Chapter 39
Post Coital Diss.

(narrated by Tad)

Clarence left while our formerly virgin asses were getting raped to hell. We were crying and screaming, but between the muzzles and all the sweat, spit, and other bodily fluids, you could hardly tell what was going on with us. It was agony though: the first raping was rough enough, and each subsequent penetration left me sorer and sorer. Meanwhile, my throat was raw from being invaded and abraded by dicks, and I just wanted a minute where I could breathe without another penis limiting my oxygen.

Eventually the stream of enthusiastic guests slowed down, then a guard announced the end of the event. We were unbound, but barely able to stand. Two guards escorted us down to the slave quarters – now it makes sense why Clarence always referred to it that way rather than Hunter's room – and locked us in Hunter's former cage.

I asked, "Where's Hunter?"

The guard said nothing as he closed the cage door. Perhaps it was an oversight, they didn't gag us, so we were allowed to discuss our sudden change of fortune, as well as (metaphorically) lick our wounds.

Chad was the first to speak. "I suppose we should have seen this coming."

I agreed: I had already come to that conclusion and was replaying things in my mind. "Really! How did we miss it?" I mocked myself, with the intonation of a cartoon simpleton: "'Clarence, why are we auctioning Hunter twice?'"

Chad shook his head with regret. "Everyone was groping us in those stupid wrestling uniforms. Fucking Mr Keller! Those were his idea. Remember the first auction, where he decided that the absolutely tightest, skimpiest uniforms were best. They've probably been planning this since Dad got arrested."

I reminded him, "Mr Keller's been pushing us into wrestling ever since we went to junior high. Maybe he's been hoping for it since we were little. Remember, when he gave us that 'pep talk'…"

***

(flashback to wrestling locker room)

We'd all been showering; the coach supervising as usual to make sure we were not "horsing around," but this time, when we got out of the shower, we were all a bit surprised to hear that they were out of towels. "Just a minute, boys, they're getting a load from the laundry."

While we were waiting for the towels the coach announced, seemingly oblivious to our condition, "We've got one of the team's sponsors here to talk to you!"

At that point, Mr Keller came in. Rather than giving us a speech or anything, he ordered us to do a bunch of exercises in the nude: jumping jacks, squats, forward bends, and the like, all the while inspecting us, correction our posture by pushing or pulling on us. He would comment "looking great" or "perfect position" as he went around. With our subsequent sexual experience, it is clear he was perving on all the boys.

I don't know where they had gone for the towels, but for the next 30 minutes, 20 naked eleven-and-twelve-year-old boys were exercising and dripping onto the floor, totally naked.

The coach gave some generic speech on teamwork or something and then called us twins and two other boys into his office. As we went in I saw that someone had arrived with the towels and I began to go grab some, but the Coach closed the door to his office, trapping us naked with Mr Keller and himself.

"Mr Keller just needs to run some tests," the coach said but didn't explain anything. "Bend over my desk!" Us boys didn't know any better and exposed our four young butts for inspection, wiggling around to get in position and space ourselves out evenly. And he did inspect each boy: playing with our cheeks, poking gently at our holes, lightly spanking us, taking some pictures, and talking with the coach the whole while.

Mr Keller said that we'd get the test results in two weeks, and that we could go now.

But we never did find out the test results…

***

(back to Tad and Chad talking in their cage)

"Where do you think Hunter is, anyway?" I was nervous about the possibilities and wasn't sure if I really wanted to speculate. I'd been far too busy being enslaved to notice where he'd been taken.

"He was such a good slave," Chad recalled, as though it was a memorial for a pet.

"He was also once our brother, and it's not like he's dead." I was on the verge of tears and I could tell Chad was also. I didn't want to see him start crying, so I decided to distract us. "Remember when we were training him at the charity car wash a few months ago?"

***

(flashback to the charity car wash at the twins' school)

I was in charge of the soap "gun", Chad had the hose with its sprayer attachment, and Hunter was manning the sponge; naturally we gave the worst job to the slave. It was easy for us twins. Chad would wet the car, and I would soap it up. I'd usually spray Hunter with soap too, just for fun, so he spent the day covered in suds from head to toe, mostly. He slipped and fell many times that day. As usual, he was wearing nothing but a chastity cage and collar.

Toward the end of the day, we were tied for first place for most money earned. I decided we'd provide a little incentive to encourage Hunter, who was quite tired by now.

"Hunter," I said, "if we win first place, you can jack off for ten minutes!"

You should have seen the difference; it was like he was a fresh new worker!

Of course, when we got back home, he expected us to take off the chastity device. "Licker," we condescendingly said, "we never said that! We just said you can jack off – and we have no problem with that. But you'll have to talk to Clarence if you want the tube off!" He looked so pissed, but he couldn't say shit. On the other hand, we thought it was hilarious!

***

(back to Tad and Chad in the cage)

The story seemed a bit less funny now, and it made me realize: Clarence was probably going to put us in chastity devices. That made me want to cry more than Hunter's fate, to be honest. "Um, Chad." I could see that he was thinking the same thing as me. He moved around so we were laying side-by-side, and we started jacking off.

Neither of us had managed to get girlfriends, but we'd sure been working on it and in the last week we both seemed to have finally done it! We fantasized about the girls we'd been hitting on…

Chad's had been talking for weeks about this girl our age who's probably the best gymnast at our school. Chad is no gymnast but he knows two tricks: forward flips and cartwheels. So, when he saw her practicing with her friends, he walked towards them until he was the appropriate distance, and launched into a volley of ten forward-flips in a row, ending up just in front of her. "Hey," he asked, trying to sound as cool as possible while being dizzy and out of breath, "can you teach me how to cartwheel?"

This cheesy pickup line surprisingly worked like a charm. She was enthusiastically explaining the technique, and made him try it, but stopped him halfway, so he was doing a handstand, facing her. She began giving pointers and he tried to look up at her and discovered that he could see right up the leg of her gym shorts. He was enjoying the view, trying to get a peek at her cooch, ignoring whatever she was saying when he realized his cock was at attention, tenting his shorts. Then she said "Chad? Chad?" She had asked him a question and he didn't know what it was. She let him finish the cartwheel. He had a suspicion that she'd seen his erection, but he couldn't tell.

In any event, she seemed happy to meet Chad. She explained she was very busy for a month with a tournament and stuff at home but they had agreed a time the week after for her to come over and teach him how to back-flip.

I, on the other hand, had it in for this mousy librarian type, two years older than me, who had a mountain of frizzy hair. Once I heard a comedian joke that girls like that were "dynamos in the sack." (I had to look up that a dynamo is an old kind of engine). I had approached her a few times but I couldn't tell if she was into me or not.

I approached her just last week without Chad in tow to see if maybe she'd want to do something.

She was reading what I had to imagine was the world's most boring book: Advanced Knitting.

"Oh, you're into knitting!" I figured I'd better just feign interest and roll with it.

"What." she looked deadpan over her nerd glasses and seemed to expect me to say something.

"Oh, that's a great b — -". She lifted her hand to interrupted me, but then dropped the knitting book to reveal that the actual book she was "stealth reading" behind it: BDSM Techniques. "Ah," I said, a lot more confident, "that really is a great book, I've read it like 100 times. That's the previous edition though."

Her tone changed immediately, from annoyed to hanging on my every word. She was obviously getting extremely turned on. I told her about how I handled Hunter, although I always just called him "my slave."

She looked down at my crotch and bit her lower lip. "I like that you can handle a slave so well."

I honestly thought about asking her to have sex right there, but I didn't want to seem desperate at all. I thought she'd be in the best mood possible after a session with Hunter. I gave her my phone number and like Chad I had arranged for her to come over, mine was going to be next Wednesday. We both knew now that those were two dates that weren't going to happen..

And so, with our cocks in hand, the two of us came at the same time, landing on our bellies, pooling in our navels. We both deeply exhaled in unison. After a moment's rest, I was feeling deeply nostalgic. Chad interrupted, "I guess there's nothing to clean this off with, huh?"

"What would we have told Hunter?"

We knew we'd have to eat our cum. At first we scooped it in our fingers, but it was making a mess. We sighed, knowing that this was just the first of so many degradations to come, and began licking each other's bellies in a sort-of 69.

Now slightly cleaner, I jokingly recalled the science experiment we'd forced Hunter to do. The science teacher had always loved us, and me especially, and I think it was actually completely non-sexual for a change. I was probably third in the class grade-wise but always very eager compared to the other nerds.

So I was a little sad to see how disappointed he'd been in us for our science experiment with Hunter. He always said a lot of subtle anti-slavery stuff, and I suspected that that was why. But as we were talking, we realized that perhaps his stance could somehow help us now, although we didn't know how to contact him.

That led us to reminisce about a class trip we'd taken to the local Science Museum three months ago.

***

(flashback to the science museum)

The place was so huge it was impossible to see even a small fraction, so but for some reason the "History of Medical Devices" exhibit caught my eye.

We were half-giggling and half-cringing at a device called a lithotome. This terrifying device, from hundreds of years ago, would be shoved up your pee-hole to fish around for kidney stones. At that moment the annoying snitch Eugene came up and asked what it was. (I guess he was too lazy just to read the placard as we had.) Chad signaled to me so I grabbed him and Chad picked up the device, saying "Hold still! We just need to jam this up your dick!"

The little wimp peed his pants and started bawling. The director of the museum came out and caught Chad playing around with the antique device and was furious. He gave us a dressing down, but said that we could stay if we were good.

We were no longer in the mood to be good though.

The next thing that caught Chad's eye was the Gynecology exhibit. In a mock old-fashioned surgical arena, mannequins depicted a woman being examined by some bearded doctor. A placard explained that he was using a vaginal speculum to see inside her.

Unfortunately from our elevated position you couldn't see into the hole very well, and we were goofing around trying to get a photo by leaning over the railing and reaching down as far as possible. We were both laughing so hard now.

Chad came up with the idea to hold me by my legs to get a better photo. There was a tour group a few rooms away, but we were all alone. I knew it was stupid but we were having so much fun that I didn't care. In my inverted position, I could see in better, but it wasn't perfect. I grabbed a railing to pull a little left to see better.

Little did I know that a tour group, which consisted of our local Girl Scout troop, was getting dangerously close. Chad was trying to whisper for me to let go and let him pull me up, but I couldn't understand and kept hold of the bar. At the same time, Dalton who had come on the trip as an aide to the teacher, caught sight of us, and decided to use our predicament to have a little fun.

Right before the girls rounded the corner, he tugged Chad's pants and underwear to his ankles. Chad was, of course, utterly mortified as the girls started pointing and laughing. He couldn't fix his pants without dropping me! Some girls took photos to post on instagram. I finally let go of the railing and he laboriously dragged me up, and, his face beet red, pulled up his pants. Just then, the director rounded the corner, livid.

We had to make a long stupid apology to the museum's director and the leader of the Girl Scout troop. Clarence was called and apologized to the director and the scout group leader and had to cut checks to the museum and the girl scout troop just like dad would have done. He was pissed at first, but he laughed at the story later and often teased Chad about mooning the girl scouts.

***

(back in the cage with the twins)

"Ugh, how long have we been in here? What time do you think it is?"

I tried to use the slave computer but it was disabled. We were just in a mirrored box, with no way to gauge the passage of time.

I decided to divert ourselves with another fond memory from our past freedom: "Remember that rock climbing couple that took our family bouldering right before Mom died?"

"Oh yeah, they were Dad's college friends." He paused. "I wonder if they could help us."

"Probably not," I sighed. "That was a fun day climbing though. You and Hunter were the best; everyone kept calling you the 'little monkey'." I looked over and could see the memory did make him proud.

"Those guys were kind-of pervs too, though." he reflected. "Remember how they showed us how to tie each other up?"

"Yeah, it really does seem pretty kinky, looking back. I remember Dad and Mom were playing around, too."

"Yeah, it kind-of seemed like all the adults got horned up and fucked, leaving us boys to play various tie-up games."

"Yeah, that was an awesome day," I agreed.

"Tad," my brother suddenly seemed a bit serious, "do you remember who the winner was? The first to tie up everyone else so they couldn't get out?"

I think my face lost color as I grasped the symbolism: "Clarence." I remembered him gloating and smirking, standing over our helpless bound bodies. I shuddered.

Chapter 40
Clarence Clears the Air.

(Tad continues narrating)

Our reflections were interrupted by Clarence opening the door. With him was a burly slave guard. Clarence introduced him: "This is my friend who needs to get 100 hours of slave handling time in. You'll do what he says. You can call him 'Sir.'" Dude didn't say anything; he was wearing mirrored sunglasses indoors. I never once saw his eyes. "Get out, we've got some redecorating to do."

We stumbled out of the cage into the barren room. I joked, "Doesn't it have to be decorated before you can redecorate?" Chad chuckled.

I expected Clarence to reprimand me, but he pointed to a monitor that always displayed Hunter's mantra:

A good slave

Does not think.

"This is what needs to change. You know the slave-typing program you installed for Hunter?"

"Oh yeah, where he has to spell things out letter by letter, each time earning…" I was interrupted by the slave-cop attaching a shock collar to my neck.

Clarence clarified the purpose of his question: "Yeah, I'm not going to use it, dumb-ass. You are." Turning to the guard, he instructed: "Bind him." The slave-guard efficiently bound my hands in mitts behind my back. Clarence deleted the old mantra, and activated the typing program.

The computer said "O".

"How am I supposed to type with no hands?" I pleaded, getting a shock as I had taken too long.

"O" the computer repeated.

"Great question! Might want to think of an answer." Again I was shocked for taking too long.

"O" the computer repeated again.

I ran over to the computer and pressed O the only way I could: with my nose.

"D" the computer said.

I was focused on typing, but I heard Clarence say, "OK, now that Tad's got something to work on, let's get the cage ready."

***

(Clarence narrates)

With Tad occupied (I'd post the video later, titled Chicken Typing. I tasked him with finding a good barnyard soundtrack for it later), I could prepare the cage for its two occupants. Having two boy-slaves in one area was asking for all kinds of mischief. But there was an important thing I wanted to do first: I removed the scent capsule that had been used to brainwash Hunter. I had a rather different training regimen in mind for these two. Or really, a lack of regimen.

I'd become friends with the slave-cop who'd originally supported me in acquiring Hunter. I had made a standing offer that he could use my slave whenever he wanted, but he was a straight guy that said he fucked about eight slaves a day (I never figured out whether that was a real estimate or an exaggeration). So, I was incredibly excited to learn that his younger brother Rod needed a place to do his slave-cop residency. It was an opportunity I had to seize. I volunteered our slaves immediately and even set up a room for him. He was still happy to start when I explained there had bee a change in "stock".

Rod was build like a rock. I could imagine one of the twins trying to punch him, the puny slave's hand bouncing off injured as though he'd tried to strike a tree. Rod wasn't a great conversationalist though, but that was fine with me. As it happened I talked to him directly so rarely that I don't think the boys ever even learned his name.

I had Chad fetch one of the large plexiglass sheet that would henceforth physically separate him from his brother. These "partitions" were specifically designed for this cage. You just pulled out a thin strip in a side of the cage that allowed the panel to slide in and it sealed all round. You could divide the rectangular cage into two nearly square cages, two long, narrow, cages or two long, low, cages one on top of the other.

The partition that divided the cage into two low cages had a padded side like the floor and was mirrored on the other side. The other two partitions were made out of the same material as the rest of the cage and the control panel could switch between transparent and mirrored. I decided for tonight I preferred the boys staying in the mirrored small square cages. I thought this would disquiet the boys the most by totally separating them and them having to curl up to lie down. My dick hardened slightly as I thought about it. I get aroused by the weirdest stuff.

***

The slave-typing game played a little fanfare music, indicating that Tad had finished. I gestured to the new sign. "Here are the words you will live by during your tenure here," I proclaimed to the twins. On the monitor it said:

Oderint dum metuant

Let them hate

So long as they fear.

- Caligula

"You see boys, I fucked up training Hunter. Although you helped me fuck up. He got boring when he fell in love and got well-trained. So, no more rules, no more demerits. I'm going to shock you more-or-less when I feel like it, and if I'm being honest, I want you to disobey so I can justify whipping the snot out of you."

Pausing, "Or this dude can whip you for me." I pointed to the slave cop Rod who nodded to indicate that he'd be delighted to discharge this duty.

***

"So," I asked, "which of you is going to get fucked right now?"

Neither twin volunteered their ass, so I had the cop bind one to the bench and one in the sling. I flipped a coin and fucked the one on the bench, but left them both in bondage while I got on with my day.

