0 comments/ 4348 views/ 1 favorites The Boys in the Box Ch. 25-27 By: jacksonblooms Author's Note: This story is strictly an erotic fantasy. It's not real, nor is it in any way an endorsement of the activities described. In the real world, kidnapping, forced sex, slavery, non-consensual physical and emotional abuse, and the buying and selling of human beings are morally reprehensible and I am staunchly opposed to it all. In the real world, it's important to play safe with condoms and PrEP, exclusively with consensual partners, and to respect your partners' limits and comfort. Please don't kidnap and molest straight eighteen year old boys, just enjoy this completely made-up fantasy instead. :) ***** 25. Before we entered the stables, I attached a gold chainlink leash to JoJo's collar. Like his other bonds, it was completely unnecessary. Hell, it was irrelevant; the twenty-four karat gold was soft enough, and the links fine enough, that the athletic young slave could easily snap it apart by taking off at a decent trot. But optics are important on mornings like this. And so, the leash. Likewise, I had the boy drop to his knees and follow me in on all fours, his posture giving the lie to his actual position in my household, at least compared to the eleven slaves inside (and even, perhaps, to Jake and Tyson, although I'd never admit it to them.) Inside the barn was a sight that never failed to delight me. Placed in front of six empty stalls were six full-length mirrors. In front of six full length mirrors were six fuck benches, pieces of furniture about the size and shape of a flat-topped doghouse with padded ledges for ankles and knees, where a young man could be secured in place with easy access to his cunt available to one and all. In the far corner of the building, Jake and Tyson with a coffle of six boys cuffed together at the wrists. Only days ago these cocky youths had been princes of their own tiny worlds; now they were about to receive their first (except for Pollo, of course; Etienne's inspection confirmed, as I expected, that the boy's ass was not exactly virgin) proper fuckings, along with a complete introduction to their new lives. The boys were still blindfolded and gagged, with black silicone cuffs locked to their wrists and ankles. Each boy's wrist was attached to one of his fellow slaves, forming something akin to the kinkiest game of Ring Around The Rosie in human history. Around each boy's genitals was perhaps the most important implement in my training toolbox, a thick silver cock ring connected wirelessly to an app on my phone, and those of my trainers, capable of delivering painless morse-code style instruction, waves of vibrating pleasure, or almost unimaginable pain from anywhere on the property. In consideration of the morning's festivities, they hadn't been replugged after their enemas, nor were they yet collared. That pleasure would be left to me. I instructed Tyson and Jake which boy would be housed in which stall, and one by one the boys were disconnected from each other and bound to the fuck benches in front of his new home. As each boy was locked in place, his blindfold was removed. Squinting in the brightness, their eyes widened in fear as their eyes adjusted to the light and the blur of brown and grey clarified into the reality of their situation, of bars and stalls and muscular men clad in black leather, and of their new slave selves reflected in the mirrors in front of them. Whereas I like to carry a riding crop, Jake and Tyson carry thick, black police-style batons at all times. I make frequent use of the crop; I don't think either of them has ever had to use one on a slave (except perhaps as a dildo), but, again, the visual helps the boys understand their situation. I presently borrowed Jake's baton and walked down the length of the occupied stalls, ringing the bars with the heavy piece of wood. If any of the slaves hadn't been roused by the sound of the morning's preparations, they were awake now. I try to keep the mood on the compound, and in the stables especially, upbeat. I demand order and obedience, but I resist needless cruelty, attempting to be as kind as a man in my position can be to my property. At its best moments, the atmosphere in my stables is something like a mix of a boarding school, a military barracks, and a kennel. Smiling at the five slaves standing at attention behind the bars of their stalls, I called out, "Good morning, boys!" "Master, good morning, Master!" "Today you get to meet your six new brothers. I expect you to treat them like family and to help them learn the ropes. Can you do that for me, boys?""Master, yes, Master!" came the chorus. I pressed a button on the wall. The doors on stalls one through six swung open, and five half-trained slaves, hair wild from sleep, morning erections straining at their chastity cages, hay stuck here and there to their naked bodies, crawled out on their hands and knees to greet their new brothers. 