Stories of the Slave Center
The Nation’s Largest Retailer of Faggots
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Finding One’s Truest Sense of Self in Service-Slavery
by slave 7
Disclaimer: This is a story of erotic fiction containing fantasy descriptions of Male-male slavery, which may include sexual acts, BDSM and nudity. It is a intended for adults only. You must be of legal adult age to read this work. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
My slave brothers huddled around me, keeping their flesh against mine, some of their slave faces against my slave face, all clean shaven faces, in a gathering intimate in both body and spirit, till yet another slave walked up and informed us, “The Men are gathering on the back patio, probably to play cards. We all need to be there, that includes you, newbie,” he said, putting a hand lightly on my bare shoulder as the huddled slaves began to disperse.
I followed the lead of my fellow slaves and marched, single file, hands behind our backs, to where we had been ordered to be. The Men were standing about, some with a beer, some smoking. We slaves lined up on one side of the patio and knelt, hands till behind our backs, heads bowed, and waited. Some of the men had their tools of Mastery attached at their waists. I noted a paddle, a couple of small whips like the one Master carried, some clamps, and various other implements.
And there we were, seven slaves, with steel collars and ankle and wrist cuffs always on and at the ready. We waited silently for orders. After some minutes, the Orders began to flow.
Master Tom came up to three of the slaves nearest me, all of them shoulder-to-shoulder with each other, and said, “Service.”
“Master Tom, yes, Sir, thank you, Master Tom, Sir,” was their unified response. The slaves took their positions at three different places on the patio. They stood formally, with hands always behind their backs. It looked to me like these slaves were there to serve the men directly in whatever manner may be needed, from getting drinks or snacks, to who knows what.
Another Man, by the name of Master John, came to two of my slave brothers and simply ordered, “Air.” In quick response, the slaves uttered, “Master John, yes, Sir, thank you, Master John, Sir,” and bounded over to a couple of stationary exercise bicycles on either end of the patio. At least, I thought they were just exercise bicycles, but once the slaves started peddling I saw that they powered the two big fans at the edge of the patio, thus creating a mild but refreshing flow of air.
Master Rob Carter’s ranch is an off-grid operation, as it is off the beaten path and not near any power grid. Master Rob has outfitted His ranch with generators and propane devices, and much of the electricity comes from solar panels. But, as feasible, Master Rob also uses slave-power.
As the Men expected to have a pleasant evening of recreation on the patio, this was a good time to use this slave-power. Thus, one other slave and myself who still remained without an order were soon taken care of. Master John came back to us and said, “Now, you two: electricity.”
“Master John, yes, Sir, thank you, Master John, Sir,” we responded, almost in unison.
My slave brother led me over to a couple of treadmills off to the side of the patio, almost out of view of the men. “Just jog at a mild pace,” the slave said to me. Thus, I became a human generator. Hadn’t I always pushed for greener energy? Here I was, now living my truth.
After some time I said to my slave brother on the other treadmill, “Hardly the stuff you dream about when jacking off about being a slave.”
“No, it’s not, but it’s the reality. Slaves serve. End of story. These Masters demand far more than sexual service. A slave here is in for 24/7 servitude. Your slavery, if you stay here, will be all that you ever are.”
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I learned that solar panels provide most of the electrical power on the ranch and that slaves merely supplement it with the treadmills. It’s not that much, but, as I understand it, Master Rob Carter believes His slaves must be put to use and not be allowed to just lounge around. So, powering his patio lights is one such use.
While I was on the treadmill, I was able to observe part of what was going on on the patio. The men played cards, chatted, drank beer and other beverages. When they needed anything, a slave was right there to take care of it, like taking away an empty bottle and providing another; like giving shoulder rubs; like being a footstool; like serving as a urinal; like fondling or sucking a man’s cock as he wished, often while the Man sat there and played cards or conversed with his friends. I noticed also that none of the slaves wore chastity devices and their slave cocks went from soft to hard and back again depending on who-knows-what. At no time, however, did I ever see a slave touch his own slave cock, or rub it against anything. Slave cocks were just there, to be seen but not touched, to be read as a type of barometer, perhaps. Slave cocks were not for sex, not for pleasure, but for communication.