It turned out to be a good call because I wanted a quick fuck during lunch and barely had any time. I grabbed a leftover half-turkey sandwich and ate it as I boned the twin in the sling. His stomach kept growling; when did he last eat? The sandwich fell apart before I finished eating it, making a mess of turkey, mayo, and bread on the hungry boy's stomach. I knew he couldn't eat it with his hands bound, so I decided to clean up later in the day.

Chapter 41
Twin Processing.

I took Rod with us to get the twins fully processed, although the processing center was brimming with guards so there was no real need. It was funny being with a slave cop who was probably less familiar with the procedure than I was. Well, I guess he had to learn somehow. I think he said about three words the whole day.

It's mandatory to have your slave either tattooed or branded. I was considering having tattoos this time but then I saw since we'd been through with Hunter, they'd added a "double branding" option where they'd let the wound heal for an hour, then brand it again. They said it looked better but I noticed the blurb describing it mostly focused on how painful it was. I had Tad read it out loud since he'd always enjoyed doing that for Hunter's benefit. "Off you go, boys!" I said cheerfully as I signed a form and let some technicians escort them to their branding benches.

It took two hours so I went and grabbed a snack. I left Rod to "socialize" with the other guards.

I had promised myself not to overtrain these boys, but when I looked over the list of "life skills" that were on offer, I couldn't resist but sign them up for the Beginning Sex and Enema Administration classes. There was no way in hell I was going to be cleaning them out, and I remembered how Hunter had learned quite a bit from his one sex class.

The only things left were to sign out and pay up. My slaves were now fully registered, full-use slaves. Of course, they had been before, but it was nice to have the certificate.

***

With the bureaucratic portion of the enslavement out of the way, it was time to have some fun and go shopping at BondCo. I wondered if the twins would be as excited this time.

I was too wealthy at this point to require any BondCo sponsorship, but because of the large fan base the twins had built up with their posts of Hunter the company were really eager for me to continue to post about new products. This was especially the case as they were introducing a new line with a few devices they made for twin-slaves.

My sales-rep showed me some "stocks made for two," which I call "the twin stocks." We set the twins up, right in the store: it was visually stunning. Other customers snapped photos as they passed by.

One slave is the lower of the two, and the lower slave gets their hands and feet spread a little wider. The nose of the upper slave is pressed into the back of the lower's head. The stocks are designed to keep as much skin contact between the slaves, because, as the designer said, "it looks really nice" – and it does – all warm, soft, cuddly, intimate. The entire lengths of all four limbs, plus the upper's chest and abs and the lower's back, are pressed against each other.

From behind, by asshole alone, you could tell they were identical twins. There's a little stack: ass, balls, ass, balls. The lower slave's ass is stretched a little wider.

The BondCo rep then fetched another two-man device. It was a double-ball-gag. Once the balls were in the slaves' mouths, they were stuck staring into each others eyes, lips pressed against each other but unable to communicate. There was enough wiggle room that their nose didn't collide. "Yes that seems very useful," I agreed as I threw it into the cart.

I also took a two-person variant of a piece of equipment we were all familiar with. It was similar to the "normal" office chair which has a neck-hole to keep the slave handy for long duration blowjobs, but this has a space for a second slave to sit underneath at the perfect location to deliver an excellent, deep rimming.

There's not much room in the slave box beneath the chair, so the twins are packed in very tightly, locked in a sexy embrace. Even so, as they pleasure the chair's occupant for hours at a time, they never get to see or talk to each other. As you know I have always enjoyed playing video games for hours on end but with my twin seat I seemed to spend even longer playing. It may not have improved my play but it was a lot more enjoyable.

The only other remaining things to get were good old chastity devices. The rep joked that "It's impossible to make a chastity device for two." I thought that sounded like a challenge BondCo should be up for, but I really just wanted to get the boys under control and get home.

So, unlike last time, when I was overwhelmed by choices, I knew I wanted a small one and a punisher, like Hunter's. I had a clerk measure one of the twin dicks (obviously they're the same size), and tossed the punishers in the cart and locked the boys into the two small Everyday Chastity devices. They come in a variety of colors, but I do like the light blue and pink colors. I decided to make Tad be pink for now: he's a bit girlier.

Chapter 42
Double Your Pleasure.

(Clarence narrates)

The twins had acquired a large amount of training equipment to use on Hunter. In the early months they had grown more sadistic so they'd traded in the lighter "training paddles" and so on, form more brutal whips and canes. It only seemed fair that they'd get to experience the fruits of their own labor.

Training twins had always been a side-speciality of slave-training that was too rarefied to get proper study. Initially I thought I might learn a lot training these cocky little brats, and maybe even write a book or become an authority on the matter.

As it turned out, I'd mostly just have friends over to fuck them, then fuck with them. Even though it would have been pretty easy to recruit volunteers when needed, modern slave control devices and Rod made that unnecessary.

***

It was fun forcing them to degrade each other. For a while, each boy had to give the other a different name each day. They'd write the name across the other's forehead so it was easy to remember. The goal was to find the most insulting name to give to the other; I would judge the contest and whip the loser. They had so much experience insulting Hunter that they never ran out of ideas.

I took pictures every day. Once in a while it was fun to have Tad make a montage video of all the insulting names. Sometimes I'd play it for the boys at night on repeat a few times — they were required to read every insulting name out loud, much to my amusement.

I usually used the daily name that day. Unlike with Hunter, I never forgot and used their real names, although CT proved to be useful when I forgot that day's name and as it was still annoying to them, I used it fairly often. And I always made sure to have Rod them a healthy whipping the few times I caught them using their old names.

***

Occasionally I'd whore them out to my friends, or just random people Mr Keller drug up who would pay enough cash.

With my friends though, I started a little tradition of having the twins record a video message describing the activity afterwards. Sometimes I'd have them speak in unison; other times each twin would have to say every other word. Either way, it would take them countless tries to get the video perfect. I thought it was good to give them time to reflect on their experiences, although they didn't really seem to agree. My friends always loved the videos, saying how precious and adorable they were.

Chapter 43
BDSM Librarian.

(Clarence narrates)

The doorbell rang a week after the twins were enslaved and I opened the door to a nerdy girl, perhaps sixteen, with giant frizzy hair. She was holding a book under her arm but I couldn't read the title.

"Is Tad here?" she asked.

"Well, sort-of, but he doesn't usually have visitors anymore." I felt rude and extended my hand to shake: "I'm Clarence."

She introduced herself and as she went to shake my hand she dropped her book: BDSM Techniques. "Hey that's Tad's favorite book!" I said, surprised to see it.

"Yeah, he told me we could try some of the stuff on his slave."

"I see," I was trying to figure out how to explain it. "Tad's status has changed. He's gone from having a slave to being a slave."

She gasped.

"However, he can still teach you some techniques, you'll just have to practice on his twin brother instead. Also, I know how horny he is, but I'm training them right now, so their dicks are off-limits to use for pleasure."

She looked disappointed for a split second. "Ok, but what if I can have sex with him without using his dick?" As she said this she opened a bag containing a large strapon dildo. I was starting to see the possibilities here.

"Fine with me, on either twin."

"Hmm," she said. "I guess I'll screw the one asked me over here, after I get to practice the techniques on his brother."

"Great plan!" I enthused. We headed down to the slave quarters where the boys were locked in their cages, and had been for some hours. Of course we could see the bored boys but they couldn't see us.

"Oh there he is!" she said. "Wait, actually, how can I tell them apart?" I pointed to the top cage where Tad was lying on his back as it was not high enough for him to sit up.

I let Tad out first. He had to roll over and crawl out, putting his hands down on the ground and inelegantly lower himself down giving us a fine view of his butt hole which I knew was going to be getting attention from his "girlfriend" later. He was stark naked, and his completely flaccid penis looked very tiny. Luckily I had had the cage at a cold temperature and it had had its usual effect. Once he got to his feet he saw his romantic interest and immediately turned red and tried to cover his dick. "One way to tell them apart is to use this." I handed her the remote for his shock collar. "This one's for him", and handing her the other: "This one's for his brother." I pressed each button in turn, causing each boy to jump. "They're on the lowest setting, which is usually enough. But feel free to adjust."

I got Chad out of his cage and had the naked boys stand in display position with their hands on the backs of their heads. Chad's dick remained soft and Tad's was slightly hardening, possibly due to his crush's presence. I got out a permanent marker. I hadn't started the daily naming game yet but it was this sort of occasion that gave me the idea. "I can see that using the shock collar all the time is probably inconvenient, so I'll label the boys."

"This guy will teach you about BDSM techniques, and I am guessing, is horny as hell for you. Watch out!" I teased. "Just so you can remember what he's for…" I wrote "FUCK" in large letters across Tad's forehead.

"And this guy," I gestured to Chad, "will be the victim you can practice those techniques on!" On Chad's forehead I wrote the word "WHIP."

She looked at both boys a few times, reading the word printed on each face. "Ok, that works."

I introduced Rod to her. "Rod's an expert in this material too, and will ensure that Tad doesn't attempt to weasel his brother out of any important but unpleasant techniques."

"Oh don't worry!" the librarian responded. "He already highlighted all the most painful techniques in my copy, so I thought we'd start with those!"

"Perfect!" I went back to my office to monitor the proceedings remotely.

When I got there, Chad was already bound to the fucking bench, although he was not going to get fucked. Instead Tad systematically showed her each type of whip, paddle, belt, and cane, taking a demonstration swipe at his twin before letting her practice a while.

At one point Tad said, "I think that's about it."

"Really," she replied. "Didn't you mention electric paddles?"

Probably in his earlier enthusiasm he did. They were a type of paddle that had electrodes that delivered a shock on impact, greatly increasing the punishment. They were originally designed for elderly slave masters who couldn't swing as hard, but they grew in popularity among slave owners who merely wanted stronger, easier discipline. Tad had hoped to spare his brother, but it was not to be.

Eventually they got tired of that position and moved Chad into the sling. She wanted to play with alligator clips and managed to attach about two dozen to the helpless suspended boy's nipples and dick.

As if that wasn't enough she had Tad demonstrate a special bastinado paddle to torture the soles of Chad's feet.

I noticed she kept glancing at her watch and I realized it was nearing the time she said she'd have to leave. I headed back down. "Hey, it's getting late, in case you didn't notice."

"Ok, just need five minutes to have sex with this one." You should have seen Tad's eyes light up. His dick had been standing at attention for almost the whole session: he was ready! He faced her with a look of intense desire and opened his arms as if to embrace her.

She grabbed the back of his collar, and pushed the skinny twin face down on top of his suspended brother. They were staring eye-to-eye. "What the hell?" Tad said.

She was still dressed but trying to put on the strapon dildo over her clothes with one hand, as she held Tad's head in place with her other. "Start kissing!" she ordered.

They looked confused for a second, so I delivered a shock to both of them. Reluctantly, and not very well, as far as I could tell, they started kissing each others identical lips. She finally got the strapon fixed and used both hands to adjust it so that she could feel the fucking she was about to deliver. She quickly slathered lube over the massive schlong.

Even though his ass had seen a large amount of activity at the auction , it had been a few days, which meant he wasn't quite as sore but his asshole had closed up a bit. Tad emitted a noise in between a scream and a moan, perhaps it was a swear word, or maybe just an animal noise; there was pain in his eyes, but it wasn't just pain. His dick remained rock hard, sandwiched between the taut soft twin boy bodies. She just kept pumping, not even pausing to re-command: "Keep kissing." It took Tad a second to process her speech because he was freaking out about how far his ass was being stretched. He grimaced slightly and again locked lips with his twin.

After a while, the stimulation from her end of the strapon caused the nerdy chick to moan and reach a kind of climax. She collapsed onto the suspended pile of twins and spent easily fifteen seconds recovering her breath. I had Tad clean the fake cock while we talked.

"Well, that was more awesome than I expected!" She seemed quite excited! She turned to me: "I was thinking of starting a dominatrix club, could we bring them here?"

I was always interested in exploiting the boys: "Sure, you can all split the rental fee!" We exchanged information so that we could make arrangements when we were ready, and she left.

I had Tad stand up; I could tell his ass was very sore. I patted him on the head, "Hey, CT, looks like she'll be coming back to see you again! You could almost say your dating."

I looked at his dick, still rock-hard from the experience.

"'Almost' being the operative word," I smirked as I poured iced water on his cock to prepare it for the chastity device.

DEDICATION. This chapter is dedicated to the site bdsmlibrary.org. May its owner someday start taking submissions again!

Chapter 44
Gymnastics Lesson.

(Tad narrates)

About a week later Clarence had gone to see Mr Keller and was expected to be gone the whole day. Chad and I were finishing a few chores before having some rare free time without Clarence. We were wearing our speedos, which were the ones we were wearing at swim practice when Hunter got us molested by the little league coach. They were really small and tight by now and underneath, of course, were our chastity belts: Clarence would never leave us alone without them. Reluctantly, I have to admit that we couldn't be trusted: we definitely would've jacked off without them. Instead, we were actually considering swimming. Surprisingly, the doorbell rang.

Chad answered the door to find the gymnastic girl he'd been flirting with. He'd marked this date on his calendar, but that was a month ago, before he was enslaved. He instinctively covered his crotch, but I stepped in to explain things: "We were just going swimming." I figured Chad could enjoy pretending to be free for a little while to impress his crush.

"Ok…" she sounded skeptical. "What's up with the collars?"

Chad was forced to admit his change of circumstances and much to our pleasure she actually seemed empathetic. "That's ok…" she cooed, "Let's teach you back-flips like I promised." She looked at me: "He can come to!"

We had a ton of fun learning how to back-flip. I learned how to do it barely, but Chad really got the hang of it. He managed to tumble like three times in a row, then five. Then one time he accidentally ran into his chick and they fell into a little pile. Their eyes met and they were obviously thinking about boning. Her hand reached for his crotch – we were wearing our hard plastic tubes and her disappointment was evident. "Owner doesn't trust you, huh?" she asked, empathetically.

"No, Clarence is an asshole," Chad confirmed, reaching his hand into her crotch. "Hey, what the hell?" he said suddenly. He stood up, acting really weird: "What the fuck?"

His girlfriend suddenly started crying. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" she responded. "Didn't you know I was trans?"

Now I understood the problem. Chad had never understood when I'd been trying to explain transgendered people. I think he gets all his ideas about them from Grand Theft Auto. Oh boy, I thought.

"I am going to report you to the slave police for your transphobic behavior!"

They just added transphobia as a "deviance" under slave law: I had a feeling it would be bad news if this were to escalate. "Please," I offered, "maybe there's some way to make it up to you?"

"Hmm," she offered, "I am damn horny after watching all that tumbling around."

This sounded far better than being reported to the police. "Perhaps you should see if any of the equipment in our room interests you!" Chad was gesturing and mouthing the words "no" and "stop".

"Sounds like a plan!" she agreed and followed me into the "dungeon", our quarters. Chad followed, head down looking at the ground.

Like so many visitors, she was impressed by our accommodations. After careful consideration, she pounded Chad in the sling. As she fucked, she described how she used to be a top, back when she was a confused gay boy. She came inside him, what Chad later described as a rather large ejaculation. "Wow," she said, "it's been quite a long time since I did that." She looked at his encased cock. "How long's it been for you?"

He couldn't remember and looked like he wanted to cry.

"Fun day, boys." She said, redressing and checking her makeup. She left me to unlock my brother and clean up.

Chapter 45
Girl Scout Lesson.

(Clarence narrates)

A couple of months after I enslaved the twins I got a call from the new Scout Leader of the troop which got exposed to Chad's cute little butt in the science museum. She explained she had taken over from the original troop leader who had gotten so upset about the incident. It had only been resolved at the time by apologies from the twins and a sizable donation from me. The previous leader had retired and had been replaced by her assistant who clearly had a much kinkier disposition. She said she had heard about the boys' change in circumstances and wondered if I would be prepared to enable some some valuable life lessons for her charges that could be taught through the newly enslaved boys. She was willing to arrange for my "donation" to be returned if I agreed. I was sensing a great opportunity to embarrass the twins and of course didn't need the money so graciously said the troop could keep it and that I would be delighted to help her in her preparations.

I had the boys prepare about 30 chairs on the lawn along with two St Andrew's crosses. I imagined as they were setting up they must have wondered who the guests would be: it was pretty obvious who would be bound to the crosses after all.

After the girls had arrived and were politely seated, I brought the boys out. I'd put them in chastity devices to avoid scaring the girls, although they'd be removed for some of the demonstrations. As soon as they were outside and saw the assembled girl scouts they just froze. "Keep walking!" I urged, but they were frozen in their tracks, their faces and bodies turning crimson from embarrassment at exactly the same rate.

