from the orgasm, but my mood went rapidly downhill as I continued recalling the rest of the story..

***

After we had had our ice creams coach paid the bill and announced it was time for him to go. Dalton's sister invited us and some other girls to her house. I was nervous about running into Dalton again and I really wanted to change clothes, but Chad said not to worry about it. As usual he was only thinking of one thing which in that leotard was pretty obvious. The skin-tight fabric pinned his turgid erection tightly against his flat stomach. So I did what I usually did and went along with what he wanted and to be honest I was pretty excited as well. We arrived at their house and she snuck us all up to her room. The girls who included Linda, of the later Valentine gift disaster, seemed nervous and giggly. Chad and I were brimming with horny excitement.

We were sitting in a little circle and one of the girls said "Let's kiss!"

We were abundantly eager. "Close your eyes!" they teased.

It seemed to take forever, but eventually I felt lips on mine, a series of small kisses on my lips.

I reached my arm around to pull her closer, but I made contact not with a delicate girl but with a burly male. I opened my eyes to see an older boy who I recognised as a line-backer for the football team. I looked across at Chad who was leerily kissing my guy's twin! I screamed out of surprise, mostly, but the dude grabbed me and pulled me into a french kiss. I wasn't strong enough to resist, but I struggled and squirmed to escape his now flagrant groping. "I thought you guys were gay," said the dude working his hand into Chad's leotard.

Chad had heard me and was trying to get out of the arms of his would-be attacker. As he struggled he was turned upside down with the guy gripping his leotard at the crotch. He pulled the strap of his shoulder and sort of slipped out of uniform leaving it in his molester's hand. I kicked "my" line-backer in the nuts and evaded his grasp but he grabbed at the singlet. I struggled and Chad pulled at me and it ripped away. We ran out of the house as fast as we possibly could!

When we got far enough away to be certain we weren't being pursued we halted and got our breath back. We looked at each other Chad naked apart from his shoes and me with a torn uniform that showed more of me than it covered.

"Damn it!" Chad said, "I didn't know they were queer assholes?"

"Yeah now I understand why they were the ones who asked us more often than anyone else who we were." I said

"But they're on the football team," Chad said. "And how come they were there tonight?

"I bet Dalton invited them. It was all a set up," I moaned.

"Is that guy ever going to leave us alone?"

It didn't look likely.

***

After that little wake-up ritual, it was time to shower and head down to breakfast. I grabbed a copy of my new favorite book, BDSM Techniques, to read as I ate.

I'm sorry to disappoint you, dear reader, but we showered separately and it was totally uneventful although we had a good laugh about what Chad had done to Hunter and thought of some other ideas of how we could get him back for being such a dick to us. And then I remembered another dirty trick Hunter played on us which was connected with showering. I think it was the first time he was really nasty to us. He had been getting more distant ever since mom died but this was just mean.

***

It was in the first few weeks in freshman year and most of the crap with Jordan hadn't started. We were still taking swimming lessons because Dad insisted because mom used to take us while he took Hunter to Little League. They were on the same site. It was like the clothes thing. We both wanted to change, Chad in particular, but dad wanted things to stay the same and dad always got what he wanted. Although Hunter was no longer playing in little league, he often came down and spoke to his little league coach and did some practice, preparing for his career in baseball, I guess. Obviously that hadn't panned out, but he had been right that he was going to be spending a lot of time looking at balls.

So this Saturday towards the end of the lesson I saw Hunter come in and speak to our instructor who called us out of the pool. Hunter told us we had to go home earlier today as Dad had something he wanted to do so we had to get a shower. Normally we used the big communal shower but he said it was broken so told us to use the shower next to the little league coach's office. We said we couldn't and we would shower at home, but he said dad had said to shower here so we were ready to go. We didn't like the idea as we thought we might get in trouble but he said he would keep an eye out for the coach and tell him we were in there. He hustled us into the room and told us to get in together to save time.

We had just taken our speedos off and got under the water when the little-league coach came in, closing the door behind him: it clicked closed, making me think it had locked. It was just us three in the small room now. He put his towel on the bench and stepped into the shower cubicle with us, revealing a cock that looked gigantic to me at the time: it was semi-erect and getting harder, although my understanding of how dicks worked was a bit limited at the time.

We were pushed to the back of the cubicle as he lathered up with soap, rubbing his hands vigorously and using tons of soap so he was almost completely covered in foam. Me and Chad were staring, not used to seeing full grown men naked apart from the odd slave, distracted too by the voluminous lather.

"You guys need to soap up better. Let me help you!" He basically grabbed Chad and started soaping the scrawny lad as energetically as he'd been soaping himself. Once the boy was soaped up, he spent a while attending to his little boy-cock and ass, using one hand for each simultaneously. "Never forget to clean your tail end properly!" Eventually Chad managed to squirm away and get past him. The coach took it in his stride saying, "Great, now rinse the soap off!" as though Chad had consented to be washed and groped.

He probably gave up so easily because I was still right there for the picking. He grabbed my shoulder and started washing my hair, getting soap in my eyes. I stood there, incapacitated, trying to rinse out my eyes, while he continued to rubbed his hands, and eventually, his body, against mine. Eventually I squirmed away, and slipped and fell on the tile floor. Fortunately I landed on my butt, so I was more stunned than hurt.

By the time I'd gotten up and rinsed the soap out of my eyes, the coach was gone and Chad was looking at me incredulously. We weren't sure what to say, so we didn't say anything. We both rinsed all the soap off ourselves and realized we didn't have any towels so rushed back to the changing room. On the way out, the coach gave us each a whistle "for being such good boys." Even at the time we knew it was more of a bribe than a present.

As we got to our lockers there was no sign of Hunter but the rest of the class were using the communal shower. We rushed home because we didn't want to keep dad waiting but he wasn't there, he was away for the day. Hunter gave us a knowing look. "Hey, did you enjoy your time with the coach?" he smirked, well-aware that he'd set us up to be molested. The next week Hunter went on a trip to our state's major baseball team training session which the coach had arranged for him. Hunter had almost literally fucked us over for his own benefit, unfortunately it wasn't the last time.

So you will understand why it is such a pleasure to be able to get our own back on him, now we're the ones playing the tricks and he is having to just take it. Of course it is great to be able to get blowjobs whenever I want and not having to do any jobs again but there is a little bit of me that would have liked it to be like it was before when the three of us were friends. I haven't said anything to Chad he would just call me a pussy. I think he really hates Hunter like Clarence does.

We arrived in the kitchen at the same time as Clarence, with Hunter dishing up the eggs and toast that he'd cooked. It wasn't very well-seasoned, and I asked Clarence, "Do you think we can maybe hire a real chef?"

"I'll think about it if we raise enough money from the auction," he said. "Can't you just make him take a cooking class or something?" We had already tried that.

Chapter 18
Clarence takes the Cherry.

(Clarence narrates)

I'd been putting off taking Hunter's cherry. I don't know why. I suppose it was still novel enough to be able to get blowjobs anytime I wanted and I knew fucking him would take our situation to the next level. Mr Keller had arranged the auction and now there were only a couple of days left. I knew it couldn't be postponed and anyway the waiver from BondCo on Licker's contract came to an end two days after the auction, so there was no room for further procrastination. If I wanted to be the first to fuck my former brother, and I really did, then I could delay no longer especially if I wanted to do it more than once before other people. I called him into dad's (well mine now) office one afternoon. I could see it still got to him, me sitting behind the desk "Give yourself an enema and a shower and be back in five minutes." I had no idea if that was possible, and I didn't care.

When he got back, I ordered him to lie face-down over the desk.

I then used two handcuffs and two leg-irons to secure his limbs to the legs of the desk, immobilizing him, prone and spread wide. Besides a single birthmark, every inch of his skin was still smooth and flawless although his ass was a good red color as it was most of the time these days. He smelled fresh and clean. His ass was so clean you could eat out of it. I'd have loved to, in fact, but it was beneath me now to do that with a slave.

I wrapped two cushions in his football victory pennant and shoved them under his crotch so that his ass was sticking out at just the right height. He was freaking out now, knowing that I was gearing up to take his cherry.

"Permission to sp — -" he started to say as I jammed the ball gag back in his mouth.

"Nothing you can say can change what's about to happen to you. You're trussed up nicely and looking like probably the best fuck I've ever had. I'm going to prepare you a little… if I dry-fuck your virgin ass, it might make it hard to pimp you out at prime rates." I was on his back, whispering into his ear, as I pushed a well-lubricated finger into his tight ass.

"Mmmphh…" he groaned through the gag.

"We're just starting," I continued, slowly shoving a second finger, then a third finger, as my helpless jock stud wiggled and squirmed against the invasion.

After stretching his ass with my fingers for a minute, I pulled out. I was glad his ass was so clean after the enema. Without further ado, I rammed my cock up his ass, causing the loudest moan of all.

"Like that, bitch?" I taunted him. "I'm so glad I'm going to have your ass on-call 24/7 around here from now on."

His inexperience made it so he struggled against my onslaught, instead of relaxing to accept it. He was just clamping down on my dick, almost too hard. It was acting like a cock ring, keeping my dick hard but making it take longer to cum. At some point, he loosened up, maybe he remembered his training.

I was sweaty and exhausted by the time I came in his ass. It was so good. I almost decided to go another round, early wake-up be damned, but I knew I'd get to fuck him again tomorrow.

I pulled out and snapped a few photos to commemorate the occasion and grabbed a beer. I decided to leave him bound as eye-candy while I drank, but then I realized he could be useful for something. I unchained him and had him kneel. "How well did you clean yourself out with that enema?" I asked.

"Pretty well," he said, not entirely convincingly. "Master"

"I guess you're about to find out…" I pushed his mouth onto my dick, which was starting to get stiff again. "Clean it!" Actually, his ass was pretty clean, I think, and the mouth-cleaning polished my dick to a satisfactory level.

I released him and took him down to his room. I had decided I wanted him to have my spunk on him all night and to wake up with it in the morning as a reminder of what had happened so I was worried that the stuff was already beginning to leak from his ass.

At first I thought I would reuse the diaper he had used on his first nightWho cares if he gets diaper rash? But then I realized it could impact the upcoming tomorrow. I sighed, realizing I had to find another approach. I again turned to the Slave Processing Center gift bag. I found a small butt-plug in there that I figured would prevent any leakage.

As we left the office, I told him that the plug was to stay in his ass until after breakfast and if the twins asked him why he was wearing it he was to tell them what I had done for him. Also when we got to his room I would give him an opportunity to thank me for fucking him and he better make it good if he didn't want a ton of demerits. I made him kneel on the floor and unbuckled his gag.

"Yes, master, thank you for the wonderful experience. Thank you so much for fucking me master."

Wow! I was impressed by this level of grovelling, I reckon the fucking had really overwhelmed him on top of everything else. So I told him that was what he should tell the twins; what a wonderful experience it had been being fucked by me.

***

The next morning after he had blown me I checked the plug was still firmly in place so I knew my spunk was still in his ass. I made him repeat what he had to tell the twins if they asked about it. It may have been my imagination but there seemed some thing different about Hunter. I reckon the idea of anyone, but probably particularly me, fucking that hetero-former-jock-ass had damaged his self-image more than anything; even being turned into a slave. With a slap to that very ass I sent him off to wake the twins with their morning blowjobs if they let him.

As we had breakfast I noticed the twins were much quieter than usual and kept casting looks at me. I called Licker over and made him bend over and pulled out the butt plug. Putting it in his mouth I told him to go and give himself his enemas and have a shower. After he left the twins kept looking each other obviously urging the other one to do something. Finally Chad plucked up the courage and hesitantly asked if I had fucked Hunter last night. I asked him what Licker, emphasizing the name, had said. I was pleased to hear that he had been word perfect although not convincingly so that the twins had clearly got the true picture that he was very unhappy with the event.

I confirmed it but we spoke no more about it. I think the twins being good little straight boys who had learned to fear and despise gays and gay sex didn't know what to say or what they thought. Despite what they were doing and the fun they were having Hunter was still much more their brother than a slave. Also being young they had not managed to come to terms with the hypocrisy of adults in being able to hold those views but be happy to have gay sex with slaves. On my part I was still coming to terms with the major event that had happened last night but I was determined to do it again so we all left the table with it very much on our minds. I suspect Hunter down in his shower was thinking about the same thing.

At the punishment session that night, we decided to paddle his ass well. Chad had wanted to use a whip but while I was happy if Licker had some color in his cheeks the next day I didn't want any unsightly weals to lower the price. So we combined a severe paddling with the stocks and the punisher chastity device. Afterward, once the twins had gone to bed, I lubed up and fucked his sweaty sore ass. It was in the exact right position and I was horny. I had to hold back or I'd have nutted instantly. Even so it didn't take very long to unleash a torrent of sperm deep inside him.

I was tired after the long day, so I went upstairs to have a soft drink and watch some TV. Pretty soon, I felt better and realized I should probably let Hunter out of the painful punisher.

I went downstairs and switched chastity devices. His dick was still swollen, half from the lack of release, and half from the spiky cage, so it took a bit of effort to close even the normal chastity tube on him. Handling a slave can actually be a lot of work!

Doing all this manual labor on his dick had made me hard again, and, since his ass was still positioned just right and begging for an entrant, still partially lubed from its last fucking, I tried to surprise him and ram the whole thing in without any warning. And it worked, because you should have seen him jump and strain against his bondage. His face was a real picture as I rammed home. Later I captured it from the video and had it blown up and turned it into a picture I hung on the wall.

The stock system was amazing though. I couldn't hear a word out of this mouth. Just the way it should be I thought to myself, grinning with excitement.

His ass gripped me tightly. Too tightly: I made a mental note to use more lube next time, but I couldn't stop fucking and just decided to accept the pain. I reckoned his ass hole was hurting more than my dick.

Now that I had well and truly taken his cherry, it was time to pimp his ass out. It was time for the auction.

Chapter 19
Auctioning Hunter's Ass.

(Clarence narrates.)

The big day had finally arrived and we were going to earn some real cash, I hoped. Either way, we'd no longer have to be so meticulously careful with our slave. Mr Keller had made most of the arrangements to auction Hunter's (nearly) virgin ass.

At noon, Mr Keller came over to help set up.

He introduced a makeup artist who'd prepare Hunter for pre-bidding. He fastened Hunter in an X position and inspected him very closely, even using a magnifying glass. Some parts he'd re-shave, other places he'd see a blemish and apply makeup. He brushed a little sporty deodorant on his pits.

"OK, all done," he called out to Keller who gave a visual inspection before putting his nose on Hunter's shoulder and inhaling deeply. "Aw, nothing like the smell of a fresh teenage athlete."

"Permission to speak," begged Hunter.

"That reminds me," Keller said without otherwise acknowledging Hunter. He pulled a red ball-gag out of his pocket and tried to jam it into Hunter's slave mouth, but Hunter insolently turned his head. "Are you resisting me?" Keller screamed, right in Hunter's face.

Hunter backed down, "No master, I'm sorry master."

"Damn right you are! You're lucky I don't want to risk damaging you before the auction or I'd whip your ass bloody right now!" As he said this he jammed the gag into Hunter's reluctant mouth. He pulled the straps tight.

"That's one demerit, I think," Chad said, writing it in his little book.

Turning to the twins, Mr Keller asked if they wanted to help out.

"Sure," they cheerfully responded.

"Usually we hire two cute guys to take the bids from the participants in the auction. It's considered low-brow to use slaves for this purpose, for some reason. But I thought we could save on auction fees since you two are his brothers and would be the perfect bid-takers, or 'bid boys.'" This entire story was bullshit. He continued: "Would you be willing to help do that?"

"Of course!" was Chad's excited reply, as Tad nodded enthusiastically.

"Since we are auctioning Hunter off as an athlete, I thought it might be appropriate if you would wear some sporting attire. You boys are wrestlers; I've cheered for you at many of your matches."

"Yeah, we've been wrestling for two years now! We'll go change."

In a few minutes they returned, looking super cute in identical wrestling kit. Keller clucked a bit: "There's a few places where the fabric is bunched up. Do you guys have the uniform you got at the start of the year – it should be a little tighter."

"Yeah I think we still have them in our closet." They ran off to change, and returned looking even cuter, if possible, in their even snugger uniforms.

"That's better, but it could be tighter. Guys, just go and switch into the first uniform you had." Their lean chiseled bodies were beautiful and very distracting. "Also, don't wear underwear underneath," he added lecherously.

The twins were reluctant to do what he said but when I reminded them that the more we got for Licker the less chance there would be we would need to raise money in other ways. Chad got the hint and dragged Tad off and they returned for a final time. They were a pervert's dream. Their little dicks and asses were fully visible through the stretched thin fabric, the tight uniforms giving them a permanent wedgie particularly when Mr Keller adjusted them. You could see every detail of their sinewy, boyish muscles, and it just left you hungry for more. Their lean, smooth bodies were practically bursting their shiny identical suits apart.

"Gorgeous!" Keller exclaimed, nearly drooling.

"Now," he motioned for us to follow him into the room that would be used for the bidding. He pointed to a row of iced champagne. "Your goal," he said to the twins, "is to make sure the guests are never out of champagne. Hand them their first glass when you greet them as they walk in. These wealthy guys bid like crazy when they get a little tipsy, especially after being tantalized by bidding boys like you. Sometimes they might touch you now and then, but please just ignore it so we will get the best bids in!"

"Yes sir!" agreed the twins, after a look at me.

We moved Hunter onto a well-lit platform where he was instructed to stand in slave display position. Mr Keller flipped a switch and the platform began rotating, to ensure everyone could conveniently get a good look from every angle.

Leaving the twins to wait for the first guests to greet, Keller and I again retired to Dad's old private office.

Once we were in private, I joked, "I like meetings with blowjobs better."

"Trust me, your life is going to have plenty of blowjobs from now on. At least if you play your cards right. I'm pretty sure the bidding is going to be through the roof today. The money you earn will put you in a position to free your former brother. I want you to think of the future for yourself, and possibly the twins."

"Dude, I'm already way ahead of you. Having Hunter as a slave is better than I ever imagined in my wildest fantasies. And I'm only just starting out! The only thing is that I want the twins on my side, so I'm pretending to be compassionate. But honestly it's easy. They know which side their bread is buttered, to use an expression and are enjoying having him as a slave as well. And they think that I might need to enslave them if there isn't enough money."

"Indeed, and after a while I hope we can consider using those assets in a more lucrative way, if you know what I mean. Many of these guys are going start fantasizing about the twins. They'll become desperate, and if you need cash you'll get way more than twice what you get for Hunter… might want to consider it, even if you aren't desperate…"

"Believe me, we're both on the same page and looking forward to it." I paused and wistfully imagined some ways to use three slaveboys at once. "Really looking forward to it," I repeated.

***

Feeling happy to have such a good ally in this process, we returned to the bidding hall. It was now crowded with a variety of men, all wearing expensive bespoke suits and speaking knowingly of tax havens in the Caribbean.

The unintentionally seductive, sporty twins were doing a great job handing out champagne. Almost invariably, the men would take the glass and tease the boy in some way: grab his nose, or pat his head, or smack his butt. The twins, for their part, were acting very flirty without really knowing it, giggling and fawning as the men fondled them. They were obviously determined to help raise as much money as they could for their own protection.

Eventually a bell rang and guests sat in the arranged chairs. The twins were still on duty. In fact, as bid boys, this was their main job. The guests would wave for the boy to take their bid, or to bring champagne. The twin would have to come through the crowd to help, being groped by every creepy old man on the way.

I reminded everyone of the rules, adding, "The winner will also have access to the chastity belt's key, in the unlikely event you need his dick for anything."

After ten minutes of sealed bidding the highest bidder was announced and then the open auction ran for about another thirty minutes. The auctioneer was hard to understand for someone who doesn't attend auctions much, but the numbers I heard were staggering. It looked like we were going to get ten times more money than expected. We would easily be able to buy Hunter out of slavery, if we wanted to. I didn't.

Keller called out the makeup guy to get Licker ready for transport.

***

Keller and I joined the winning bidder for cigars to celebrate. He was a tall, built, black dude. I was curious why he was willing to bid so high for the boy. It turned out that he was the father of the anti-slavery activist that Hunter had called the N-word. The father didn't approve of his son's activism, and he sure as hell hated the epithet, so he figured he could kill two birds with one stone by giving his son an irresistible opportunity for revenge: he'd have to acknowledge that some dudes deserved slavery at that point. "Interesting approach," I commented, "I'm sure you'll have a good time even if your son doesn't change his mind."

***

Back outside, I summoned the twins over. I wanted them to feel like they were part of the decision-making, even though I had already decided. "Boys, we could use this money to buy Hunter out of enslavement. In many ways, that would be the right thing to do. But, if we do that, we will go from having a life of wealth, to having to skimp. We'll have to all get jobs as soon as possible and you will be back to having to do all your own chores. And of course there would always be a risk that if we needed to raise money in the future he might be too old and it would be one or both of your turns. But your brother would be free. So, given all that, should we buy Hunter out of slavery, or leave him?"

The twins looked at each other before saying in unison: "Let's leave him!"

Just then, Licker returned having had his final grooming and preparation. His arms were bound and he was wearing leg-irons with a short chain. A "transport gag" was strapped around his head, preventing him from making even the slightest sound. He was wearing just a thin pair of disposable slave shorts, which is apparently what the winning bidder requested.

The final steps were preparing Hunter for transport to the gentleman's estate. Summoning the boys over I said, "Everyone, the demerit system is on hold for a little while." Turning to Hunter, "That doesn't mean that you aren't going to learn more about servitude, especially you will learn about the diversity of the needs of wealthy men, which may be the most valuable lesson a personal slave can learn. It's possible you'll thank us someday." Not very likely, I added mentally, smirking.

I continued: "Anyway, I requested, and your client agreed to fill out this detailed questionnaire on your performance, behavior, appearance: everything. The lawyer found it somewhere, it's like ten pages long." I gestured to indicate how exhaustive the form was. "Anyway, when I asked him to fill it out, I told them we'd respond appropriately to every single thing he wrote. And I intend to honor that promise. So, Licker, I'd focus on making sure that they write only good things in that questionnaire. Be a good boy, and make us proud, buddy!"

The twins said we should grab some selfies. They took a ton of photos. "Smile," they'd say, even though Hunter couldn't really smile with the transport gag in." I patted his head and let the professional slave handlers take him to the delivery van, for his first night being pimped out.

Chapter 20
First Night As A Whore.