I also observed that each time a slave completed an Act of Service, whether it was bringing a beer or sucking a cock, the slave then knelt and thanked the Man for allowing the slave to provide that Act of Service.
Once, I saw a Master who was pleased with a slave that had brought him a drink. He put a hand on the kneeling slave’s shoulder. The master said, “Good slave,” and proceeded to put clamps on the slave’s nipples. The slave responded with, “Master, thank you, Master,” and then rose and walked over to the slave-waiting position at the edge of the patio where the slave was to remain readily available for the next order. But there was never a ‘thank you’ offered to a slave.
I was just jogging on my treadmill, providing what little wattage I could for the evening, or to the store of electrical power for the ranch. And the slave with me on the next treadmill was explaining some things to me. “Slaves are to be put to use constantly, to the extent possible. If a slave is awake, it is serving, always.”
I took in the information and noted that the slave referred to a slave, any slave, as “it”.
“Is a slave an ‘it’?” I asked the slave.
“Yes, in the same way an animal, or a human baby, in proper grammar, is an ‘it’.
The slave went on to say that if I become an actual slave here, not one merely on a trial basis, that the entirety of my existence would be one of obedient Service, that I would be nothing but a property-in-service to all the Men on the ranch.
As I jogged on the treadmill, my body now dripping in sweat, I thought about what it would be like to be a 24/7 total slave on Master Rob Carter’s ranch. From the moment I awoke in the morning to the time I put my head down to sleep, I’d be in Service. I thought this rather extreme, but as I ran on the treadmill, my slave cock rose.
Sometimes I wish my cock would just shut up. Still, I had to admit to myself that along with my cock rising, my heart seemed more satisfied and pleased with life. A smile tended to cross my face more often since I had accepted this trial period of enslavement. And I let that smile communicate something… to me.
Could I really be such a thing? A slave? A total servant so that every moment of my life belonged to another? The thought scared me, and yet pleased me. My cock told me what it thought.
I’d spent about an hour on the treadmill, in a light jog. I was drenched in sweat on a warm high desert evening. I was breathing deeply, and it was striking me deeply that I was jogging on a treadmill as a slave, as a piece of property that had been ordered to run on this treadmill, for the benefit of the ranch, and that I had no choice. My only choice was to be here as a slave, or not be here at all. And I was feeling pretty good.
Master Rob Carter suddenly stepped off the patio and into my full view. He looked at me and noticed my somewhat hard cock. He seemed pleased, but he said, “Put a little more effort into it, slave.” I, of course, answered, “Master, yes, Master, thank You, Master,” and increased my pace. Master Carter stepped back onto the patio and was once again out of my view.
I kept up the new pace as best I could. After about 10 minutes or so, Master Rob Carter came back to the treadmills. He stood beside me as I continued to jog. “Keep running and listen to me, my slave. See these numbers?” He pointed to the display panel on the treadmill. “They tell how many watts per hour you are contributing to my electrical store. Right now, you are just above the minimum I require from a slave. Anytime you are on this treadmill, you must maintain this minimum or better. If you do not, you are not being a good slave, and I require my slaves to be good. Do you understand me, slave?”
“Master, yes, Master, thank You, Master.”
“Good. I have the current minimum requirement set rather low for you, as you’re new. I can always adjust it higher.”
“Master, yes, Master, thank You, Master.” So much for me thinking the treadmill was a reasonably easy job.
“And I see you are feeling the honest truth of what is happening,” He added. I noticed his glance toward my semi-hard cock. He continued, “The treadmill keeps a record of what is being achieved, and I can read it moment-to-moment right here on my phone. Now, my slave is going to give me 15 more minutes at my required minimum,” he said as he bumped the required minimum up. “Show me you are worth owning. Show me you are a good slave.”
“Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master,” I stated as my legs began to move faster and my cock engorged even more.