"First lesson in slave handling," I shouted to the girls. "Always keep the slave's collar's remote-control handy." And indeed, a few shocks later the boys were marching toward certain humiliation in front of thirty girls of their age. Girls who'd been told that the boys "owed" them for their obscene behavior.

I bound the boys to the crosses and so now it was time for some demonstrations.

***

The girls' leader started out with a discussion of the chastity devices. "Does anyone know what these slave-boys are wearing?"

One girl timidly spoke up: "Those are chastity tubes."

"And why are they wearing them?"

"Because slaves can't control their penises."

"Correct, but for today, we'll be learning a few lessons with these boys, so we'll need to remove the tubes. Any volunteers?"

She ultimately called on two girls, to whom I handed the keys. Their instructor gave them latex gloves.

It took a minute or two of fiddling around but they got them off. Almost instantly the boys were hard.

"My god," said the Girl Scout troop leader, "These must be the horniest boys I've seen." She was trying to pretend to be disgusted, but not very well. "This is why they have to be kept in chastity normally!" The twins continued to blush, but they couldn't seem to will their dicks to calm down; they hadn't seen that many chicks at once since their enslavement.

***

Next it was time for an "anatomy" lesson. A large poster of a dick was brought out and the parts discussed. The girls were divided into two groups and each got to inspect one twin, one girl at a time. They were warned not to touch their dicks "lest we overstimulate the slave-boys." Instead they were given sharp tweezers to manipulate the dicks with.

The tweezers were like a mild hickey when used carefully, but some of the girls were far from gentle, grasping large bits of flesh and squeezing really hard. Other times they'd poke their tender flesh with the sharp tips; I couldn't decide in most cases if it was intentional or not. Each girl would look all around their dick, tug on the foreskin, lift the shaft to play with their balls, etc etc. It was worse for the twins because they couldn't see what was going on so it was just a random series of pinches and pokes. Both boys remained bright red from embarrassment the entire time. Even though the experience was painful, when the last girls finished, the boys were still hard and leaking precum.

This led to another digression for the scout leader: "You see this precum leaking out. That's how you know you're dealing with naughty little perverts."

"Now," she said, "there is another part of the boys' bodies that they are quite sensitive about, so it's good to learn on slaves where it doesn't matter."

She paused before announcing the next object of study: "The Anus."

She had both boys kneel on a table, prostrating themselves so their butts stuck out obscenely. I could tell a lot of girls in the audience were enjoying the view as much as I was.

She held up a speculum. I was impressed how kinky this lady was. "Who knows what this is?"

Nobody answered.

"It's a speculum. It lets doctors see into your holes. For you girls, it will often be your gynecologist who uses it. But for the other hole, today we'll be playing the role of proctologist! Before we do though, we want to make sure the boys are extra clean inside." The twins knew where this was going.

Two girls volunteered to give enemas to the lads, who had little choice but participate in the demonstration. They were glad they were already cleaned out instead of making all these girls see nasty brown enema water.

Then, one of the twins, I believe it was Chad, had the speculum inserted. I liked how he shuddered from the cold metal device. She dialed it open pretty wide and then repeated the operation with Tad. She had the girls line up to inspect one of the butts. Any of the girls who wanted to touch were provided with gloves, but their fingernails still poked the boys making them flinch. A flashlight was provided for those wanting, for whatever reason, a better view of their twin's rectum. At first I thought it was way too much for the scouts, but my curiosity got the better of me, and I fell in line to peer inside Chad's after the last girl. It was surprisingly smooth and clean in there. I found a pen and poked around inside, watching him jerk in reaction; he had a lot of nerves in there.

The anatomy portion of the lesson concluded, the boys were again strapped to the crosses.

***

Next up was a lesson in how to apply condoms. I hadn't been really sure about this one, since the boys would have to be erect, making it dangerously possible for them to cum. That couldn't be allowed! I came up with a backup plan.

"Girls," the leader began explaining, "when you have sex with men, there can be consequences. So it's important to learn how to use a condom. It can be a little tricky, so it's good to practice when it doesn't matter, like today with slave-boys." She demonstrated how to remove and unroll a rubber from a foil package. "In order to teach you most effectively, I've purchased the smallest condoms available, so they may be a little tight, but it's good practice." She flicked a twin dick with a pointer she used while lecturing. "Although they may be just right, or maybe even too big for these naughty little slave cocks."

She went over to demonstrate on Chad. Probably without thinking about it, he began thrusting his horny little dick as she started unrolling the tight rubber. I called a quick halt to the proceedings so strap their hips to the cross more securely. She finished unrolling the rubber down his dick. She pulled the tip and let it snap back. "Oww," Chad mumbled.

I could see he was hardening up more, so I again halted the lesson: it was time for the backup plan.

I had obtained from BondCo injectable Viagra and also lidocaine, an anesthetic. By injecting them into both boys' dicks, they'd be completely hard… and completely numb. I wasn't sure that would be enough, so to be extra safe, I found some old VR goggles and the least sexy video I could find (I believe it was Parasitic Worms) for the boys to watch. Now the boys were rock hard, unable to see or feel what was going on, and basically disgusted by the video they could see.

The girls all successfully learned how to apply condoms. I was a little disappointed that the twins couldn't feel all the rough handling they received, especially since many of the girls had long nails, but you can't have everything.

Once all the girls had finished, I released the boys. The viagra was wearing off and they were softening up, but we no longer cared if they had erections. In fact, the scout leader made it clear she wanted their dicks as small as possible, although she never said why. After five minutes of soaking them in buckets of iced water she was satisfied.

***

"Now, it's time for art," the leader barked. "Get out your drawing sketchbooks."

The models had to spend 20 minutes in each of a number of obscene poses: on their knees, one twin rimming his brother; scissoring; sitting side-by-side hunched slightly to stick their thumb deep into the other's butt; sitting on each others shoulder, but backwards so that the upper twin's dick was smashed into the lower's face; posed like mother-and-child with the child twin suckling on the mother's fingers.

The instructor's critiques tended to be a bit lewd as well. "His butt's not bubbly enough," she'd said to one student, or, "make his dick smaller" to another.

Sometimes one of them would start to become slightly erect in some of the poses. She was always attentive with a pitcher of iced-water to "minimize that issue."

Although it wasn't physically painful, for the most part, try being a teenage boy and having 30 girls giggle at your junk for a few hours. I'm not sure that they ever stopped blushing during the whole visit.

***

After the humiliating drawing class, she announced that they were done with their penises for the day and found two girls to volunteer to relock them. She split the remaining iced-water between the boys to make the task easier. She distributed latex gloves and tongs to the girls who crudely jammed the ice cold dicks back into their cages. I could see the boys aching as the anesthetic and cold treatment wore off from the dull pain.

***

"For the next activity, we'll have lunch and learn about how to deport yourselves around slaves." She released the boys from the X-Frame and said, "Slaves, don your formalwear!" She handed each twin a flimsy pair of skimpy black shorts and a bow tie that could be clipped onto their collars. It was definitely more kinky than formal.

The twins were instructed to carry around large silver platters of little sandwiches as the girls quietly gossiped and snacked. When Tad was presenting the food to the scout leader, she said, "OK girls, time for a lesson. This slave didn't kneel appropriately when presenting the food!" She looked at Tad disdainfully. "Present yourself!" she said, but Tad had no formal training and had no idea what to do. Dismayed she exhorted "Put down the food and present yourself."

Assuming she wanted to whip his ass, he put the platter on a nearby table and presented his butt for a beating.

"Disgusting little filthy brat!" she yelled, kicking him as hard as she could, straight in the asshole, causing him to fall forward. "Do not present your slave butt at a formal occasion." She rolled her eyes at the boy's stupidity: "'Present Yourself' means to kneel and make your face nice and slapable." He knelt and she slapped, and he got back to serving sandwiches and she was back to talking about scouting.

Hunter had taken eight hours of slave etiquette class, and I'm sure could have passed this test with flying colors, but my extremely lackadaisical training approach meant they had no idea what they were doing. For the most part, that served the adults well: they wanted to teach proper "correction" technique to the girls as well. But the mood was different now. The girls were eager to try slapping the twins, so they found all kinds of faults in their behavior to correct. Their faces were now not just blushing but stinging in pain at the same time.

***

"Ladies," the leader said, "A number of you have requested some private time for one-on-one learning with the boys. I am prepared to grant you five minutes each, if their owner approves."

I approved, but on condition that they'd be switched to the punisher chastity devices. I could sense they might otherwise enjoy the girls' company. These are the ones that are painful to wear even when a slave is flaccid, but become nearly unbearable if they get even slightly erect. Once their dicks were ready, I found two small private rooms. I put one twin in each room, and bound their arms toward the ceiling, so they couldn't fight back or try to touch the girls.

It took around an hour to go through the girls that were interested. I watched the video and most of them either felt the boys up, or made out with them. Whatever the girls did, I was sure the twins were rock hard the whole time, in pain, and enormously sexually frustrated. Just how I like them to be.

***

"Final lesson," the leader announced to the girls and slaves. The slaves at least breathed a sigh of relief. "Time to learn the most formal way for slaves to say goodbye to their masters."

She had the boys kneel, facing each other. As each girl passed they had to kneel deeply and each kiss one of her feet.

"This custom is rarely used anymore," she said, "But it's good to have exposure to it." As she said it, she swatted one of the boys' asses for not kissing long enough. To me she said, in my opinion rudely: "You might want to get some etiquette training for these scamps."

I shrugged. I didn't give a shit if they knew how to hand out sandwiches. I had much preferred to watch them fail and get punished. I was even more convinced my non-training plan was the right one for them.

Chapter 46
Live Action D+D.

(Clarence narrates)

Although the twins were generally cooperating, I could tell that they hadn't really come to terms with the whole situation. I figured that maybe I should invite some of their old D+D players over to help them acclimate more. I called up one of the cutest kids from the group who had come over to jerk on our cum wall. I had liked his attitude and found his number. I asked if he'd want to have a D+D game where the boys would be servants instead of peers.

I had a fairly interesting chat with the boy. From what he said, he came from a poorer family and had always been a bit envious of the twins. He let slip that they'd made condescending remarks about his clothes and house from time to time. Finally, I said, "Well, it sounds like an excellent opportunity to turn over a new leaf. Come over to play your game, and the slaves will serve and entertain you. The only condition is that you can't treat them like free-boys anymore and must not use their old names."

The boy smiled oddly. "I think I have an idea about a unique way they can participate…" He arranged to arrive an hour early on the day to set up.

Upon arrival the boy explained that the twins would be in character, as goblins. They'd have to fight each other during the campaign, and he had come early to do their costumes, or as it turned out, make-up. The boys were standing at attention in the skimpy little maid costumes I'd made them wear that day.

"Nice," he said. They did look cute, as usual but he had them peel them off, explaining, "Goblins are naked, and we'll spray paint you green. But first we have two little problems to deal with." He was smirking and staring at their crotches. He paused for dramatic effect. "I'm referring to your dicks."

"Ha ha," I said, not laughing at his attempted joke. "We knew what you were referring to."

He held one of their cock and balls and squeezed it gently, seeing how much it was compact down.

"I was going to use tape, but I was worried that it would not last with all the fighting they're going to have to do. So I decided to use medical glue. You can get a solvent to dissolve it but it only lasts a few days, so unless you need to use their dicks for something in the next few days you don't need to bother. They'll have to sit to pee though."

He had the boys lie down, put a medical glove on, stretched their flaccid dicks down, and glued the tips of their cocks to their taints (perineums). "Hold them their for 15 minutes." he ordered the boys to participate. "I don't want to touch your dicks any more." He removed the glove and began setting up his laptop and books while the glue set.

After that, he had the boys stand up in display pose. They looked completely sexless. They also looked mortified with embarrassment. "How can they be completely sexless and sexy at the same time?" I asked myself out loud. "Maybe I should keep them like this all the time. Do you think they can get erect?"

"I seriously doubt it, is that a problem?"

"No, it sounds more like a solution," I joked. I had plans for the twins' chastity that I hadn't formalized yet.

He tossed the twins a tub of green make-up. "Spread that over every inch of your bodies."

"Spread it over each other's bodies," I clarified. Despite everything, merely watching the twins do stuff like that to each other still really turns me on.

A few minutes later, they presented themselves for inspection. They mostly looked good but I had them bend over and discovered that they hadn't gotten the paint deep enough in their ass cracks.

I got a short whip and gave them each ten lashes for their ineptitude. They fixed their makeup, and we were ready to go.

He looked over the boys. "Last week, another slave live-action game went viral. I hope that happens again today!" The newly androgynous twins didn't appear to agree.

The game started: our little goblins crawled around, supplicating, and serving drinks and snacks, without participating. But at some point in the game, there was a combat situation, and it was time for the twins to perform their first Live Action scene.

One was an avatar for a player and the other was an enemy. Basically, they be given different equipment and told to beat the other up while everyone cheered and the Dungeon Master meticulously counted points to determine the winner.

I watched for a while, before getting bored. Then I decided to ring up two of the boys' attempted girlfriends from their prior life, the BDSM librarian and Linda, the girl Chad had tried to give the wooden heart to. They'd both expressed a desire to see more interesting parts of the boys' development as slaves. In about 30 minutes, they arrived separately, eager to watch the twins' degradation. They watched the show with me on my screen, but I think the twins would have been too busy to notice even if they had watched in the slave quarters.

After about ten fights, the D+D campaign was over. The boys looked exhausted. I knew they were badly bruised up under the body paint. The skin-glue had worked well, however, and no indications of their dicks were visible when they were standing.

I brought the girls down to say hello. The boys saw their romantic interests and would've flushed a bright red, I'm sure, but they were completely green. Their would-be girlfriends were more drawn to notice the boys absent genitalia.

"So this is what they'd look like without dicks," the librarian remarked.

"So, pretty much the same!" joked Linda. They both laughed and I joined in. She continued teasing them: "Can you tell them apart at all?"

Still laughing, the librarian replied, "Not without a permanent marker!"

Chapter 47
The Twin Olympics

(Clarence narrates)

One afternoon, I was feeling really horny and lazy. I looked at the twins resting in their cages, and I felt the urge to be a voyeur. I hadn't yet forced them to have sex; I realized I'd been missing a goldmine of videos, etc.

When I got down, my imagination wasn't yet in gear, so I figured we'd start with a classic. "Get into 69 position," pointing to a gym mat on the floor. At first they were awkward – they claimed it was their first twin-sex – although I still don't quite believe them. But after thirty seconds they were warmed up and their already formidable oral skills were in gear. Naturally they came at exactly the same time, and rolled onto their backs, sated and flushed.

We all needed a cigarette…

Looking over at the flaccid twin dicks, I thought about how small they were and a rather kinky idea came up. "Time for an experiment," I announced.

I fished out two adjustable ring gags, and inserted them into the twins. "Back in 69 position" I barked and adjusted one's gag big enough to take the whole flaccid cock and balls inside. I pushed his mouth down onto his brother's member and adjusted the gag back down, just large enough to fit around the base of the balls. "This should be fun," I thought. I tested the connection by pulling the upper twin by the hair. I was able to pull the lower twin's groin up off the table via his cock. The twins couldn't get separated.

I did the same for the other mouth and cock. The twins were trapped in a 69, each one's cock and balls entirely in the other's mouth.

"This should be interesting," I said, rubbing some oily lube on the upper boy-hole. The other's eyes watched helplessly, scared, from below. Excess lube was now running down the bridge of his nose. "Might want to take some deep breaths," I suggested. The twins always get hard when they're fucked.

I didn't even get my dick fully in when the first signs of trouble for the lower twin emerged. My balls were slapping into his eyes, but that was the least of his problems. There was a gagging sound followed by a lot of choking and extremely muted squealing. His legs and arms were flailing. I could tell he was screaming loud but the sound was absorbed by his brother's junk. "Better swallow it, CT," I advised. "There's nowhere else for that boner to go." But he never really figured it out, and he was spassing out until after I came.

I watched to make sure he managed to get things back under control – wouldn't want to do any permanent damage after all – but didn't bother to separate them, explaining: "Stay like that, I think I may have something else I want to try later." Bound in 69 like that, it seemed silly to chain them up more, so I just turned the lights out.

I never came up with anything else to try, so I went back down just intending to fuck em again then release the gags that held them in 69. Of course I would fuck the other one, have to treat them the same of course. I was surprised that they had moved across the room, still in their 69.