(Hunter narrates)

I was put in arm-binders and made to kneel in a funkily decorated room with candles and incense. A coarse burlap sack was placed over my head so I could no longer make out my surroundings. I now knew what it was like to be a hostage. This didn't seem like normal foreplay.

The sack was whisked off my head by a large black man. He was tall and muscular. He eyed me like prey, a look of anger and resentment. He seemed to be wearing only a luxurious gold-colored bathrobe.

"You are going to help me," he began. I was doubtful I could help much. "You are going to change my son's mind on slavery."

He motioned for me to prostrate myself and he pulled my butt up toward the ceiling so he could get an angle he liked.

The first penetration was like nothing I had ever experienced. I was sure that my ass was being strained to breaking point. I thought I was going to die by being split in half. I was wondering how far up my digestive tract the man could go before tearing something. In the end, none of those things happened, and my only real problem was the unimaginable ass pain. I knew it was going to be tender as hell for a month.

As the man withdrew, he eyed my swollen anus. It was gaping open, almost as wide as his dick, but it was closing up fast.

***

"OK," he announced, "Time for you to get re-acquainted with my son." He put the sack back over my head.

"Re-acquainted?" I thought, "how do I know this guy?"

A few minutes the burlap sack was tugged away, this time by a black teenager, who I instantly recognized as the annoying activist who I'd called the N-word, right before the fateful "prank" that led to my enslavement. I wished even more that I'd stayed in bed that day…

The son was as surprised to see me as I was to see him. An expression of concern gave way to a big smile. "Hah, daddy said that he might be able to convince me of the wisdom of slavery in certain cases, and it's hard to imagine a stronger case than this." He laughed, relaxing. "Stand up and put your hands on your head, dumb-ass." I complied.

He picked up a switch that was lying on the large bed in the room. He swung it through the air a few times, admiring the whistle it made when he swung it fast. The first non-practice run stung pretty badly. I knew that my break-in period, when they were afraid to leave any marks, was definitely now over. The worst was when he got my shoulders – it really hurt and I involuntarily cried out. He grabbed my chin in the palm of his hand, squeezing my face, and menacingly spat out, "No more talking!"

This whipping was a pretty long one, maybe thirty strokes and he was sweating a bit by the end. He had meanwhile dropped his pants to reveal a massive erection.

"Do you want more whipping, or do you want to do something else?" he asked, although I wasn't sure if it was a real question.

"Something else, master?" I timidly volunteered.

"I thought you might," he said, "I think I want you to apologize."

"I'm sorry Master for …" I began, but he interrupted me.

"I want a video apology, and I want you to grovel. I want you to tell me what I piece of shit you are, and I want you to get creative doing it. I want you to tell me how wrong you were, what a nasty racist you were and all the reasons you deserve your enslavement."

I took a breath: it was a lot of material to work with. I collected my thoughts as he set up the video equipment. I was still new enough to slavery to have a lot of pride that hadn't been completely crushed. But I also knew that I had to swallow it, especially since this guy would happily whip the crap out of me if I didn't debase myself enough.

I got down on my knees and clasped my hands behind my back, and began riffing on the many things people had said to me… He wasn't happy with my first efforts and whipped me some more while he coached me on what he wanted to hear. He was finally satisfied with my fifth effort which went, "Dear Master, I am such a worthless slave, nothing compared to you. I was so wrong to insult you, and I thank you for whipping me for it. I'm such a stupid piece of white trash, barely useful as a fuck-toy for you, I can't believe I had such an ego. All black people are so superior to me. I am very stupid, so it is hard for me to learn, but thank you for taking the time to try to teach me."

"Tell the camera about how to rent your services."

I gave a description of how they could put my number, which I recited, into the government slave website and bid on services. I begged the audience to do so, in fact, because "I'm a slut who loves to be used and abused by real men especially black men."

"Tell us why you wear that tiny little chastity tube." He zoomed the camera in on the tiny device, before panning back to my face.

"My wise Masters have decided that my little tiny penis isn't of any use to anyone," This had been probably the hardest part to get the direction of my humiliation satisfactory for him. "They are worried that I am too weak and perverted to be allowed access to pleasure myself. It is very frustrating for me, since I am constantly having sex, but I never get any release, but my masters of course know best. Instead I am proud to focus on servicing the dicks of real men as I never could satisfy anyone with my pathetic worm even before it was locked up."

"OK, I'm ready for a BJ, but first I want you to beg for my dick."

"Oh master, I'm not worthy to suck your beautiful, black, perfect cock. I beg and pray that you'll let me try to pleasure you with my incompetent mouth, and of course to punish me if I fail in any way. Please Master, let me attempt to serve you."

"Alright then, get to it."

I started by just kissing the tip a few times before gently suckling on the glans for a minute or two. His erection was huge, but I started bobbing up and down on the shaft, taking a little more down my throat each time. I was beginning to gag, and I still had a lot more cock to deep-throat.

"Look at the camera," he commanded me in a whisper.

I looked over his hard abs directly into the camera he'd been filming my "apology" with. I made a sort-of flirtatious expression, which seemed to please him. I kept maintaining eye contact. Soon, he roughly grabbed my head by the hair in his left hand. With my head immobilized, he began to pump my face hard. I was gagging up a storm. "Look at the camera," he hissed again. I stared back up at the camera, a long line of spit dripping off my chin.

A few minutes later, he pulled me off, and led me over to a wall. He pressed me hard against the wall as his dick found my hole. Once he got the tip in, I sort-of wiggled around to help get his dick deeper inside me. He started pounding away, slapping my butt with his free hand hard and often. There was a nice red hand-print forming by the time he finally grunted and obviously experienced an incredible orgasm. I felt a lot of cum being shot deep in my ass, I thought it would start leaking out, but he growled at me to not make a mess and somehow I managed to hold it in.

After recovering for a second, he lay back on the bed. "Clean me up," he ordered. I knew what he wanted: I put my hands behind my back and gently began cleaning his sensitive dick with my tongue. By now, he was in no hurry and I spent about thirty minutes on the task as he rested comfortably. "OK, now I'm ready to edit that video," he announced.

He grabbed his laptop and sat on a luxuriously padded chair. He threw his legs over the arms of the chair and slouched back until his butt was hanging out. "I think I want to try a rim job," he said. I remembered the twins making the same request; I really hoped his ass was cleaner. Well, I thought, one hole is better than two.

"Of course, Master," I crawled over and began lapping away at his ass. He moaned as I worked in deeper. This was gross, but merely gross things didn't really phase me anymore. I mostly wanted to do a good job. As I enthusiastically slurped at his hole, I wondered if he still thought I was racist.

He began editing, and I heard all the humiliating bits and pieces I'd had to say earlier repeated many times as he edited them into a montage. It took at least two hours, but he never let me stop rimming. Eventually, he showed me them, although I couldn't see too well and I had to keep rimming and his big dick was blocking my view.

In the first video, I was begging to suck dick and to get fucked. I sounded so slutty. Just listening was making me horny. It ended with me giving my slave ID number and begging for men to make offers that my masters could consider.

In a second video, I talked about how much I deserved punishment and encouraged clients who "were tough enough to teach me my place and correct my racist stupidity."

In other words, both videos were advertisements for people who'd want to use me in various ways. I feared that a lot of black men might feel the desire to show me how wrong I had been. "Let me just post those on social media," he said, clicking a few more buttons.

"You know," he concluded before having a beer and going to bed, "Dad was right, I do think of slavery a little differently now. In fact, I think it really is the best outcome for a spoiled brat like you."

***

The slave transporters arrived. As I went to sleep, I whimpered, feeling broken mentally and spiritually. I resolved I could get through the situation if I could focus my anger on the individual I held most responsible. Clarence.

He was smirking when I was delivered. "Licker, you're going to have to write a thank-you note. That video you boys shot has gone viral, and now we've got thousands of offers from guys that want to use you. You're going to make us tons of money!"

He gestured expectantly for me to say something. I intoned, "Thank you, Master, that's wonderful news."

Chapter 21
A "Day of Rest".

(Clarence narrates)

As we were expecting Hunter back from his first night "on the job," I decided we could afford a celebratory dinner.

I knew Hunter would be famished after all, and he needed to eat.

I told the twins we couldn't have pizza again. They surprised me by choosing a steak house, but then all they wanted were side dishes. Kids! Anyway I ordered a ton of food including the largest steak they had. After all, we were flush with cash from the auction and the requests for Licker's services were already coming in!

The restaurant didn't have a slave option, but we had a bag of slave-chow. It advertised that it encouraged "lean muscle growth," which sounded ideal for our twink/jock slave.

The food arrived at the same time as the slave delivery vehicle that was returning Hunter. How convenient! I had him set the table and haul in the food. He picked up his bowl and looked hungrily at our food. "That's human food," I said. "Weigh yourself a small portion of chow and eat it fast. And that's one demerit for trying to get non-slave food." I watched as he set his bowl of room-temperature pellets on the ground and ate like a dog, just as we had taught him too.

The twins and I were joking about a computer game we all played from time-to-time, savoring the delicious food. "Eat faster!" I said, kicking Hunter in the butt for emphasis, as he sullenly chewed on a flavorless nutrient nugget.

By the time we were all stuffed, Hunter had finished his meager chow. I told him to run downstairs and fetch his penis gag from the kit as I surveyed the mountains of uneaten food.

In a minute, Hunter returned, and I strapped the gag in.

It hardly look like we had eaten at all: we ordered far too much food. "Should we keep the leftovers?" one of the twins asked.

"Why bother? I think we'll have plenty of money for food."

Time to torment the help: I turned to our hungry slave. "I need you to throw away all this food and clean the plates, OK?" I said, talking down to him like he was a four year old. "Licker, remember how I said I was going to have to treat you differently if you were a bad slave?"

He nodded, unable to talk.

"This gag is a sign of that. If I could trust you not to eat our food, I wouldn't gag you. But I can't trust you, so you are forcing me to do this! Also, we have to keep your lean physique: it's very marketable." I patted his butt to make it clear what I meant.

My dick was hardening from abusing him like this, knowing he was famished, and that his ass had literally paid for this food he was now being forced to throw away. I know it all smelled and looked so delicious to his starving teenage appetite: Mac-and-cheese, Steak, Fries, Apple Pie. And he had no choice but to throw it away or be punished.

After that, I said we'd let him get some rest, but he needed a bit of blowjob training first. I had intended just a quick round of blowjobs, but afterward the first the twins yelled "again." They were able to come a second time almost as fast as the first, but it took me twice as long.

Then they yelled "again" again, and I thought Why not? This time the twins finally took a while, but I'm glad they got that experience. But it took me too long, about 45 minutes. The twins got bored and started playing video games, and then I got bored and moved to work on my computer, making Hunter get under my desk to finish me off. My dick was sore by the time he coaxed that last little drop of sperm from me.

So, a quick dick-sucking session dragged on for almost two hours. Oops. Time to put him in his cage to rest.

Closing the door, I said, "I haven't figured out our plan for tomorrow. So your only tasks are blowjobs and brunch. I'll tell you your chores when I get up." The door clicked shut – it was on a timer so I wouldn't have to even wake up to let him out.

Chad put on Hop Hop, to sing him to sleep. I couldn't see the harm in it, but Hunter didn't look too happy…

***

As it was a late night and I was tired after the auction I decided I was going to sleep in so didn't set Hunter's release to go off until 10am. This made it easy to wake up a few minutes earlier, and observe how our new slave was acclimating to his lower position. I mostly just wanted to monitor if he dawdled when the cage released him, I could use the shock collar from my bed. I was getting hard just thinking of pressing the button and watching his sexy form jolt. I was definitely hoping to find some behavior that needed correction, not of course I need anything but I prefer it when there is a genuine reason however small. However it was obvious that Hunter was getting worried that he wasn't out and already giving me my blowjob. His body clock had clearly already adjusted to his new routine and he knew if he failed to get me and the twins off he would get demerits. He kept pressing against the door of the cage but of course it didn't give. I hadn't of course bothered to tell him that I was going to having a lie in.

At 10am sharp the alarm went off and he quickly got out of the cage. I didn't give him any credit for his speed, since the cage is very good at motivating him. He did a quick back stretch. That seemed reasonable. But he kept going, stretching his neck and calves. I was bored, so I corrected with a shock, announcing over the room's speakers, "Get up here for my blowjob, bitch."

He knew he was in trouble; I could hear him scurrying up the stairs. I pointed at my dick and he got on his knees in between my legs. He started gently bobbing his head on my cock with almost no suction for a minute before transitioning to a normal blowjob. His skills were definitely improving. I did have to remind him to always put his hands behind his back when he blew me, giving him a demerit for it. I was in a hurry, so I came as fast as possible, in just a few minutes despite the previous night's excess. He showed me the cum on his tongue and swallowed it. I just said "Twins" and dismissively motioned for him to leave.

On impulse, I said, "Crawl over there," and he instantly dropped to all fours and was on his way to pleasure his former brothers.

I stopped by the twins' room to check out the action. Hunter was, as usual, on his knees. I took in the scene of this athletic stud serving as a bitch to the younger boys. Chad was pulling Hunter by the ears, obviously loving the feeling of dominance. I watched as he orgasmed into his brother's waiting mouth. "Licker, after this, make brunch." I said simply. Licker was still showing the cum on his tongue, as I'd distracted Chad before he gave permission to swallow. "You know what," I said, "spit in his face." There was no justification for this, but Chad was more than happy to oblige and in fact managed two great gobs, one between Hunter's eyes and the other in his mouth which he had to swallow down with the cum. I closed the door as Hunter was starting on Tad who also was clearly not suffering from any after effects of last night.

Chapter 22
Second Shopping Trip To BondCo.

(Clarence continues narrating)

At brunch, the twins and I decided we needed more BondCo gear. I called the studio to see when we could get a modeling session for Hunter. They wanted him for an afternoon session in a couple of days time. So the twins and I decided to make it a family trip.

The next couple of days was much the same for Licker, chores, blowjobs, and getting his ass fucked by me. Also the requests were coming in thick and fast so Tad decided to set up an appointment system for him with a diary, prices, and accounting package. With the videos it looked very professional.

I'd been getting irritated that Hunter was spending so long in the shower. Does it really take four whole minutes to shave your entire body? I could punish him to make him go faster, but then I hate stubble, and I'd have to punish him for that as well! Then I found an ad that said "RAPID SLAVE HAIR REMOVAL". I called to ask if it was permanent, and it was! I was sold.

We decided to visit the clinic on the way to BondCo. In the car, Tad looked up their website and read how it worked. I turned on the slave-speaker in the trunk (something else Tad had set up) so that Hunter could hear what he was reading,"Hair removal for free humans is a tedious affair. A laser kills each follicle painlessly in about ten seconds. It is hard to have more than one technician working at a time. So it takes months to remove the hair from a patch of skin."

He continued reading, "Introducing Slave Depilation! We use a much stronger laser. It's 100x faster than the normal process, but, unfortunately for normal humans, it is extremely painful. Even with local anesthetic, few can tolerate the pain. Fortunately, for slaves, there's an easier way: severe bondage and gags! With appropriate bondage, we can even get four technicians working on the slave at once. We offer and recommend a local anesthetic to ensure the slave is operational immediately after the procedure."

"Well, that sounds painful!" I said laughing.

"I think we should get the anesthetic," Tad suggested.

"How much does it add to the cost?"

"It's complimentary."

"You know, I think it builds character to let him have more intense experiences. So, no anesthetic."

I turned the slave speaker off so that we could continue our conversation in private.

We pulled up to the clinic, turned off the car engine, uncaged our slave, and waved to the handlers, who trundled Hunter inside for his one-hour appointment.

When he came out, he was incredibly smooth: much sheerer than his shaving. It was a great investment!

His skin was obviously quite sensitive, and he'd wince whenever he touched anything, no matter how lightly, but I knew he'd get over it quickly. "Is he going to be able to model like that?" Chad asked.

"He'll get over it," I said, not really sure how long that would take. "In the meantime, I'm sure he can model if properly restrained, and I think the workers at BondCo know how to restrain a slave!" Chad nodded in agreement.

A few minutes later, we arrived at BondCo. We dropped Hunter off at the models' entrance. Time to go shopping! But it was better than shopping because we didn't have to pay!

***

My first priority was a sucker muzzle. It was so effective back when I'd used Mr Keller's that I had mentioned it to the twins several times. Tad had found out how the modern ones could be used for training too. It turned out we needed a new "Collar System," and our BondCo sponsorship allowed us to get a high-end model to really get a handle on Hunter's training.

In a nutshell, there were tons of training material that could be downloaded to his collar for him to work on. There was vocational material for people who wanted a slave that could fix their car, but mostly it was either basic courses for slaves, like cooking or cleaning or slave positions, or obedience programs which simply used repetition to brainwash the slaves.

For learning programs, a typical schedule was that there would be a reading that the collar would play, for example, "How to give yourself an enema." Then there would be about 100 questions that the collar would ask, the slave would have to respond immediately with the correct answer, or get a shock. Then the entire program would be repeated until the slave didn't miss any questions. The collar would repeat the program every so often so the slave wouldn't forget. It could also detect the slave's tone of voice to make sure that he had an appropriately enthusiastic and humble tone.

Chad selected every program involving sex, bondage, and punishment: it would really keep Licker busy in his cage before he went to sleep! After a while we ran out and the twins would select esoteric videos to waste his time, like fish cleaning or boat repair.

Another great feature was that it would keep track of demerits for the owner. It used speech recognition to store any sentence containing the word "demerit" making even the most random and ill-considered complaints binding. During punishment sessions, when Licker was supposed to remember all the demerits he'd received, we could just look at the list of all the times someone had said "demerit" to him on our phones. That way, we never missed a chance to correct our rapidly learning slave.

***

Next, I needed a punishment/fuck horse. The better ones could be adjusted into a wide variety of positions. I was looking forward to positioning Hunter's butt so it really stuck out – it's so fucking hot. The twins of course were too young for fucking his ass. As a compromise with anti-slave activists, there were limits to what activities young slaves could be subjected to. The minimum ages were fifteen for anal and thirteen for oral. An error in drafting the legislation had left the age limits in effect for free boys as well, and although enforcement was inconsistent, the law was still on the books and it was wise to obey it.

I also think the twins still had that young teenage boy objection to doing gay stuff but they were still interest in it as a punishment bench. For that reason, they wanted the model with replaceable "pads". Instead of cushioned leather, Hunter could be resting on hard plastic or metal. The next level of discomfort had pads made of sandpaper. Finally, there were pads dotted with small metal nubs, which were extremely uncomfortable to rest on, bordering on painful, even for a short time.

We got the complete set of pads, since they seemed likely to be useful. I made a mental note to try fucking our plaything on each type, to see if it made a difference. I mean, to me; obviously his experience would be much less pleasant on the metal nubs. (After some experimenting, I decided that, as long as he was completely gagged, I really couldn't tell the difference.)

***

The final category was outfits and uniforms: there were so many.

The twins were predominately horned up about sexy lingerie. Crotchless panties with and without lace. There were also some skimpy rubber suits that they liked. They are becoming such horndogs. I love it!

We got a gimp costume for occasional punishment and parties.

I fancied the little sailor boy costume; it was also sized tight and of course was quite scanty.

There was a ten-pack of disposable paper costumes that could be torn off the slave and thrown away, another occasional party-pleaser.

And finally, although the slave shorts were sexy, I figured a sexy maid's costume was overdue, since he does so much cleaning. The clerk recommended a corset to give him a girlier figure with a tight leather thong that could be fixed to the corset and tightened so it was giving the wearer a constant wedgie; the one we got him was sized to be very tight.

***

Technically we had everything from the shopping list, but browsing BondCo's floor rooms was like a trip to the Willy Wonka chocolate factory. I saw a section titled "Office Chairs." They were sort-of like normal chairs, but below the seat was a chamber where a slave could be locked in position. A hole for their head to stick out of was more-or-less in the center of the chair. When you sat on the chair, the slave's face would be pushing into the user's crotch, their whole head being wedged between the sweaty thighs of their businessman master.

The salesman sensed my interest: "That chair's for businessmen and the like who have to sit a lot and need some stress release. I've had customers who use it to get an eight hour blowjob every day! It's always a good idea to keep the business end of the family happy!"

I realized and mumbled to myself, "Wow, I won't even have to get up to pee!"

"Great point!" the salesman enthused. "You can even stick a catheter in the servant for extra long working days, or if you decide to drink a lot!"

I didn't have any job or business to attend to, but hey, it'd make my next World of Warcraft campaign nicer.

We stopped and had a complimentary drink in the cafe as we waited for Hunter to finish working. It was slightly boring waiting there for fifteen minutes, but we had to earn money somehow!

Chapter 23
Another Shift At BondCo.

(Hunter describes the same events as last chapter, from his perspective)

Having my hair removed permanently was one of those slave nightmares I can't forget. Imagine having four people sticking you hard with needles as fast as they can, and each one is deep and hurts like the worse bee sting.

The physical pain is only temporary though. The permanent effect is that I'll never sprout another hair below my neck again, like I'm a woman, or actually more like a young boy I guess. The chastity tube was emasculating enough on its own, but being totally denuded like this really completed the picture.

But hey, I guess I'll have more time to blow Clarence so it's worth it right? Fuck my life.

I think it's fair to say I didn't have the best feeling about starting my second shift at BondCo, but of course I had no idea what was in store.

***

Apparently my first mission for the day was to model a line of tickling products. I have to say, I didn't think it was going to be a problem, even though I know I'm a bit ticklish. It was nice not to be gagged, but it turned out that my freshly tormented skin was even more sensitive to being tickled than usual.

Well, about five minutes in I was laughing so hard I got hiccups, and things started to go downhill from there.

They had some horrible tickling machine that did exactly what it advertised. I was aching from laughing so hard and hiccups, kicking and straining wildly against my bondage, which I guess is what the fans wanted. "Laughing and hiccuping is no joke," one of the asshole attendants was making light of my predicament, then walked away to let me endure the machine on my own.

***

Next, I got to demo a product from a line of "forced repetition machines," the attendant casually remarking, "his ass is available now too."

The machine had an oral and anal mode. It was pretty simple, just a very large phallus. The attendant said, "One rep is to cover this for three seconds," pointing to a mark at the base of the phallus, "then pull all the way out." Basically I had to deep-throat this huge cock for each rep, and I couldn't just hold, I had to go in and out.

It was incredibly hard to get that mark covered. I had to open my mouth really wide, and then I gagged the first few times before I succeeded in covering the ring. It took a few more times before I succeeded.

"OK, great," the attendant said, "do that 500 times," as he pressed a button and turned to go."

