The former rugby players Daniel and Brett lost their freedom over a year ago now. Neither of them can believe the life they now lead, enslaved by their former rival Justin Carleton and imprisoned for life on his private island off the African coast. Part of a colony of white slaves to amuse black dominant men.
Any prospect of freedom or humanity has long disappeared and the unjust depths of their abject submission have imprinted their status into their minds. Neither of them has worn a shred of clothing since they left England. Neither of them can even speak a word any more. So befitting of their position as animals on the farm.
Who benefits from their total debasement? How can it ever be fair to take away the freedom of a virile hunk in this way? The silent sobs of despair are ignored now as the young hunks serve their punishment.
Like the other 8 young men in their herd, the former straight hunks live as horses now. Every day they scream in silent desperation at their ridiculous new life but there is no escape possible. They are entirely trapped in slavery.
Looking at the herd, an observer can only admire the naked young slabs of muscular meat as they stand on display in their small field. Observers can beckon them to the fence for a feel of their bodies and the animals know that any refusal to submit will be dealt with severely.
The animals stand naked and barefoot in their field. Their bodies are dirty and unwashed, their legs and feet caked in mud. Each animal wears only four humiliating signs of their predicament.
Firstly, a sheath that binds their hands behind them permanently, rendering them helplesss. They walk around in this way permanently to ensure they can never be human, never cover the modesty of their dicks and never cum.
Then, over their heads, the shame of their masks. Beneath the mask their heads are depilated bald. This means that the mask needs never be removed. The mask is total tight fitting rubber, and renders them faceless. Robbed of identity they each look identical. Each has small round holes through which they can see, through which their septum rings protrude and through which a mouth bit is fastened permanently rendering them mute animals. Two small false horse ears stands ridiculously above their black faceless masks, belying their own ears tucked away under the mask.
Thirdly the horses wear a number stencilled in bold black print: one on their chest and one on the cheek of their arse.
Finally a thick gauge metal ring pulls their useless dicks down in constant weight: a reminder that pleasure cannot ever be theirs any longer.
And so they exist. Desperately alone and in misery. Daniel and Brett do not know the identity of their fellow beasts. They know each other of course but their only means of comfort in their misery is to nuzzle each other, resting heads on each others' shoulders. Their straight masculine pride long eradicated as they stand helplessly naked in misery together. Objects and beasts.
The slave horses' lives are bleak. Meaningless. Desperate. So very unfair. Their "leisure" time is spent in their field. Day and night. Whenever visitors are present the horses must stand on full display always. They sleep in the dirt of their field. They defecate and piss in the same field. Animals in every way.
Only three other purposes break up the tedious desperation of their position. Daily, the horses are used for labour: two of them at a time pulling a bar around a circular track in a water mill in a backbreaking endless 8 hour shift. Equally, they are used as plough animals tilling the soil in the fields of the farm. Hard, menial, soul destroying labour on an endless cycle.
Secondly they can be used to transport guests. Chained to a carriage, guests can hire the horses to carry them around the island. Each horse has been trained to trot with back straight and legs lifting high as they trot around in humiliating service. Each has learnt the hard way - via cane and strap - not to lower their standards as beasts of burden.
For each of their work tasks, horses wear a thick tail. Implanted via a thick plug up their anal chute. Only free men may expel their tail.
And finally - only when a rich guest pays for the spectacle - the animals can gain some relief. Even though these animals live in abject horror at their total humiliation, they are still young virile men. Much of the time, their ignored cocks sway haplessly erect in front of them. Sporting the thick gauge rings swinging below their cocks. Particularly after months without release. And so, despite the ridicule, the horses have come to love their milking machine.
Every so often, the herd will be moved into the milking barn for an audiences amusement. Bent over a bar so that their arse holes and genitals face the audience, the phallus of each animal is locked into the glass milking tubes via their rings. The audience members react with delight as the horses are milked, often two or three times. Their grunts and wails and sweating bodies on total display as their heavy balls are emptied. Of course if any free man wishes to do so - and many do - the horses' hole is at a perfect height to be used as a receptacle for a black mans' seed. Daniel and Brett are now resigned to a regular fucking without mercy.
Any semblance of normality is long gone for these once proud athletes. Now they are only perverse objects for the amusement of black sadists.