A light bulb went off in my head. Looking at the twins I was inspired and said, "Let's have a crab race. You're the crab." I opened the locked door to the spacious backyard. There was a gazebo in the middle. "Get to the gazebo in sixty seconds." I held up the shock-collar remote so the alternative was clear.

It was hilarious: a frenzy of flailing limbs and discoordination. Slipping, tugging hard on each others balls accidentally, lots of muffled incomprehensible yelling. After a minute, they were just a tenth of the way there. It took quite a lot of motivational shocking to get them all the way to the gazebo.

I grabbed a beer and headed to the gazebo. They were a sweaty mess, grass-stains and little scratches and bruises. "Time to head back, same rules," again holding up the remote.

After I'd consumed a full six-pack of beer, and the same number of trips to and from the gazebo they had figured out how to do the crab walk: the lower twin would latch onto the upper twin who would crawl with both their weights. This was exhausting so they'd switch every minute or so by doing a roll, switching places. It sure was nice to watch the boys learn. But once I stopped getting to shock them, I grew bored.

I removed the gags, releasing them from their position. They smelled strongly from their exertions, but it made me horny. As a reward for their success, I let them suck my drunken cock in the gazebo. I napped there after fixing on their normal chastity devices while they went back to their chores.

***

I was drinking with my buddy and I was telling him about crab walking. "What else could we do?" I asked.

"Let's make them do a wheelbarrow race!"

After a few moments, our dirty minds had come up with a plan. The twins were called to the yard to be guinea pigs.

My friend got them into standard wheelbarrow position: one on his hands, legs held by the other, who is standing behind.

"Now, fuck him!" my friend instructed the standing slave. He was completely flaccid with no lube in sight.

"That's not going to work," I said.

"Get erect!" he exhorted the confused twin.

In confusion, the standing twin lowered a line of drool that did nothing but splat on his dick.

"I don't think he can do that on demand." It would be nice, though, I thought.

"Shock him until he does!" I was pretty sure this wasn't going to work either, but I obliged. A few minutes later, my friend gave up this approach.

"Fine… what a waste," I said, opening a bottle of Viagra and dispensing one to each twin. "Get us a six-pack of beer while that kicks in."

When they returned, their penises was so turgid they were nearly bursting. They actually hurt a little, and they had a bluish tinge.

"Oh this'll work!" my friend enthused getting them back into position. "Now fuck!" he commanded.

The standing boy thrust while simultaneously pulling the other twin onto his erection, going in almost to the hilt with one short even stroke.

"OK, gazebo in sixty seconds." copying the plan from the crab walk event.

It only took like thirty seconds, so we told them to switch and come back.

We had them do it a few more times and I noticed that the switching of positions was more challenging than the race. We shortened the race to just ten meters.

These guys fuck each other too easily for this to be interesting, I realized. We need the opposite of lubricant. "Bring me some honey." I commanded one of them.

I generously, really abundantly, applied honey to their cocks, balls and asses. "Don't go standing on any anthills!" I joked, trying to remember where I'd seen that red anthill that morning.

When they tried to fuck now, they both grimaced and moaned. The insertion was agonizingly slow as the top tried to avoid hurting the bottom. You could see their skin was tacky when they touched.

Now we made them race ten meters, switch positions, and repeat. You could really tell they were sore when they switched.

We only had a few beers left, but we drank slowly so we were finishing them as the twins finished their fiftieth lap.

I did let them shower before returning to their cages.

***

The twins really are the most amusing slaves to have. You can invent all kinds of games to watch them play. In my case, to motivate them to play hard, I can use the discipline equipment they acquired for training Hunter. Very efficient.

(One thing that doesn't work is to have the twins punish each other. It would make life so much easier, but in practice they always cheat and go easy.)

I often hold a Twin Olympics BBQ. Everyone can participate in punishing the loser or suggest new contests.

Betting is permitted at my parties. In order to make it easier for spectators, we just call the slaves CT1 and CT2. I have a big permanent marker which I use to write their label over their full back and chest. I always put a C and a T on their butt cheeks for old time sake. One BBQ a regular brought Jordan the old team captain along. He was only back visiting for a couple of days but was delighted to see his old game being continued although he said he was sorry that Hunter wasn't there. That evening between the events the twins were required to give their old answer to the question who are you, over and over again.

You are always guaranteed a good, even match with twins! Just make sure their shock-collars are charged for motivation. Here are some of the most popular contests we came up with:

• testicular tug-of-war

• 100 meter leg-iron sprint/hop

• 1km spreader bar run

• collar tug-of-war

• leg wrestle

• nipple clamp weight lifting

• anal bead tug-of-war

• 1km full-enema run

There were dozens more, some just slight variations over the months that I've forgotten.

***

Yet another fun party game with twins is bondage slave twister. Actually, I often play it drinking alone, moving both twins.

We worked with BondCo to make a twister board that has D-rings on each circle for attaching a slave limb to. Over time, we discovered that wrist cuffs and ankle braces are inferior to specialized mitts and boots, with attachment points on the tips.

As the master of course, you move the limb and lock it in place. It is up to you to decide how far to stretch your slave, after all.

A lot of the contorted positions turn out to be pretty hot, so often I take a break when I "see an opening" haha.

Another tip: When you're playing competitively, you'll probably want to stretch them a lot harder. It can be wise to gag yours before getting started.

Chapter 48
The Bullied Joins The Bully.

(Tad narrates)

Clarence was always advertising that he was looking for past acquaintances to use, abuse, or humiliate us. For him the ideal was all three at once. Usually he'd charge them, but sometimes he'd give a discounted or even pro bono rate. That was apparently the case when Eugene and Dalton contacted him separately, both eager to abuse us.

Perhaps randomly, perhaps for ease of scheduling, they were booked as consecutive sessions.

The individual sessions themselves were a bit uncreative.

Dalton was first, and as you might guess, was more brutal; he was after all, a bully. Like many before him, he used his free "punishment" session to try out the various whips, canes, and paddles. Our butts and backs were bruised up when he was done, but he never drew blood, so we knew we'd recover quickly.

We had tried to slander Eugene as gay, but the joke was on us, in a way. Eugene really was gay, and now he saw our availability as an opportunity, not just for revenge, but also to get some sexual experiences. I suspected he'd never had sex, but of course I didn't dare ask. I was worried Chad would. Although Clarence offered him a free punishment session, once Eugene was in our quarters and explained his situation to Clarence's empathetic ear, he said he could have a blowjob or a rim job; ultimately they agreed on one of each.

And so we serviced the dorky Eugene: I got the ass-end and delivered my finest rim-job, while Chad got the dick-end. With all the stimulation, Eugene came in Chad's mouth in less than two minutes.

We didn't know it, but Dalton had stopped to speak with Hunter, so the three of them converged outside.

It wasn't clear what they talked about, but against all odds they somehow managed to unite in their disdain for us.

***

The result of that meeting was that one day Clarence came down and announced Eugene and Dalton were visiting and had some "special requests." "Of course I said yes!" he explained, "This time they were willing to pay!"

"Um, what kind of special requests?"

"Guys, you know how much I hate to ruin a surprise!"

"How do those two even know each other?"

"Oh, they met after their last visits, and once they started talking they realized how much they have in common."

Chad and I looked at each other. It was hard to picture more different boys.

Sensing our confusion, Clarence explained: "What they have in common is that they both really hate you two." He paused before adding, "They hate you enough that they're going to split a discounted rental fee for you."

He attached us each to an X frame.

***

Dalton eventually strutted in, accompanied by the Eugene dork, who seemed a lot cockier with the larger boy as ally. Ugh. It figured that these two losers had joined forces. I suspected Chad and I would be the real losers in the situation though. Clarence brought in two boxes that he said were on loan from BondCo. I wondered what kind of equipment they had that I didn't recognize. I wasn't going to like the answer.

"Hello losers," Dalton began.

Like an idiot, Chad responded, "Hey what's up?"

Laughing at Chad, Dalton asked what appeared to be a wild non sequitor: "What is a lithotome?"

"A kidney stone removal device," I recalled.

"And the device you chased poor Eugene around with, right?"

"Oh yeah…" I was trying to connect the dots.

"I thought it'd be fun to use one on you, but it turns out that it'd cause too much damage, but I was talking to Clarence and he remembered a comparable BondCo product.

I was racking my brain when I suddenly remembered, "Those are sounding rods!" We'd never understood the point – who'd want to stick something in their piss-slit – and I was sure I didn't want to learn this way.

Our three tormentors smiled, and Clarence paid me a little compliment: "Tad is so good with BDSM stuff."

"OK, so here's the deal," Dalton began. "If you can can make it through all ten levels of this device, waiting 60 seconds on each level, then Clarence has given permission to let you 'jack off until the dam bursts'." For some reason, he put those last words in air-quotes.

It was pretty scary having two people who outright hate you learn how to insert sounding rods. I never thought I'd say it, but it was good Clarence was there to make sure they used lube and didn't puncture something. They added enough slack to the chains holding our right wrists so that we could reach the Sounding Control Device.

We nervously turned the knob to level "1". A warm buzzing in our urethra started up. It made us cringe and we wanted to squeeze our knees together but we couldn't due to the chains binding our ankles.

It was bearable and after 60 seconds, we cranked the knob up to level "2". The warm buzzing turned hotter. And it got warmer and warmer as the timer counted up. I looked over at Chad. He smiled and gave me a nod of encouragement.

By level 5, it was painful like a paper cut. Sharp, and intense, but also bearable, at least for a minute.

By level 8, it was excruciating, like a bee sting or deep dental cleaning.

By level 10, I was wondering if it could possibly be worth it. It was like serious dental work without anesthetic, or breaking a bone. I was wondering if I'd even be able to use my dick ever again the pain was so horrendous. God, I thought, all just to cum. Couldn't deny that I really wanted that though. And so, second by second, I endured agony. I was so fucking happy when the timer hit 60 seconds and I could turn off the miserable device.

"Damn." the slave cop intoned, uncharacteristically talkative. We must have made an impression.

My dick continued to feel like it was on fire; had I somehow contracted syphilis?

"Well, the odds were not in your favor, but I just made a ton of cash from betting against BondCo. They were confident that nobody could endure that. But I knew: you're dicks, after all, and no dick will turn away a chance to get off." Clarence was all smiles at this point although Dalton looked really disappointed. "So there's certainly no sour grapes from my end. Time to release your tubes!"

***

Clarence unlocked the devices. Our hands had barely enough slack to read our horny dicks, but when we went to jack off, it really did hurt from the intense sounding. Like, a lot.

I looked over at Chad, and saw he was in pain, but also powering through the pain, desperate to orgasm. I followed suit.

I could feel the pressure building in my nuts, and I was sure I was a second away from climaxing. I heard Chad moan then make a strange frustrated groan.

What is going on I thought? whacking ever harder, just seconds…. Away …. oh I could feel a huge load just starting to make its way out and I began to double down on my efforts, when my hand was tugged instantly back to the X-frame, by the chain attached to my wrist.

My dick was literally in pain half a cum-shot oozing to the floor, the rest stuck in my dick. It was already starting to hurt and I knew that pissing would be agony for days.

Chapter 49
The Great Twin Chastity Experiment.

(Clarence narrates)

One day I realized that I was missing an opportunity to research a question of vital importance to humanity.

I immediately bought the largest available kiddie pool and filled it with an ankle-deep layer of vegetable oil. I invited my friends who I knew would enjoy the spectacle.

I went and got the twins and brought them up to the pool. I found the thickest permanent marker I could and wrote a huge "A" on the front and back of one boy, then a "B" on the front and back of the other. "We need to be able to tell you apart, for once." I told them.

***

My friends had gathered and it was time to explain what was going on. "These boys are going to have an oil wrestling match." The audience nodded in ascent that this was going to be hot as fuck. "Let me explain the rules." I listed a bunch of rules that only wrestling fans listened to. People, even the twins, were starting to look bored.

"These boys are perfectly evenly matched, so its important to set the stakes high to motivate them." I was looking forward to the upcoming mic drop. "The winner of the contest will receive ten blowjobs a day for a month! Five of those will be delivered by the loser!"

OK, now this seemed more fun. People were getting interested.

"The loser on the other hand, will never get to touch their penis or cum again! Permanent chastity!"

Dead silence. OK, now the stakes would motivate any 14 year old slave. It was especially interesting since the twins loved each other so much. Pitting them against each other was never possible, pre-enslavement.

"You see," I continued, "these boys are about to engage in a great experiment to determine if slaves in chastity truly perform better. The world needs to know, and through these two humble slaves, identical except for the access to their own cocks, we will learn."

***

And with that, the nude oil wrestling began. It was awesome. Seeing them in so many poses, muscles flexed, in massive naked contact with each other, shiny from the oil. They found it impossible to grab onto each other, not having an ounce of fat nor a hair on their tanned, glabrous, radiant bodies. The match went on and on and on. In my tedious rules, I decided against allowing a draw, merely allowing the participants to "motivate" the players. I was thinking shock collars.

In the end though, and it's not clear how, Chad finally managed to pin Tad. Twenty seconds later, their new lives had begun.

***

I decided I needed a scientific metric to track the twins' progress. I realized I'd better rate them on a few different categories so I could analyze things more later: Obedience, Blowjobs, and Strength.

***

It was hard to find an objective test of obedience. I came up with this. I had to take off the chastity tube, so a better idea might be good for further research. A tennis ball pitcher with a remote was procured. The subject would sit with their dick right in front of the hole where tennis balls were pitched from. I would say "Go" and they would press the button. The tennis ball would pulverize their nuts, much to the amusement of any free men who happened to be around. The metric was that the longer they took to press the button, the less obedient they were.

***

We still had the BJ box from training Hunter. I realized that I'd been derelict in the twins' BJ training. As usual, I enlisted random weirdos from the internet for my former brothers to blow. This time though, they would never know their names. Instead the internet people would rate the twins' BJ skills, to see how they evolved differently over this month. I decided 50 blowjobs a piece should give us enough data, and probably keep each twin blowing for 4-5 hours a day. Practice makes perfect, I thought, imagining how tired their little jaws would be.

***

I also thought it would be fun to see if chastity affects muscle growth. However, I liked the boys' lanky figures. I thought science would just have to suffer, but I realized there were two muscles we could exercise for the test: the butt and the tongue. In the end, as so often, I decided to focus on the butt.

I got a weight machine for the glutes and we could use that for a simple metric. While watching the twin on the machine, I grew horny. His pert little butt cheeks were flexing rhythmically, in a light sweat.

I called him over to stand on a pedestal, giving him a tablet to record the list I dictated. I itemized a series of 15 measurements of the butt which I wanted to study, like "Depth of Crack" or "Height of Cheek, Flexed". They were to measure each other's butts every morning. I know it served no scientific purpose: it was just because I thought it was funny to watch them measure each other's asses.

***

Now, that the project was underway, it was time to explain the catch to Chad (who was free of the chastity belt, for now). I had him sit in a big strong chair in the slave quarters.

I motioned for Tad to come over and start blowing. I started talking to Chad, "In the morning, you'll get your first six blowjobs for the day. The first three BJs will be given by this guy." I patted his brother on the head as it continued bobbing. "After that, the remainder will be given by the BondCo SuckMaster 5000. It had to be taken off of the market after injuring too many people on the highest suction mode, but I say, live dangerously."

I started strapping Chad in the chair: "Don't worry I'll sit still for a BJ" he joked.

Apparently he hadn't been listening. I flipped a metal switch on the device: it sounded like a deafening hair dryer. A nearby candle was extinguished. I turned it back off.

"There's no way in hell you'll be sitting still when I turn on the Suckmaster," I predicted.

I laid three shot-glasses out and instructed, "One cum per glass." I'd keep an eye on the progress on the CCTV.

When Tad spat in the third glass, I left my office where I had been watching. It was time to fire up the Suckmaster. It was indeed going to suck for Chad.

He lasted about a tenth of a second before all four limbs were flailing and he was emitting a high-pitch squeal that eventually gave way to hyperventilating. As he lay there, though, sometimes he'd tense up and go back into squeal mode. It was easy to see why I had strapped him down!

It took quite a bit of suction to grab that first ejaculate, and he was looking substantially worse for wear. "Two more to go," I cheerily told the supposedly lucky twin. And so, a whole month of sensitive raw penis began for the twin without chastity. He really started to envy the other, for the first time in his life. The feeling was mutual.

***

And so a schedule developed during the experiment. The twins would wake. Three BJs by mouth, three BJs by machine. Then butt exercises and measurements. Get their nuts smashed for the obedience test. Then four hours of blowjobs to evaluate their relative skill. Then normal chores, followed by two BJs by mouth and two by SuckMaster.