I braced myself for the next gag-reflex experience, and while doing so, I got a shock. "Oh yeah, forgot to mention, you only get two seconds to recover between reps. Rock on!" Why are all the workers here so incredibly annoying?

The anal version of the exercise was identical. I was turned round and had to push back. My hole was still pretty raw and tight, and it wasn't easy to get this giant phallus up there. It was painful and the machine ensured that if I didn't go deep enough, slowed down or paused I got shocked and of course I could not even see the line back there.. There was no way to win!

As the attendant was telling me I was done, another came over and said they needed more oral footage. They made me do 100 more reps. They didn't bother to clean it of course so I tasted my ass the whole time.

I was finally done with my shift. My agent gave Clarence a check for my work, and I got to ride home in the trunk in a cage.

Chapter 24
Advanced Cocksucking.

(Hunter narrates)

One day, as I was cleaning, a large box arrived for the slave quarters. I was wondering what was up until Clarence announced that it was time for some advanced cocksucking training. "Go to your quarters and stand in Display."

For once, he and the twins didn't make me wait there forever. It turns out, the twins were pretty excited about today's lesson. Clarence seemed more chipper than usual too, which made me nervous.

"O, the importance of cock identification to a cocksucker's training." Clarence commenced orating, apparently we were in for one of his boring pointless lectures. "You might think that identifying your clients by penis alone would be an unnecessary skill, but it's invaluable when you must pleasure a penis without being able to see its owner."

I had to admit that this actually seemed like a possibility.

"But more importantly, to graduate from novice cocksucking, you must become infatuated with penises."

"The twins and I have been kind enough to help you with your training, but you seem to be unable to really pay attention to detail. Numerous times I've warned you that I would ask you to recall your observations, and still, you seem oblivious. Are you really too stupid for dick sucking?"

"Yes, Master," I answered reflexively.

"Either way, you have to do better. You must become obsessively interested in dick. And to encourage this healthy obsession in you, we are going to require you to remember ten details about every cock you suck."

This sounded like I was in for a ton of demerits.

"I will be arranging to make sure you have plenty of dick to suck and learn from."

And the twins added their contribution: "And we're developing a punishment schedule to help you learn as fast as possible."

"Thank you for helping this humble slave, masters," I bowed obsequiously, having learned by now that if I didn't continuously express the gratitude I didn't feel to my masters I got demerits.

"Now, we've got a special situation in our household, as you know. I think it's fair to assume that the twins' dicks are not as different as two other random dicks you might get to suck. But I think we can turn this into an opportunity, because in order to find differences between their dicks, you are going to have to pay attention to the littlest, smallest, tiniest details."

"Drop trow, boys" Clarence merrily said to the twins, staring at their boyish bodies as they pulled their pants down, revealing little identical erections. "Sit close together. Closer, closer." Clarence clearly thinks the twins are hot. "Put your arms around each other's shoulders."

Of course after weeks of sucking the twins' cocks every morning and usually several other times during a day I had seen them like this many times. When I started I had to really concentrate on making sure I knew which twin was which. They played tricks on me to fool me and gave me demerits if I got their name wrong. It really wasn't that hard once I started to pay attention to them as two individuals and now I could do it as well as Clarence. Once they accepted I did know them they stopped trying to fool me and by now they always wore different clothes and Chad started parting his hair on the side. Of course I had to still pay attention because they could swap round which they had done several times. They even fooled Clarence a couple of times but of course he didn't get demerits. I had never realized before how much me teasing them by calling them both CT had upset them but I have sure paid for it since then. I guess even twins want to be seen as individuals.

"Hunter, I want you to study their cocks and tell me ten differences."

I tried to get a good look from an arm's length away, but Clarence pushed my head until my nose was nearly touching one of the cocks. "To be obsessed with cock means you want a close-up view." It was creeping me out to study my brothers' dicks like this. "Get so close you can smell it. Then get closer."

I studied for a while before finding anything remotely usable, then said, "The small blue vein on the left side near the base has 3 wiggles for Tad and 5 for Chad."

Eventually I found another: "There's a divot on the the left side of Tad's foreskin." Clarence was writing these down.

It took a while but eventually there were ten items written on the whiteboard. "OK Licker, memorize these differences."

He gave me about 60 seconds to read it before getting bored. Then he said, "Now it's time for you to learn to think inside the box," laughing at his own obvious joke. When he noticed nobody else was laughing, he gave me a demerit for my "disrespect."

He opened the side of the box that was delivered. He handcuffed me and positioned me in the box so my face was right next to a hole in the box, through which I correctly surmised that penises would enter.

He closed the box. It was quite dark with only the hole for light.

A penis entered, and a ring of lights around the hole went on to illuminate it. I see, the only thing that gets light in this box is dicks. It was obviously one of the twin dicks, but which one? I looked around carefully for the left-hand vein and called out the twin's name correctly. I was so proud.

The twins played this game for a while, randomly sticking a dick in and letting me identify it. They are rather easily amused.

They started giving me less time, pulling out after a few seconds. I missed one and discovered the penalty: a collar shock. This was going to suck.

Clarence said, "Let's try without light" and the next dick showed up unilluminated. "You can use your tongue," he offered helpfully.

And in fact, with my tongue, I located the divot and called out the name, correctly.

They repeated this about ten times, and I only missed twice: that divot is hard to find.

I was now able to distinguish the twins blind. I was actually pleased with myself over this incredibly gay and incestuous achievement!

After they were bored of this phase, Clarence said: "Recite the ten differences." I tried hard but could only remember seven, so Clarence and the twins read me the ones I missed, punctuating each with a shock to the balls. "You'll have to recite them every day for a while."

After that, nothing. They just disappeared for a while, leaving me trapped in the box. It turns out, they wanted me in the box later and left me inside for hours to save themselves ten seconds of work.

(Over the next weeks, I always had to suck the twins' dicks in that box or blindfolded – or, in many cases, was just face-fucked — hundreds of times. The divot trick worked, but eventually I just knew their odor and taste. I can now reliably tell just by kissing the very tip of the glans. Clarence sometimes makes me demonstrate this as a parlor trick.)

***

Eventually I heard noises from outside the box. Obviously I wasn't allowed to make noise, so I waited patiently. But I quickly realized it was the gang that played D+D with the twins every week or so. Oh good, I was going to get to blow a bunch of nerdy D+D players. Of course, I'd never see anything but their dicks so maybe they wouldn't be as annoying.

A penis entered the chambers and the lights went on. I decided I'd better play along and I studied the penis carefully, noting its vein structure. This one had some acne on the shaft and balls. "Jeremy Klein," the penis's owner announced his name. The twin added that I would need to identify the dicks I saw later.

The nature of this "game" was becoming clearer.

The twin added "Now Suck."

As the boy enjoyed his blowie, the twin added, "you only need to blow them the first time, after that, you are being tested."

A few minutes later I was blowing a second player, mentally reciting the names to try to memorize them.

The players weren't fans of me and from what I heard of the conversation, they were hoping I'd mess up. I'd say I was batting 90% after the first round though. Again, not something I would have been proud of before…

The next group was Clarence's internet gamer friends. Yikes! Their penises all smelled moldy. I had never met them but I could imagine the gross bodies they were attached to.

Still, at the end I could identify each of them by his cock alone. Besides matching a name to a cock, I knew literally nothing about the guys I was blowing.

However, it was possible to get even skeevier.

***

The next three groups were found by Clarence, who got Tad to send out a survey on our Social Servant Network page with just two questions on it:

1. Do you have a penis?

2. Do you like blowjobs?

If you answered YES to both, you qualify. Send a photo.

Chad asked Tad how Clarence had narrowed it down from the thousands of replies. "He just picked thirty he thought were ugly and would enjoy a BJ."

***

And so I begin sucking off my first group of ugly internet strangers, who were drawn together by their love of blowjobs and watching me get humiliated and tortured on the internet.

On the plus side, I was getting pretty good at cock identification.

There were several sessions, some of them came back for a second time and I had to remember I had sucked them already. Eventually after a session Clarence asked, "So, have you learned to become a better cocksucker?"

My jaw was aching but I smiled and gave the only answer that would avoid further demerits: "Yes Master, Thank You Master!"

***

What was horrible was now I often dreamt of cocks: glans, foreskins, balls, shafts, pubic hair. It's hard to describe.

During the day I couldn't stop thinking about dicks – stroking them, tasting them, smelling them, sucking them. Sometimes I would panic, trying to remember the names of their owners, so if they came back I would recognize them. Of course as I had had my dick locked up for weeks and weeks by now I was getting more and more horny.

One night I had a really vivid dick dream. I half woke up still imagining sucking and licking and I went to jack off my own penis. My hand hit the hard plastic of my chastity device. My dick was now off-limits to me, unless I could persuade Clarence. I couldn't, I knew. I was disgusted and horrified that I wanted to jack of at the thought of cocksucking. Despite that, I kept getting hornier, but of course there was no release.

My hard-on had now swollen to the limits of its tiny cage and it was really starting to hurt, but even the pain itself seemed to be turning me on more. I tossed and turned, trying to convince my horny little dick to calm down. It was hopeless – I barely slept.

When it was time to get up finally, I was still as horny as fuck and my dick was painfully throbbing in its little prison. The cage door opened on its timer, so I could go upstairs to blow Clarence. I had to be quiet to avoid waking him up.

Chapter 25
Home Run Turns To Foul Ball.

(Hunter narrates)

Clarence told me one morning that as my baseball team had won last year's championship despite me being enslaved that he felt the team was due a celebration. The reward was I, the former star player, would get to spend one day with them not as a slave, Clarence said, but pretending to be a free-man.

I immediately thought it was too good to be true.

I had to hope for the best though, and when a package addressed to the slave quarters arrived from the baseball coach, I opened it, and it contained a normal uniform. It had long pants and sleeves. Not some scanty bondage gear for once. Could this thing be legit? I was really starting to hope so.

When I arrived, highly skeptical, I greeted the coach and the evening actually began enjoyably. The team seemed happy to see me again, and the familiar friendly faces seemed to be willing to treat me as an equal. We laughed, exchanged stories and jokes, and patted each other on the backs, just as things were before.

About an hour into the party, the new pitcher, my replacement essentially, arrived. He was a tall Filipino dude, toned and quick-witted, with a cute sporty gelled haircut; he had a face that could go from sweet and warm to cold and cruel in an instant. Once my girlfriend had said there was a rumor that he was hung like a horse and had the stamina to match. I wouldn't say we had disliked each other, but the competition for pitcher had been intense between us, before I ultimately nabbed the position by getting him booted off the team. Memories of taunting him at various times were coming back to me and I suddenly had a new thing to stress out about. Still he was all smiles, as he arrived.

I could see that he was the de facto leader of the team now, smart and funny and even self-effacing. I admit I was charmed by him like the others.

I was drawn back in until he said, knowing my situation, "How's the girlfriend Hunter?" He paused letting me try to come up with a retort, but interjected, "Hey, kind-of reminds me of the time that you told my girlfriend I had gonorrhea and she dumped me." He addressed his current teammates: "Pretty dick move don't you think?" He added as an aside, "Of course, that does kind-of show she was an idiot."

My ex-teammates were eyeing each other nervously, trying to remember if they even knew about this. They were contemplating whether they would have to pick an allegiance.

It turned out, that wasn't even his only grievance. "How's it feel to be used for gay sex Hunter?" Again he paused to let me get flustered. "Remember when you spread that rumor at my ROTC squad about how I was gay, Hunter? Dick move, bro…" He punched my arm in a mock-friendly manner as he said "bro."

"I have to admit, though, I saw you naked in the newspaper. I can see why your bros are pimping you out. Your ass may be the best thing about you. Hell, I'm not gay, but I'd hit it. And not just with a paddle." He laughed at his double-entendre.

Unfortunately my mates were clearly abandoning me, seeing how things were likely to go downhill, and not wanting to go with me. I heard someone agree with my replacement: "Yeah, I'd fuck 'im."

The third grievance emerged: "Know how it feels to lose your job, Hunter?" he asked me, although I wasn't sure what had happened to him exactly. It turned out that when the news about the drugs I had planted in his locker had percolated up to his boss at the sporting-goods store where he worked, he had lost his job as well as his place on the team. It had taken him a while to connect the dots about the drugs, but now he firmly blamed me for everything. And his firing had led to a host of problems with his family and future college. This had all taken place months ago, but as he recounted the story, he seemed to be recalling more details, and getting more and more angry. I was getting pretty freaked out, having a good guess where it was heading.

That was my third strike, apparently. By now, my teammates were riled up. It was as though the gears had been set in motion, but nobody knew what was going to happen. It was impossible to tell who said, "Let's teach 'im a lesson!"

***

Most of the time I had been fucked in bondage, so I wasn't used to having my arms free or preparing myself. This time I had to, and I quickly spat on my finger and shoved it up my ass. Good thing too: it was the only foreplay I got.

The new pitcher was first in line.

I have to say, even for my straight eyes, his chiseled, naturally smooth physique was a sight to behold. A muscular chest tapered to a narrow waist. There was not an ounce of fat on his body. He had, not a six pack, but an eight pack of stomach muscles. His shoulders were broad and high, his neck long. He looked like he could kick some ass, even naked.

What followed was a fucking only a star athlete could deliver. It wasn't that his cock was big, although it was slightly bigger than average. Nor was it the fact that he kept going forever, maybe really just twenty minutes, although that too was impressive. It was just that each stroke was like a mechanical piston. I tried to stay as well aligned as possible, because nothing would stop him, and the few times his thrusts were off-angle, causing excruciating pain deep in me, taught me to pay attention to my posture: for his part, he didn't give a shit about my pain.

The thrusts were fast and strong, and the contact between my smooth butt and his chiseled loin punctuated each stroke with the clapping sound of flesh slapping together. Fully inside me, he'd just keep pressing into me, even though he couldn't get any deeper, for another fraction of a second. Our skin would lightly stick together as he pulled out. He'd withdraw to the glans; I thought he'd pull out and have to re-enter, but he was a natural ass-fucker, and never pulled out completely.

He was sweaty and exhausted when he came, as was I, his less-enthusiastic bitch. He slapped my sweaty ass as he pulled out, saying, "Man, you are a good lay." Turning to his teammates, "Who's next?"

Not everyone took him up on the offer, but a lot did. My asshole was a bit raw by the end, even though my bottoming skills were well-honed by now.

There was enthusiasm among the less adventurous players to spank me "to punish him for what he did to our pitcher." Straight guys are weirdly into spanking. They were hunting around for a nice paddle. Someone volunteered their belt.

A nervous, definitively naughty, excitement was fermenting among the teammates. One jokingly quoted Pulp Fiction, "Let's get medieval on his ass."

Fortunately another found that too much, "Um, maybe that's a little too close to a real possibility to joke about." To lighten the mood back up, he added, "Now where's my whip?"

My immediate salvation came in an unlikely form: Clarence. He said he needed me for some vague chore, I suspect he just wanted a BJ or something really. So, although at first I thought he'd love to let them punish me, he just had me get in the carrier cage. It was even on the backseat instead of the trunk for a slightly more human touch.

Clarence chatted briefly with the team. With the car door closed, I couldn't hear. He got in and drove home.

On the way, Clarence was smiling so I knew there was bad news. "A lot of the players on the team told me how excited they were to get to spend time with you," he began, "but they all had to admit that you were one cocky son-of-a-bitch who had majorly screwed over their new pitcher. And he wasn't the only one on the team. But who's going to get screwed over now I wonder?"

He paused, apparently expecting an answer. It seemed like he was fishing to give me a demerit, so I tried to be factual, "I am, Master."

"Yeah, I figured I'd give them a standing invitation to any of your daily punishment sessions. They can have a little one-on-one time after the usual session is over."

"You know, why don't you write up thank-you cards and invitations. I think that would be the polite thing to do." Clarence always liked to make me participate in my punishments. "In fact, try to remember one thing for each of them to punish you over." I wasn't really sure if that was possible. "One demerit if you can't think of something." I could tell he was getting horny imagining me spending hours on this little project, just to earn a harder punishment from my ex-teammates.

"Maybe you should mention some activities to try when they come over." He paused and reconsidered: "You know, never mind, I'll just give them a little pep talk when they arrive." Any iota of equality with my ex-teammates was now officially over, it seemed.

***

Over the next month, most of the boys came by to take Clarence up on his offer. A lot were fairly mundane: paddles, belts and hand-spanking were foreplay for a domineering face fuck, or a few screwed my ass. I mean, I think they were satisfied, at least I think I would have been. If they'd told Clarence anything negative, I'm sure I'd have been punished, so they couldn't have complained. But overall, they weren't too memorable.

***

The new pitcher was a different story. When I opened the door for him he was wearing sunglasses, a leather jacket, jeans, and boots. He was like a younger leaner version of a cop from a Tom of Finland drawing. He was smoking a cigarette which he flicked away without extinguishing.

"I think my boots need cleaning."

It was pretty obvious that I'd better get licking, even though punishment was a foregone conclusion by this point. I dropped to my knees and tried to feign as much enthusiasm as I could muster. After I'd grovelled sufficiently, he pushed me back with his boot and said "So where's the dungeon?"

I decided not to explain that it was really just my room, instead walking him down to it. Clarence ran into us, and his eye elevatored up and down my guest's tough sleek appearance. Sensing greatness, he said, "Oh my, let me go get the twins. We'll be right down."

When in my room my former competition began looking through the shelves of gear from BondCo. His costume was cool and encouraged him to act blasé, but I could tell he was getting hard thinking about using this stuff to punish me.

As he was whipping the air with a riding crop, listening to the whistling sound, Clarence and the twins walked in. The twins were sort-of bouncing with excitement, like a little dog that had too much coffee; they were quickly and quietly saying unintelligible stuff.

Clarence offered this helpful introduction: "Normally, we're extremely protective of the merchandise, so we actually avoid whips and canes. However, BondCo is always asking for whipping videos, so I think we need to make an exception for our friend here, who looks like he can handle a slave."

"That said, don't mark him up too much though – ruins the look."

And with that, I got to experience practically every whip, tawse, hose, crop, ruler, paddle, birch, switch, thong, strap, belt, cane, and lash that BondCo made. There was even a cat-o-nine-tails. Most of these blows landed on my butt, but my back and thighs were not spared; even my sides were whipped. There were even some small belts that he used on my belly. Tad was using a handheld camera to get some good close up material to supplement the other cameras. I knew he would edit all the material into another popular video for our page.

I would glance over at Clarence at times to see if there might be any hope of mercy. It did not appear so: every time I looked over he or Chad was jacking off.

My successor did take an intermission in all this to have a beer outside with Clarence. As usual, I was worried where it might lead.

The second act was shorter but similar.

When he was finally satisfied, I was a mess of red, blue, and black. It looked like it would heal, but there was no comfortable position to lie in. I knew I was going to be miserable instead of sleeping.

He looked tired, but I could see immediately in his face that he was going to fuck me before he was finished. He was close when he started though, thank god, because I didn't know if I could take another pounding like last time.

Afterwards, I kissed his boots and thanked him for the punishment, hoping it might buy me some future leniency. I doubted it though. He left saying, "See you later, I hope." I didn't take that as a good sign.

Clarence said, "OK, gotta treat those wounds," and doused me with rubbing alcohol. It stung like crazy! He did it a few more times, then asked the twins to rub some healing ointment on me "to avoid scarring", which also stung a lot.

I was so ready for my masters' nightly blowjobs and some time to recuperate, not just from the pain. I couldn't believe I had been so stupid as I had, to briefly have a glimmer of hope that the meeting with the baseball team might mean I was going to have a bit of joy in my life. It had led to just more misery. I tossed and turned all night, wondering if I'd have more sessions with this guy in the future.

I would.

Chapter 26
Hunter's Relationship Status Changes.

(Clarence narrates)

I ran into Hunter's ex-girlfriend at the mall. I apologized for the inconvenience his status change must have caused her.

"Honestly," she spoke with an annoying Valley girl twang, "I should totally have dumped him, like, much earlier. Such a pig, he had to be the best at everything. He'd always, like, ditch me at the last minute for his training."

"Yeah, now he's training to be the best at BJs," I half-joked.

"Well, good luck. With me he only lasted like fifteen seconds. And once he blew his load it was, like, completely over: he'd pass out like a log. I always had my vibrator ready when he came over."

She paused, and then had a thought: "Of course, if I could borrow him as a slave, that might be, like, awesome…"

"I'm sure he has some time on his calendar… Hey, just to be clear, he's not allowed to use his dick for anything sexual."

"Seriously! You think I'm going to fuck a slave! No way!" she yelled, shaking her head. "No, I want to learn how he actually is at oral. As a free boy he refused, said he didn't like it.

"OK, that really sounds like a skill he should acquire anyway. So it's a great idea! Thanks for offering." We arranged a session for the following week and more if she enjoyed it.

During the week we exchanged some emails which led me to develop a "client oral satisfaction form." I told her we would use it to train Hunter to improve. Although I was designing it for her it could be used by either sex.

It looked like this:

Tongue Use: ___ (0-10)

Lip Use: ___ (0-10)

Obedience: ___ (0-10)

Humility: ___ (0-10)

Posture: ___ (0-10)

Appearance: ___ (0-10)

Efficiency: ___ (0-10)

Cleanliness: ___ (0-10)

Endurance: ___ (0-10)

Elegance: ___ (0-10)

I promised that Hunter would take her comments VERY seriously.

***

I decided it would be fun to surprise Hunter, rather than tell him what was happening.

However, I was worried that he might enjoy it too much, so I decided that we should use a smaller chastity device. But the Punisher was too extreme to start with; that would be for if he didn't perform well enough.

Still, the midsize chastity device I selected was hilarious because it was so small it was hard to imagine it was a dick at all! We actually had two: one blue and one pink. I decided the pink one would be good. Girls like pink, right?

BondCo actually makes a bunch of big chairs like gynos use. I ordered a loaner. The twins actually really enjoyed sitting in it and getting blowjobs, which threw Hunter off as to its real planned use.

***

On the day his ex-girlfriend was due to arrive, I got him ready. Arm binders since this was an oral-only affair, and his knees were locked to the foot of the gyno chair. I decided to add a posture collar, so that he couldn't look around easily, but was focused on the groin area of the chair, as was required by his next duty.

I sat down in the chair, and motioned for him to give me a blowjob as I explained the rules. I was careful to never give away that he was going to be servicing a chick, much less his ex-girlfriend. I love surprises! "This will be a graded weekly event. You are expected to improve with time. You will be paddled for each point under ten you earn in each of the following categories." I listed the categories. "If you earn more than fifteen whacks, you will be placed in the Punisher for next week." I noted: "So that should motivate you a little, huh?". I concluded: "Each session will be one hour." I sat back and enjoyed the rest of the blowjob.

