****** Consequences ******
                           Provided By: BDSM_Library
                              www.bdsmlibrary.com



Synopsis: A homophobe is caught cheating on his best friend and both a punished
severely
Consequences
b7 2NN

If you are a minor go elsewhere now! If you are offended by
homosexuality, sexual torture, scat or snuff or of a generally squeamish
nature, go elsewhere now. This is not for you.

Prologue
As I shoot my load into the absolutely gorgeous woman beneath
me, a voice somewhere in the back of my mind tells me that this is
wrong. She's my best friend's wife and this is not how you treat your
best friend. But Sheila is beautiful and we've been attracted to each
other for ages. The spark was the fact that she'd felt neglected, felt
that Richard just wasn't there for her anymore, was too busy and much
too secretive about was his business really was. It's not really an
excuse for what we'd been doing for the last month, but I, who has known
Rich since high school, tended to agree. What Rich did for a living has
always been somewhat of a mystery, but whatever it was it had made him a
millionaire many, many times over. He always referred to his business as
"a very, very basic delivery of commodities desired by a large part of
the world's population, especially those with money and power". This of
course explained nothing, but he always did seem to mingle with men and
women of obvious wealth and power. None of this excuses what his wife
and I have just done. After all, we were supposed to be the ones closest
to him and if there was a problem, we could just ask. So really the
bottom line was that we'd been fucking around behind his back just
because we wanted to. And there was no denying it: Sheila is an
absolutely gorgeous woman. Just shy of six feet tall with a killer body.
I don't have her measurements, but her tits have turned the heads of
just about every heterosexual man I know. Large green, almond-shaped
eyes, long, luxurious red hair and lips so full I'd suspect injections
if I didn't know better.

I pull out with a tiny groan and lie down next to her. I might be
feeling guilty but I also feel fantastic. From the looks she gives me
and the kiss that follows it, I think she does too.

The suddenly Sheila starts and lets out a short scream. As I turn to see
what she's screaming about, I too get a nasty surprise: Richard is
standing at the foot of the bed, looking down on us with a look of
contempt on his face. For a very long, moment no one speaks. Then I open
my mouth and give it a truly pathetic try: "Hey Rich, it's not... well
it's just that... we really..." There is no good excuse or explanation for
this and we all know it, so my attempts die out. Still he looks down on
us with the utmost contempt. And then I go cold all over. Richard raises
both his hands and I see that he is holding a gun in each. My throat
constricts and I am unable to speak. Sheila starts to beg, but to no
avail. Richard pulls the trigger. But there is no bang and neither
Sheila nor I die. Instead I hear two hisses of compressed air and feel a
sharp sting in my thigh. Looking down I see a dart of some sort sticking
out of my thigh. Looking over at Shelia I see the same kind of dart
protruding from her thigh. I look up at Richard, as does Sheila. He
doesn't exactly smile as he says it, but there is a definite twinkle in
his eye: "Well, you two cheating bitches, now you'll finally find out
what I do for a living." I open my mouth to question this statement, but
find that I can't really speak. My mouth feels like it's full of wool
and I beginning to fell dizzy. Then the light fade and so do I.

Chapter 1: Introduction to the slave life
When I come to I feel woozy, but not nauseous, which turns out to be a
good thing. I try to move but find that I am restrained, my arms somehow
pinned behind me. I struggle helplessly for a short while before
regaining the full use of my senses. Then I realize just how well
restrained I am. My hands are held inside what feels like rubber,
compressing them to elongated stumps, I think, since my fingers are
straight, but squeezed tightly together. My arms are folded behind my
back and tied together with multiple straps. More straps go around my
chest and holds my arms tightly to my body, leaving no room for
movement. My legs are also strapped, but not to each other. Rather
straps around my ankles, above my knees and mid-thigh, are connected to
wires that hold my legs apart. As I realize this, I also realize that I
am not lying down, but rather hanging in an upright position. The straps
around my chest are also connected to wires and these wires are used to
suspend me, as is what feels like a broad collar around my neck. I look
up and see Sheila. She's not awake yet, but seems to be tied in the same
way I am. On her feet are ankle high black stiletto boots that seem to
be fastened to her feet with a padlock arrangement, so that she can't
take them off without the key. It is now that I realize that I too am
wearing similar footwear. Not similar; the same kind. I am also wearing
black stiletto boots, secured to my feet with padlocks. As I ponder this
most strange development, I see that Sheila is gagged, a broad
rectangular rubber patch covering her lower face completely. Not
surprisingly I am also gagged with exactly the same kind of gag. What I
can't see on Sheila's gag, I can feel on my own. It has some kind of
plastic or rubber bulb filling up my mouth; a bulb that feels strangely
familiar as I try moving my tongue around it. My movements stop as I
realize that it is most likely shaped like the head of a cock. Being
effectively a homophobe this fills me with deep revulsion and I have to
fight back the urge to throw up. Vomiting with a gag inserted will
almost certainly kill me and with this thought I am able to control my
gag.