The blowjobs by mouth, by the way, were becoming agony for the sucking twin. It was all but impossible to stimulate the raw shaft without sending his brother into agony. He had to be so gentle, and the volume of seminal fluid was almost nothing.

I was really too lazy to write up our experiment, but I figured that since we had gone to the trouble, I'd have the twins work it into a paper that we could submit to a slaver journal like Control and Discipline or maybe even Collar, the most prestigious. Obviously they'd be punished if it wasn't accepted.

So I enabled the simple word processor on their crappy slave computer and told them to finish it. I gave them a deadline.

A few days later, the chastity comparison report was due from the twins. I yawned as I waited. I'd long grown bored of the whole thing.

Arriving, Tad, who unsurprisingly had done all the work on the report, anxiously said, "Permission to State the Findings of the Report, Master."

I shrugged and indicated to go on.

"Master, the chaste slave gives 3% less oral pleasure, he is 6% weaker, he speaks 8% more often. As a result, chaste slaves are inferior. Chastity is best used as a temporary punishment only."

"Wow," I said, "such a clear result, and so well-stated." I paused, and suddenly turned cheerful, "And you know what that means!" I dangled the keys as the chaste boy's eye widened.

"Stand up here boys!" I had them stand on a bench so I was eye-to-eye, if you will, with their pricks. I cupped each in one of my hands and felt their weight. "Nice work guys." I suddenly slapped a chastity tube on the formerly free boy. He winced at the cold plastic. Confusion and panic set in, before they chimed, "Permission to Speak."

"OK, but it's a demerit if I already know what you're about to say."

The boys met eyes in silence – and didn't say anything.

"OK, then a demerit for wasting my time." This was making me horny. Speaking to Tad: "Strap your brother to the fuck bench, and get in your cage."

Shortly I strolled down to use my bound bitch. He looked so good as I walked in… his nicely angled ass facing the door. I could see he'd been crying. "Don't worry, you don't need to pleasure yourself ever again, you can pleasure me… " I cooed.

"But my dick hurts," he complained. "Master".

"That's only because you're still thinking too much about sex, try to think about something else." I was massaging lubricant into his asshole as I spoke. "I know, thank me for each stroke as I fuck, and don't think about sex." I pushed my cock through his tight waiting ass, the extra lube made it very silky.

"Thank you."

I slapped the side of his head.

"Thank you, master."

That was better. It soon got annoying though, so I made him switch to counting the strokes, out of curiosity. We were at about fifty when I flooded his insides. God, that was hot, I thought to myself, wondering if I should go again.

Tying my robe closed, I decided to leave him strapped down in case I wanted a little midnight snack later. I snuck one more look at his ass as I turned off the light, still bound in the same position as when I entered.

Chapter 50
Mr Keller and Hunter's Clients

(Hunter narrates)

My life with Mr Keller was more straightforward than it had been with my brothers. Mr Keller was mostly content with a good hard fuck now and then, and I was far from his only source of release. Unlike my brothers, Keller didn't harbor any resentment toward me, or as he frequently called it: toward "my delicious twink ass." Besides his evident enthusiasm for boning me, our relationship was almost businesslike.

In fact, it really was a business, as in, he had literally registered himself as my "agent," mostly for bookkeeping reasons, since he'd agreed to a profit sharing arrangement with Clarence. So I was still used for a lot of BondCo shoots, including the long. painful series of piercing videos that Clarence had promised. But honestly, the boredom of sitting in my cage – an extremely low-tech affair, basically just a fortified dog cage – was worse than most of my experiences at BondCo.

My other line of work, servicing clients that Keller selected, was more variable. Perhaps because of my wholesome appearance, a lot of these men wanted to pretend to have some kind of loving relationship with me. They'd kiss and hug, and so on. Nonetheless, they were always quick to reprimand me if I resisted their advances in any way. Of course, by "reprimand" I mostly mean "whip" but the mini-cattle-prod was also employed… I tried to reciprocate their affections, not because I was brainwashed – I was recovering from that – but because I knew I was better off on their good side. They clearly held all the cards.

Unfortunately for me, there were also a lot of substantially crueler visitors. Some wanted just the satisfaction of hearing the whip and me cry; others liked to watch my butt turn red and then black-and-blue.

Still others wanted to humiliate me. On more than one occasion, I'd been made to dress up in a corset, pink lingerie, and high heels and act like a desperate slut. I was told to grovel for the men's approval: I had plenty of experience with that already.

On the whole, despite the varied daily abuse, I far preferred my life at Keller's. I did miss my brothers though, strangely. As I mentioned, I was also recovering from the brainwashing. I had actually been growing to like all the gay fucking before, I guess because of all the strict training, and that whole Stockholm thing. For better or worse, I was able to reclaim my sexuality at Keller's. On the positive side, I was horny as fuck for girls; I was happy I hadn't been turned permanently gay. On the negative side, there was zero pussy to be seen at his house. Did this guy only take on male clients? I wondered.

***

One day, Keller locked me in the sling and left without fucking me. What's going on? I wondered, although I was pretty sure a "client" was going to be using me.

It took me a while to recognize my "client": it was the math teacher I had blackmailed to get a better grade. I flashed back to the photo of him emerging from the seedy gay night club, The Hole Truth. Oh god, another asshole who hates me! I thought, trying to relax my ass in preparation for some rough sex.

"Alright you little shit," the formerly staid professor was acting on rage that had been pent-up for a while. "It's such a fortunate coincidence that Mr Keller is my lawyer. When I finally got around to talking to him about this problem, it turns out it wasn't a problem at all."

He was certainly right that I wasn't likely to be able to follow through on the blackmail threat anymore. I doubted that would satisfy this guy though.

"I've got an easy plan to get some payback, since everybody at the club hates you for your shitty behavior," he explained. "But first I've gotta nut. I may disdain you, but I can't deny that you're hot as fuck."

With that he spat in my face and dropped his pants simultaneously, revealing a mean boner. He spat again, this time on my ass and rubbed it in with a finger, before pushing his tool against my entrance. He moved left and right, worming his dick through my surprisingly still tight opening. Once the head was in, he thrust in harder, completely collapsing onto me for a few seconds once fully inside. He stood up again and began pumping.

He was obviously in seventh heaven; he was almost hyperventilating. Eventually he came, then stopped and collapsed on me again. He was sweaty. This time it took a minute for him to regain his strength and stand. He walked over to my face and presented his dick for cleaning, which I did.

"OK, I'm going to take you to the same club, The Hole Truth, which you used to blackmail me. There you are going to be used, hard. I mean, really hard. However, some of them were concerned you might recognize them so…"

I was pretty used to being blind-folded by then but not quite like this. There were no straps or anything, it was just an appropriately shaped and sized leather patch. He applied a line of glue around the rim of the blindfold, and pressed it on my face, explaining, "The guys at the club aren't going to be gentle, and we don't want you to peek. There's a solvent, but Keller said you could just wait for the glue to dissolve in about three days."

He tugged me to his car by a leash, I kept tripping but he didn't slow down much. I took too long to get up after falling one time and he proved himself quick with the collar shocker. He jammed me into a carrier cage, probably in his trunk, and drove me to what I assumed was the club.

***

I was forced up a flight of stairs. A door was opened and I was led into a room that reeked of piss. I was pushed face forward into a bathtub, fortunately catching myself with my hands in the urine-encrusted porcelain. I spent the next hour or so blindly lying there soaking as man after man urinated on me. Some would command me, "Open your mouth, faggot," and I would, because I never knew if the shock-collar remote was being manned or not. Of course, I could expect to drink a stream of urine if I was given that order.

Eventually, my captors decided to switch it up. I was given a rough cold shower and told, "You're going to be the next Hole Boy."

I was led to an area where my arms were bound crossed in front of me in a garment like the top half of a straight-jacket (another piece of bondage equipment I'd learned about at the hands of the twins). It was made of neoprene, like the wetsuits surfer's wear. Rope was run under my armpits and attached to the ceiling, so I had to stand, although I could squat down a bit. I couldn't see it, but a sign hanging above me said, "Fresh Hole To Use."

And the men at the club used my hole in that awkward standing position for hours. My hole was aching but my feet were also getting tired.

So, I was happy for a position change, although I doubted it would be much better. It wasn't. I was positioned on my back on a very short table, with my head hanging over the end of the table. My ankles were tied to the ceiling. I knew I was about to get fucked at both ends. Fortunately, it was late at night by now, and the line of men was more patient, but it was still a long finale to a very long evening.

At the end, I was drenched in cum and sweat, but nobody saw fit to shower me. I was led back to the trunk of the car, wordlessly driven home, and locked into my own cage, never having seen a single person who'd fucked me besides the teacher himself. The blindfold wasn't removed, but that didn't stop Keller from fucking me over the next few days. I asked if there was a way to unblind me. Instead of answering he just whipped me. A few days later, the glue had weakened enough that I was able to peel it off my face.

Chapter 51
Clarence's Little Fishes.

We all stand on the shoulders of giants, and so I was reading about Tiberius, the most perverted Roman emperor one day. He would train infants to swim between his legs while he bathed to nibble on his genitals, calling them his "little fishes". Why didn't I think of that? I chided myself.

Anyway, better late than never. I got the twins down to the pool. "You're going to be my little fishes, boys."

I figured we'd try it out without swimming around first. I stood in the shallow end naked and explained that they were going to kiss my cock in turns, the one that wasn't kissing got to surface and breathe. Their goal was to make sure someone was always kissing it; I assured them that I'd find a punishment for them if my dick ever went unattended.

It took a few corrections but pretty soon they could do it. So I started swimming, remote in hand. They are much better swimmers than me, so I knew they'd have the speed. It took a few more demerits, but eventually, I was swimming Tiberius-style.

I don't like exercise much, but this got me down to the pool a lot more often.

Chapter 52
The Fairy Tail.

I'd been excited to visit the yacht I'd shown to Hunter, the Fairy Tail, for some time. It required a long flight, followed by a short, private flight, then a helicopter ride. The twins were packaged up by slave-transport and put in slave-class for the first flight. Various handlers loaded and unloaded them, so I didn't see them until we arrived on the yacht's helipad. I had had them blindfolded and gagged so that the whole thing would be a surprise for them. Slaves react better to things spontaneously.

On the yacht, all slaves were shared communal property, but the first day of arrival was special because the guests were often pretty wiped out, so they'd usually keep their own slaves for the first night, and I was no exception.

Before retiring though, the twins and I walked around the deck, admiring the many examples of Bacchanalian debauchery, many so weird and perverse that they had to be seen to believed. The slave boys were selected very well: they were very diverse and every one was jaw-droppingly cute.

I was ready to retire, but I needed to get one more fuck in. Near my room was a quiet upper-level patio that looked onto the main courtyard, where a massive orgy of boys and men was underway. Waiters stood attentively nearby, handing out towels, water, cigarettes, and booze.

The patio had a few pieces of random bondage equipment, and I recognized the BondCo "stocks built for two". I locked the twins up, their warm bodies slightly sticky from the humidity. They were pressed together, with their legs spread wide revealing their perfect twin asses.

The stocks were up against a low wall, and they couldn't see anything but the ground below them, or, for the top twin, the back of the lower twin's head.

That was unfortunate for them, I thought, gazing over the magnificent orgy, the calm blue ocean beyond, and the sun still warm but nearing the horizon.

I sat in large comfortable chair, and a waiter brought me a glass of champagne, as I rested my feet on the top twin's butt cheeks. I idly tugged his butt around with my bare feet and watched his hole react.

Live is good, I thought, mentally adding, for me. Finishing my glass of champagne, I rubbed a little spit on both of the waiting twin assholes. I started fucking the lower twin, as I roughly fingered the upper one, enjoying the unusual experience of being inside both boys at the same time.

It was my fourth time that day (boys had been available on the last two legs of my flight here), so I lasted quite some time and was rather spent. The sun was close to setting as I orgasmed. I wiped my dick and fingers on the upper twin's hair. I called over to the waiter, "These boys are available for communal use."

"Goodnight," I said to the boys, as I went off to bed.

"Goodnight Master," they replied in perfect unison.

I smiled and went to bed, while the waiter led them down to the orgy below where fresh meat was always appreciated. They had a long night ahead of them. On the other hand, I was looking forward to wild adventures as I fell into a deep, satisfied sleep.

***

I woke feeling good and horny, well rested from my full night of sleep. I idly wondered where my slaves were, but remembered from reading the brochure that I could just go down to the Boy Exchange Hall to find some available lads.

The boys were kept in small cages, the size of a child's bed, when not providing services. Many were sleeping, no doubt tuckered out from their recent use. The rest were anxiously awaiting the next phase of their abuse. I finally decided on a cute-faced "latin" looking boy. (It wasn't an easy choice: there were cute little Asians, tall lanky dark skinned boys, and that was just the tip of the iceberg.) He had an earring that was just adorable. He seemed slightly sleepy, but I clipped a leash to his collar and tugged him out to the pool area. I sat down on a recliner and motioned for the kid to start blowing. I flagged down a waiter and had him bring over a plate of canapes to nourish me for the day's frivolities. I nibbled as the boy's adorable face bobbed up and down on my dick. I was just finished eating as I gave him his far lighter meal of cum.

I told the boy to go back to the Exchange area: I figured there was no reason to reuse a boy while on this decadent luxury cruise. I walked over to another circular landing. This one had a semi-permanent kiddie pool set up. I had read about this one: it alternated between chocolate and caramel on a daily basis; today it was caramel. A continuous wresting match was going on in the pool. The boys would quickly be coated head to toe, as though they were candy. People in the audience would spray whipped cream and throw nuts.

When a boy had been in the pool too long, he'd be removed and had to stand motionless in display position for 30 minutes while anyone who wanted a taste could lick the boy wherever they wanted. When their 30 minutes were up they went to the cleaning area. Guests would clean the boys with salt-water firehoses with the water from the ocean providing a painfully gushing stream. It could really knock the boys around, so the cleaning area was surrounded by chain-link fencing to prevent any boys from going overboard.

On other days, another pool would be filled with oil, grease, urine, or other interesting fluids.

***

Every day there's a raffle for some crazy prize (sometimes a free week on the yacht can be won this way). For better or worse, to get a ticket for the raffle, you have to find the ticket boy. He has to wander around yelling "Get your Raffle Ticket" so he's easy to find. The "ticket" is really a thumbnail-sized, round, plastic token, and the only way to get it is to find it deep inside the boy's ass. You don't have to quite fist the boy, but usually at least four fingers are necessary to get deep enough.

If you don't get your ticket early enough, it can be hard to find the last ones. So the boy has to provide you a speculum to really dilate his ass so you can more easily fish around in there.

I played every day but never actually won anything. But, this is a game every participant is kind-of a winner, if you like boy-ass. Of course, the ticket boys don't enjoy it.

***

As I wandered around this playground for perverts, I found a door labeled bizarrely "Hamster Room."

I entered into a strange world. It was a large room with clear plastic tubing just wide enough for the boys to squirm through. And boys were squirming through frantically (they were shocked until they could find their way out of the tube system so they were wriggling as hard as they could). There was sawdust to complete the picture of the boys as hamsters. It was pretty fun to watch, but you couldn't touch the boys, so it was making me horny but not giving me release. I picked up a phone labeled "Boy Exchange."

"What type of boy would you like?" a voice on the other end of the line asked.

I had forgotten to consider it. "I guess I'll take an Asian one."

A minute later a short but wonderfully put together Korean boy walked in. I decided to make out with him a while before pounding his ass. His butt was really firm and I loved slapping it to punctuate my thrusting. It was a wonderful orgasm, and such a quirky ambiance with the hamsters all around us. I let him clean my cock (although his ass was absolutely immaculate) before sending him back to Boy Exchange. He rushed off as soon as I gave him permission as the punishments were severe for any boy found wandering around or wasting time between engagements.

***

Although most of the time the boys are communal property, occasionally contests come up where it's most fun to bet on your own slave's performance. One popular contest is the "Hobbler 250m Sprint."

I think the name is ironic, because the slaves are quite incapable of sprinting. A "hobbler" or "humbler" is a device that pulled the slave's cock and balls through their legs and hold them just below the slave's ass. A wooden bar prevents the slave from pulling them back through their legs, so they are stuck bending deeply at the waist: if they don't it'll pull their cock and balls very hard. Fortunately, the pain prevents them from injuring themselves, but it still hurts. More importantly, it forces them into a crawling position, but with their butts stuck up and out like cats in heat, holes exposed, begging to be fucked.