I left the room, leaving Hunter to stare at the gyno chair. His girlfriend was literally late for everything, so it didn't surprise me that she kept me waiting for over an hour. I just worked on the computer, but I was annoyed that the slave didn't get to perform his chores during that time.

As I directed her down to Hunter, I gave her a tip. "He can be insolent, so you may need to slap him a bit. Remember: he's just a slave."

Rolling her eyes at my advice, she responded: "Look, I know how to, like, handle a slave, ok?" She was chomping on chewing gum as she spoke: I had always really disliked her. I wondered if Hunter would see my point of view now.

***

I turned on the CCTV system, and selected a channel that gave a nice view of Hunter's kneeling ass, and another view, facing Hunter that gave a nice view of his face. I set it to record – I was excited to capture the instant Hunter realized who he was servicing.

She entered the room and wordlessly sat in the chair, lifting her skirt to reveal she was wearing no underwear.

Hunter's face lit up with this giant sunny smile. He looked so happy as he said her name lovingly…

SLAP! His GF really did know how to handle a slave! I was really impressed. Hunter looked confused, which was enough to get another slap.

"Do you not know why I'm here, dumb-ass?" She pushed his head down a few inches into her spread legs. "Dig in!"

At first he gingerly reached his tongue in, but she grabbed his head and jammed it into her pussy. A few more "corrections" and Hunter was lapping away like it was ice cream. After a while, his GF grabbed the handles of the gyno chair like it was about to blast into space. Her body tensed and her breathing became more intense, less regular. Her skin was flushed. Minutes later, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she half-screamed half-moaned as she experienced what looked like it was the most intense orgasm she had ever felt.

Hunter stopped, thinking that it was over, but it was just beginning. She slapped him hard. "Keep … going…" she said, breathing heavily. Then she started slapping him regularly, not because he was doing anything wrong – he was doing it more right than any free man she had ever had go down on her I am sure – but because slapping him was such a turn-on. She was discovering what I and the twins had learned, "Dominance is awesome".

Gradually she had her second and third orgasms.

There was a sense of malaise on her fourth, and she got out a magazine for the last half of the time as Hunter continued to munch away.

I changed to my video game, having seen enough. I'd go down there afterward to debrief.

***

(Hunter narrates)

I was suspicious when the gyno chair showed up in my room. I mean, the twins enjoyed sitting in it to get blowjobs, but you don't need a special chair for that.

His plans were apparently coming to fruition one day as he used ropes to tie my knees to the chair, and arm-binders to get me into position to give hands-free blowjobs. I know better than to use my hands anyway, but I understand (and miss) the sense of power it must give them.

Then he put this awkward "posture collar" over my regular collar; he hadn't done that before, and I wondered what the purpose was. It seemed like it would be a bit harder to give blowjobs. I quickly realized that I could only look around by turning at the waist, and so my field of view was limited to the crotch area of the chair.

Clarence sat in the chair, and I started blowing him. Somehow I was supposed to learn his "grading system" in this position. I figured it didn't really matter: I would just give the best blowjobs I could, like usual.

After cumming, he left me to stare at the chair. Even though I swallowed, I still tasted his cum. I was expecting one of his loser friends would be next to assume the throne.

But instead there was a long pause. I discovered I could see more of the chair's occupant if I leaned way back, although I didn't expect I would really want to see the dudes I was servicing anyway. Plus, I'd probably get punished for trying to look around instead of sucking.

I was seriously wondering (and hoping, to an extent) that I'd been forgotten about. When I saw this skirt I instantly recognized it was my girlfiend. I was so happy! Since enslavement, I'd assumed I'd never see her again. Maybe she still loved me! Maybe she could help me!

My hopes were dashed rather quickly. As I straightened up to see her and said her name, she gave me a hard slap in the face. She was always cruel to her slaves, but I was still expecting her to grant some minor kindness to her ex-lover. She did not. But my consolation prize was that I got to see her pussy. When I was a free-man I didn't like going down on her, I was too focused on my dick, I realize now. But now, it was beautiful, like a flower, with intricate folds.

Then my dick lurched and I felt the spiky inner wall of the embarrassing chastity device poking into my tender dick. This wasn't the Punisher (although Clarence had mentioned it in his monologue), but this was the device that hurt if I wasn't completely flaccid. I understood the predicament that Clarence had set up for me now. It hurt but I knew I needed to focus. I tried to think about unsexy things while I explored deep in my former girlfriend's vagina with my tongue.

Her orgasm was super hot, although my dick was killing me even as I was entranced by a female orgasm the likes of which I'd never seen as a free-man.

I doubt she's ever had more than two or three orgasms, just because it gets kind-of boring licking forever. Even she got bored, even as she was having one after another, she got out a magazine. As a slave though, I had to keep going until my tongue fell out, if necessary.

I really was exhausted at the end of the session when Clarence came in and cheerfully announced: "OK, let's see how he did!"

***

Clarence and my girlfriend talked excitedly, deducting points for talking out of turn, but admitting I had skill (which made me a tiny bit proud). They nitpicked as much as they could, and Clarence added up the points I'd missed. His thick skull tallied the total: "15. Holy shit! You did it Hunter, you passed! You don't have to wear the Punisher." Turning to my GF he joked: "I guess we'll have to grade harsher next time, am I right?"

My GF looked at me and said "Ewwww!!! He's got a pube in his teeth!" My hands were bound behind me, so there was nothing I could do about it. "He's so nasty!"

Clarence re-examined the scores. "-1 for cleanliness" he said. "Nice try, but it looks like it's the Punisher for you next time after all!" He didn't seem too disappointed.

***

So for a few weeks, things were similar. I'd be in the Punisher, because somehow I never quite managed to get enough points to "Pass".

My dick would sting and throb and ache as I focused on pleasuring my former GF as hard as I could. I found myself trying to de-associate vaginas from sex, which is hard for a straight boy.

During scoring, Clarence would always help find penalties to ensure that the Punisher would not go away. I think that's the only thing my GF liked about Clarence, actually.

***

So, I believe it was Week 4, I was chowing down, still somewhat enjoying my weekly taste of vagina, even though the pain in my dick was killing me.

I was caught off guard when she grabbed me by the hair, pulling me off abruptly after her second orgasm. She got off the chair.

A dude with a big erection replaced her. "Hey Licker, I have a surprise! I got a new boyfriend! When I told him about you, we decided we could bond by both getting oral from you. Because I hate sucking dick, just like you hated licking pussy."

The dude grabbed my hair and pulled my head toward his dick. I started sucking automatically. He began moaning and groaning and I realized he hadn't talked yet. Something about him seemed familiar.

I knew I was risking punishment but I pulled back quickly and tried to see his face. My ex-GF slapped me hard, but I saw him: he was my friend Charlie, the guy who had dared me to commit the crime that got me enslaved. A brief flashback of summers together harassing nerds and chasing chicks played in my head; inseparable partners in crime, we could almost read each other's minds back then; how fast our path's had diverged, I thought. My ex-girlfriend pushed my head back down, and I resigned to get back to my usual task.

Once he got hard, he too pulled my head off by the hair. I couldn't turn to see, but I heard them banging passionately, her screaming with multiple orgasms, him erupting in a long low primeval moan.

My childhood friend, basking in a warm post-orgasm glow sauntered back in front of me, smoking a cigarette, "Uh, Cleanup on Aisle Dick," he said, pretending to be on a supermarket PA system, pointing for me to get to work. He and my ex-girlfriend laughed at his stupid joke. I began cleaning her juices off of his very satisfied penis.

Chapter 27
High School Football Team Hijinks.

(Clarence narrates)

Hunter had always been a notorious thorn in the side of the rival high school football team. They had always been the weaker of the two teams and he had never missed a chance to rub in their inferiority. He was famous for defacing their mascot by covering it in a bunch of gay pride stickers, trying to insult their team. He never got caught, even though he would often brag about doing it. Now, times were changing, their team had a great record, and they were famous for welcoming gay and closeted players.

Knowing this, when they started their season with a few wins, I casually offered Hunter to the team's coach to use as an incentive for a winning season. The coach thought the offer was going to be wildly popular, but said he would let the players vote.

Their choice was between a day at a theme park, or a night using and (mostly) abusing Hunter, their nemesis, as a plaything, a sex toy to humiliate and dominate as they chose. I had supplied a few videos of Hunter getting pounded for motivation, which were sent out to the team beforehand.

The choice was virtually unanimous, and now they were highly motivated to win because of it. "Hunter"!

***

Fast forward a few months, and the team really did win the title for the first time in its history! It was time to claim their reward!

The coach approached me to negotiate the details of the boy's use. I smelled an opportunity: a video like this would be very popular if I could get permission to film it. It took some persuading, but eventually the coach acquiesced, but only after extracting an additional three blowjobs per player, to be collected after the team party. At the team party, players could decide for themselves whether to give him a paddling or fuck his ass. None of the players' faces would be in the video.

A date was set for the team party. "Oh," said the coach as he left, "he should memorize these!" handing me a sheet of cheers for the team.

"I'll make sure he does!" I snickered. Then I had a plan. I called up BondCo to see if they could make it happen in time. They could, and even suggested some improvements.

I called the coach to tell him to come early on the day of the party to see if he liked Hunter's uniform.

***

What the coach saw made him blush and get a massive hard-on. Hunter was wearing the sluttiest, skimpiest cheerleader outfit money could buy, or at least, that BondCo could make.

On his nipples were suction-spangles (a bra seemed unnecessary without breasts). He was wearing a chastity device, crotchless panties with long drawn up socks, and simple cheerleading pumps. The spangles, chastity device, panties, and socks were all in the team's color: orange. Hunter was instructed to keep smiling, but nobody thought he was happy.

I pointed out a few features of the uniform.

"These spangles," I said, tugging hard on one, pulling Hunter off balance, "are not your ordinary stripper spangles: no, these are specially made for more rugged use, as young athletes are prone to need. Inside of the suction, which itself is extra strong, there are alligator clamps that really hold them on."

"And that's good," I continued, "because he can't put them back on if they fall off. You see, these are not ordinary pompoms." I held a gloved hand in the coach's direction. "They are attached at several points around his hands, which are in small mitts."

"Those do look quite dainty." the coach noticed.

"The mitts and his shoes are a bit snug on him." It was an understatement. "If you want to remove them, you can use this," I added throwing him an allen wrench. He glanced down at the boy's feet, wedged into cheerleading shoes that were tightened with a wrench rather than laces.

"Ok," the coach remarked, licking his lips, "Cheer!"

On command, Hunter did his best but it was very awkward. He had never practiced: he was told to learn it from a video he watched in his cage. The point was for comedic effect, not professional cheerleading.

The coach laughed and slapped his thigh, "Hah, that's so funny!" When he finished chuckling he added, "Damned if it don't make me hornier than a bull though."

Sensing the coach's intentions I said, "Hey, as far as I am concerned, you're a player too." I snapped for Licker to get on his knees and service the coach who eagerly pulled his penis through his fly.

He grunted and moaned as Hunter's well-practiced mouth massaged his swelling dick. After a minute or two of watching Hunter's head bob up and down, he said, "Actually, I'd really like to try a piece of his ass before the players get here."

I snapped my fingers again, but Hunter didn't seem know what to do. "Let him fuck you," I explained, a bit impatiently. "Bend over and touch your toes." Hunter was quite flexible and easily hooked his toes with the tips of his fingers, while keeping his legs straight.

The little bit of spit from the blowjob was the only lube, and the coach boned him hard, like he was fucking spearhunting or something. A lot of times, enthusiasm like that means the fucker isn't going to last long, but this coach was in excellent shape and had a lot of stamina. I filmed the fucking, but I was literally getting bored it was going on so long. Eventually he bred the bitch. "Clean it!" he directed Hunter, who carefully sucked and licked his cock until the coach decided it was clean enough.

As Hunter cleaned, the coach explained the script: "You're going to wait in the cake until the horn blows. When it does, jump out and run around the ring of players three times, then do the cheer. The team may ask you to repeat it a few times. Then fall to your knees, open your mouth, and wait until the guys are ready for their BJ and come over to you. You should be smiling like a two-bit whore in ecstacy, loving it the whole time: I want you to make my boys feel good."

With that, he gestured toward the large cake on a low table. "Get in." The cake was a lot smaller than the kind strippers usually jump out of. But then, strippers have some say in the matter, slaves don't. It was a small team, hence a small cake. The caterers put the top of the cake over Hunter's head, sealing him inside with frosting.

Hunter waited in sweet-smelling darkness for his old rivals to arrive. Hunter was hungry enough to try to nibble on the cake, but he was actually in a cardboard box inside the cake, so the cake itself was inaccessible to the hungry boy.

***

(Hunter narrates the rest of the party)

Once the players arrived, the coach gave a rather generic congratulatory speech. It was too muted in the cake for me to actually hear much of the speech. But the coach wanted me to hear the part where he described me "as an adversity to conquer." The speech ended: "And before, we conquered Hunter to win. Now we will conquer him for pleasure!"

With that, he honked a bicycle horn and the team cheered as I jumped out of the cake, looking ridiculous and sexy at the same time.

I ran the gauntlet three times, as requested, getting spanked and slapped and otherwise molested the whole way.

Then I began the degrading requirement of doing my loathed rival's cheer, in this frilly sexy outfit, I flushed a bright red.

I felt so pathetic when I first finished that I didn't listen when someone yelled "do it again!" The coach shocked me in the balls until I did.

Nobody actually cared about the stupid cheer. They wanted blowjobs, and it was that time. I was instructed to kneel by the side of a table and beg anyone who sat down on the chair by it to be allowed to blow them. By now I had learned to be really skillful but I hated this team, so had to try to really focus on just the penis instead of the player. I suppose all that practice in the box helped.

While I was giving the second player his turn, someone yelled out, "Should we handcuff him?" A vote was taken, and it sounded like it was close. "Let's try it like this," someone said, and my arms were bound to the far corners of the table, pulling me into the dude whose cock I was serving. When the handcuffs clicked shut, I couldn't pull my face even a nose-length away from the dick. Not like I was going anywhere anyway.

It wasn't so bad with the skinnier dudes, but when a thick linebacker was ready, I couldn't move or breathe. I did my best to use my tongue but mostly the athletic erection was going down my throat without any assistance. There was a lot of choking and gagging before he finally came.

After everyone had a turn, they all went off to mingle. I was left chained to the table, "In case there are any stragglers," as the coach put it.

Someone had snuck beer into the party, but coach seemed to be cool with it.

***

"OK, Round 2." The coach announced as though it were a boxing match. I hoped it didn't come to that.

Apparently I had to do the cheer again. This time they weren't so horny, and kept mocking me and making me repeat it, slurring their speech and stumbling as they harassed me.

While I'd been cheering they got out a weight bench which was going to be used as a fuck bench tonight. I got on it, preparing for doggy style penetration. They were all super rough and sloppy. One rested a beer on my shoulder; as he pounded my ass I could feel it wobbling. As he got near his climax, he was pounding as hard as he could and the beer toppled, spilling beer all over my back. Rather than cleaning it up, he emptied the rest onto my head. "That's a demerit," he slurred, and I chuckled, knowing he'd never remember to report it. Then I remembered that my collar records demerits automatically. Fuck.

Once that first beer was spilled, the floodgates were open, and everyone was pouring beer on me as a "joke". I was a sticky malty mess.

It was back to socializing for the normal humans. I was left to dry out, although, specifically not to clean off. People were smoking cigarettes and joints, and I noticed the coach handling out little blue pills to some of the players.

To tease me more, the coach let me off the fuck bench and put the allen key in my mouth. My hands and feet were aching from the small gloves and shoes so I wanted to get them off desperately. My hands were only useful for cheering, so I had to use my mouth. I couldn't do it: I kept fumbling the wrench as I tried to turn it, causing it to fall to the ground and then I'd have to pick it up with my mouth again. I spent an agonizing, frustrating hour but I only managed about two turns of the allen wrench on my left wrist.

***

"Round 3." This time everyone was tired, and a lot of guys didn't even want a final BJ. It was obvious that the guys who'd taken the blue pill had almost painfully hard erections.

So I was left with a bunch of guys who were erect but very hard to get off. They wanted to be more aggressive, so the coach got out the muzzle. What followed was one of the more desperate and relentless facefuckings I can remember. Their balls were so thoroughly drained at this point that I couldn't tell if some of them actually orgasmed. It didn't really matter to me though, I was just happy hours later when I was done and didn't have a teenage jackhammer in my mouth.

They put me in my carrier cage to wait for the slave transport service. One of the players that was still there was so drunk he pissed on me, I think by accident, maybe. But of course that was too hilarious to the other drunks who goofed around by pissing on me in different ways.

The urine was all dried out by the time slave transport arrived in the morning.

When I got back, Clarence said, "Jesus Christ, you reek! Enter your room through the back door and get in your cage immediately with no showering. I don't want you making the house smell."

I knew he'd check, so I locked myself in my plexiglass cage to stew in the eye-watering stench. Before letting me out to shower, Clarence cranked the temperature up so I was sweating a ton and the air was thick and stale.

Before showering, he made me write a detailed message on the team's facebook page, thanking them for a great evening and asking if they had any feedback or criticism. Of course, I would have to reply to and memorize all their responses: it's important that slaves focus on self-improvement.

Chapter 28
Bukkake.

(Clarence narrates)

BondCo and its rival SMInc had a little competition going to see who could release the most extreme bukkake video. It was mostly a numbers game: the first videos only had five or ten guys. Then a 20 guy video, then 50.

Having just hit 10,000 followers, I decided to see if we couldn't recruit enough manpower to produce the most extreme bukkake video yet. We got a lot of volunteers who we provided the date and place and instructed them not to cum for three whole days, and in exchange they'd get to cum on the face of the rising social (servant) media star!

On the day of the event, more than 100 horny dudes showed up. A really wide variety of men: all races, ages. I'm pretty sure they were mostly gay though: I guess there's not much variety in that sense.

A line of guys was waiting. When they got near the front, they could touch Hunter however they wanted, but no fucking. He was in his chastity device, as usual.

It took more than an hour to get all those cumshots, but it was worth it to hold the record. The video blew up on social servant media.

***

But I knew SMInc could top it. How could we take it to the next level? I was talking about this to our BondCo rep, and we stumbled on an idea we loved: "Bukkake Waterboarding."

For this, we had their product team come up with a design for a bukkake "helmet." We needed to get the best value per cum. So Hunter was placed in a custom 3-d printed helmet which was designed to leave a pencil-width thickness layer of cum around his entire head. Foam spacer pads held his head to achieve this goal with needless precision, but it also prevented him from moving around, leaving the many cum-donors to aim easily.

The first half of the cum supplying dudes were to jizz on his face. They lined up accordingly. Ten lucky individuals were allowed to fuck him after donating their sperm. The earlier video had got a lot of comments saying it needed some fucking.

The second half of the guys were to cum into a bottle… this was for the waterboarding portion of the event.

Once the guys were done jacking into the helmet, the cum-line was halfway up his nostrils, with the rest of his face and head submerged completely in cum. By pursing his lips he could just get above the cumline and take in little sips of air.

Under the cum, he couldn't hear when the announcer said, "Ok, Let's Start Waterboarding!" He let a small stream of cum pour into the helmet from the bucket until Hunter was frantically blowing bubbles and swallowing cum. (Naturally we didn't tell Hunter what was coming up so that we could get a good reaction from him.) Eventually he drank enough that he could breath again, but it wasn't easy.

"Ok, Round 2." The announcer said. He attached a tube to a drain in the base of the helmet, and put the other end in Hunter's mouth. "This is a straw by which he can drink the cum in the helmet. If he can't keep up, he'll drown!" He was being melodramatic, but Hunter probably felt like he was drowning.

A slurping sound was audible as Hunter sucked the goo through the straw.

"He's trying," the announcer narrated in a hushed tone so the audience could hear the cum being suctioned down. He began pouring the cum into the helmet again, directly over Hunter's nose, which was the only way he could breath, again drowning Hunter. Hunter kept sucking though, and soon the bucket was empty. Hunter was on the home stretch. The crowd started chanting his slave name: "Licker! Licker! Licker!" He couldn't hear too well, but he kept drinking anyway, although he was getting a bit sick.

Then there was a small gurgle then a longer gurgling sound. Air was getting in the straw, it meant Licker had finished the cum! The crowd of perverts went wild.

***

To commemorate the event, BondCo stuck Hunter in some "trophy" furniture, which was basically a pedestal with a hole the servant's head could stick up through, so they were just a piece of furniture. (It was similar, in fact in the same product line as the "office chair" I got.) They were careful to never give him any opportunity to wipe any cum off, instead it was dripping in long spooge icicles onto the pedestal's surface.

"Trophy" was the right word: he was definitely on display. He had a sign right in front of his face, "I received the world's most extreme bukkake!!!", right below BondCo's logo. The timelapse video of cum drying on his face went viral when it was used by a major skincare product's ads.

***

(Hunter narrates)

One day, I overheard that I was slated to do a bukkake scene. Honestly, it sounded pretty easy. You suck a bunch of cocks and a bunch of guys jizz on you? That's just a normal day for me.

And it didn't really seem too bad. I did a bunch of scenes like this, countless guys jizzing on me. Usually they wanted a time-lapse of it drying, which was humiliating, but, again, not much more than a typical day.

Then, one day I heard the phrase "bukkake waterboarding" kicked around. What was waterboarding? God-damn I can't remember anything without the internet. Whenever I had tried to use the censored internet in the cage it just says "Ask your master about that. (You have been reported. 1 demerit.)"

Well, I guessed I'd learn soon enough…

***

When we had my next shift working at BondCo, there was a large line of men at the Extras door. Clarence called them "my fans." He made me get in display position with my hands on head, making sure to bump into every one of them. Most of them enjoyed copping a feel as I passed by; one or two fingered my ass.

I was led over to a table with something that looked kind-of like a plastic fishbowl (I heard someone call it a "helmet"), and I was made to lie with my head in it, my ankles and wrists were fastened to the table. A dude came over and used something to fill the holes around my neck in the fish bowl, sealing it up, but leaving the top open like a normal bowl. My head was totally immobilized. He put a straw in my mouth, saying,"breath through this," and filled the fish bowl with water to check for leaks. He drained it through a valve in the bottom. He took away the straw.