26. Cubby, Tiny, Icarus, Sunshine, and Bongo recognized the boys in front of them. Not personally, of course, but they recognized the boys because they had been just like them. Three short months ago, they had been happy-go-lucky free boys without a care in the world beyond maybe cramming for a test and trying and failing to get laid. Three short months ago, I had caught them (not in The Box, of course; as I said, I have many methods of acquisition. But that's a story for another day.) Three short months ago, they had been strapped to those benches. Three short months seemed like an eternity to them; they could barely remember their old lives. Now these five former free boys knelt in presentation position, knees spread and arms behind their heads, displaying their locked cocks and gazing hungrily at the asses of my six newly acquired slaves. Each knew what was coming. Months ago, they might have felt pity or empathy for the boys trussed up in front of them. By now, though, the three-month ache in their balls and the three months of training made it difficult for them to feel anything but arousal. I retrieved a heavy sack from Tyson and turned my focus towards the boys on the benches. "Good morning, boys. Or rather, happy birthday. As cliche as it may sound, today is the first day of the rest of your lives. Except, of course, your lives aren't really yours anymore," I monologued as I walked up and down the line of gagged teenage faces in front of me, JoJo crawling obediently a few steps behind. Occasionally I tousled a boy's hair or pinched his cheek. "I own you. I will train you, and then I will sell you. Today you will all be reborn in the image I have chosen for you. And because I am a kind and generous master, I've gotten each of you a birthday gift." At stall number seven, I fastened a heavy black collar snuggly around the neck of Sparky, formerly Ryan Connor. Taking hold of his unruly brown locks, I pressed his face into my crotch, a few centimeters of leather separating my cock from his straight, teenage face. I held him there for a good long while, waiting until he couldn't hold his breath any more, allowing him to get a few good, deep whiffs of the smell of leather and man musk, learning his owner's odor, then turned around and did the same with my exposed, hairy ass, sitting on the teen's face for a good thirty seconds. "This is Sparky," I announced to the assembled slaves. "Say good morning, boys!" "Good morning, Sparky!" they cried in unison. I repeated the process as I made my way down the line, Pollo at stall eight, Cinnamon at stall nine, Flipper and Flopper at stalls ten and eleven (I didn't know then, and don't know now, which was Daniel and which was Benjamin), and finally Awol, my wonderful little accident, at stall twelve. I gave Awol some extra time to get acquainted with my ass, enjoying the feeling of his nose nuzzling my hole. "It's time to show your new brothers just how excited you are to meet them, boys. Please be so kind as to make your way to the slave in front of you and get to know him properly." I checked the camera system via the app on my phone to make absolutely certain that I was recording every angle at every second. This was too good not to preserve for perpetuity (and, of course, my buyers' tittilation.) Five beautiful teenage slaves crawled on their hands and knees and buried their faces in the boys' straight, tight, teenage assholes, slobbering all over them like overexcited mongrels. Each knew what was coming, and each was eager to get the virgin cunt in front of him good and ready. A veritable Mormon Tabernacle Choir of moans, screams, and grunts attempted to escape the six inch silicone cocks gagging each of my new slaves as they found their virgin assholes breached by warm, wet intruders. As my half-trained slaves ate the asses of my new slaves, I again made my way down the line, bending down to unlock and free each slave's cock for the first time in a quarter of a year. Instantly they sprang to life with the pent-up frustrations of horny eighteen year olds denied three months worth of orgasms, leaking precum all over the ground. While they attended to their brothers' holes, I made my way down the line of benches, removing now the gags from each slave's mouth. As expected, I was greeted with a chorus of curses, threats, and pleas from the boys who'd been silenced for days.I allowed them to tire themselves out and throw their little tantrums. Nothing could spoil the pleasure of what was coming next. "All right, boys, it sounds like you've done an excellent job warming up those tight little holes. I think you're each overdue for a little pussy. Fuck away." 27. I take real care pairing my boys. It's more than just a first fuck. It's more than the slave's introduction to the proper use his body. It's a bond. It's valuable for the new boys to have a "big brother," a more experienced slave to whom they can look as an example. As the smell of sweat and sex rose in the stables, I looked at my work and smiled with pride. I'd done an especially good job pairing them, if I did say so myself. Cubby and Sparky actually looked like they could be brothers; although separated by several inches, each had the same sturdy frame, milky skin, and rosy cheeks. Only one of them was smiling