But their owners will have to wait: first the slaves have to very carefully crawl a quarter of a kilometer. To walk this at a leisurely pace would take 5 minutes, but for the slaves to crawl it usually takes 15, and they only make it that fast due to the fact that their owners have a lot of money riding on it, and they are allowed to whip the boys for motivation.

Chad didn't win, but I had fun trying to make him go faster. I signed him up for a punishment session for his failure – I was too lazy and tired from all previous encouragement-whipping I'd given him to do it myself.

***

A popular theme is to have a number of boys lined up, each somewhat different, so that a guest can fuck each of them in order to really appreciate some subtle (or not subtle) aspect of boyish beauty.

Today's theme was "A Decade of Boyhood" where a line up of ten boys, each age from eight to seventeen was represented, bound to a fuck bench. I started with the young end of the line-up. The boy's ass was so tight I could barely get it in. Given that he was on this boat, I knew that despite its tightness the boy had been heavily used.

And I enjoyed feeling how the boys got a bit looser, but they were bigger too and they gripped my dick in a subtly different way. It made me really think about which age was truly perfect; it was a common source of debate on the ship.

The next day, the theme was drugs. An array of boys were in slings, each impaired by a different drug.

There was a drunken boy, sloppy and saying stupid things. Next to him there was a pail for puke and mouthwash, but someone had still decided to print on his forehead: "Warning: may taste of vomit."

A boy on ketamine was almost paralyzed due to the effects of that drug. It was impossible to tell if he even knew he was getting fucked.

A boy on a mixture of coke and speed, couldn't stay still in his bonds and wiggled around almost neurotically. Being fucked almost calmed him down, but he started shivering after a while; I decided to move on.

A boy on heroin had a calmness and serenity to him. He seemed resigned to his fate when fucked. It was clear he was just thinking about how to get more heroin. He couldn't: he'd be in withdrawal for a while after this experience.

A boy continually inhaling amyl nitrate was out-of-it and his ass was loose: he seemed to be the only boy who really got some enjoyment from his predicament.

It taught me a lot about the effects of drugs. Winners don't use drugs. I joked to myself, Winners use boys who use drugs.

***

In the evening the boys often were put in costumes and would act out plays and skits with kinky or fucked-up plot lines.

They often were adaptations of classic tales made relevant for our modern times. For example, one night they told a version of the Pied Piper tale. The piper (played by one of the older boys) led the rats away, but when he tried to get paid, he gets molested by the mayor instead.

So he leads all the town's boys, who look like poorly dressed ruffians, to a Slave Processing Center. They emerge squeaky clean and naked and in chastity, and with their arms bound behind them. The boys were begging the guests to let them blow them.

The narrator described it as a gloriously happy ending, and mentioned that any of the actors playing the town's boys that weren't used in the next ten minutes would be severely whipped. It certainly made the begging more desperate. Unfortunately, they were trying to exchange sex for their upcoming beating, but the men had plenty of sex and wanted the boys to get whipped. This encouraged a lot of creative sexual promises. Some even managed to avoid the whip!

***

At the end of my week on the yacht, I was spent. But I was also energized. I knew I could take some of the tricks I'd learned back to my home. So, although the flights were long, I was still excited when I finally deplaned from the first-class flight that was the final leg of my voyage. Handlers loaded the twins' cages into the trunk, and I sped home. It was the first time I had seen them close up in a week and if I was feeling tired they were completely wiped out.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The name of the Fairy Tail is shamelessly stolen from the name of a club in the US version of the TV Series Shameless (S4E5).

Chapter 53
Bondage Video Threesome.

(Tad narrates)

One morning Clarence loaded us into the trunk and drove to BondCo. He popped the trunk and we were surprised to see Mr Keller in the parking lot. He had apparently just arrived and shook hands with Clarence. Keller popped his trunk and we were shocked to see, in a cage of course, Hunter!

Once our cages were unlatched, we practically jumped out. Hunter was released and we were jumping up and down and hugging him, saying hello. Hunter couldn't respond because he was still gagged, but he seemed jubilant.

"Those are some poorly trained slave-boys," Mr Keller said with open disdain.

"Yeah, I like 'em like that."

The BondCo handler came out to escort us into the studio together to do some three-way incest porn. None of us minded; we were just so happy to see each other again!

***

Our first roles would be as prisoners. We were each given skin-tight "prisoner outfits" that had broad black-and-white horizontal stripes, like they wore in cartoons, except made of lycra.

Hunter played the part of a prison gang leader who had it in for us, but he didn't realize there were two of us. There was a montage of him humiliating and bullying us: giving one of us a bare butt spanking in front of all the other prisoners, stealing our food and smearing it on our faces, and replacing our underwear with pink lingerie, all the while calling us names. But never seeing both of us at the same time.

Our fictional revenge came as Hunter pulled Chad's pants down in a boiler room; it was dark and sweaty. Chad turns around and the discussion is heated, but I'm sneaking up behind, brandishing a large roll of plastic wrap. I began wrapping Hunter's calves together, and Chad knocked him onto his ass and struggled with him as I worked up his body, fixing his arms by his sides, and finally stopping at his neck. An extra minute was spent just wrapping him twice more to be extra secure (they wanted lots of footage of him being "packaged").

Chad and I stood up, dusting our hands, smiling and giving each other a high-fives. I sat on his face and forced him to rim me, while Chad used a strangely convenient tub of lard to repeatedly fist the bound boy, after poking a hole in the plastic wrap to gain access.

In a final scene, we were together walking by Hunter who was on his knees cleaning. When he saw us he stopped to salute us. In the twisted logic of the porno, we'd taught him a lesson and now he respected us. I wondered though, what the real-life Hunter thought of us…

***

For our next film, we were apparently going to act out an elaborate fantasy involving clowns. We were wearing perverted clown costumes and face makeup. The costumes had large holes cut out, so our asses and chastity belts were obscenely on display. Our hands were in mitts and the costume had sort of giant floppy (and useless) cloth fingers.

The first scene was a chase sequence with some cop actors. Honestly, it was not too bad, although unfortunately it went right by a large school where the children were having recess. They all stood along the fence to watch the filming, laughing at us.

The second scene was equally random. We were supposed to give each other a 3-way blowjob. Naturally nobody felt that taking the chastity devices off was necessary: we just had to put the entire thing plus the balls, in our mouths.

The direction was about to start filming when someone ran up and whispered into the his ear. "Great idea!" he said, "Find me some buttplugs!" Eventually some assistant came back with three day-glo neon butt plugs, identical but for color. Fortunately, they weren't very large, as only the base would be visible. They were lubed and jammed into our exposed asses. The stimulation was making my dick strain in my cage.

The director yelled "Action" and said "Now wiggle around like you're stuck." Nobody could figure out what to do, so we just lay there.

"Stupid slaves can never act," he complained and strapped our heads in place, attaching the straps to our ball-shockers and pulling them around the back of the other boy's head before latching them closed. Now we really couldn't get free. "Ok, try to pull apart."

Just then, someone interrupted, "Hey, we've got a call from the District Court that wants to speak to these slaves… we don't have to untie them but they have to be given a chance to participate."

"Ok ok," the director said, "we don't have much time though."

A nearby video monitor was tuned in to the courtroom video feed. Dad was standing in a suit and the judge and his attorney looked somber.

The porno cameraman panned out so that the entire perverse 3-way blowjob could be seen. None of us could talk. "OK, I'm patching you into the courthouse now!" I tried to shake my head to stop this so we could have some shred of dignity in court.

On the monitor, the faces of the people in the courtroom turned to disgust, amusement, or arousal, or a combination. In our dad's case, I noticed all three along with terror. I was flushed, blushing a bright red, I'm sure.

The Judge began: "Boys, we'd like to have one of you make a statement regarding your father's character."

All three of us were struggling, trying to yell through each other's penises, and desperately trying to undo the strap holding our heads in place. Eventually the director spoke up: "I'm sorry, they can't actually speak at the moment…"

The judge sighed, and said, "Well, can they simply nod to indicate that their father is a good character?"

We all nodded as vigorously as possible. "They indicate so, Your Honor." the director said.

The judge sighed again and continued. "Well, I guess that satisfies the minimum legal requirement. Patrick Fisher, your parole eligibility as of…" The monitor turned off as abruptly as it turned on.

"OK, I'm glad that's out of the way." The director continued the filming as though nothing had happened.

My head, at least, was swimming, overwhelmed with the idea that Dad might be able to help us. We never had a chance to discuss it though.

The rest of the film shoot was a blur, and we were gagged in transport back to our house. We never got to say goodbye (or hello, for that matter) to Hunter.

Chapter 54
Ballerinos.

(Tad narrates)

One morning Clarence came by and simply said, "Keller's got a client for you two. Go to your room and wait." Oh boy. Mr Keller's clients were quite varied, so it was hard to predict what would happen. We knew Clarence could check our location on his laptop, so we went down to our dismal quarters as though we were awaiting execution. As we'd done to Hunter countless times, he'd sent us down long before the scheduled appointment. The "client" didn't show for more than two hours.

What surprised us was that we recognized the man. He was the old dance instructor from our school. We weren't sure whether he'd retired, but we'd find out that he hadn't.

He spent a long time dressing us up as ballerinas. Before he got to the proper dance wear, he first spent quite a while tightly lacing us into corsets, "to give you girlish figures," he explained. I looked at Chad and understood what he meant: the corset had crushed his abdomen down so it was narrower than his also skinny hips and shoulders, giving him a sparing hourglass figure. I knew I would look the same.

The corset was so tight we had to take shallow breaths and we were light-headed the whole time.

I could tell the man was horny and gay from the way he was touching us. He looked at the rest of our costumes and then looked at us like we were pieces of meat. I could tell what he was thinking: once we were wearing those outfits he couldn't easily fuck us.

So, before dressing us up, he had us prostrate ourselves on a table, pressed against each other so our four butt cheeks were lined up nicely. I could tell we were at a good height for fucking.

He started with Chad, but alternated back and forth a lot. It became obvious that he'd topped two bottoms like this before. I was used to guys pulling out and re-entering as a way to make the fuck harder, but by switching back and forth, it was more like a fresh re-entry each time, much harder. Midway through, he instructed us to turn our faces toward each other and start kissing. He liked watching us interact, it was clear. It wasn't long after we were kissing that he came. He made us kneel and clean his cock at the same time, pushing our faces in so we were in even more intimate contact with each other.

The painful, one-sided sex was over. It was time for the main humiliation. Or so I thought.

He had us don a white sequined leotard and pink tutu. We looked ridiculous, but at least it was just in front of this one pervert.

I guess he really did like teaching dance, because he made us learn a routine.

Some of it seemed like normal stuff you see in ballet: standing and walking around on tiptoe, pirouettes, holding our arms over our heads and other graceful motions.

But other parts seemed buffoonish: we locked arms and danced in a circle pretending to do some German beer dance; or we'd do a series of turns and crash into each other, falling to the floor; or we'd repeatedly spin, causing our tutu to lift up slightly. All the while, he was adjusting our position and guiding us, touching our crotches far more than necessary.

He sat back and watched us spin a little. He was jacking off as he watched. "No that's not good enough," he said, and ordered us to remove the tutu and leotard and put on just the tutu, so our asses and cock-cages were almost visible. "Now spin again," he said, and our tutus lifted so our groins were easily seem. "Hmm, that's too much, and the corsets were visible." He pondered his options before producing a pair of sequined tank tops. We put them on and spun again.

Now he was fully erect, and said, "Oh that's really perfect, yes, spin again." After a bunch more spinning he beckoned for us to finish him off. I took the left side of his cock and Chad took the right and we both played our half like a harmonica. "Look at me," he said, and we turned our boyish gazes in his direction, our mouths still on his cock. It didn't take long for him to cum. Chad got the dubious honor of licking it up off the floor.

He had us take off our costumes, and practice with the corsets. He left all the clothes on a shelf, then departed without saying a word.

***

A few days later, Clarence told us to get our ballerina gear on. "Oh great, another session with the dance teacher!" Chad rolled his eyes in disgust. We spent a while getting our corsets on, but we figured he wouldn't notice if it wasn't as tight. The tank top, tutu, shoes, and socks were easy to put on.

Unexpectedly, an hour later, Clarence came in and told our slave-cop to load us in the car, promptly leaving, so we couldn't ask questions, I guess. Our guard gruffly locked us in the carrier cages in the trunk, and about 30 minutes later Clarence slammed it closed and started driving.

When we arrived, the car was in an area I had never seen before, full of AV equipment and black-painted plywood. I realized I must be backstage at our old school, and my stomach was dropping. Were we going to have to perform that horrible routine in public dressed like this?

No, first they were going to apply makeup to further enhance the effect. They did a minimal job, with red marks on our cheeks and a surprised expression painted around our mouths. I didn't see myself, but I would describe Chad's look as half-clown, half-whore. It seemed appropriate for the dance routine.

The dance instructor took one look at us and said, "You look too much like boys." I looked at Chad in makeup and wearing a tutu and didn't agree, but his point was to make us mercilessly tighten each others corsets. I guess he had a point, because our waists did look incredibly thin once he was satisfied. "Don't make me do that again!" he warned.

"Stretch!" the dance instructor barked. We didn't know what to do, but we tried. "It doesn't matter," the teacher said under his breath, "it's just comic relief. Nobody cares if they dance poorly." We had less than a minute before we were shoved on stage… Under the bright lights we couldn't see the size of the audience, but when we got to the silly parts of the dance there was a lot of laughter, so we knew those seats were not empty. I felt flushed and I could see Chad was red under his makeup.

The finale of the routine was a series of pirouettes that would cause the tutu to rise up, exposing our asses and cock-cages. The audience went wild at this point (kids love this kind of comic nudity). I heard various comments and cat-calls: "Nice ass" "I like the one with the pink cage" "They're so cute and goofy." "Are those girls or boys?" Many camera flashes went off during our routine: I suspect we were trending on social media even before we finished.

We were happy to prance off stage and be put back in our cages for the remaining hour of the performance. But it turned out that our shaming wasn't complete. Some stage-hand pulled us back out of our cages, and locked our wrists to the back of our collars. "Time to go mingle!" he announced. "But not exactly for you, I've been instructed to set your collars to 'silent mode', so nobody will have to listen to you." Great, now if we tried to talk (even just to answer a question) we'd be shocked!

And so we had to "mingle" even though we were slaves and couldn't talk. The result was a parade of our former peers, as well as students older and younger, and their parents, coming by to tease us, or deliver a joke with us as the punchline, or to take a photo with the clowns. Often we were made to pose in funny or obscene positions. For example, I had to pretend to ride Chad like a horse for some reason. Nobody was shy about touching us, either to grope or to discipline us. Sometimes both.

At some point Eugene made us stand together and got close-ups of our pink and blue little chastity tubes. "Who's gay now, losers?" he remarked contemptuously. He squeezed Chad's balls so hard he cried out, causing his collar to shock him. He dropped to the floor in pain. Eugene, who I suspected looked up to us and was certainly scared of us, particularly of Chad, was now laughing at our suffering. He spat on Chad's writhing form, turned on his heel, and walked away.

After the audience had dissipated, the old music instructor handed us off to Clarence who directed us into the trunk. "Only four more performances to go boys!" the instructor said, closing the trunk, leaving us in pitch darkness until we got home.

He added, to Clarence, "Can you get them here 30 minutes earlier next time? Some members of the cast and I could use a little pre-show stress relief." I didn't hear Clarence respond, but I knew he wouldn't refuse.

***

The next performances were similar, except we got to warm up by giving a dozen BJs between us. I have to admit our dancing was actually getting better. But it was no less humiliating, because even though we knew what to expect the audience was also getting rowdier. There was a lot of open spanking and talking about blow-jobs in the final post-audience mingle.

We were so happy to have that humiliating hell behind us. Chad said, "I hope I never have to tiptoe again," and I completely agreed.

When we got home, however, Clarence cheerfully mentioned: "Well, that's over, but next week's the cast party!" Oh god.

***

We were told to dress in our tutus and thigh-high pink socks and nothing else. (Our chastity cages are beyond our control, and so Clarence doesn't usually bother to specify about them.) Chad and I agreed that we were probably headed for the "cast party."

We were gagged with perforated ball-gags. I wondered why they hadn't used the "silent mode" on our collars like before. It turned out that our jobs appeared to be simply kinky waiters. I guess it wouldn't be acceptable for slaves to be treated as equals. We had to walk around with silver platters of hors d'oeuvres and serve the dancers and crew things to eat, while they taunted, groped, and otherwise messed with us. The gags were so that we couldn't graze from the delicious food we were constantly waving under our own hungry noses.