After makeup, I was put back in the bowl and it was showtime. I relaxed and enjoyed being able to relax surrounded by endless jizzing dicks. It was nice for once just seeing them and not having to do any work.

Nonetheless, I was aware that the cumline was rising. I first really noticed it when the tips of my ears got wet, now they were filled with cum and I could feel it on the top of my head.

The logistical work was amazing, the dicks kept arriving and cumming like clockwork and in no time cum was just below my chin.

I was getting pretty fucking panicky as the first cum crept into my nostrils. If I breathed through my nose I'd get a sinus full of cum.

So I had to breathe through my mouth, but when I'd try to do so I'd choke as cum poured in. The choking would lead to more cum swallowing and more choking. As I coughed, big bubbles were forming. I found I could still breathe little sips of air through my lips if I reached up.

Then the announcer poured from a bucket and I was drowning. As I panicked, I realized that the only way to get oxygen was to drink cum until I could reach air. Gasping and sputtering I managed to swallow enough that I could breathe again.

That's when the announcer put a flexible straw in my mouth. Sound was too garbled to hear what he said, but I had a feeling that I'd better suck on the straw. A little trickle of cum came out – if I sucked on this, I can avoid drowning, I thought to myself.

The straw was thin and I had to suck hard to get the liquid through, but eventually they ran out of cum. All I had to do was finish draining the helmet, they told me. I kept sucking since I was sure they had a way to "motivate" me if I slowed down.

After that, I was placed on display in the BondCo lobby. The cum was slowly drying on my face; after a while, it was hard to change expressions and I could feel the dry cum cracking apart on my face as I did. When the lobby door opened, the many cum flakes on the pedestal below my head would scatter.

They put a placard in front of me, like I was in a museum, and it must have been funny because everyone laughed when they read it. Nobody ever bothered to tell me what it said.

Chapter 29
Creative Writing Assignments.

(Clarence narrates the introduction)

Tad had taken up reading Teen Slaver magazine at breakfast and it often provoked interesting conversation.

"`Here's a tip!'" he read aloud from the annoying prose, "'keep your slave's marketable pre-enslavement skills sharp.' Then it gave an example of some ways to have fun at the same time. And one of the examples is Creative Writing. Remember how Hunter wrote that essay that won that contest?"

I had to admit: "That's actually a pretty good idea."

The article gave some examples, intended for the slave:

• write about a fun time you had with your owners this week.
• write about something you respect in each of your owners.
• write about a time you weren't punished enough.
• invent a new way you could be punished.
• speculate why masters are smarter than slaves.
• write a story where you fail, then your master saves the day.
• imagine how good it would be for your master to respect you.
• pick a household object, and describe why it is better than you.
• describe a new way you could serve your masters.

"Oh," I said, having quickly scanned the suggestions. "Those ARE great. And look, it gives a comprehensive grading system and suggested demerit schedule."

"Ten demerits if it isn't creative enough," Chad read. "That's pretty harsh." We benevolently agreed five was enough. But in the end, BondCo, our sponsor made us use their grading software on its harshest setting.

Once a week during punishment time, Hunter would get 60 seconds to read his latest work. The computer would grade it instantly, and he would get from 0-10 strokes of the paddle, depending on his writing, for each of these categories.

Scoring Categories:

• Self-Status Awareness. Slaves must be described as weak and stupid and deviant.

• Master-Status Awareness. Masters must be described as heroic and great.

• Humility. Story must have a servant's tone.

• Moral. There should be a moral, a lesson to take away from the story, for example, "Slaves should never try to think for themselves."

• Creativeness. The story must have something different.

• Shamefulness. The story must include something the slave is ashamed of.

• Master-Slave Relations. Must include an appropriate interaction between master and slave. For example, the master laughing at the slave, or the slave begging forgiveness of a master.

• Comedy. For example, a slave getting hurt.

• Virility. Include a description of your master's sexual prowess.

• Honesty. Slaves should never be allowed to lie.

He was required to revise his works until he got a perfect score, earning more demerits the whole time…

From then on, we gave Hunter one creative writing assignment per week. Some of his better writing is included here. He doesn't have much time to write on his crappy computer and we don't have much time to read it, so his stories are usually short.

***

"A Fun Time I Had With My Family: The Zoo. 12^th revision." By Licker.

One time we went to the zoo. They picked out a special monkey costume. It was like a big hairy shirt and leggings. I was disobedient and asked a question without permission. I asked if my worthless cock and balls and ass were going to be naked. "Not completely!" they laughed holding up a bright pink chastity cage and butt plug.

When I actually put the costume on, it was unbelievably itchy, but if they saw me scratching, they would give me a demerit. It was called a "hairshirt" and it was a BondCo product line that I had the privilege of modeling on several occasions! BondCo: the best gear company.

It was a long drive to the zoo. They programmed my cage monitor to play videos for the search "monkey dance". I was so excited to dance! I was thankful for the opportunity to learn the monkey dance. I was excited to get to perform it.

I began dancing, and they were enjoying laughing at me. So that showed that I could be useful! Sadly, the monkeys were not impressed: they threw their poo at me! I am weak and wanted to stop, but my strong Master Clarence boldly ordered me to continue.

I really hope people enjoyed watching me dance!

Afterwards, once my masters decided they needed a drink, I was allowed to take a shower and put on clean slave shorts. I was so happy and thankful.

When I returned from the shower, the zoo manager was speaking with Master Clarence. The manager was hiring me for a few hours to promote the zoo. I was making money for the family!

I got to dance my monkey dance for six hours in my monkey costume! I had to wear my dirty monkey costume: the manager wisely decided to save money by not washing it. In front of the cage I performed in was a vendor selling rotten eggs and tomatoes to throw at me. So I earned money for the zoo AND made people happy.

The moral is: A slave can often help, just by making a free man laugh.

***

"A Fun Time I Had With My Family: Hot Sauce Tasting. 9^th revision." By Licker.

A friend of Master Clarence is an entrepreneur in the Hot Sauce space. I was excited to go hot sauce tasting with my master, even though I am too pathetic to eat spicy food.

Master Tad remembered and said, "Didn't Hunter use to hate spicy things?"

"Don't worry," retorted Master Chad, "Licker won't be getting anything spicy," and burst out giggling, qualifying the last sentence: "In his mouth!"

I'm so lucky to have masters that will let me have an exciting surprise like that!

When we got there, it was a large farm with a white wooden farmhouse where my masters would have drinks and different food as they sampled the hot sauce.

They were apparently researching something called "Rectal Scoville Units" which they said were "totally objective" and they needed to measure them using me!

I went to a room where I was strapped over a bench. They put a cool device called a rapid enema machine into me, and strapped a lot of sensors to my skin.

"What are these for?" I asked like the stupid slave I am.

"Do you know what the best thing about having an objective measure is?"

I did not.

"You don't need to listen to the slaves." she said, putting a gag in my mouth.

That's a good thing to know. The machines proceeded to run a lot of tests, over the next three or four hours, most of them were extremely painful. I thought I was going to be burnt up. And die.

But I did not. And that is the moral: Science can be painful, but your master knows best.

***

"Invent a Punishment: Glycerin Enema, 6^th revision." By Licker.

Slaves know a lot about Enemas, and I had learned that Glycerin causes cramps. I suggested in the 1^st revision of this document that it could be used as a punishment, and Master Tad was kindly willing to help me by being my advisor. Of course, I'm too stupid to solve the problem myself!

He decided we needed to figure out the right level of concentration. If it was too little then the punishment would not teach the slave anything! If it was too much, the owner would be wasting money. That is the point of our research.

Cramping makes it painful to stand or walk. We decided to find out if I could stand up with a full glycerin enema. Master wisely trapped it in with a plug, since it was difficult to control with all the severe cramping. I was curled up on the ground. "Stand up!" yelled master. I tried with all my pathetic strength, but I couldn't stand. Master knows how sometimes I need to try harder, so he whipped and tasered me to ensure I was trying hard enough.

"Eureka!" my master exclaimed. I was so excited to hear!

"We will keep doing this test, until you are able to stand up. That'll give us the concentration for punishment that saves money."

Hurray for master! We did the experiment 10 more times, and the last time I was able to stand up. That is the right level of glycerin for punishment.

The moral is: Even a stupid slave can make the world a better place.

***

"What I Respect About My Owners: Their Unconditional Love. 18^th revision." By Licker.

My brothers really like each other, and they enjoy taking drives in my old Camaro. (It was really a new Camaro, because I only got to drive it twelve times.) Of course, it is wonderful that it is in much more competent hands than mine!

Sometimes they will take me with them! I'm always excited to get to participate. Naturally, I am required to ride in the trunk, which means I don't get to see very much, but maybe it's just as well that we don't overstimulate my little slave brain.

Most of the time when they stop, for convenience, they don't let me out. However, sometimes they need blow-jobs, and so they let me out to suck them off. It's nice to see a little scenery. But I also need to be careful to avoid distracting myself from my primary purpose: pleasing my masters.

The twins started laughing when they saw a skunk walking along a nearby fence. Clarence challenged me to catch it. I was concerned that it might spray me, and because I am stupid, it did. Really badly: I was covered in the oily secretion from head to toe. It had gotten in my eyes and they were stinging terribly.

My former brothers were amused about how I reeked. "Can't let him in the car like this…" Master Chad opined.

"But we can't leave him here either," Clarence retorted.

"Let's put him on the roof rack," Tad suggested: he's so inventive. They were able to lock my wrists and ankles to the corners of the rack. My Masters kindly ensured that I wouldn't fall off. It was very cold and windy, but I cannot complain, since I was stupid to allow myself to get skunked.

On the way home, my masters stopped at a fast food joint. When they came out Master Tad gave me half a hamburger. "I know you shouldn't have human food, but Chad dropped it on the bathroom floor and it got stepped on, and so we figured it counted as garbage, and you are allowed to have it." I thanked my kindly masters for their consideration and ate the delicious burger.

Finally, we arrived home. I was freezing cold from riding on the roof, but my masters kindly helped me warm up by letting me drink their piss. Master Clarence remarked, "Man those lips are icy cold."

He led me around to the service door for the slave quarters: "We don't want to stink up the house. Tomorrow morning, wake up early and take twenty showers." He made sure I quickly got in my cage and sealed it shut, to avoid stinking up the house. Inside the airtight cage, the skunk smell was so strong my eyes were watering.

The moral is: Even when slave is filthy, an owner's concern for their property's value is stronger.

Chapter 30
Science Fair Exhibit.

(Clarence narrates)

One day the twins were discussing projects they could do for the annual science fair. I thought aloud that maybe it be nice if they could include Hunter.

Their first idea was to take advantage of Hunter's random fear of moths – he always told this story about how he got swarmed by them as a little boy. They were talking about putting him is a glass cubicle filled with moths. "Guys, that sounds entertaining, but does it have any scientific merit?"

Disappointed, they acknowledged it didn't. A few minutes later they came up with something that was both entertaining and educational: "The Physiology of the Human Gag Reflex." The twins were grinning pretty widely, and Chad quipped "he's a perfect test subject since he's gagging all the time anyway."

"Plus the whole exercise might improve his skills."

To be most realistic, it was decided that all the testing would be done with dildos: we already had a standard set of long ones in many different girths, from pencil thin to bigger than a fist. For most of the tests they used one just slightly bigger than average. They made Hunter draw rulers on each one in permanent marker so it was easy to tell how deep it was.

They decided to evaluate how Hunter's gag reflex was affected by a variety of conditions.

***

The first thing to test was how temperature affected the reflex. So they tried to measure how much dildo he could take before gagging, at a variety of temperatures. They started with one straight from the freezer and ended with one that had been soaking in hot water.

It turned out that hotter dildos caused more gagging, and Tad excitedly made a plot of it.

***

Then they decided to test how Hunter's attitude affected things. The essential methodology was they would try to temporarily change Hunter's attitude by making him repeatedly say something to alter his disposition. For example, at the pro-cock end of the spectrum, he had to repeat "I am a cock-slut who loves nothing but dick" one hundred times. Then they'd measure how far he could throat a dildo without gagging. They repeated this with various statements (the most anti-cock statement was "I am a straight boy who is disgusted by penis") and dildos and they collected quite a lot of data. It "proved" that attitude makes a big difference to gag reflex.

They created a nice video loop of excerpts that they would display during their exhibit.

***

The day of the fair, the boys set up their poster detailing their methodology and physiological findings. A TV monitor played the recording of the attitude experiments: Hunter would say "I love sucking dick," then get a certain length of dildo into his mouth, and the screen would print the level of gag reflex.

The most popular part was the live experiment. Hunter's body was in a plexiglass box so it could be easily observed. He could wiggle around freely, but his head was protruding through a hole in the box's top, immobilized by a thick posture collar. The participant would select what they wanted Hunter to say, the width and length of the penis, the speed of the thrust, how long to leave it at maximum length, whether to hold his nose closed, and dildo temperature. They had wanted to add an option for "flavor" but it proved too hard. Still everyone enjoyed playing with the settings and watching the machine push the dildo into Hunter's mouth and a few seconds later a number from 0 to 10 would print out, indicating the measured size of the gag reflex.

The twins won third prize. Although I have to admit I buttered some of the judges up by offering a session with Hunter in exchange for a high vote. Many of the judges had had to deal with Hunter as a free-boy and were delighted to see him get his comeuppance; many of them asked about the twins' status as well, but I didn't reveal my plans for them at all.

Chapter 31
Twins Start Fucking.

(Clarence narrates)

The night of the twins' 14th birthday, the motion sensor in Hunter's room tripped and alerted me. Hunter obviously can't get out, so I wondered what was going on?

I flipped on the monitor and saw the twins tiptoeing around. I couldn't really tell what they were doing. One had the taser and the other the shock-collar remote. They had had a good day with friends and a party which Hunter had waited on.

They opened the cage and let a surprised Hunter out, and indicated for Hunter to be quiet. I wondered if he might have thought momentarily that they were going to rescue him?

I doubt that thought persisted though, as he was strapped face-down onto the fucking bench. I heard him try to whisper something, Chad said "shut up" and Tad penis-gagged him nervously.

It was kind-of funny that they were being so sneaky about it. I had been waiting for them to want to try using Hunter's ass. I certainly didn't care if they wanted to further their sex education this way, even if it was illegal.

I wanted to spook them, just for fun, so I went and took a shower in the bathroom above the slave quarters so they twins would hear me. I knew it'd be more thrilling for them.

I got back to my bedroom in time to watch the moment of penetration. Chad had his small dick pressed against Hunter's ass, and was slowly pushing through the resistance. Of course Hunter's ass had had some really big dicks up it as well as other objects so I think Chad was just being really careful. It was a glorious moment and his ecstatic expression compounded his already jaw-droppingly cute face.

"DON'T FORGET TO VIDEO THIS FOR SOCIAL MEDIA." I announced at full volume on the playroom speakers, causing the twins to jump back realizing that they had been caught… and that I didn't care. Their expressions went from nervous to panic to laughing in all of two magical seconds.

Chad resumed his virginal fucking and Tad in fact did set up a video camera, before swapping places not realizing that we could not post this illegal act.

After this night , it became a regular event, and I "caught" the twins fucking Hunter in countless ways and positions. I did remind them about the law and so they were careful not to do it when anyone else apart from me was there. I will describe a few of my favorite memories…

***

One time, at BondCo of course, the twins saw a sling. These guys were geniuses at finding ways to fuck and train their brother, so they knew upon seeing it they knew it had amazing potential. Tad whispered to me slowly, enunciating each word like it was a zen koan: "We Could Chain Him To The Ceiling."

Back at home they put on their little builder outfits and started to drill holes in the ceiling. "You got to find and drill into the studs," I handed them a stud finder.

They laughed at the name, holding it up to Hunter and pressing the button. Hunter was not solid wood or metal so the thing didn't beep. "Hunter's not a stud. Hunter's not a stud." they sang, taunting him needlessly.

"Everyone knows Hunter isn't a stud," I said, trying to get them to shut up. "Right Hunter?" I turned to him.

"Yes, Master," he replied, dejectedly but correctly.

After that fun, we had a ton of hooks we could suspend Hunter from. We already had plenty of cuffs and chains.

First they suspended him from all four limbs, on his back. They got him so his mouth and ass were at just the right height, so they could fuck them at the same time. It was a game for them to see if they could stand still and both fuck him by swinging him forward and backward, "no hands" as they said. They also let me fuck him with them. We left him there all day for convenience. We could just wander in and fuck him without any effort or setup.

They also tried suspending him on his side. They found you had to truss up the downward leg but otherwise this was just as fun as on his back. We left him this way too, until we got our fill of the position.

***

One morning during breakfast the twins kept saying the words "pretzel fuck." They can be cute, but what the hell were they going on about?

"What's a pretzel fuck?" I asked. They looked slightly embarrassed that I'd overheard their quiet twin-talk.

"It's a project we've got," Chad answered completely mysteriously.

More directly Tad said, "We're inventing a new way to fuck Hunter."

"Show me."

Downstairs, they opened the cage, half-singing "time for pretzel fucking." Hunter groaned. He apparently had some idea what was required. Then he saw that I was going to be in the mix and groaned again. I had to issue a demerit for groaning.

"The problem," Tad began "is that he wasn't flexible enough. But we've been stretching him by shortening the chain."

The twins put a cuff on each of Hunter's wrists. "Go!" Hunter knew what to do. He lay on his back, and reached his right arm under his right leg, raising his knee up. His elbow was bent and he tried to stretch to reach his neck, but he was an inch or two away.

"It's gonna work!" both twins said. One pushed down on his knee and the other tugged his wrist-cuff to his collar. He had a small padlock which couldn't quite reach.

"Do you need a chain?" I tried to help.

"Nah, it's gonna go," Chad was straining with exertion as he pushed the knee another centimeter down. The padlock was snapped in place and I saw that his right arm was kind-of like a loop in a pretzel with his leg sticking out like a straight pretzel piece. Besides kicking with his right knee, the right limbs were stretched and immobilized.

"Yes!" the twins said, high-fiving.

"OK, now the left side." Their brows furrowed in concentration as though they were at the end of a long puzzle.

It was a little hard, but they pushed and shoved and got his left wrist locked to his neck as well. He was uncomfortable and helpless, and his ass was as accessible as it could ever have been. I casually licked my finger and stuck it in. The tight muscles gripped and flexed. I tugged it out quickly, making a little "pop". "This is super hot. Really great work guys! I hope you're going to blog about it."

We had lots of fun fucking him like this. He could also give Bjs in this position and the twins would often use him at both ends in this position, switching positions numerous times for fun. They liked to lean in and High Five "up high," an act they called the "Eiffel Tower." They're so cute!

***

I always enjoy touching and feasting my eyes on those beautiful twins, but they clearly didn't feel the same about me. One day I realized that maybe they should learn about double-penetration, as a fun way to perve on them. After all, there were two of them so it might come in handy.

I did my research and I suggested they come down to try something new with Hunter – this tends to get them excited. I had Chad sit on a chair, and had Hunter impale himself on his narrow dick, facing the twin. I pushed him forward, I could see his ass and the cute dick entering it. I aimed my own dick for the top of the twin's, and pushed in. Damn! Licker did not expect it and screamed as loud as I can remember. It felt so tight. I could feel the warm little twin dick pressing against mine. He seemed to think it was pretty good too.

It didn't take long to cum. I loved it. Fortunately, I had another idea. Once I was hard again, which never really takes too long with all this eye-candy, I suggested we try DP another way. The twins were surprised that there even was another way.

I picked Tad, and made him scissor me. He didn't exactly seem thrilled, but he he is always the one who is more ready to indulge me. It took some wiggling around but eventually I could hold our dicks together, in parallel, like one insanely thick dick. "Have a seat, Licker!" I invited him. It was an invitation he couldn't refuse, of course. More cute butt wiggling was required to get us both inside, but he did it! We didn't have to do any work, I just had to lie back and enjoy the warmth of the twin as Hunter did all the hard work.

Later, at dinner, the boys were inventing new types of double-penetration. They are so precocious!

***

Weeks later, I had watched the twins practice DP tons of times, and I was getting a little jealous. I saw them scissoring, in preparation for some DP action, and I wandered downstairs to see if I could play. Hunter was facing away from me, slowly lowering himself onto the waiting, adjacent twins. After he was all the way down, I pushed him to bend forward a bit. I could see his ass with the dicks. I aimed between the dicks and rammed my way home.

The twins both gasped at the same time, and Hunter emitted a low animal moan, like I had activated some primordial feeling he'd never had before. After we all came, and he cleaned up our dicks, we all went to bed to have a deep nap. Life is good, being free.

***

I had told the twins that I might need to use Hunter for a party I was throwing. "What's the theme?" they asked.

"Honestly, older people don't always have themed party. What theme would you guys pick, superheroes?"

They looked at each other and shrugged, but Chad said under his breath "Two-Room Party." And they both burst out laughing.

The twins can be so annoying. I paused to see if they were going to tell me or make me ask: "OK, what's a two-room party?"

"It's nothing." Tad said, implausibly.

Chad was far more provocative: "It's a kind of sex party we invented."

"OK," said Tad. "You have the ass in one room and the head in another and nobody can see."

It took a while for the twins to explain it in coherent English; I'm just going to describe the party as we threw it. It was fun, but we never bothered to do it again.

The point of the two room party is that one room gets to fuck Hunter's ass, and the other his mouth, but because the rooms are isolated, you have no idea if his other side is in use at that moment. Only Hunter can tell if he's being fucked in both holes, or just one.

I was having trouble figuring out why this was sexy exactly, when Chad said, "Come here, we already figured out the room". They showed me the two large rooms that shared a wall, but you had to go through five other rooms to get between them.

"Perfect." I admitted.

The twins apparently had not figured out how to get Hunter on both sides of the wall, but I found a contractor who'd do it in exchange for an opportunity to "test the installation, both sides." He figured out the perfect position, tore a hole in the wall, had Hunter lie in it, supine, with workbenches to keep him at the exact height, and then he repatched the wall with Hunter embedded in it. His hands were patched into the wall too, since we decided he didn't need them. He set up little tables to support Hunter and when the patch dried, he painted it. Hunter was now stuck in the wall, with no sign of how he got there and no way to get out, until the construction guy tore the wall back down after the party. For dick sucking, he was already ideally situated, with his head hanging down over the edge of the support table. For ass fucking, his legs were spread and tied to the ceiling from the knee.

The contractor hung around for a while… apparently verifying the installation took a while at his age. Everyone agreed he had done an amazing job. People talked about it for a long time afterward.