Before leaving and returning to the patio, Master took the leather flex-paddle from his belt, stepped to the side of me, and began striking my ass, firmly, right on top of where I had been marked by his cane. Whack! “Run, slave.” Whack! “The only reason a slave lives is to serve.” Whack! “A slave is a piece of property.” Whack! “An obedient servant.” Whack! “Run, slave, run. Move it.” Whack! “And remember this: service is worship.” Whack! “Worship your master!” Whack. “Run, slave.” He struck a couple more times with the paddle and then stopped, but He kept saying, “Serve, slave. Serve, and love it. I know you do. Love that you can be of service to me. Make me proud to own you. Become service. Become labor. Become a property worth owning. My property.”
I was running far above His minimum requirement now. Master hooked his paddle back on his belt. “That’s it, slave. Run. Run. Lose yourself in service until service is the only thing you are. That’s the kind of slave I want.”
Master stood silently for a few minutes as I continued running. I was sweating profusely and breathing heavily. “Run,” Master continued, “because I said so. Run, because My command is what matters to you. Run, because you are my slave.”
He left me there running, and I knew my running was being totally monitored, so I kept up the pace while he was not present. I had every intention of living up to Master’s orders. I wanted to please him. I wanted to hear Him call me a ‘good slave’ again.
When Master again came into my scope of vision, he walked right up to me and said, “Slow down now, cool down. Slow down to a brisk walk. My slave’s 5-minute cool down period has begun.”
Master stood beside the treadmill silently for a minute or two, and then be began speaking. “My body. Your consciousness may be within it, but it is my body. It does what I tell it to do. And maybe the consciousness is mine, too.” He stayed quiet for perhaps half a minute, and then said, “Any slave of mine serves me unquestionably and constantly. My property has no business doing anything else.”
I didn’t speak. I didn’t need to. Because damn if my dick didn’t rise again and speak for me.
Master noticed and said, “Good slave.” He then, in a rather slow and relaxed manner of speaking, said, “Show me what you are, slave. Just be what you naturally are. That’s all I ask. Good slave. Show me that you are an ‘it’. An ‘it’ and nothing more than an ‘it’. Just an ‘it’. A good ‘it’. A good slave.” My mind may have harbored some objections, but my slave cock had risen to its fullest, and Master seemed satisfied.
My breathing was settling down and normalizing. My cool down period on the treadmill was ending. “Time’s up, my slave,” Master stated. “Here,” and he pointed to the ground right in front of Him.
I stepped off the treadmill and knelt in front of him, hands behind my back. I looked up into his eyes, and he down into mine. Master had a look of expectation on his face. So, I mimicked what I had seen other slaves do upon completing an order for a Man. “Master, thank you, Master.”
“What are you thanking me for, slave?”
“Master, thank You for allowing it to Serve You, Master.”
I don’t know if Master noticed, but I had just referred to myself as an “it”. It just came out naturally.
“Good slave. When you complete an order, you thank the Man who issued the order and, whenever possible, kiss his foot. Kiss mine now.”
“Master, yes, Master. Thank You, Master.”
I bent over, keeping my hands behind my back, and kissed his boot lovingly. Never had I felt so much a slave in my life, and never had I felt so much at peace within myself. I kissed his feet and thanked him for allowing me to serve him, and I meant it.
When I knelt back up and peered into his face, I noted he wore a pleasant smile. He reached out toward my nipples, grasped them securely, and began to squeeze hard. “Just be quiet, slave, and feel your place. Notice how good it feels to be what you are.” He continued to squeeze. I concentrated on breathing deeply, regularly, normally. “These are my pain nubs,” Master stated matter-of-factly. “They help me take care of my property. They are attached to you because you are my property.” I breathed deeply, over and over, as he squeezed firmly and I felt the truth of his words. He was holding me, accepting me, loving me, appreciating me, in his way.
Master then attached a leash to my collar and walked me over to the nearest half barrel of drinking water. I got down on all fours and lapped up loads of it.
When He was convinced I had had enough, he gave a mild tug on the leash. I rose and followed as Him back toward the patio, where Men and slaves were still gathered, where there was a cheerful calm, a pleasant vibe, as there should be.