At some point, it was announced that Chad and I would be leaving in an hour. We didn't quite grasp the significance, but everyone seemed a little restless around us for a bit. Finally, one large member of the crew said, "Let's get this party really started," and grabbed me by the shoulder. My gag was removed and replaced with our old pal, the sucker-muzzle. I mentally prepared myself for being face-fucked for the remainder of the party. Chad was prepared with a ring gag.

I was the lucky one, as I was allowed to service the men and boys while kneeling, where I at least had some control over the onslaught. Chad was made to lie on a table, supine, with his head hanging over the edge. We both knew this meant the upcoming face-fuckings were going to be hardcore and merciless.

We were both a mess, exhausted and with sore throats when Clarence's voice announced. "Sorry guys, I've got to take the little bitches home." I was so relieved to hear that. We practically jumped into our carriers.

When we got home, Clarence asked, "So did you enjoy your dance careers?"

"Fuck no!" Chad said, really just being honest but I was worried Clarence would punish him for it.

"I'll be sure to let the dance teacher know tomorrow when he picks up his costumes." Clarence reflected. "I guess I'd better throw in a pro bono session for him if he feels like it."

I punched Chad in his arm for making this worse, as usual, before Clarence sent us off to our cages for the night.

Chapter 55
Rod.

(Rod narrates)

Hi, I'm Rod. I'm a slave cop. My job for now is to keep these scrawny twins in line.

It is not too hard, since I am well-equipped, trained, and they are wearing shock collars. And they are little weaklings.

Clarence invited me to use the twins. I think he meant for sex. But I'm straight with a girlfriend and never really had much interest. I think he might have been disappointed about that.

However, my girlfriend broke up with me a month ago.

So I've been very horny.

One day Clarence fucked one of the twins, instructed me to give him 30 lashes with a tawse, and leave him in the stocks for later fucking.

I was staring at his little butt all morning, watching the red marks slowly fade away.

I'm not gay, but his hole looked very tight and tidy, like a girl's ass.

After lunch, I decided I had to try that ass. I was for some reason a little embarrassed, so I locked the door. Then I remembered to use lube. I spread a tiny bit over my dick which got hard immediately as I stroked, looking at the butt, which was making me more curious by the minute.

I pressed my thick cock into his bum. These stocks make it impossible to hear the punished boy, so I couldn't really tell if he screamed. I flipped the monitor on to look at his face. Yup, he was screaming. I turned it back off, and started going faster and harder.

The hole really did feel nice. I began imagining fucking my ex and I came in no time. I decided I'd probably use the twins now and then, now that I'd "broken the ice" until I got another girlfriend.

I didn't like that my dick felt dirty now, but I didn't want to go and shower, since removing all the slave-cop gear takes a while. I remembered how the other guys solved this problem. The other boy was in his cage. I released him and let him clean me dick.

I thought I'd gotten away without anyone else in the house noticing. But Clarence later asked, "How'd you find CT's ass, after holding back so long?"

I was a bit shocked that my secret had been found out, but it didn't really matter. I replied to Clarence, "Good."

Chapter 56
Edge of Insanity.

(Clarence narrates)

"Great news, boys," I effused one morning. "Those rock-climbers we had so much fun with years ago tried to call Dad, but I answered. They were interested to hear you'd been enslaved. One thing led to another and they're going to stop by and check in on us."

Tad and Chad looked at each other hopefully, but warily. It wasn't clear what kind of "interest" they might have had. Usually any cause for optimism was crushed without much delay.

The doorbell rang and we all clambered up to answer it. The boys ran up and tried to hug them but they gave the boys the cold shoulder. "Is this really acceptable behavior for slaves?"

Ugh, more lecturing about how I don't know how to train a slave. I zapped the boys with the collar-remotes to try to avoid talking about it.

It was a lovely day so we had iced tea on the lawn. The twins were kneeling on the grass. I was glad they were being well-behaved and servile after their initial outburst. One of the climbers remarked on how well-developed the twins were getting and I ordered them to wrestle on the lawn for our entertainment. It is so hot watching them go at it, naked but for the chastity cages, getting all sweaty with little blades of grass stuck all over their smooth bodies.

As the twins disported themselves, we reminisced about our time together, and Dad. I mentioned off-handedly that he might be eligible to parole in the not too distant future. The twins sort-of paused, straining to hear details. I shocked them to "get back to wrestling," but changed the topic since I didn't want to get into the legal minutiae.

So I asked if the couple had any plans for the day.

She replied, "Well, we did have a few ideas about ways to discipline a pair of poorly behaved slaves." Again the boys ears perked up, and again I shocked them. This time though, we were actually done and it was time to go down to the playroom.

As usual, they spent about fifteen minutes gawking at the wide range of discipline and bondage equipment, as well as at Rod, who I never even bothered to introduce. "How can you have such ill-behaved slaves while owning all this equipment?"

"That's actually pretty simple," I explained. "I don't really use any of this shit on them except for a bit of fun sometimes, because once you expel all the fight and rebelliousness from a slave, they're boring!" I turned to the wide array of equipment, all acquired at the twins behest. "Knock yourselves out trying the stuff out on them though."

And they did, each claiming a twin and systemically working through the items of interest on the shelves. They seemed to like the paddles that made a lot of noise. I knew those weren't really that painful, but I didn't care enough to tell them.

At some point, they were tired and had exhausted the devices they saw that interested them. The wife suggested, her voice sultry, that we play the tie up game. I thought it was fun last time: I won the game last time fair and square, and decided that I'd play this one fairly too, for a change.

They gave me some rope and a little time to bind the twins: they were nearly immobile from head to toe, and I was pretty confident they couldn't reach any of the knots to untie them.

The husband suggested with obvious sexual arousal at the idea that we should motivate them with a reward if they succeed and a punishment if they fail. Nobody in the room really thought they'd succeed, so the reward seemed unimportant. Punishment was a foregone conclusion.

I knew the perfect reward. I found two small swatches of duct tape, and used them to adhere the boys' chastity tubes' keys to their foreheads.

"Boys, we're going to go for two hours. If you can get free, you can unlock your cages and jack off as much as you want. If you can't, I'm leaving the punishment up to these two." I gestured to the rock climbing couple, who grinned and nodded, not needing to explain that they already had one (or several) in mind.

And so we left them alone, but first the couple made some preparations, putting a large metal drum on top of what appeared to be a hot plate, mysteriously saying, "We've been heating this up since last night, but we need to make sure it's nice and warm!"

With this minor chore done, we went up to swim in the pool and then went to the living room where I turned on the video feed from the slave quarters and zoomed in so we could really watch them struggle. And struggle they did, clearly wildly horny and thinking that they might really have a chance. It was really fun to watch, compared to so many bondage situations where they seemed resigned to their fate!

Two hours later, though, they hadn't made any discernible progress. It was punishment. The climbers could barely conceal their excitement.

I tightened their bondage somewhat superfluously. Then, loops of rope were placed under each armpit, and they were raised up, so they were forced to stand back-to-back, their skinny arms and legs bound together. I ran a roll of duct-tape around them about ten times to really ensure they were tightly pressed together.

"Time to make a candle!" the wife announced.

The husband was smiling, explaining, "At least it's not me this time, thank god! I'll go get the wax." He poured a bunch of liquid wax from the giant drum into a metal pail, handed it to his wife and she dumped it on Tad's chest and shoulders. He winced from the pain. It looked like a second skin for a while, although you could see it attach and reattach repetitively as he breathed. Later layers poured down in little rivulets, just like a candle.

Pail after pail was dumped on the helpless boys, but I could tell that only the first few really hurt. The remainder were for appearance and to further immobilize them.

The boys were pretty thoroughly coated, at least to the waist. There was still plenty of wax on their butts, crotches, and legs, but she moulded it so it was a sparse layer rather then the thick coating upstairs.

The wax supply exhausted, the rock climbers stood back and admired their work. The twins were a tightly-bound waxy mess. They probably thought their ordeal was ending, but this was actually just the warmup.

The husband had decided he wanted to indulge in some breathing play with the boys, and strapped wide penis gags around their faces: the belts of the gags prevent them from breathing through their mouths at all! While the wife went to work preparing the boys' dicks, the husband amused himself by idly cutting off their air supplies by pinching their noses. He did it randomly and sometimes for more than thirty seconds, causing the boys to panic, unable to do anything but look scared.

The air play distracted the twins from the wife's attention to their dicks. I had made it a principle to never release the boys from chastity, but the wife had talked about edging, and I remembered how much fun it had been with Hunter.

The wife was able to borrow two of the state-of-the-art edging machines from her S+M club, on condition that she post videos of their use. I was still worried: I had after all promised myself that the boys would never cum again, and I am, if nothing else, a man of my word. But she had showed me the website which claimed to never have allowed a single accidental release, and so I approved it.

I'd given her the chastity keys and she spent some time brushing off wax before remove the cages. Their little hard penises were the only wax-free parts of their bodies. "They're so cute and little," she said, flicking Tad's a few times with her index finger. She gingerly attached the edging machines to the boys.

I flipped the switch and the endless cycle of erotic buildup and denial began for the lads. It was quite hot watching them get flushed and then desperately panic as they felt the opportunity escaping. Even though they knew exactly how the machine worked, it's repeated beguiling made them further frustrated each time.

"How long do you think they can handle that?" the husband asked incredulously after watching a few cycles. His wife found and opened the instruction manual.

"It says that more than two hours can lead to blue balls."

"Yeah," I knew about that, "but those are just painful, not dangerous. We left Hunter on this thing for five hours."

"Five hours it is, I guess." the wife was setting a timer.

"Well, I didn't say that to limit us. Maybe we should go double what we gave Hunter, so ten hours."

The husband calculated that I'd have to turn it off at 5am. That was not going to happen.

Then we had the idea to look up the world record: 27 hours. We all knew what was going to happen (I think the twins did too, although they were a bit preoccupied). We arranged for the rock climbers to come back in 28 hours, which would be 9pm the next day. They patted the twins on the head goodbye, and left. I didn't bother turning off the lights since I knew they wouldn't be able to sleep anyway.

***

Late the next morning, I checked on them. They were quite a wreck, standing in a puddle that was probably a mix of sweat and urine. Much of the wax had broken off by now, making the whole scene incredibly messy looking.

Although they'd grown a bit desensitized to the simulation/denial cycle, you could still see it in their eyes. The pleasurable buildup was less obvious than the painful shock that occurs when they get too close to cumming.

I ungagged them, and gave them food and water. Chad asked, somewhat weakly, "How much longer?"

I looked at my watch, "Oh, just eleven more hours."

He looked so tired and dejected that I came back with some iced-coffee to wake them up a little.

***

When the rock-climbers finally re-arrived, they were pretty stoked about setting the new record. They'd brought along some champagne to celebrate. "Let's go check on the boys!" the wife said.

They looked much the same as they had when I checked on them, maybe a little more worse for wear now that the caffeine had worn off. Nonetheless there was a look of happiness in their eyes since they knew their ordeal was coming to an end. It was cute, but I didn't like them to be too happy.

As the wife was about to flip the machines off, I said, "Let's enjoy the champagne at our leisure first so that we can build up a margin of safety! We don't want someone taking the record back from us tomorrow, do we?"

Naturally they agreed and the boys suffering was protracted for one more delightful hour.

I had the wife help me switch the boys back to chastity protection, remove some of the wax, untie them, and move them into their cages.

I spoke to them through the cage sound system: "Don't worry! You can clean up the mess tomorrow!"

The rock climbers also told them how nice it was to see them again.

We didn't bother to let the boys respond.

Chapter 57
Twins Times Two.

(Tad narrates)

One morning, Clarence announced that we'd be visited by two girls that afternoon. Although we didn't have much hope, there's no denying that even under adverse conditions we liked to occasionally see the female form.

Clarence came down to our room with Linda, the girl whose affection Chad had long ago tried to buy with a wooden heart, and Dalton's sister, who'd tricked us into making out with two twin burly football players. They were girls, but we expected to be miserable, we just didn't know exactly what lay in store for us. Clarence never bothered to say which of us was which, and we never had a real opportunity to volunteer the information. I hate to say it, but clearly nobody but us cared. Clarence gagged us just to make sure that was clear.

They began applying makeup and eyeliner and a little rouge. "We'll do lipstick later," Linda said, tapping my gag. They strapped coverings over our short hair and attached identical long blond wigs.

As Linda was pulling up a pair of pink panties, she stopped unexpectedly. "Whichever one of you twerps wanted to fuck me in the ass is about to find out how he likes taking it." She looked back-and-forth at us, and added: "Actually both of you are going to find out!" Chad seemed to be trying to explain through gestures that it had been Dalton who inscribed that on the back of the heart, but she just slapped him, saying "Settle down, bitch!"

From her backpack, Linda pulled out two identical strap-on dildos. They were large and veiny and a fairly hideous purple color. They didn't bother to disrobe, perhaps not wanting to give us that pleasure. They had us bend over a table, with our butts lined up in a row. Both girls lubed up their fake phalluses, and pushed into our buttholes. We grunted, but we'd been pounded enough that even these large rubber dicks didn't destroy us. One problem was that the girls kept going a lot longer than the typical male, enjoying multiple orgasms but eventually the girls were satisfied.

They took a break, letting us rest in the bent-over position.

When they looked at a clock, they realized that they didn't have long to finish preparing us.

The girls had found jeweled choker necklaces that could fit right over our thin slave collars. They were fortunate that Clarence had gone cheap and minimal with the collars: they would never have been able to conceal Hunter's more full-featured control collar.

We were first dressed in some lace panties, stockings, and well-stuffed training bras (and of course our chastity devices and ball shockers). Over that, formal gowns with open backs and bare arms. High-heeled shoes completed the picture. Chad looked pretty sexy in a formal-girl sort of way, as we teetered around, getting used to the high-heels. But we still hadn't quite figured out what the plan was.

"OK boys, I'm going to set your collars to silent mode, because this evening your job is to look pretty and be obedient." This sounded like our normal job as slaves, to be honest, but of course, I had to save my sarcasm for myself. At least they removed our gags since they were no longer necessary.

"There's only a few finishing touches." They carefully applied lipstick and attached clip-on earrings. Then they let us look in the mirror. We looked like two attractive twin girls, dressed for a formal dance, except our earrings.

My earrings were both in the shape of the word "CUNT" and Chad's read "SLUT."

"Do you boys like your earrings?" Linda asked. "Those are your names for tonight. That way, your dates won't have to learn how to tell you apart!"

Dates? I had a feeling where this was going, and it was confirmed when the gigantic line-backers that had tried to force themselves on us earlier walked in. One of them whistled: "Whoa, they do look hot!" He looked at both of us, and said "I'm taking 'Cunt', you can have 'Slut'."

With that he walked up to me, wrapped one arm behind my shoulders, pulling me toward him, as his other hand grabbed my butt and started playing with it. I tried to squirm away. Oops.

"Hey, I thought you promised they'd be obedient."

"They just need a few reminders." Dalton's sister said, handing the linebackers the appropriate remotes. My date delivered me three shocks to my neck and balls.

"Are you going to be good now?"

I nodded, and resigned myself to french kiss the boy who'd basically tried to rape me. I had a pretty good idea how this date was going to end.

Apparently it was going to start with dinner. The boys drove us in their large SUV; it felt so good to be riding in a car like a normal human that I didn't really mind being groped the whole time. When they announced that we were going to eat, I was ecstatic. Real food at a restaurant? it sounded too good to be true.

Needless to say, we couldn't speak, so our dates ordered for us. I suspected Clarence had mentioned that we were picky eaters, because they ordered us the grossest things on the menu. I got the pâté appetizer for dinner; it looked like something a cat would enjoy eating. Chad was worse off, though, I think; he got a whole smoked octopus. It looked like a prop from a horror movie.

Neither of us could bring ourselves to swallow even a bite.

Our dates were clearly amused by our situation, as they chowed down on steak and baked potatoes. In the end, they ordered a to-go bag for our food, threatening, "If you don't behave tonight, we'll blend those leftovers together and force feed it to you!" We knew it wasn't an idle threat, and every time we had to do something distasteful that evening, we blanched as we thought about the alternative. How many different ways could they find to make us obey them?

With dinner behind us (or really, our dates, since we were still famished), it was time for the main event: the school's annual prom.

The visit to the dance was not too long. I think these closeted bears just wanted to show us off, and that's what they did. We were in maybe a dozen photos with various groups. These were a bit scary as often we were with other members of their football team. They were homophobic and also would have recognized us under different circumstances, so we were silently praying nobody would figure it out: it was clear that it'd be us, not the line-backers, who'd pay. (Although they were still terrified of being outed.)