As the guests arrived, Hunter's two halves were very popular conversation pieces. In addition to being flawlessly beautiful, his chest made a nice table, and people stored their iced drinks or cigarettes there while they fucked his face. The other end wasn't as suitable but this didn't stop some guests resting their drinks o his balls while they fucked him and a couple had obviously rested their cigrarettes there as well.

The idea led to a variety of other parlor games.

One was called "Morse Code". One room was the "sender" and the other the "recipient". The sender wanted to send a morse code message, i.e. dots and dashes. The "sender" would fuck whichever half of Hunter they had, taking short thrusts for dots and long dicking the dashes. On the receiver end, they would passively use their dick as a sensor in Hunter's hole. This proved to be a terrible way to communicate, but everyone had fun trying.

Another was "Triathalon" and it's best for sexual athletes. Two runners came up with it; it's a simple timed race. The goal was to fuck the slave's face, run around, fuck his ass, run back, fuck his face for a third orgasm. It is not easy cumming three times so fast! The third was hardest, most brutal, and most fun to watch by far, these competitive guys were thrusting as hard and fast as they could, desperate to bust a nut, knowing every second counted… I was a little worried they were going to damage our property.

Everybody agreed that the twins were little pervert-geniuses for coming up with the idea. It was a school night, but I called them down for a champagne toast in their appreciation. They were beaming with pride. In the morning after all the guests had left I let them each fuck one of Hunter's holes (of their choosing), before sending them off to school. Obviously it meant Hunter had to spend the night in the wall but I thought the twins had earned their reward.

Chapter 32
Chariot Racing.

(Clarence narrates)

I always browsed the Slave Event bulletin board at BondCo to see if there were any interesting events coming up for Hunter to volunteer for. If we could earn money, that was great. But it was also important to make sure Hunter wouldn't enjoy it.

When I saw an advertisement for a chariot race, I remembered how much Hunter hated Track and Field. "Ah, that's perfect." I thought, taking down the information.

BondCo was quite willing to loan us the necessary chariot for publicity. I decided we'd use a large "luxury" chariot to train him, which I would drive. For the race, a sleek racing chariot would be combined with the light load of a scrawny twin.

There was some serious competition, but I figured that with heavy use of the whip, we could motivate our athlete to win against the odds. It would be an inspiring story.

***

I learned a lot getting set up for training. Some people arched the chariot puller's back, or let them stand partially upright so they can see in front of them. I decided the driver would be in charge, so Hunter was bent over at the waist and I got him some blinders to wear to eliminate any unnecessary peripheral vision. The ties attaching him to the chariot ensured he could only look straight down. "That way, you won't try to think about navigating." I said. This would be especially true when I took the chariot around town, where there were a lot of distractions I didn't want him to be able to see.

For the race, he'd be naked, because that's lightest and slaves need to stay cool when pulling. I still thought it might be fun to have a horse costume, just for the training part, but the closest thing they had at BondCo was a hairshirt made of horse hair. It was designed to be as itchy as possible. "We'll take it!" I said to the sales rep.

To test it out, I made him wear it at dinner. I warned him, he'd get a demerit each time he scratched, but he couldn't stop himself. Dinner was 30 minutes, but he managed to get 32 demerits, so it was clearly extremely hard to endure. I wasn't worried that he'd try to scratch himself during training, because his wrists would be bound to the frame of the chariot.

He would have a straw connected to a water supply so he could stay hydrated. There were a few options for where to mount it, but I set the container in the sun so his water would be nice and warm. If I needed to, I could conveniently use it as a urinal. Must've been OK since he still drank it.

For the training chariot, I had a large rugged cooler installed. It was ridiculously heavy, but I figured it would help speed up Hunter's training. I'd fill it with fresh ice and beer and bottles of ice-cold water for myself in the morning (well Hunter did), and it kept everything cool all afternoon. I put a bunch of candy on top for snacking.

I started running a lot of errands in that chariot, saving money on gasoline.

***

I really loved whipping Hunter, but I sucked at charioteering. I'd basically just whip him when my hands were empty, between snacks. Sometimes, it seemed like it'd been too long, so I'd just whip him a bunch to compensate. I did play a little game where I tried to hit him right on his asshole; it spent all the time we were out winking at me. I have never been very coordinated but I certainly got a reaction from him when I hit the bullseye and I rewarded myself with a candy so it was a fun game

I wondered how he'd do in the competition. As his supposed coach, I had no idea.

***

I wished I'd let the twins control Hunter earlier in the chariot. Their graceful forms were so different to his tougher muscular body. They both enjoyed it and argued about whose turn it was to take him out. I wasn't surprised though when they decided that Chad would drive in the race and he sure did an excellent job! I took the twins out for a slapup meal to celebrate.

The following day, the loaned chariots were being loaded back into a BondCo truck. Hunter was watching, on his knees, but he was smiling. I was wondering if I should do something about it.

I asked the supervising twin, Chad, "Why's he smiling?"

"Probably just happy he won't be dragging you in that thing anymore," gesturing to the extra-large chariot being reloaded.

"HALT!" I yelled to the movers, "I didn't understand how meaningful that was for my slave!" They dutifully re-unloaded the extra-large extra-heavy chariot.

I used that for most of my errands for months, until I got bored again.

Chapter 33
Baseball Coach's Revenge.

(Hunter narrates)

I was a bit sad that all my former teammates appeared to hate me, but it was eye-opening to see that I had been such an asshole as a free boy. It appeared to be Clarence's mission to find anyone I had wronged, and to force me to make amends ten times over.

One person to come out of the woodwork was Kevin, the nerd who I'd talked into sneaking ex-lax into the coach's coffee (see Chapter 2). He had nearly been expelled over the incident.

And so I wasn't very surprised to answer the door one day to find him waiting there. "Hey bitch," he began, "Clarence mentioned that you were trying to atone for being such a douche-bag." A sadistic smile crossed his lips, "Well you'll be doing some atoning today." It wasn't really a joke, but he laughed at it anyway. He pointed to the ground and said simply "Knees." I dropped to a kneel, wondering if he wanted a blowjob right there, standing in the front doorway.

He did not. "Crawl to your dungeon," he ordered. Nobody here called it a dungeon but I guess it's accurate; Clarence must be marketing it that way to attract more vengeance-seeking acquaintances. "Stop," he immediately contradicted himself. "Your slave name is Licker right?"

I nodded. "Yes Master."

"Put your tongue on the ground." It was awkward; I had to spread my arms and legs to get low enough, but I kept my ass up so that I could still crawl around. "Good boy, now I want you to take me to the dungeon without ever letting your tongue off the floor." It was extremely hard to crawl like this; I kept bumping my nose. He kept kicking me right in my exposed asshole whenever he thought I was too slow.

The final challenge was the stairs, I was careful to lick the horizontal and vertical slats, never letting my tongue off. Eventually I got to the door, which I couldn't open without getting off the floor.

"Awesome, now the real fun can begin." Kevin was impressed as he entered my room, which is now almost a museum of bondage, punishment, and sex devices.

He kicked back on the sofa and said simply, "Blow me!" Well, it was better than licking the floor, actually. I crawled over and began to pull down his zipper. He batted my hand away: "Use your teeth," he ordered. Not very safe instructions to give the slave blowing you, but I knew not to joke around. At the slave processing center, they'd outlined the gruesome punishments that await slaves who harm free men. I shuddered and began the annoying process of pulling down the metal zipper, then fishing around through the flies of his pants and underwear, finding his hard erection like I was bobbing for apples. I manipulated it, proud of my skills – this was all harder than it looked – and began the blowjob itself.

His dick tasted a little gross, like paste or something, but he was hard so fast. I thought he was going to come in about a minute, but he slowed down and started talking instead. "It's a good thing I ran into Clarence," he began, knowing that it was only good for one of us. "He really made me realize that my near expulsion was totally your fault. He talked about how you are a classic manipulative and toxic person who often brings out the worst in people around you." At this point, I couldn't even decide if it was true. Certainly, slavery had taught me that I'd pissed off a lot more people than I realized.

He continued describing how Clarence had talked to the coach, who had forgiven him and even agreed he could come back on the team this season, amazingly. Apparently, the coach now completely blamed me for the whole incident. Well, what's new? I thought to myself. Even if I wasn't a slave it was clear I wouldn't be allowed to rejoin the team myself. He described how the coach and he had shared revenge fantasies, but now they were going to become a reality. I shuddered a bit as I did my best to pleasure him; I could again sense he was getting close. Before he came though, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me away from his dick.

"Now I see why you were such a dick… You barely even have one!" he kicked me lightly in the tiny pink chastity tube that Clarence forced me to wear. I was pretty used to people mocking my dick – that was a lot of the point – although, never giving me any release was also part of the equation. After so long in the tube, even getting kicked felt kind-of good and I could feel my dick straining at the walls of its cage.

I was mentally preparing myself for a fucking, since that tends to be the primary thing that causes dudes to interrupt oral sex, but in this case it was the idea of "punishing" me that distracted him. There's so much equipment it can be hard for new people to even know how things work.

He saw two leather cuffs hanging down from the ceiling, but he couldn't reach them. So he made me explain how to set myself up for a whipping. I knew that if I left anything out I'd be punished, so I had to describe how to make it more painful for me. It was definitely a lose-lose situation.

There are two wrist cuffs and two leather cuffs, each connected to a motorized winch. So, I slackened the chains and showed Kevin the controls. I repeated a caution that Clarence had told the twins: you could damage my master's property. I barely cringed as I referred to hurting me in that objectifying way, I was so used to it.

Just as the twins did when they were playing with it, I was quickly stretched to my limits, suspended by my wrists, but my legs were pulled uncomfortably far apart too. He stood in front of me, admiring his handiwork while openly masturbating. He looked at the vast wall of whips and paddles and selected a big leather paddle. I knew this one was loud, but not so bad. He wasn't as strong as I feared, but he liked paddling my stomach which really stings. I knew I was covered in red marks, and it was going to be impossible to be comfortable sleeping.

At some point, he dropped his pants and his erection looked harder than ever. He got up really close behind me – my ass was at a pretty good fucking height I realized – I could feel his breath on my ear, which he nibbled at gently. Ah, the old whip-and-fuck, I thought to myself, a bit snarkily for a slave. Still, it was a pattern I was familiar with.

I tried to relax my ass while awaiting the inevitable penetration. Good thing too, because this guy was pretty clumsy. He spent a while ramming his cock into the base of my testicles, badly missing the hole. But of course, I couldn't help — - I was barely able to move and was getting tired from being suspended — - nor dared I say anything that might be mistaken as insolence. I tried to move my ass toward his dick, but it didn't help much.

Eventually, he struck oil and thrust his dick in somewhat unexpectedly. I gasped in surprise and pain. He put his hand over my nose and mouth, making breathing hard as he started pumping. He slipped out a couple of times – this guy was a novice – and re-entry took a while, but eventually he moaned a familiar sound of relief, and I felt his dick shoot deep in my ass. He stood there holding me until his dick softened and he pulled out with a pop.

I was assuming he was done, and was hoping for a release from my bondage, but he eyed the selection of whips again. Really? This seemed excessive, but I didn't dare say anything. He selected a miserable birch rod that left painful welts.

I was terrified, and the first blow stung just like I remembered. Then a second blow. Oh god, I thought. This is really bad. But then he stopped and I felt someone behind me. Was I in for another fucking? Yes I was. The guy was grinding into me. He had facial hair and was fully clothed.

It didn't take long before I felt another penis seeking entry. I did my best to be accommodating and the dude began fucking me pretty hard. This guy was no amateur. But he also didn't last too long. I was glad because my shoulders were very tired by now. After cumming, he walked around to my front side. It was Coach – I had suspected as much. He told Kevin to give me enough slack to unbind myself.

As I worked my way out of bondage, Coach let me know how disappointed he was about mistakenly punishing Kevin. This didn't seem fair to me, and I suspected there was some other angle.

But then he abruptly switched tone. He said he was concerned that I was emaciated. I wasn't quite that bad, but Clarence does really keep me on a strict diet: he clearly wants me to be skinny. But I was very hungry so the idea of food was literally making me salivate.

"I'm going to grab you some food, I'll be right back." I decided to be extra-good and waited in Display Position.

He came back with a big bowl of pasta that I recognized as leftovers from last night's dinner. He had warmed it up and it looked and smelled delicious.

To make things even better, he brought a fork so I could eat like a human. I was so grateful. Instead, I should have been suspicious, but I was basically helpless anyway.

"Eat it quick because Clarence will be down in a few minutes," Coach didn't have to tell me twice.

After I finished inhaling my food, Coach said simply, let me see your ass. I turned my back to him and touched my toes, assuming that I was in for another fucking. But instead he rammed a short, wide buttplug into my ass. Because it had such girth, I couldn't have forced it out, but he strapped a harness in place, holding the plug inside. The harness had a hasp on the front that he locked, making it impossible for me to remove it.

I was trying to figure out what was going on (in retrospect, I was an idiot), when Clarence and the twins came in.

"How much did you give him?" Clarence asked, obviously amused.

"The rest of the package," was the coach's reply.

"What?" Kevin looked worried, "That's like ten doses!"

"Oh he's a big boy, he can handle it," the coach answered. He turned to me, finally deciding to explain now that my fate was sealed, if you will. "I hope you enjoyed your meal, I doubt you get food that good very often, huh? Of course, I doubt you usually eat a boxful of laxatives with it either…" He and Kevin burst out laughing as a I felt a rumbling in my stomach, then a bad cramp.

"Owwww," I put my hands on my tummy and cringed, shifting my weight from foot to foot as the cramping and discomfort grew. "I need to go to the bathroom," I moaned.

"Well, that's why we plugged you up, stupid."

"Ooohhh…" I groaned.

"Well, when he gets like this, it's best to either gag him or put him in the cage." Clarence helpfully suggested some convenient ways they could ignore my suffering.

"Or both!" Chad volunteered.

I dropped to my knees in pain and considered begging for mercy, but a quick scan of their faces told me it was pointless. I just crawled into the cage, hoping they wouldn't gag me. Instead Kevin just slammed the door. I lay there, writhing in discomfort, knowing they were probably watching me, laughing at their vengeance.

I thought about how my dick and my ass were now totally out of my control: they were nothing but a means by which my masters could punish me. The worst part was that I saw how it was a result of my own terrible earlier behavior.

The seconds were crawling by. I kept changing positions, squirming around to try to ache less, but nothing helped. I was dripping with cold sweat. I wasn't sure if I could handle this, but I didn't see any way out.

So I was absolutely desperate when a bit later the twins opened the cage. Chad said, "Tad was reading about this online and decided it was just too dangerous. We're saving your life, bro." And they let me remove the plug and go to the bathroom, saying "By the way, the Coach says you're all even after this."

I didn't have any desire to interact with Kevin or the Coach ever again, but I didn't react knowing that any indication of relief would probably result in another session with them.

After a very satisfying defecation, I went back to my room to go to bed in my cage. The twins were there, so I dropped to me knees and kissed their feet, thanking them for their mercy. "Here's how you can thank me," Chad said as he unzipped his fly to let his little erection stick out.

"Mmmm," I said without thinking, eagerly taking the whole cock in my mouth and burrowing my face into his pubes. My training was working, and my enthusiasm was genuine, but I also knew that he might show me a little more kindness if I gave him exceptional head as a reward. I don't think it actually worked, though.

***

(Clarence narrates)

On the CCTV system, on mute, I watched the twins disobey me and give Hunter slack I didn't think he deserved. I wanted him to be tormented more, not less. I expected the twins to be on my side and assist me in tormenting Hunter; I felt betrayed. But I knew exactly how I would achieve my revenge.

Chapter 34
Twin Tales.

(Tad narrates)

While it was still great having our personal sex slave and someone we could tease and get to do all our work I have to admit I was getting more and more unhappy. Clarence was getting meaner and meaner to Hunter and also more bossy to me and Chad. I was still worried that he might enslave us if Chad argued with him too much even though money didn't seem so tight anymore. Then one day when I was trying to think of a new project I could do I remembered the smell training thing that the man at BondCo had told us about on that first visit.

I started reading up on it and it was fascinating and then I had my brainwave. I thought it might help make things better here for us all. If Hunter fell in love with Clarence and did everything willingly then Clarence wouldn't need to be so mean to him and he would be happier as well. We could unenslave him so he would be our brother again but I was sure we could still get him to have sex with us and he would do the work to make Clarence happy.

I knew it wasn't going to be easy but one morning after morning blow jobs and breakfast I finally plucked up the courage to tell Chad my idea. I suggested we went to the pool. We went upstairs to change. We have a contrasting pair of speedos and sunglasses that we got for our birthday. They are pretty small, one is black and one is white, and the sunglasses' rims are likewise: one black and one white. Even though we try not to be too "cute," and I think it is weird Clarence got them for us, we do look pretty stylish in this gear, at the beach or pool.

Down at our swimming pool, we had privacy and I started to explain my idea.

"You know, I'm worried about Hunter and Clarence. I think Clarence is getting carried away and might get out of control, maybe even injure Hunter. I think we should try to figure out how to free him. We're obviously not short of cash now, although Clarence hasn't exactly explained how come, so the original excuse for keeping Hunter enslaved is bullshit. Plus, I hate to say it, but I do kinda miss having him as a brother."

I was surprised that although Chad's first response was as expected about the blow jobs and fucking Hunter he did finish by saying, "He was such a dick, but I know what you mean."

That was enough encouragement for me to launch into my idea.

"I was reading a BondCo ad about a technology that would make Hunter want to serve Clarence, instead of being forced to do it. I think that could be a compromise way to free Hunter?"

"How does it work?"

"Basically, it'll make Hunter fall in love with Clarence, and then, without any punishments or demerits he'll just be completely obedient."

"Whoa, that's fucked up!" Chad said, as he adjusted his penis in his speedos. "But, again, how does that work?"

"You can read the pamphlet in my room, but there's some pheromones that have been shown to trigger the endorphin release associated with love. The research started with ways to enhance the well-known Stockholm Syndrome. According to the ad, it's highly effective. I wouldn't trust advertising, but they cited a few articles in Collar that seemed legitimate. The pheromones are extracted from human anal and pineal glands, mixed with a cocktail of artificial compounds."

"Damn!" Chad marveled, thinking about the ramifications. "It's so fucked up, but I think it may be the best ending for Hunter. Plus, I don't really exactly want the old Hunter back either. This could be perfect!"

***

At this minute, Hunter came outside to beat a rug. I called him over since I was horny again.

"Time for the handjob game!" I announced. Hunter didn't look happy, as he'd played the game before, and lost every time. He knew there was at least one demerit coming up.

"Like before, we have to come within five seconds of each other, or it's a demerit."

Hunter knelt between the two deck chairs that we were reclining in. We helped by tugging our tiny speedos down to our knees. We were both already hard, so Hunter just licked our dicks and then started right in stroking, one dick in each hand.

I thought of various hot girls from my school, in various stages of undress and in various kinky situations. I was in a spanking-obsessed period and I was imagining slapping the girls' asses hard enough to leave a red handprint that slowly fades away, an effect I'd seen with Hunter many times now. I was thinking about this librarian chick who I had noticed at school, she was older than me but I thought she was hot when I came in Hunter's hand. I looked over at Chad and saw that he'd also delivered a load.

"Damn, looks like Hunter won the game! No demerits!"

Hunter looked so cute exuding a mix of pride and shame for his accomplishment, both hands covered in semen.

"Wipe your hands on your face and get back to work." I smirked and gave him a little slap on the ass to get moving. Well it was only in fun and I was working on freeing him.

We went in and found Clarence and I started to talk to him about getting Licker on the course. He said his usual stuff about how we couldn't afford it. It took days to wear him down but Chad backed me up and eventually he weakened. He did say we wouldn't be able to afford new video games if we did and I said that was okay. Chad didn't look happy but he nodded in agreement. As soon as he said yes I went and got it all ordered before he could change his mind. Although the first pack was for 28 days I did manage to make the order automatically repeat without Clarence spotting it in case it took longer.

After it was all ordered Clarence asked what we'd like for dinner. I'm not sure why he bothers, since the answer is always the same: "Pizza!" Chad suggested that for variety we could go out to eat, but Clarence firmly said no. Perhaps he recalled a previous time we went out for pizza as a family…

***

We were still in elementary school. It was at a large family-style American pizza chain, specializing in cheap food and arcade games to babysit the kids while the adults drink cheap beer and try not to get a headache from all the noise. The pizza is terrible; the mozzarella cheese thinned out with cheaper yellow American to save pennies per slice. The kind of place kids love.

While wolfing down our rubbery pepperoni pizza (Chad insists on either that or cheese), I noticed Eugene, the tattletale, scurrying out of the bathroom, looking very distressed and clutching at this crotch with both hands. His parents were at a table nearly adjacent to ours, and Eugene ran up and explained his conundrum.

"Mommy! Daddy!" he addressed his parents like a four year old. "I caught my wee-wee in my zipper!"

Hunter, Chad, and I burst out laughing at his suffering. Looking over I could see a little bit of penis hanging out of his fly. His mother screamed a little, just enough to draw the attention of nearby tables, and both parents knelt down to get a close look to try to help free the mortified boy's penis.

The boy was bawling at this point, clearly in a lot of pain. Dad tried to get us to calm down: "Guys, it's not funny, he's really hurt." Well, we knew that, but we still couldn't stop ourselves from mocking him.

Eventually the parents called the manager over to see if anyone knew first-aid. They did, but the course they had taken hadn't covered penis-zipper entanglement injuries. So 911 was called, paramedics arrived and failed to free the boy. The last time we saw him that evening, he was carted into an ambulance where a surgeon would take a stab at freeing him.

Ever since, we always asked how his penis was doing when we ran into him. Which wasn't too often, since he tries to avoid us as much as possible. The other thing that it reminded me of was the good times when Hunter was just one of us and enjoyed the same things we did.

***

Clarence suggested we make Hunter try and make a pizza, then give him a ton of demerits when it sucked, but Chad said he was already hungry and we should order a professionally-made pizza instead. He said we'd get the best service if we decided to request the same delivery guy that Hunter had blown before; fortunately, he still worked there and remembered us.

We went back inside and played video games until Hunter announced that the pizza was ready. We began eating as Hunter began servicing the delivery boy.

As for us twins, our occasional attempts at cooking had been unsuccessful. Although we did learn a thing or two about making jello.