at the moment, but they had that broad, beaming grin in common as well. Cubby's hair was a little less wild, and Sparky's body was obviously less developed, but a less scrupulous seller might actually try to pass them off as a sibling set. Most importantly Cubby and Sparky were both smart; hopefully Cubby's eagerness to please would rub off. I have to admit that Tiny and Pollo were mostly a study in opposites. Whereas Tiny would make a truly impressive pony, Pollo was without question destined for use as an eager and pliant pleasure slave. Whereas Tiny was long and lean, Pollo was small and compact. Physically, Pollo's closest analogue, with his petite frame and impressive musculature, was Sunshine, but I gave Pollo to Tiny because I figured if any of my little sluts in training had a chance at handling a cock the size of Tiny's it would be a boy who'd already had some practice. As it was, Pollo was struggling and squealing, but he was surely fairing better than his brothers would have, and judging by his engorged cock and the nut he'd already popped off over the back of his fuck bench, he was clearly enjoying the challenge. Cinnamon was the only one of my new acquisitions that broke six feet, and he was also the only one with any hope of being a proper pony. He and Icarus had strikingly similar frames, although I hoped he would be less recalcitrant than than the slave fucking him, who somehow managed to look sour even as he enjoyed his treat, pounding away at the creamy white ass in front of him. Sunshine and Bongo, the two runts of their litter, had always held a special bond. Watching them grinning at each other, seemingly in a contest to see who could jackhammer harder and faster on his respective twin's virgin asshole, I hoped they wouldn't be too bad an influence on the boys. I walked up and down the row of slaves, drinking in the pleasure and pain, making sure each new boy was getting a proper view of himself in the mirror in front of him. Some looked down, some squeezed their eyes shut. Jake, Tyson, and I intervened where we could, pulling hair to get heads looking into mirrors, even pulling eyes open when necessary. It's important for a slave to see itself as it really is. I was pleased to see some of the "big brothers" taking our cue and doing the same, reaching forward and locking fingers in hair or cheeks so that their little buddies could be sure to enjoy the view. The older boys were really getting into it, now. They'd started awkwardly enough; of the five of them, only Cubby had ever actually fucked a girl, and none of them had ever fucked an ass before, even though they'd taken plenty of cock over the last three months. Each had begun standing stock straight, hands on his little brother's hips, and simply started thrusting. Now, though, they were beginning to find rhythms in the sex, trading off shallow thrusts and deep dives, discovering the euphoric tightening of their partner's rectum around their tools when they pounded his prostate just right, and really leaning into boys beneath them. Surely each remembered the trauma and terror of his first time three months prior, and it was lovely to see, after the initial rush of carnal madness had waned, them attempting to make the experience as pleasurable as possible for the slaves they were fucking. Cubby laid his broad frame all the way down on Sparky, hugging him close as he humped his hole, their alabaster torsos seemingly melting into one another. I'm half convinced I heard the bigger boy moan, "I love you," the second time he came. Tiny had his broad hands on Pollo's muscular shoulders, massaging the squealing brown boy as he took long thrusts in and out of his hole. Burying himself all the way in he began to barely pump and inch or so in and out, letting Pollo's ass swallow and get to know his enormous cock while he leaned over and began kissing the small of Pollo's back. He worked his way up to his shoulders and then his neck, where he began to nibble, continuing to massage and pump. He brought a long muscular arm around Pollo's neck, forcing the boy's chin up facing the mirror, and rested his head atop the boy's, Tiny's face beaming, Pollo's contorted in passion, the two of them looking like some kind of erotic totem pole. "I know you boys have been waiting long and...well, not exactly hard...to get to know the tight boycunts in front of you. But please do take your time. After all, who knows when you'll next be allowed to come?" I remarked, just an edge of foreboding in my voice. "I'd also like you to take your brothers' feelings into consideration; I have a Hershey's Kiss for each slave who manages to make his little brother come from the fucking you're giving him. But no cheating; don't you dare touch his cock." "Master, thank you, Master!" I made my way to the bench in front of stall twelve, where Awol lay bound and alone, still gagged and without a cock in his ass. I knelt down to eye level. Running my hand over his buzzed black hair, I saw the hate in his eyes. I smiled and whispered in his ear, "Don't worry, boy. I haven't forgotten you. You're going to get a special treat."