As we approached the patio, I noticed a pillory had been placed just off to the side of it. It wasn’t there before, so it must be portable. I had no idea who it was for, but I soon found out.
“Put my slave neck and wrists where they belong, here,” He pointed. Master was clearly ordering me to get in position in the pillory, and as I did so he locked me into it. My legs were left free as my head and hands were held firmly in place. I was facing the patio for a full view of what was going on there.
“My slave will serve me now by observing, and learning. It may piss right where it is.” Master then put the tongue plate gag back into my mouth, stupid it around my head, and walked away.
So, there I was, bound in a pillory with the only thing in view being the scene on the patio. Master told me to observe and learn, and so I did.
I observed slaves serving Men as they enjoyed a Saturday evening of rest and social interaction. I saw slaves bringing drinks to Men as ordered. I saw slaves waiting on the sidelines in slave protocol positions until a Man called upon them, or until the slave saw a Man’s need and simply addressed it. I saw slaves serving as Men’s urinals. And I saw slaves sucking Men’s cocks, and eventually, I saw slaves bent over and taking Man-cock up the ass. Never did I see a slave touch a slave-cock. Never did I see a Man touch a slave-cock. Slave-cocks were just ignored. Some of them dripped, and one shot a load as the slave was butt-fucked. What I observed, or learned, was that the evening was all about the Men. The slaves were only there for the Men, who expected and received slave-Service. The slaves, every time, knelt and thanked the Men for being used in slave-Service. No Man bothered to thank a slave, not that I ever heard, anyway. “Good slave” was sometimes said, but it was often not. No slave ever appeared idle in the sense that it was milling about or socializing. It was either in slave-Service, or it was in proper protocol position awaiting its next order. Constant slavery. Why not?
I saw Master Rob Carter out of the corner of my eye. He was now wearing jeans and a faded red t-shirt. He had taken off the chaps He wore during my welcome whipping. I saw Him walking toward me, and my excitement grew. He laid a hand upon my back as He took a position behind me. “I see my slave keeps moving its feet, keeps repositioning. Should I do something about that, slave?”
I was confused that He asked me such a question but responded, “Master, yes, please, Master,” I said as best I could with the bit in my mouth. Master was at the ready. He placed a spreader bar between my legs and fastened it to my ankle cuffs, thus reducing the mobility of my legs. “Does that feel better, my slave?”
“Master, yes, Master. Thank you, Master.”
“I know it does. I know my slave appreciates my controls.”
“Master, yes, Master, thank You, Master.”
“Good. I will continue to exert my control, over all of you.”
Master went back to the patio and mingled with the others. I saw him have a slave suck his cock with gusto, until my Master released his load. I yearned to be that slave, but here I was, pilloried.
After what must have been about an hour or so of me simply observing the activities on the patio, Master stepped off the patio toward me. He walked behind me, brought his jeans-covered crotch up to my asshole and rubbed himself there. I wished He would take out his cock and fuck my ass. But, alas, He did not. I supposed He was fully spent. So, instead, He began rubbing his fingers around my asshole, and then inserting them. He quickly got four fingers in and then folded his thumb to begin full entrance. I had been plugged much of the day, so my hole was fairly loose and relaxed. Deeper into my slave ass His hand went, until it slipped right into me, all the way. Master began to move His fist, lightly at first, and then more and more until His hand was going fully in and out of me.
I’m not sure if I had ever felt more joy in my life. What a feeling! My cock was soft, my hole was ecstatic, and my heart was about to cum. I was fully bound, with nothing to do but allow Master to do what He will. He was taking me over, and I loved it.
“That’s it, slave. Just let yourself be mine. Give it all to me. Everything. I’ll take good care of it. All it has to do is let it happen. Nothing more. Just be. Let me have what is mine. Just let it be. Feel the type of freedom that only a slave can feel.”
This went on for I don’t know how long. Finally, though, He pulled His hand out of my ass and began releasing me from the pillory. My legs were quivering, my whole body tingling.
“It’s time to put my slave to bed for the night. Come with me, slave,” He stated.