In our last year in elementary school Chad had stolen two large bottles of cheap vodka from our pantry that had been left over from the New Year's party. We tried to just drink it, but it was disgusting and burnt our throats. So we searched online for what to do with cheap booze, and came up with a recipe for jello shots. We don't usually make jello at home, but we asked Hunter if we had any of the gelatine powder and when we told him why he suggested a crazy idea. He remembered that our school always has jello for dessert on Fridays. A scheme was concocted to get our schoolmates drunk.

Chad and I snuck into the cafeteria and found the vat of warm jello liquid. We dumped in the vodka and left; the chef obliviously poured it into sheet pans, chilled, cut, and served the adulterated dessert. Chad had these two girls he wanted to talk to, so he kept encouraging them to take the jello. Eventually they did, probably just to get him to leave them alone. I noticed that a lot of people that got jello went back to get seconds. We ate one portion each and were pretty buzzed. Had we made them too strong?

Chad didn't think so, as he was getting a bit sloppy with one of the girls I'd mentioned earlier. By now, they were talking loudly and noticeably slurring their speech. The cafeteria sounded like a noisy cocktail party. Chad was reaching his hand in the girl's skirt when the principal walked up, and angrily demanded we go to his office, now. Eugene, the kid we'd sen catch his dick in his fly, was standing beside him, smiling. It was obvious he'd seen us and told the principal.

We spent an awkward 30 minutes in the principal's office waiting for Dad to arrive. When he arrived, he was obviously angry, but he was contrite with the principal, pretending he had no idea where we could have gotten the alcohol.

The principal offered a choice of punishments: suspension, or spanking and detention. Needless to say, we volunteered, in unison, "Suspension!" Free time at home sounded nice.

Then we looked at Dad. His angry and upset expression made it clear we didn't have a choice. Spanking and detention it was. Chad was selected to be the first under the belt, well he is the oldest, but before he dropped his pants, he asked Dad sheepishly, "Are you really going to watch this?" He didn't want to be treated like a little boy in front of our father.

Dad paused and considered the embarrassed boy in front of him, before saying simply, "Yes."

I also wasn't very excited about exposing my bare ass to my father, who we feared and respected quite a lot. It was probably worse than the sting of the belt, or the pain of sitting for long hours in hard chairs afterward in detention.

As he left he told us we were going to get the same at home and it would be no video games for a month. We went home really sore and scared but somehow Hunter had managed to persuade dad to let us off the rest of our punishment. He had always been able to wind dad around his little finger just in those days he did it as much for us as himself. He just told us to say we had learned our lesson which we did.

I wouldn't say we learned not to do stuff like that. What we had learned is that we really hated Eugene and from that day we were determined to make his life more miserable.

We had another run in with him at the church we used to attend. It was really Mom's family that was religious, but Dad forced us to continue going after she died. I think we would have still been going until he was imprisoned if Chad and I had not been responsible for a little "incident" at the church, after which we were no longer welcome.

We'd just finished listening to a long boring sermon on some tedious topic; I think it was on the importance of chastity. Chad and I were just learning about boners and jacking off which Hunter had shown us how to do and were joking through the whole thing, making horny, sarcastic jokes to each other as the priest rambled on.

After the service, the adults tended to socialize while the children, which included us, tended to run around on the church's ample lawn. Today, though, we were in a troublemaking mood, and we decided to sneak back inside the church and goof around. We were sort-of clowning around and laughing way too hard, when we came up to the basin filled with "holy water." We paused for a second, then looked at each other, smiling.

We looked around and the coast seemed clear. We stood in position, dropped our pants, and began draining our full bladders into the holy water. Behind us, a scream. Eugene, the sneak, had seen what we were up to and found the closest available adults: two nuns. I tried to stop pissing, to no avail. Chad panicked, sending his stream all over the place, including some that landed on me, but there was plenty on the church's floor as well.

Dad was, naturally, furious, and made us wait in the car, while he tried to calm the priest and nuns. It wasn't clear if he succeeded, because when he got back, he simply said, "Well, we're never coming back here, I think."

We didn't find out until afterwards but while we were in the car and dad was with the priests, Hunter had trapped Eugene and tickled him until he pissed himself in front of the other kids. He also managed to talk dad out of punishing us when we got home. I'm fairly confident that nobody in our family including dad minded being "excommunicated." It meant more time for goofing around on Sunday, well dad called it playing golf.

Our battle with Eugene has continued to this day. We try and cause him as many problems and embarrassment as we can and he tells on us to any adults who will listen but remembering those early times it was better having Hunter on our side. He always had our backs in those days.

So once the stuff arrived I got on with administering it all too Hunter. I know everyone thinks I am a nerd but it was fascinating, getting everything sorted, measuring out the doses and recording the results and the changes in behavior. I don't think I had a lot of faith that it would do what the manufacturers claimed but it was fun to try and it would be great for our family if it did and to everyone's surprise it did.

Chapter 35
Love Is In The Air.

(Hunter narrates)

One morning at breakfast, Tad mentioned to Clarence something about the "scent treatment" being ready. They were deliberately speaking quietly at the table, while I was eating like a dog from a bowl in the kitchen. Clarence insisted that I be in sight so he could keep an eye on my humiliation I guess – he enjoyed shocking me if I didn't eat the slimy, flavorless nuggets fast enough – but he didn't like me listening in.

Still, I could hear them talking about "maximizing the Stockholm syndrome" from some pamphlet that came with some BondCo product. Clarence was listening and agreeing, but I couldn't exactly understand what the plan might be.

I thought about it as I did my many chores, but I had to go fast, so I mostly forgot about it. Stockholm Syndrome sounded so familiar, but I couldn't remember what it meant. I figured I would try to look it up on the slave computer in my cage, even though it almost never had anything useful: it was just slave propaganda.

I finished my last chore about ten minutes before I had to prepare dinner. I was required to spend any free time in my cage, so I trundled back there, hoping for a few minutes to relax alone.

When I opened the door, an intense stench wafted out. What the hell? I thought to myself, instinctively flapping my hand in front of my face and closing the cage's door. I turned around to see a smiling Clarence in the doorway.

"Did you finish your chores, dumb-ass?" he asked, with a smirk on his face. He obviously knew what was going on and was just here to mess with me.

"Yes, Master," I replied.

"So why aren't you getting in your cage?"

I hoped to avoid demerits, so I answered: "I'm going up to prepare dinner."

He looked at his watch, and I knew I was out of luck. "You're five minutes too early. Get in your cage. That's a demerit."

I turned to meet my fate and he walked over. I opened the cage and was again grossed out by the humid smell of locker rooms and armpits.

"Whoa, the twins were right, it really does reek!" Clarence seemed pretty excited. I had frozen and he turned to me: "Well, get in."

"Master, please, permission to speak?"

"What?"

"What is going on with the smell in my cage?"

"Well, I wouldn't worry your pretty little stupid head about it, but I guess I'll explain it anyway: We're brainwashing you with pheromones."

"Master, I do everything you want! Why do you need to mess with my brain?"

"First, one demerit for complaining. Second, it's no longer your brain or your choice: another demerit for forgetting that. Now get in the cage."

I held my nose and crawled in; Clarence kicked me in the ass hard to encourage me. He slammed the cage door and let me marinate in the scent for five minutes until I had to prepare dinner. It was horrible, and of course, inescapable. I was not even slightly acclimatized to it when the cage opened for my next chore.

I crawled out, thinking how this stupid cage used to be a bit of a refuge. Now it was almost unbearably smelly, especially for just a short time. I also wanted to know exactly what they were brainwashing me to believe. It seemed like they had total control over me anyway.

I cooked my brothers' food: spaghetti marinara. It smelled so good and I was famished. But I also knew they there was a camera in the kitchen and if I got caught eating non-slave food, there would be hell to pay. I am allowed to taste it but just by putting some on a wooden spoon and poking my tongue in it and then putting my tongue in my mouth for a second before spitting it out on the floor. After finishing the cooking I have to lick the floor clean. I get demerits if the food doesn't taste good or I taste the food too much.

So, when I finished, I put the three meals onto plates and carried them in, just as my brothers arrived and sat down. I of course had to eat the slave chow on the kitchen floor. As required, I put the dog bowl on the floor, knelt with spread legs with my butt facing my masters, clasped my hands behind my back, and stuck my face into the bowl so I could start picking up the food with my mouth.

"Just a second," I heard Clarence say from the dining room. "Licker, from now on, I want you to eat your meals in the cage." Oh great, I thought, this food was bad enough without that disgusting smell to flavor it. Before I went Tad had a small bottle from which he put a few drops on the nuggets. Dutifully I carried it back. It seemed stupid to have to keep my hands behind my back while in the cage, but I knew not to chance any disobedience. Still, it was extremely hard to eat with the overpoweringly nasty odor. I had to do this for every meal and I seemed to be spending more and more time in the cage. Tad also kept making me take different pills or supplements as well as putting the drops on my nuggets. He said it would help me be a better slave.

This had been going on for two to three weeks I think and although I had got a bit more used to the smell it was still unpleasant and I think it was getting stronger. So this day, I still had a few unappetizing nuggets which I hadn't force-fed myself when Clarence announced over the intercom that dinner was over and I should begin cleanup. I picked up the bowl and hoped Clarence wouldn't notice that I hadn't finished.

Needless to say, he did, and gave me a demerit for each of the five grotesque little nuggets and Tad insisted I ate them cause they might have the supplement on them.

"Now, finish cleaning the dishes and meet us downstairs for Punishment Time," he cheerfully instructed. I internally groaned, but I was silent to avoid any unnecessary attention. As I washed, I reviewed my demerits mentally in preparation.

I hurried downstairs to find Clarence, Tad, and Chad goofing around. Tad would open my cage just a little crack, and Chad comically pretended to pass out from the odor, falling to ground as if dead. Then they switched places, all the while laughing hysterically. They had been doing this for weeks and still seemed to find it hilarious. I guess young boys find bad smells funny.

Clarence said: "I don't really smell that bad, do I?"

Chad responded, still giggling: "Maybe not quite that bad."

As I tried to figure out what that meant, Clarence noticed me in the doorway. "Hey guys, punishment time," he interrupted the twins, perhaps hoping to change the subject. "Make sure that's closed," he joked, pointing at the cage door. The twins burst out in another fit of laughter. "Okay Licker, time to tell us your demerits."

"One demerit for not cleaning the plumber's pipe properly." I often had to give workmen a blowjob or get fucked. Clarence said it saved money if I gave them their tip. "One demerit for dinner being too spicy. One demerit for dinner not being spicy enough" The twins did that wanting to make a point to me of how different they were. It wasn't very often nowadays. One demerit for not taking proper care of your property." I had got a pimple on my balls which Clarence declared showed I was not taking proper care of his property. "And five demerits for food I left in my bowl."

"Good job, Licker," Clarence encouraged, although it was just more debasement, being commended like I was a dog. "So you have only eight demerits," he said, not bothering to conceal his disappointment. "We'll give you four paddles each with a beginner's paddle, then you can blow us, then four more paddles."

It seemed suspiciously light considering all three of my tormentors were here: I suspected there was a surprise element. It was also strange giving blowjobs in the middle of a punishment. They had always kept the Punishment Sessions separate from sex, although I wasn't sure I knew if this was good or bad for me.

The beginner's paddle was designed to be loud, but not to hurt too much, so by now it was like a walk in the park. I could have handled a ton more without sweating it.

Next were the blowjobs. Tad and Chad were quick to cum, as usual, but it was Clarence's behavior that confused me. Up until now, he always made a point of degrading and humiliating me: he'd call me "slut" or "bitch", slap my face, spit on me, wipe his cum on my face (I must not clean it off without his permission), and, sometimes afterward, he'd make me drink his piss.

This time was almost the opposite. He reclined on a sofa and beckoned to me, teasing and seductive, but his obese, hairy figure was disgusting to me. But I have to admit recently there had been times when I had felt a bit attracted to my master. No wait, I was grossed out again and he seemed like a parody of the attractive man I'd just imagined. My brain was fluttering around, unable to make sense of the confusing emotions. In my mind (property of my master), time passed slowly, but it was just a few seconds later when Clarence interrupted these thoughts: "Blow me, please."

When the fuck has Clarence ever said "please"? Something was definitely going on. I had to admit that I was a sucker for being treated like a human-being and crawled over to him, almost enthusiastic to show my appreciation.

"Look at me while you suck," he said, with uncharacteristic gentleness. I could still remember receiving blowjobs, even though it seems so long ago, so I knew exactly what he wanted. As I blew him, we made eye-contact and I tried to look seductive, horny, even slutty, as I went up and down on his cock. He played with my blond hair with his left hand. I felt a wave of sexual enthusiasm and unclasped my hands (I was now well-trained to keep my hands behind my back for blowjobs), placing my hands on the back of his knees.

I immediately panicked, expecting he'd be angry that I had touched him, but he shook his head and smiled, and I was so happy. I just returned to blowing him, resolved to give him the best BJ I could. He seemed very pleased when he came in my mouth a few minutes later. He held my chin in his fingers and smiled. He gave me a teasing little slap on the cheek with his other hand and I smiled back. "Bedtime," he said, and indicated that I should get in the cage.

The slave cage has a really crappy little computer inside that I was able to use. I remembered that I had wanted to look up Stockholm Syndrome. The computer defined it as "The true love a slave feels for his master." I was pretty sure there was more to it than that…

***

The next mornings were similar to my usual routine, but I noticed that I was actually weirdly keen to get out of my cage to give Clarence his wake-up blowjob. I was enjoying the challenge of sucking him without waking him up; I found I was liking the taste of his cock, almost needing it; and it seemed like he was a little warmer, sometimes giving me encouragement or smiling, which I greatly appreciated.

He told me to bring a paddle with me from now on, and I chose a paddle that didn't hurt too much. He'd give me a few paddles after the blowjob and that was it. But I found I was looking forward to the paddling too, and one night I had a dream where he gave me a blowjob. The next morning I decided I should choose a more painful paddle, for my naughty thoughts. I enjoyed the pain, and knowing my master was disciplining me, and I could see (I thought) that master approved of the more painful paddle. So I stopped trying to go easy on myself and masochistically delighted in putting myself in the predicament of a really brutal paddle, and seeing how I handled it. This was all a side of myself I'd never known before.

One night, after my usual punishment session, Clarence made me come up to his room. Although I was a bit nervous, Clarence fucked me rather tenderly and lovingly. He took his time, really enjoying my ass, and I was enjoying getting fucked, I had to admit. He didn't spit on me, or call me names, or even spank me. Once he came, he held me in his arms, spooning me. Instinctively, I started kissing his arms, happy that I was so in love with my master.

But that really made me think: What the hell was wrong with me? Somehow, at the same time, I was repulsed by Clarence's flabby, pallid, sweaty, smelly body, but I also felt an incredibly tight bond between us and wanted to be as close as possible. Slaves should not try to think, a slave training maxim, came to mind. I decided to live in the moment and just let my newfound love of my master grow.

One day after a long blowjob, my Master told me that he'd take the chastity tube off for six hours if I could make it five days without demerits. Recently, there had been the occasional day without any demerits, so I thought it was possible, and swore to be the best slave possible to try and win that prize. I was so insanely horny all the time now.

It took a few weeks. The twins and Clarence teased me with it a lot, often finding something really petty on the fifth day and I'd have to start all over again. I was wondering if they would ever really let me win. But then on the fifth day one time, they were all standing around trying to think of a demerit, but they couldn't.

"Well, Licker, I guess you know what that means! Your tube will come off for six hours starting at noon tomorrow."

I was so excited I couldn't sleep. I'm not sure why I wasn't more suspicious at this point: I guess I really am a stupid slave.

At noon the next day, the twins, Clarence, and I gathered in my quarters. Clarence swiftly fastened me to an X-frame cross facing away from the frame. I quickly realized I probably wasn't going to be allowed to jack off. I was so horny I didn't think it would matter I surely could come hands-free? Clarence got out the key – I don't know where he hides it – and removed my horrible chastity tube. My dick sprung to life, and my erection was jutting out hard as a rock. I started dry-humping the air, then twisting around to see if somehow I could rub myself on the frame. "Licker," Clarence said, "see if you can figure out a way to get off while we have lunch. We've got an idea for afterward." I was already trying. There was a continuous stream of precum dribbling out of my cock, but I needed a bit of stimulation to cum. I tried shaking in various directions, causing precum to fly everywhere to the evident amusement of the twins. They left me alone to eat. Instead of food, Clarence fed me a Viagra, as though I wasn't erect enough!

When they returned, the floor under my dick was a giant puddle of my pre-cum. "You're going to have to clean that up," Clarence observed. He was carrying something like a penis pump that I'd seen another slave modeling at BondCo. I knew I was going to cum instantly in that thing.

He fastened it to my erect dick, and for about one second I was in paradise, but then suddenly there was searing pain. The vacuum had changed from a light suction to suddenly my dick was in the vacuum of space – it hurt so bad and I could see my dick was swelling as a result. There was also an electric shock. It was impossible to tell how long it lasted.

"Is that the cool down part of the cycle?" Clarence asked Tad.

And then just as fast it was back to a wonderful blowjob-level of suction. I was back in ecstasy.

Clarence explained: "Hunter, we didn't want you to be bored during your six hours of freedom, but we didn't want to give you a free ride either. So we decided to try out BondCo's edging machine. It's like a blowjob machine, except when you get close it switches to the cool-down mode you just experienced." More like torture mode, I thought, but was too distracted by the BJ sensation. I began fantasizing about Clarence roughly pounding my hole. It was like a dream and I was sure I was about to cum when it switched gears again, dashing my hopes for sexual release.

The twins and Clarence watched several cycles until they got bored. Clarence looked at his watch: looks like about three minutes per cycle. How many is that for his five remaining hours?

Tad calculated quickly, "One hundred."

"Did you hear that Licker? You've got a hundred blowjobs coming today!"

Tad corrected him "Well, partial blowjobs!"

Chad giggled hysterically at that, adding: "You're recording this, right?"

"From many angles!" Tad said. I knew the twins would post about it on social media.

The craziest part is how easy it is to be confused by the foreplay part of edging cycle. Even though I knew release was very unlikely (it turns out that BondCo advertises a money-back guarantee and nobody had ever claimed it), every cycle it fooled me into thinking that "this was the time." And so I was genuinely disappointed for each missed orgasm. I couldn't count them so I don't know if the twins were right. But I do know I was a sweaty, quivering, wildly horny mess when they all came back. They waited until after a cool-down, when my dick was not at full hardness, removed the horrible device, plunged it into the icy water and put my chastity tube back on. It was a relief after the sexual rollercoaster of the last hours. When they released me from my bondage I just fell to the ground. They put some slave chow in my cage and let me rest for the evening.

***

Despite the cruelty of having my orgasm denied so many times, so repetitively, I was more madly in love with Clarence than ever. He seemed indifferent, but I knew that was because a competent master like him would never fall for a slave like me. Still, I felt desperate to please him. The edging experience was horrible, but at least I got to imagine having an orgasm with Clarence a lot. Truth is, I knew I'd do it again if I had the chance.

And so, when Clarence offhandedly mentioned, "If you make it a whole week without demerits, then we'll take the chastity tube off and I'll fuck you until you come," I was very excited. I knew it could be a trap, but Clarence had actually been truthful before, and anyway, I was so horny I'd try anything.

By this point, I was a perfectly docile, self-effacing, utterly obedient slave. I probably couldn't have directly disobeyed my masters if I wanted to. I didn't want to. And so, less than two weeks later, Clarence said, "Looks like you get to orgasm tomorrow, Licker!" Turning to the twins, "We'll still need a six hour time block."

And so, at high noon the next day I was strapped into the fucking bench and the cursed chastity tube was removed. My dick was hanging freely through a hole in the bench. Despite my already raging boner, I was fed a Viagra "for good measure." Then I was gagged. I was silently praying that I'd actually get to orgasm in a minute.

Clarence walked up behind me and spat on my waiting ass. I stuck it out as much as I could, like a dog in heat, desperate for a hard fuck. He unceremoniously pushed himself in the entire way. I moaned deeply, mostly taken over by animal instincts. My hard dick was hanging down, leaking precum. I was rock hard before, but the first stroke further hardened my dick: between the long denial of release and the Viagra and the stimulation of my prostate, my dick was so tumescent I was afraid it would pop.

He pulled out, and I imagine, admired my well-maintained hole, before shoving it in again. This time it was too much: my dick released its first string of cum. I really wanted to stroke it, but of course I couldn't: my arms were bound. There was so much cum in my balls that I acutely needed to get out of there.

"First cum," Tad announced, making a note in his notebook.

After short pause he re-entered me and I shot another load.

"Second cum".

Clarence kept pounding and pausing, and each time I shot a little cum. My dick stayed hard the whole time but it was so frustrating just squirting a little rather than having a really satisfactory orgasm. The twins were whispering and giggling but Tad in particular never took his eyes off me. He counted sixteen cumshots. Each shot seemed to get them more excited, and they were a little disappointed when it stopped happening at every thrust.

Clarence didn't last much longer, depositing his second load in me that day. Despite the frustrating squirting I still felt so satisfied. I was hoping Clarence would hug or kiss me, but he didn't, just left me strapped to the bench while he talked to Tad who showed him things in the notebook., Chad meanwhile started to do something with my dick. He was putting some device around it. Were they going to edge me again? I didn't think it would be so bad since I had just cum.

"Ready to begin Operation Milk-Dud," Chad quipped.

"Do you want to be a cow, dude? Cuz you're about to get milked!" he teased. He flipped a switch and the device on my dick began lightly sucking and massaging my penis, which was tender from the recent orgasm. I could see Tad turning a dial and the sucking got a little harder and the massaging too. It made me a bit jumpy but it still felt good.

"What level are you at?" Clarence asked eagerly.

"3 of 10," he replied, "this is going to be interesting."

"Four," he said and the sucking and massaging got harder. It was a little painful but also felt really good. He left it there for a while and I began to think about blowing Clarence. I was getting horny again, and the machine was really good at pleasuring me. I was building up and eventually I came again. The control device made a beeping sound and the twins yelled in unison "Seventeen!"

After cumming, my dick was even more sensitive, but the machine was indefatigable. "Owww…" I moaned into my gag. Eventually I started to harden up again despite the pain, and my dick was less sensitive so it started to feel a bit good again.

"Let's crank it up a little, 6," Clarence said.

Even with my dick hard the thing was rough. It was like being sucked with an industrial vacuum while being slapped with a ruler. Even so, I had enough residual horniness that I got harder and harder, eventually my mind began fantasizing about Clarence spooning me, and I gave my eighteenth cumshot, according to the excitable twins.

Needless to say, now the machine was horribly painful on my extremely overused and sensitive penis.