As for dancing itself, the football players were clumsy as hell, and kept stepping on our already aching feet. We danced about two fast songs and two slow ones. The fast ones hurt my feet and during the slow ones we had to make out and they'd grope us. I couldn't say which was worse.

Our "dates" managed to get us a cup of laced punch, which was a bit welcome as it was getting awkward standing around and never talking, especially when we actually knew so many people. Fortunately for everyone, nobody recognized us, but I think all four of us twins were anxious about that.

Occasionally, someone would ask us a question and all we could do was smile and nod or shake our heads. So I was glad that our dates didn't want to spend too much long there, but once we got in their car and they said we were going to their house, I knew that the final act of this evening was approaching.

I was, once again, mentally preparing to get fucked as they led us up to one of their rooms. They had us strip to our underwear and kneel, for what I guessed would be oral foreplay. I don't know what they intended, but they started nicely, letting us do the work, looking in their eyes as boys like. But they both got carried away, calling us "Slut" and "Cunt", slapping us, and controlling our head motion with their large hands, using our heads like sex toys.

I probably knew he was going to cum before he did. Immediately before, he shuddered and pushed me down hard on his dick. I was pretty used to suppressing my gag reflex by now, but I messed up this time and coughed, spilling some of his seed onto the floor. The calming effect of his orgasm mixed with his enjoyment of degrading me, and he said "Lick it up, bitch!" in a weirdly quiet and romantic tone.

I was wondering if they were going to work up fresh erections and fuck us, but was pleasantly surprised when they drove us home instead.

***

Clarence came and addressed us: "Slut and Cunt, I need to get you dolled up for another date." He threw us the earrings from before, along with sexy leggings, lace panties, garters, cut-off t-shirts, wigs, and pink miniskirts. "The twins have convinced me to let you on another date pro bono, on account of the food you wasted last time." He turned to the burly slave-cop: "Make sure they get ready."

We decided not to fuck around, and pulled the undergarments up our smooth legs, then the shirt and miniskirt, and shoes. We didn't know anything about makeup but we tried to copy what the girls had done. We had some difficulties figuring out how to get the wigs attached. I thought we did an acceptable job, but when we were done the girls, Linda and Dalton's sister, came by again.

"Ok, let's see how you did…" they said as they began inspecting us. Clarence was nearby and said we'd be punished for any errors in the future, so we needed to pay attention. They probably found fifty things wrong; we'd never remember it all. Afterward we looked in the mirror, and again we looked like girls, but this time we were quite provocatively dressed. When we bent over you could see our garters and underwear, and the whole outfit was incredibly sexual.

"Ok, now you look good!" They affixed the SLUT and CUNT earrings like last time; I don't know if they gave me the same "name" ("cunt") by accident or on purpose. "Ok, just one last thing…" Out of a handbag, the removed two buttplugs. "These vibrate!" she said, adjusting a knob on a remote control and we saw them flay around like two beached fish. She turned it off and handed one to each of us. There was no point in arguing, so we spat on the plugs and rammed them into our own butts.

A few minutes later our "boyfriends" (as the girls called them) arrived. They were impressed by our appearance: "Wow, they look hot!" one of them said. The girls handed them the buttplug and shocker remotes. "I guess I'll set them on silent mode again. That was nice last time."

The other twin agreed, "Yeah, we can turn it off if we give a fuck what they are thinking." He seemed to think that was unlikely. "Are you ready to go to the club?"

"Let's eat first!" the first twin said. I imagine these guys are always eating. We were hungry (as usual), but knew from last time that we weren't going to be eating much. Another ride in the car outside of the trunk was great! But they were even more inclined to fondle us in our skimpier outfits.

We ate outside at a fast food restaurant. I guess they didn't want to waste money on us. Even then, since we couldn't talk, they ordered for us. We got a dinner side salad with no dressing between us as our dates munched on delicious smelling cheeseburgers. It was still a nice break from slave chow, though.

Throughout the meal, they had to carry all the conversation since we couldn't speak. They just rambled about sports, but they kept commenting to us, always calling us by the names on our earrings. The only good thing was that we were nearly alone outside so nobody else had to wonder why they were referring to their female companions so rudely. The only other group was a bunch of misfit teenage boys with leather jackets.

As we were getting in our car to go to the club, the misfit boys who'd been sitting within ear-shot approached us, and complemented our dates. "You guys really know how to control your girls!"

"Yeah, a good women is seen not heard, and obeys her man without question."

The other linebacker twin agreed, and to demonstrate, said "Watch this!" He turned to Chad, "Get on your knees, hands on your head, and open your mouth."

In the formal dress it seemed wrong, but Chad dropped to his knees and obeyed, in the middle of the parking lot.

"Whoa, does she give blow-jobs?" The position was too suggestive for the boy to ignore.

Fortunately, the line-backer refused: "Not to you!" I knew he just didn't want to share. Otherwise, I guess we'd have been servicing these little misogynist losers. Instead we got in the car and drove to a popular all-night club.

The guys put their arms around us; it felt very dominating since they probably were twice our weight. Unlike the formal dance from last time, lots of random guys were hitting on us and touching us. We couldn't say anything because of the collars, but a lot of the time it didn't matter because they couldn't hear us anyway.

Our dates thought it was awesome to have dates that were coveted, but they also were jealous and would sort-of mock scold us each time someone hit on us, as though there was a chance we'd be "unfaithful."

They decided that the best way to handle it was to force us to go onstage and dance with each other, sort-of like we were silly girls dancing together; I don't think many people mistook us for lesbians. Although I thought cameras were prohibited, lots of flashes were happening, so we were well-photographed.

When we came off stage, our dates sent us back: "I want to see you kissing!" We sighed, resigned to our fate, and went back on stage to make out. Once we got there, they activated our butt-plugs. It was vibrating wildly, both of us reached to grab out butts, causing a lot of the audience to laugh. The stimulation although made me horny, if I'm being honest, although I was always horny. It was hard to kiss Chad with all the distractions.

Although I'd been fucked so many times, I still wasn't happy about having to yield to the boy who'd tried to sneak into my pants as a free-boy.

We obviously had no choice when they took us back to their place, and I considered it a minor act of kindness that he turned off our collars so that we didn't have to try to be totally silent as they pounded our asses. They seemed a bit inexperienced, but the great thing about young guys is that they don't last long. I guess it makes sense that identical twins fucking other identical twins would take exactly the same time to cum, and they did! Chad and I sort-of collapsed onto the beds they were fucking us on, and looked at each other, relieved that this was over.

I don't think the line-backers said another word to us as they herded us into their car and drove us home.

***

When they dropped us off, Clarence said, "It sounds like the guys had a wonderful time! But I told them this was the last free session. I can't have you little twinks freeloading!"

He snickered as he walked away. By the way, you guys need to learn how to dress yourselves up like that. I think I'm going to find some gay-bashers on the internet and set you up on blind dates!"

We looked at each other, our makeup was smeared all over our face from the night of rough handling. Chad's long blond wig was off-center and disheveled, his "slut" earrings looking appropriate. We looked at each other sadly and went to our quarters to clean up.

Chapter 58
Strange Days.

(Tad narrates)

One morning, Clarence ordered us to edit a video of ourselves for BondCo. He said that they wanted a video showing how much slaves enjoy working for them, which is obviously bullshit. I asked why BondCo didn't use their own video editing staff, but Clarence just shrugged. "Do you want to clean the toilets instead?" I backed down: video editing to post on social media IS one of the best chores, and usually we get to work on it together.

He said to make sure to include a lot of shots of Hunter and us laughing and smiling. This type of footage proved to be rare but we managed to mix in some old video of us as free-boys to stretch it. I was very proud of it: it really did make us look happy. I sighed, and forwarded it to Clarence. Later he replied and said he needed help making a DVD. Who the hell uses DVDs? I thought.

I went up and helped him copy it to the DVD. He tried to secretly put it in an envelope, but he fumbled and I saw the address: "State Correctional Facility." He was sending the DVD to Dad! I yelled at him: "What are you doing?"

But he just shocked my balls and ordered me to get in the cage. Pissed off, I complied, knowing he'd just call the burly slave cop guy to beat the shit out of me otherwise.

***

A few days later, Mr Keller came over to talk with Clarence. They had a long conversation on the lawn; they had forgotten that Chad and I had been assigned to clean the drained pool nearby. We could barely hear them, but they were unaware that we were listening at all.

We overheard snippets of conversation: "terms of the power sharing arrangement," "disagreement over the handling of the slaves," and "dad's prior disdain for incest."

Once they were gone, Chad and I tried to piece it together. We both knew Dad would rescue Hunter and us once he was free, but everything was so confusing.

***

The next day, the monitor displaying our inspirational quote was switched again. It was back to "A Good Slave Does Not Think." Hmm, why did Clarence change it?

He barged in and announced that the demerit system was back in place, and handed us each a chore list. I began to protest but was interrupted by a simultaneous shock to my balls and collar. "No more back talk!" he ordered, shoving a penis gag in each of our mouths and buckling it in place. "These only come out when your chores are complete."

After the months of slack treatment, Chad and I were in shock at the sudden reversal. The regimen that we had subjected Hunter to for months proved to be quite exhausting, tedious, and often pointless. And we had to give only a small fraction of the blowjobs!

***

Another time, as I was mopping the floor, I heard Clarence answer a call on speaker-phone from a "Correctional Facility." As soon as he realized who it was he switched to a normal phone, so I could only hear his side of the conversation from then on. I tried to be quiet so he wouldn't notice me overhearing. "Did you like the video?" "Has prison given you second thoughts about slavery?" "I understand your feelings about incest." "Keep in mind what Keller said."

I was fascinated, but I was left with more questions than answers.

Later that day, I was cleaning his office and noticed he was browsing the premium slave channel, which is where high-end slaves were previewed and auctioned. It was hot; Chad and I had gotten a free trial at one point, but Clarence said it was too expensive after that. I wondered why he might have changed his mind.

***

(Hunter narrates)

Mr Keller, my master, had been acting kind-of squirrely ever since the news that Dad was coming up for parole. I thought the reason was clear: he was a lot more inhibited with Dad than Clarence.

I heard Keller on the phone with someone, yelling, "I can't make the call, you tell me! Go ahead with the parole, or postpone it!" I knew he must be talking about Dad. Were they going to screw up his parole hearing and postpone it deliberately? I resolved to do anything I could to prevent that.

Keller tends to leave his phone around, a little sloppy, but he'd probably castrate me if I ever touched it. Nonetheless, I've memorized his passcode, so I know how to unlock it.

So, when I saw a message from Clarence saying simply POSTPONE in all caps, I decided this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to save my ass. I could not handle Dad's parole being postponed!

I used the passcode and deleted the message, praying that I wouldn't get caught.

Chapter 59
Paroled.

(Hunter narrates)

Something was going on, I could tell. Mr Keller had been acting strange for a while; he seemed anxious, and would jump every time the phone rang.

Today he had chosen the most modest outfit I own: a pair of flimsy shorts and a vest that I had only worn once on my first day of slavery, while my father was still in control. It felt strange, and good. I hadn't worn anything above the waist that wasn't bondage equipment or perverted lingerie for a long time.

I was placed in a slave carrier in the back of Keller's Rolls Royce. Perhaps an hour later the trunk popped open. From in the cage, I instantly recognized that I was in our garage, back at our family's house. I was elated about the possibility that I might be coming home. I was sure it was connected to the parole hearing we'd witnessed with Dad. Had I successfully stopped Clarence from ruining my Dad's chances? It sure looked like it! I congratulated myself for being so smart.

My cage was removed from the trunk, but I was not released. Keller, though, drove off.

***

(Tad narrates)

Late one morning, Clarence was having us give him a double-decker blow-job by the pool. I guess I need to explain what that is, since I think Clarence invented it.

He'd recline on a deck-chair, spreading his legs so we could lay between them, on our bellies, stacked one on top of each other. I, the lower twin, had to put my head sideways and lick his balls. Chad was at the perfect height to suck Clarence's dick. He had instructed us to go as slow as possible, so we were each licking once every few seconds.

Clarence answered his phone, and said just a few words. A few minutes later he announced, "Go get your brother from the garage and meet us on the lawn. No talking." Our brother? Hunter was here? We were ecstatic, this must be a good sign. We ran out to the garage to discover that Hunter really was there. We uncaged him and risked punishment by embracing and greeting each other.

The three of us, dressed similarly, and modestly, ventured out onto the lawn. We'd been ordered not to talk, but the suspense was so great that nobody knew what to say regardless.

Mr Keller pulled up, and got out, opening the rear door. Our Dad got out of the car. Chad started cheering and Hunter and I joined in. Clarence also called out from behind, "Hey Dad!" His burgeoning form jogged over to our father, running out of breath in the process. He extended his hand and our dad hugged him.

We slaves also began running up, excited beyond words! "Dad" and "We're so happy to see you" and "We missed you" were repeatedly said.

"Clarence!" Dad yelled. Was he angry? "I thought you said they were well-trained!"

"That's not what I said: I said Hunter is well-trained, the others are just well-controlled. But I've switched to training them harder, just like you asked."

Dad turned to us, and smiled. "Boys, I really have missed you so much, especially since Clarence has been telling me all the naughty things you've been getting up to while I'm gone." Apparently, the combination of prison and only talking to Clarence and Mr Keller had turned Dad onto our defilement. Perhaps he was always secretly interested, but now he was licking his lips and openly talking about it.

He dropped his pants and underwear, right there on the lawn, revealing a very hard and long penis. Hunter recognized it instantly as one of ours. Dad directed the three of us to also strip – so much for our modest uniforms – and then had Hunter rim him, while Chad sucked his dick and I had the honor of licking his balls.

And so, we no longer had an opportunity to say anything, really, our slave-mouths were occupied. Mr Keller and Clarence were happy to converse with Dad uninterrupted.

"You were lucky," Keller began, "one of my other client's families decided to postpone his parole. Regarding your case, though, everything came together smoothly. I've begun the preparations for the next steps we agreed on, the immediate one being the auctions for the boys." What auctions? I doubted the answer was good news.

"Huh, I texted you to postpone the auction! I sent it in all caps!" Clarence seemed surprised and Dad seemed shocked and dismayed. With his face wedged in his father's butt crack, Hunter let out a cry, realizing he had trapped himself, yet again.

"Wait, I didn't see any text message." He checked his phone and showed it to Clarence. "We can't stop the auction now with such short notice! I could be disbarred!"

Clarence and Dad looked at each other, concerned. Clarence raised his hands as if to say "what can we do?" and Dad sighed. Dad finally said: "I really wanted to give them one last try…"

Keller was firm: "No, after everything else you can't screw me over like that." Dad and Clarence ultimately shrugged and acquiesced.

"Well, maybe it's for the best, dad" Clarence somberly intoned, paused, and then asked in a much more cheerful way: "And the replacements?"

"They're in escrow, pending the auction. I checked the goods this morning. Six beautiful boys in a rainbow of colors: a black one, a red-head, a curly-haired blond, a Chinese boy, a little Hispanic boy, and a little Native-American type with long straight hair."

***

Finally Dad turned to address us. "Boys," he said, "I'm sorry about all this. It really never should have happened this way. But they say 'once a slave, always a slave' but I didn't think I would be able to stand to be reminded every day that my boys are slaves and it's my fault. Yesterday, Clarence and I had agreed to do a 'test run' for a week to see if it could work out, but it required us to postpone your auction. But now it's too late to change your auction date: we're forced to sell you tomorrow."

Chad started to protest and got a collar shock. Clarence explained: "Sorry boys, I thought this would be easier in silent mode."

"Yeah, on the positive side though," Clarence went on, "Dad and I agree that having slaves is awesome and using them for sex is great too. But it's a little strange to be using your family, you know?" This from the guy that's been raping us since our enslavement began! "Plus BondCo is getting really into diversity so we need a better model lineup. But don't worry, you've only got a day until the auctions where you'll be sold into permanent full-use slavery! I doubt you'll get too bored!"

***

(Clarence narrates)

At this point, a slave transport van that had been organized by the auction pulled up. Professional handlers gagged and caged the boys, loading them into the dark truck, destined for an auction house, then owners as of yet undetermined.

Dad and I went to the kitchen, and popped open a bottle of champagne. The day hadn't gone as planned, but we were happy to be on the same page, after everything that had happened. I proposed a toast: "To Freedom, Wealth, and Fresh Slaves!" My father repeated the words, we clinked glasses and I drank, victorious.

To Be Continued