My Master led me back to the stables and to the same stall I had been in earlier in the day. He opened the gate and told me to get in and kneel facing Him. The floor of the stall was still covered in that soft, warm, earthy compost-like material.
Master placed a stool in front of where I knelt. He took off his shirt and at down. I was thrilled with the sight of Him in front of me. “Kneel up tall and proud. Chest out. Look me in the eyes.” My hands were already firmly behind my back, as they are required to be, and my knees were spread. My slave cock, my truth barometer, was rock hard and standing up proud.
“Slave, let’s recount the things that have happened today, from the time you arrived on my ranch and in my presence. So, tell me, how did you arrive, slave?”
“Master, this slave walked naked over the ridge between the main road and your ranch, Master. Then this slave walked into the area where your house is, Master, and where others were busy working, Master.”
“Why did you walk onto my property naked?”
“Master, because I like to be naked and my friends said it would be okay with You, Master.”
“But didn’t you feel foolish?”
“Master, no, Master.”
“Why not?”
“Master, because it feels right to be naked, Master, and it’s warm enough around here, Master.”
“Don’t you think slaves should wear clothes?”
“Master, only when ordered, Master.”
“Good. I agree. My slaves live their lives here without clothes. Men wear clothes and their slaves do not. It’s as simple as that.” He shifted on His stool a little bit, just to be comfortable. Then He asked, “Why did you come here, really? You must’ve had some inkling of my interests.”
“Master, not really, Master. I didn’t think about it much, though I knew about my own kinky fantasies, Master.”
“Okay, I guess. And when you got to my house, what happened?”
“Master, Jacob suggested I shower, shave my body and rinse my asshole out, Master.”
“And you did?”
“Master, yes, Master.”
“Even though it is an outdoor shower and anybody could have seen you?”
“Master, yes, Master.”
“Why would you do such a thing?”
“Master, I don’t know, Master. Something seemed to be pulling me down that road, Master.”
“And you obeyed that pull?”
“Master, yes, Master.”
“Good, that is what real Obedience is about, about identifying what is true and authentic and then obeying it. And how did you drink water today?”
“Master, from a trough, Master, on all fours, like an animal, Master.”
“And how was that experience for you?”
“Master, it felt natural, Master. Normal and good, Master. Plus, I just got thirsty and didn’t really think about it.”
“Good. Exactly. What else did you experience today?”
“Master, this slave had a tail for most of the day, Master, like an animal. It was stuck up my asshole, Master.”
“Yes, and was that appropriate?”
“Master, yes, Master, very much so, Master. And I loved it. It felt so natural, Master, like I had my long lost tail back, Master. Thank you, Master.”
“So, are you meant to have a tail up your ass, to have a tail like any other animal?”
“Master, yes, maybe, Master.”
“Good. I agree. You will have a tail when I decide to allow you one, to keep your body complete.”
“Master, yes, thank you, Master.”
“How does that hole feel now, without a tail, or my hand?”
“Master, empty, Master.”
“Do you want a tail now, slave?”
“Master, ah, maybe, Master. Yes, Master. I guess so, Master. Please, Master!” My hole felt quite a yearning.
“Good slave. I know it needs its tail. That’s when you feel more your true self, isn’t that right, slave?”
“Master, yes, it seems so, Master, thank you, Master.”
“That’s right. You should have been born with a tail, but at least I have the power to give one to you, when I see fit.”
“Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master.”
“So, do you feel ready to serve me on my ranch?”
“Master, yes, Master, very much so, Master!”
“Good. From what I have seen in you today, I agree. But I only own slaves that… do what? I’ll give you a hint. It starts with the letter S.”
“Master, serve, Master!”
“Correct. SERVE. That is what slaves do. That is why I own them, for their SERVICE. So, if I become your owner permanently, what will you do always?”
“Master, serve, Master.”
“How much?”
“Master, all the time, Master, every waking minute, Master, as ordered, Master.”
“Smart slave.”
“Master, thank you, Master.”
“And does that feel right to you, to be a property of service?”
“Master, yes, sort of, Master. I feel it in my chest and my dick, Master, but it scares me, Master.”