"Let's turn it up more," Chad urged.

"I think that's enough, boys," Clarence kindly showed me mercy, which made me want to thank him even more. "Let's go have lunch and let him enjoy a long slow milking."

I began to panic: how long was I going to be here? I remembered Clarence's "six hours" comment earlier and groaned. I figured it had maybe been an hour and a half. It had actually only been 45 minutes: I had a long time to go, and my dick was already so incredibly sore.

When they finally came back, Chad announced that I'd given fifty cumshots, according to the milking machine. They removed it and replaced it with the chastity tube. I never thought I'd be so happy to see that thing.

Clarence took another opportunity to pound my ass while the twins slowly massaged my cum into my hair and face. I really reeked of cum. They took a lot of photos of what they called "the ultimate facial" and joked that it'd be good for my skin.

"Yeah," Clarence agreed, cumming inside me. "Let's let it dry before letting him clean up. And so I was left bound to the fucking horse overnight so they could see how I looked with a face full of dried cum. Just check out the bukkake photos, I thought, but of course didn't dare say.

The next morning, the twins were amused to check on me, their little cum-experiment. They made me smile and talk, watching little flecks of dried cum fly. They were giggling and taking videos. Finally I was released to shower, give them blowjobs, and start on my daily chores.

***

One day as I was cleaning out the twins' trashcan, I found an advertisement flyer from BondCo which explained some of the strange behavior I'd been observing:

BONDCO PRESENTS: The Stockholm Slave Series.

Many trainers enjoy the challenge of handling a recalcitrant slave using old-fashioned discipline! And we support them!

But other trainers have asked for a different approach, one that uses years of slave-research to provide a highly effective means of slave control that requires far less punishment than the usual methods. But don't worry — you can still correct them as much as you want — you just won't need to.

It's been known for a long time that people who are kidnapped often develop a love for their captor. So we asked, can we make that happen?

Turns out, it's easy with our simple plan.

First, fully aerate the slave's with the master's odor. BondCo has both cages with this built-in, as well as cage add-ons, and sleeping masks for owners on a budget. Put the slave on our carefully developed and tested course of drugs and supplements which can be added to slave chow as well as taken in tablet and drink form.

Second, inter-mix light punishment and gentle sex. You may be used to only having rough sex with your slave, they will cultivate emotions for their owner much faster if the sex is gentle, but don't spare the rod before and after sex, as it increases their adrenaline which makes them susceptible to unwitting attachment.

Once achieved the condition can be sustained with our easily administered Monthly Special Maintenance Solution. While maintenance is easy the slave will revert overtime if not provided with regular does of the solution and the master's scent.

It was a lot to process. I had suspected I was being manipulated, but didn't understand the extent of it. I put the pamphlet back in the trash. Even though my feelings were described in the text, I still felt like my love was different: my master was special. Screw BondCo, I said, I'm just happy to be in love!

Chapter 36
Justice At Work.

(Hunter narrates)

One morning, I was giving Clarence his wake-up BJ. I had noticed that a letter from our lawyer was opened on his night-stand. I'd been tempted to try and read it, but I realized that Clarence wouldn't approve of that, so I simply focused on my task, the blowjob.

About halfway through, he rested his hand on my head and said, "We need to talk." I inferred from his hand that I shouldn't stop the blowjob, and he'd be doing most of the talking. I didn't mind because whenever I talk I get demerits since nobody cares about my opinion. Plus I loved blowing my master!

"There's some great news! Mr Keller has managed to get the judge to agree to dismiss the criminal charges for your prank and consider it resolved if the families agree that you've compensated your victims. So if we can persuade them there would no longer be any danger of criminal enslavement for you."

"That means, we'll be able to un-enslave you when we have the financial resources. I'll obviously have to get the twins' agreement to unenslaving you at that time."

I knew that our money problems were a thing of the past, so I wondered if my enslavement might actually come to an end. I hadn't thought Clarence would do it, but maybe if he was involving the twins he was really serious. They had been much nicer to me recently although they still wanted blowjobs and to fuck me and they still teased me at times but it seemed they liked me again like when we were little kids and had played together. Of course now it was them who could be too rough rather than me. I knew it was a bad idea to get too excited, and I had almost forgotten how it was to be free. I wondered if I could still give Clarence blowjobs if he freed me. I was certain there was a catch though.

"Of course, you'll have to satisfy the parents of the victims but Mr Keller has got them all to agree that an afternoon session with you for each of the boys individually with their fathers would be fair compensation and punishment for you. It wasn't easy but he is a brilliant lawyer and has always done his best for this family and he seems to have a real soft spot for you. The court felt it was very appropriate as it could be used to teach the boys about slave-handling, and to scare you straight." He chuckled, "It's a bit late for that though."

He laid back and enjoyed the remainder of his blowjob. Once he let me swallow his cum, I scurried off to service the twins and begin my chores, all the while thinking about the compensatory services I was going to be providing. Still, if it was a step out of slavery, I would do my best to please them. Hell, I'd do my best for any number of reasons.

***

Many of the encounters were not very memorable, so I'm just going to describe one of the longer sessions. I've forgotten the names of the boy and his father, although I was careful to memorize them the day of the ordeal, since I knew they would be eager to punish me to the extreme.

The father on this day was typical: he was basically just showing off, trying to pretend he knew what he was talking about and to exert his dominance, and to bond with his boy.

He started out saying some dubious stuff about how "anything said in front of the slave is confidential." That was just patently false: if Clarence asked, I'd have to recite everything I could remember about this session. Of course, that made me realize that the dad probably didn't know Clarence was recording us. But I was certain that he was: he wouldn't be able to resist watching a 12-year-old boy beat my ass.

After some rather boring introduction about the uses of paddles, switches, and whips the dad shut up and let the kid whip me: we all knew that's why they were there so I was actually relieved to get to it. They had me bend over a table and the kid gave me a few half-hearted smacks on the butt with a simple paddle.

The dad said, "Son, you've got to put your body into it." He took off his shirt saying "I don't want to stretch this out demonstrating," and he grabbed the paddle and took a real strike at me. It didn't hurt either, at least compared to a typical punishment session in this house, but I grunted to make the man feel better. He gave his son back the paddle. His son copied his old man and removed his shirt, which I'm sure appealed to Clarence.

The kid struck with more confidence, and I couldn't help noting that he really was learning something. He went on to test a bunch of the other spanking equipment. Some of it was painful, but mainly it was the dad's overall lameness that really stuck out to me. If I wasn't so downtrodden, I might even have felt sorry for them.

The next section in the dad's apparent lesson plan was bondage equipment. He really had no clue what he was talking about, and I had to help him set me up in various devices. My training had included a course about how to operate these things, and I wondered why, since I was always the person being tied up, never the one operating the equipment. But I guess this was why: to help clueless and pathetic people punish me. I sighed to myself, but I tried to maintain a helpful attitude to try and avoid them making any complaints to Clarence.

The dad decided to end his lesson on a popular high note: oral sex. In truth, he wasn't supposed to encourage someone so young to have sex with a slave, but practically all the dads had done it. Anyway if anyone would get in trouble, it'd be me, and they knew it. On the other hand, I knew I'd be punished for refusing. There was no way to win as a slave sometimes.

The boy was very nervous and excited, but his enthusiasm was somewhat curbed by his dad's insistence on going first. I guess I had watched my dad fuck a slave a few times, but it never had this instructional tone to it, and we never did it together. Still, he jacked his little dick off slowly as I serviced his father's smaller-than-average dick.

The main thing I learned from this whole experience is that boys of that age have clean, neat, little dicks that will come in about sixty seconds if you blow them well. I admit I kind-of like being in sort of control, and it's so easy!

The final act was to kiss the feet of the dad and son duo, and thank them for their time and forgiveness. I threw in a bonus about how unworthy I was. They seemed pleased with the outcome. And that made me relieved.

***

A few days after I finished servicing the final father/son pair, Clarence called me into his office (really my dad's old office). He called me behind his desk so I could see the computer monitor. "I just edited the supercut of you blowing twelve 12-year-olds. I think I'm going to call it 12x12. Should be popular with pedos."

I knew I could get in serious trouble for this video, even though it wasn't in any way under my control. I was terrified: the enslavement of a pedophile my age was very popular with certain horrible people, since there were no restrictions on use at all. I would be better off dead if this video came out.

"Please, you can't…" I said, dumbstruck.

"Oh don't worry, I won't. After all, I could get in trouble too. But I have set it in a safety deposit box to be released if anything happens to me."

"Please Master I love you and would never do anything to you…"

"I know, but it never hurts to remind you, does it?"

"No, Master." I left wondering if I was better off than before the settlement. I locked myself in my cage and thought about all the fathers and sons I had blown, and decided that even if Clarence didn't release me I was no worse off. I was happy he was pleased with the job I had done in satisfying all those families, but now my dick was straining against its cage again and I tried to think about anything other than sex. It took a long time to get to sleep that night.

Chapter 37
To Be Loved By A Slave.

(Clarence narrates)

I have to admit that initially I didn't think about the BondCo swab so that they could replicate my scent I was given on that first trip to them. It was kind-of a weird idea, but lots of aspects of slavery were weird, and I figured that it would be really expensive and we couldn't afford it. Then for months I was too busy enjoying making Hunter's life miserable and thinking of new ways to punish and humiliate him. And of course having as much sex with him as I wanted was great. I didn't realize at the time how much I cherished his displeasure.

I had forgotten all about it until months and months later. Out of the blue Tad brought it up and although I wasn't interested he kept on about and Chad backed him up. Although we had more money than I could spend, I told them it would mean no new games for them, which I was sure would put them off the idea. Although Chad seemed less eager Tad was still adamant and for once seemed to get his way. I guess the whole scientific experiment really appealed to his geekishness so I thought Why not?, I didn't really think it would work and would be a waste of money but so what.

The twins were excited, Tad of course more than Chad but they both were taking it seriously. They had the pamphlet but Tad had researched it all on line. They had even ordered another swab kit in case I couldn't find the one I had been given; they were right, I couldn't. Once Tad swabbed me he sent it off and said it would be back in a couple of days. He also ordered a course of drugs and supplements which would last a month. Of course we would have to reorder if we continued with the experiment. From the swab Bondco would create a scent that had to be attached to a special filter which fitted into the air circulator for the cage. The company tried to lure you in with various "subscription plans."

It was very efficient and everything arrived within two days. Tad fitted it up in about two minutes and started to administer all the drugs etc to Hunter. He gave me the gist of the instructions: gentle fucking and lots of small punishments. I was a little worried that it'd make Licker too soft, but Chad said we could go back to normal once he had totally fallen for me.

I didn't really believe it was possible, but it was actually easy.

Hunter is so stupid that he's almost too simple to manipulate. If you say a single nice thing while he's blowing you, his whole demeanor turns all warm and cute: he's like a puppy or something. And the close alternation between loving fucking and punishment seemed to work like a charm.

I noticed a difference after a couple of weeks but by the end of the first course of drugs the boy seemed infatuated. He clung on my every word, would cast furtive glances at me when he thought I wasn't looking, and I even saw him sniffing my underwear as he cleaned my room.

Back when he was a free-boy, I would have loved the attention, but now the relationship was one-sided in the other direction, and I got tired of his pathetic fawning. I tried to make sure he was constantly uncomfortable, degraded, hungry, and unsatisfied. Despite constantly lying to him, he still tends to believe me.

So what can you do if your slave is too well-trained? I decided I needed to mix things up a bit.

Chapter 38
Another Auction.

(Narrated by Clarence)

It was time for another fundraising auction. I told the twins that it was to commemorate Hunter's Enslavement Anniversary.

I also told them that a lot of the same powerful and wealthy men would be coming and they would have to be on their best behavior.

I made sure to have Hunter set everything up in advance, the chairs, tables, champagne, A/V equipment. He was going to be unable to help with much during the festivities. After he had set up, it was time for me to set him up.

Hunter was again on display, kneeling, arms bound back, on a small pedestal, with his ankles and knees spread and locked in place. He was going to provide blowjobs to whet the appetites of the assembled horny perverts.

I sent the twins off to put on the same uniform they had worn last time and then to come back and mingle. They weren't happy as they knew they had grown in nearly a year and those uniforms had been tiny then and they had been really embarrassed at Hunter's auction. Chad tried to argue with Tad's silent support but ultimately gave in.

"Hunter, it sure is fun having a slave." I started once the twins were out of audible range.

"It's an honor to serve you master." He was so brainwashed by now that he actually believed this.

As he stared longingly into my eyes, I decided it was time to make him jealous. "It's so much fun in fact, that soon you'll be sharing me with two more slaves…"

His face went pale as he realized what I was talking about. "Please master, let me be your only slave! You can indenture me permanently instead. I want you to!"

"Don't need your permission and I already did it."

In his bondage he tried to flex, successfully showing off his muscular torso. He looked at me as if seeking approval, "I've been working out, making sure I'm in prime condition!"

"Yeah, I know, I force you to."

He continued trying to sell his superiority as slave meat: "The twins are so scrawny: I can do three times the work."

"The twins don't deserve this! They saved my life!"

"Yeah, I saw them disobey me and mitigate your punishment. It's part of why I'm enslaving them," I responded. "Although they are risking enslavement even without my help by illegally fucking you. The other part is that I have to stop them from degenerating into sadistic psychopaths, somehow. You should know that better than anyone." I didn't mention that I had been encouraging them, nor that I had no plans to restrain my own depravity.

"You seem to have so much money do you really need to?" his futile begging continued.

"Nope, I'm doing it because I want to. Your father and Mr Keller have made me wealthier than I ever dreamed. And that's three demerits for talking out of turn." I shoved the gag part of the sucker muzzle into his face and buckled it in place. "I'm going to set this extra wide for all that insolence." I forced his mouth open wider than usual. To complete the picture, I spat on his forehead, so it would slowly run down his face while he waited.

"If the twins ran now, they could escape, but in three hours they'll be chipped." I taunted him like a villain in an action movie. "As the golden son, you were a bratty little prick. You had no intention of helping me when I was enslaved; your only act of kindness to me, not ratting out one little BJ, was entirely to save your father stress, not to help me. Can you think of any reason I would help you?" I turned and walked away.

Soon the twins got back, looking very uncomfortable in their uniforms which appeared ready to split at any moment. It was the first time I had seen them in the same clothes for months. When they saw that Hunter was already bound up and ready to blow the guests Tad asked, "It's a little early, isn't it?"

"I didn't want him getting underfoot," which didn't quite add up since he would have helped, in truth. "Feel free to use him if you're horny."

Obviously they were horny. As they approached their bound brother, he began making a lot of noise through his gag. "Wow, shut the fuck up!" Chad said, slapping him hard in the face.

"I know what'll quiet him down," he said sticking his dick in the waiting mouth. He grabbed the muzzle's handles and started pumping.

It only took about three minutes for the twins to finish raping their brother's mouth. Looking down at Hunter, Tad said, "Well, that was fun. I guess." He sounded a little conflicted.

Chad responded: "You know what would be awesome? Having another slave!"

I teased: "Maybe someday!" And I would. Their lives, by contrast, were about to take another direction.

***

The guests started arriving. They were schmoozing, drinking champagne, smoking cigars, fucking Hunter's face. The twins were again in their tiny wrestling uniforms. I had let them have a glass of champagne, even though they were underage, so being totally unused to alcohol they were a bit tipsy and giggly which made them even more attractive in the guests' eyes. They were just so charming and adorable. For a millisecond I felt guilty, but my hard dick acted as a compass, telling me the right thing to do. Anyway, I couldn't stop the auction now!

The twins asked: "Why are we auctioning him twice?"

I didn't have an opportunity to answer as a bell rang: it was time to assemble for the auction. After the bids were taken, Hunter was placed in the center of the stage, flanked by each twin. Bright stage-lights focused on the twins, partially blinding them. Hunter remained in shadow, behind the twins, hard to see by contrast. As the auctioneer started he was discreetly moved off the stage without the twins noticing into a secondary part of the house, away from the party. There he was ungagged but left bound so he could no longer spoil my plan. I even let him watch his brothers' introduction to slavery via CCTV on a wide-screen high-def TV. The lighting and camera angles were really good: setting it up had been one of his chores.

The winners were announced and they walked onto the stage. The top bidder pantomimed confusion at the two identical twins, feigned a coin toss, and pointed at one of them.

One could almost see the gears turning in the twin's head, as his cute smiling face turned confused, then panicked. That was the moment he decided to run, but found he was flanked by two burly slave handlers, each grabbing one of his skinny biceps. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his twin brother in a similar predicament. Two fucking benches were being wheeled in, and he was being manhandled over and onto it. He struggled with every ounce of strength, but these two handlers had no trouble. If they had, they had a taser too.

They didn't bother to strip them until they were fully tightly strapped down. This bench was designed with extra straps for struggling slaves. The gag of choice was a perforated ballgag: you could hear the screams and moans but they couldn't say anything intelligible.

The auctioneer started saying "Tad and Chad your rights as free men are now rescinded." He proceeded to give the usual spiel; while, the guards ripped the uniforms of the boys who screamed as those tiny shorts finally gave way, it was a miracle they had lasted that long. As the auctioneer reached the end of his declaration they inserted a thin dildo, heavily smeared with lube into the boys' asses, and left them to stretch, while, at the other end, they forced the boys to inhale from a large vial of amyl nitrate (poppers). I didn't want my property damaged so soon. The guards casually injected the GPS trackers, and walked away, having rendered escape impossible. There was a standing ovation (from everyone who could stand anyway) when they had all concluded their tasks.

The two winning bidders moved to the benches to claim their fresh prizes. They'd been waiting for this since Hunter's auction when they had first seen the twins in their wrestler's uniforms and had regularly contacted me to see if I had changed my mind about enslaving the twins. They pulled out the dildos and spat on the virgin assholes just for fun.

That was the extent of the foreplay, though. Hurting the virgins made them feel manly, which was definitely part of what they paid for. Both of them were loaded up on Viagra and planned to get their money's worth.

The twins were so tight, it was almost hurting their dicks, but it was an amazing good kind of hurt. Those asses was warm and soft and young and beautiful. These twin twinks were perhaps the pinnacle of boyish good looks. One Pressed his nose to his twin's back, inhaled deeply and savored the boy's scent like a sommelier: this one smelled like candy. Their sweat tasted sweet and fresh. It was really just too much. They wished the moment could go on forever.

For the twins, that's how it felt.

After coming, one man made a turning motion with his hand to a guard, who came over and manipulated the still struggling youth onto his back. He was strapped down, of course, then his legs pulled apart and over his shoulders. Having been in the opposite role, he knew he was about to get fucked missionary style. His little dick lurched remembering what that position of dominance was like.

Indeed the man began fucking again, slowly working himself up to a second orgasm. He liked making eye contact with the newly enslaved boy. At first he tenderly kissed his gagged face, but then he turned to hickeys, eventually quite painful ones. He also enjoyed licking him with long slobbery strokes, revelling in the boy's revulsion. After eventually orgasming again, he cleared his throat and spat directly in the boy's face.

After his second orgasm, while he was climbing off, he pushed the twin back, so his head was no longer supported by the bench. It tilted back, giving the winning bidder an idea. "Get us some sucker muzzles," he called out. He couldn't manage a third orgasm face-fucking the twink, but at least he cleaned his dick off. For the rest of the party, all four of the twins' holes were getting pounded with very little downtime.

Everybody congratulated me for running such a successful auction.

***

(Hunter narrates, after being removed from the party)

Besides the occasional lost party guest who'd nonchalantly face-fuck me, I had mostly just been watching the party remotely, devastated that I'd no longer have Clarence to myself. I did feel sorry for my two little brothers. We had been getting on better and I didn't want what had happened to me to happen to them, but mainly I just knew that Clarence would be less interested in me with them as slave as well. I knew I was going to have to up my game if I wanted him to to care for me. I thought about it all evening as I wondered if I'd been forgotten about.

Then, suddenly, in the middle of the night, two slave handlers entered through the side-door. They gagged me with a standard transport gag, and locked me into a small slave carrier. I was panicking… where was I being taken? The men sat down and made quiet conversation, not acknowledging me.

Eventually, Clarence sauntered down in a bathrobe I'd laundered earlier that day. He signed a form on a clipboard and the men loaded me onto the back of a pickup.

***

(Narrated by Clarence)

The handlers had called me to sign off on sending Hunter to his new owner, and my opportunity to bid farewell to the boy. I hadn't bothered to tell him that he'd be serving Mr Keller, the sleazy lawyer who was largely responsible for his downfall.

"I would probably miss you Hunter, although I guess I will be too busy plowing the twins to spend much time on it," I quipped. "I'll never forget your cute expression when you found out Dad had enslaved you. Man, that was awesome."

I grew maudlin as I reminisced. "Don't worry though, I can visit whenever I feel like at Mr Keller's house. And I'll know you're OK, because we agreed I would get a percentage of the revenue from BondCo and any other clients he digs up for you to service. So as long as the checks keep flowing in, I won't have to bother checking up on you." I'm sure he was relieved that I wouldn't be inconvenienced.

I continued mocking him: "Oh by the way, I figured we could get a little more cash out of you by removing any restrictions on your use at BondCo. I guess you're going to be getting a lot of extreme piercings for a while. Someday you can do a scene with the twins: that's the only way you'll ever see them again."

"I'm sure you're going to feel like lashing out at Mr Keller, so I made sure to ask him to report any demerits. The twins will, of course, be punished for any of your infractions. So be good."

"Even though I have really too much money, I don't want you to think your contribution doesn't matter." I held a picture of a large yacht in front of his face. "We should earn enough from whoring you out to pay for a time-share on this luxury yacht, owned by a collection of perverts who host debauched boy-orgies in international water, where there's no age of consent. It's named the Fairy Tail. I can't wait to go. I think the twins will be quite popular."

"That reminds me: BondCo's experimental cloning department is moving forward with making a line of slaves from your sperm. The twins are going to grow up eventually."

I finished talking to my captive audience: "Have a good time!" Pausing to joke: "Actually I specifically asked Keller to make sure you don't." I raised my coffee cup as a sort-of toast.

I looked into his eyes, still full of puppy-love, but with a tinge of defiance or even anger. I could have ignored it, but I opened the top of his cage, and pushed his head down roughly with my hand, so he was staring down between knees. I pushed a wooden slat through holes in the steel grid of the cage, making it impossible for him to raise his head back up. He couldn't reach the slat to push it away. I poured the dregs of my coffee over his head and said, "Slaves don't need to look around." Then I latched the top of the cage and walked away.

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