“Yes, most slaves start out scared. Experience with a good Master will stop that. But at this point in your trial period of enslavement, do you still seek to be my slave, my servant being, my worker animal, with a tail up its ass?”
“Master, yes, Master, thank You, Master.” I almost forgot to add the “thank You”, but I was really feeling the gratitude in the moment, so much so that a “thank you” practically fell out of my mouth.
“And at this early stage of your trial period of enslavement, do you feel you could be a slave animal that serves and does nothing but serve?”
“Master, yes, it seems so, though I’m surprised about that, Master.”
“It’s okay to feel surprised. Do you feel any kind of yearning to work for me?”
“Master, yes, Master, absolutely, Master. And that both thrills and scares me, Master.”
“Fine. All we can do is be honest right now, and stay in the here and now.”
“Master, yes, Master.”
“And why did I whip and cane you?”
“Master, because whipping is good for a slave, Master?”
“How so, slave?”
“Master, a whipping helps the slave know what it is, Master. It helps a slave know its place, Master. It helps a slave to hand over its body to its Master. It helps a slave to know where to focus its attention, Master. Thank You, Master.”
“So, a whipping is good for a slave?”
“Master, yes, Master, if it’s done right, Master?”
“Okay. Would you say that when I whip you it is my gift to you?”
“Master, in a way, Master. It helps me be a better servant, Master, and, in a way, it feels good, or hurts and feels good at the same time, Master.”
“Very good, slave. If I come to own you, I will demand work. Constant work, slave. You’ll be a slave, and nothing but. A piece of property that works. Does that sound right for you, slave?”
“Master, yes, Master, right now it does, Master. I can’t promise about tomorrow, Master. Thank You, Master.”
“Good, and that is what this trial period of enslavement is for, to allow you to learn about who and what you are, what you are for, how good a slave is, how valuable a slave is.”
“Master, yes, Master, thank you for being patient with me, Master.”
Master then put clamps on my nipples and held the chain between them o that it was taut. “And I will tell you right now, although I’m sure it’s clear to you already, that for the remainder of your trial period I’ll see you as a true slave. I’ll provide the real experience for you. From the moment you awake, your focus will be on serving. You will have no moment of your day that you are not my slave. Is that understood?”
“Master, yes, Master, thank you, Master.”
“Do you wish to continue with your trial period of enslavement?”
“Master, yes, Master.”
“Then tell me why I should accept you as my slave. What will you do for me?”
“Master, I’ll be totally obedient to you, Master, and work for you all day, Master, as you see fit, Master. I’ll do nothing but serve You, Master. I’ll be your full-time laborer, Master. I’ll show you that it is my privilege to Serve you, Master, to become Service for you, Master. And…” At this point I became very emotional and excited, like a panting animal full of energy, with tears coming from my eyes. “And I will worship you, Master, if You let me, Master. I will serve you in worship, Master. Thank you, Master!”
I could hardly believe what I was saying, but I was saying it, freely, convincingly, and with a hard on. (Damn that hard on. If only I could escape my hard ons!). I could hardly believe the power of my convictions in the moment.
Master merely said, “That’s right. Full time. Nothing else. My slave is in constant service. It has nothing else in life to do but serve me. And in so doing it serves itself, its own needs, its own purpose. And we both wind up pleased and satisfied.”
He released my nipples and looked deeply into my eyes. Then he spit in my face.
“I’m going to put my slave to bed now.”
“Master, yes, Master,” I said, though I was feeling apprehensive about what exactly that meant, of how I’d be put to bed for the night, of what I was supposed to do with the saliva now on my face.
Master stood up and put his stool outside the stall. He then reached for a chain attached to an eye hook in the wall and attached it to the collar around my neck. Master offered, “There is really no need for this chain in terms of keeping you safely locked in for the night, but l like it. And I think it helps my slave feel what it is.”
Next, he grabbed a short length of chain, only a few inches long, and connected my ankle cuffs together. Then, he grabbed the chain on my left wrist cuff and attached it to a D-ring in my collar, forcing my arm to bend at the elbow and remain there. Then he did the same with the right.
“Now, my slave is secure. Plus, it has no way to play with my slave cock, which I own and which I want left alone. It is possible to roll over and fuck the muck, but I don’t want you to do that, so you won’t. Is that clear? I don’t want you to, and so you won’t. This is a chance to demonstrate your obedience. I don’t want you to play with my slave cock, and so you won’t. Or, better stated, your real pleasure is in leaving that cock alone for me because that is what I want. That’s a far greater pleasure than an orgasm for a slave. Isn’t that right?”
“Master, yes, Master.” I had actually felt enough on my first day to believe Master was right: obeying Master feels better, and is more satisfying, than playing with my cock.
“Tell me. Say it aloud. What is the pleasure I want you to experience?”
“Master, leaving your slave cock alone, Master, to know that leaving the cock alone for you is pleasure, Master.”
“That’s right, slave. That’s absolutely right. Obedience is its pleasure. And that’s my cock, and when it’s hard, it’s only letting me know that my slave is happy being my slave. So, experience the hard on, and know it’s only there to convince me, and you, of what you are. Every time it gets hard it’s saying that you are a slave, isn’t it? So, always let it get hard, slave. Never hold back!”
“Master, yes, Master. It’s only there to show that I am a slave, Master. Understood, Master. Thank you, Master.”
“You can wriggle down into your bedding for warmth, if you need to. Over here is a bowl of water. And if you need to piss or shit, just go in the corner over there. I have a slave who cleans the stalls daily.”
“Master, yes, Master. Thank You, Master.”
“Now, let me hold my beautiful slave tight.” I was still in a kneeling position. Master leaned down before me and gave me a big embrace. As he released me from the hug I leaned into him and took his left nipple into my mouth. To my surprise, he said, “Good slave. Good. Suck it gently. Good slave.”
He then lifted his right arm and revealed his armpit. “Here you go, my slave. A slave needs the smell of its Master.”
I pushed my face into His pit, inhaled and licked and licked. I inhaled some more, and licked some more. Master’s pit was my goldmine of satisfaction.
Master stood up in front of me. He put His hands on His hips. He looked quite the sight, bare chested and in His jeans.
“Now, tell me, slave, what are you going to tomorrow?”
I hesitated only for a moment before answering, “Master, serve You, Master.”
“How much, slave?”
“Master, all day, Master. Constantly, Master.”
“Yes, slave. Serve. That is what you are: a SERVANT. Service is what you’ll become as you let yourself more fully be your actual self, if your actual self is really a slave. Anyway, that’s what you are to be if you are a slave of mine.
Tomorrow will be your first full day of opportunity to show me your worth as my slave. You’ll work with all that you are, and, if you are my slave, you’ll come to love it. You’ll love being nothing but a work-animal, if that is what you truly are. Serving me will be your everything. If you are my slave, working for me is already everything you are, and you just need to realize it. Now, good night, my slave.”
“Master, good night, Master. Thank You, Master.” I was getting the hang of speaking somewhat clearly with that bit in my mouth.
Master turned and walked out of the stall, locking the gate as He did. I watched him as He left, admiring his body, admiring him, as I felt a strong yearning to serve Him.
He left the stable building, but there I was in dim light, in a stall, chained, and resting upon a compost-like muck.
I felt my shaved nakedness. I felt the bonds upon my body. I felt the remaining heat of the day’s welts. I remembered the sting of Master’s whip and cane. The realization of what I was and what I was doing with myself i this trial period of enslavement soared through my mind. I couldn’t back out now, could I? I couldn’t change my mind now. At least, not until morning. So, I let my slave body fall back and down onto the muck. I rolled in it, and to my surprise, it felt so good, my hairless body appreciating the warmth and gentle feel of the bedding. I actually loved it. It felt right. I felt at home. I wriggled until I sort of burrowed into som of the muck, covering some of my body with it, until I got comfortable. Then, I began to let myself fall asleep. After all, I had to work in the morning, and sleep is what Master ordered. Sleep, for Master. Be ready to serve come morning, for Master. Let the cock do what it will, for Master.