Once I have controlled my retching I struggle again, thrashing in my
bonds, trying in vain to get free. It's futile. The straps are too tight
and the wires too well secured and there is no way I can get out of this
on my own. Consequently I just have to wait it out. As I stop fighting I
see that Sheila has woken up. She looks at me with large scared eyes
that become even larger as she sees how I'm tied up. This sparks a round
of futile fighting, which of course doesn't help her at all. In the end
we just hang and stare at each other.

The room we are in is large and the floor and walls are covered in white
tiles all the way up the ceiling. It is lit by very bright fluorescent
lights and ominously has several drains in the floor. At one end is a
very solid looking steel door and along the wall on either side of the
door are tables and shelves containing the largest and most threatening
selection of torture and bondage equipment I have ever seen. While I can
recognize a few as gags and some as clamps of one kind or the other,
many I have never seen before. I can, however, see that they are meant
to cause pain and I shudder at this display. At the other end of the
room, with their openings facing each other, are two small cages, one in
each corner. Also on opposite sides of the room, some distance away from
the walls, are two chairs that look like they come from a dentist's or a
gynecologist's clinic. There are also two very large beds, covered with
white rubber sheets, again placed on opposite sides of the room. Other
than that the room is empty and glaringly white, with every sound made
echoing around for a long time.

Once I have taken stock of the room (and tried again to free myself) I
look at Sheila again. Like I must also look, she looks very scared. But
even scared she an extremely attractive woman and somewhat surprisingly
I find myself going semi-hard. Luckily this goes unnoticed by her and we
spend some time exchanging looks. Then finally something happens. The
door opens and Richard steps in. Only I've never seen Richard like this
and judging from the look on Sheila's face neither has she.

No more elegant hand made suits and expensive shoes. Gone is his
ubiquitous silk tie and gold watch. There's no trace of the casual, but
obviously expensive clothes he used to wear on weekends. Instead we see
Richard as he probably really is: a six foot ten hulk of a man. I'd
never really noticed it before, but he's very, very muscular. Usually
his clothing tended to hide just how big he really is, but now they
emphasize it. He's dressed in big, black leather boots, black leather
trousers and a tight, black leather T-shirt. On his hands are tight
leather gloves not even reaching his wrists and the expression on his
face is one of the deepest contempt.

"Cheating, fucking bitches," he growls in a tone of voice that scares
the shit out of me, "you are so gonna pay." Sheila looks just as scared
as me and she begins to mewl something pleading behind her gag. The
response is immediate. Richard steps up grabs both her nipples and
twists them violently outwards. Sheila responds by arching her body
backwards as she screams her head off. I try to breaks free, but of
course get nowhere. Richard keeps on twisting her nipples for some time
and when he finally lets them go he turns to me. I am still trying to
yell through my gag, to make him stop hurting Sheila. However, Richard
soon stops all thought of Sheila as he grabs my genitals and yanks them
upwards while squeezing them at the same time. Now it's my turn to
scream and as I do I see the wild look of the deepest satisfaction on
Richard's face. We're doomed.

Finally he relinquishes his grip and steps away from with a "stupid
bitch" uttered under his breath. Then he goes on to explain how Sheila
and I are going to pay for cheating on him and how we will spend the
rest of our lives paying. The last bit really gets our attention and as
he sees this he smiles broadly. "Yes," he smiles, "while you never
really knew my business, you now will...intimately. Unfortunately there
are only three ways on getting to know what I do: One is to buy things
from me and obviously neither of you will do that. Two is to work for me
and frankly I don't trust either of you to do that. The third way is to
become part of the merchandise." I am beginning to see where he's going
but I simply can't bring myself to finish the thought. Slavery?

Richard meanwhile has attached leashes to our collars and has begun
motions to set us down, but before he does so he takes out what looks
very much like a cattle prod. "Let me explain the rules before I give
you a tour that very, very few of the people like you get. Firstly you
will only make a sound when I want you to. That means never speak unless
spoken to and, well screaming you can do as much of as you like. I'll
stop you when I've had enough of that sweet, sweet sound." The
expression on his face as he says this has to be the most frightening
things I've ever seen, but he continues: "Secondly the slave boots on
your feet will stay on for your entire stay here. All my merchandise
wears them and don't worry Robbie", he says directed at me, "you'll soon
get the hang of them. All my bitches do. Thirdly; please do try to
escape. Punishments for escape attempts are severe around here and the
more you suffer, the happier I will be." He really means this and I
become even more scared than I was before, which is saying something.
"Finally", he goes on, "should any of you break any of these rules or
try anything funny, anything at all, as I show you the plant, I will do
this". Then he plunges his cattle prod into my crotch and my world is
consumed by pain. I try to scream but am unable to. I feel my breath
being pushed out of me as my muscles convulse violently and all I can
think of is how to make the pain go away. When Richard finally removes
the prod from my crotch I senselessly try to thank him, only to find out
that he really meant it when he said that I should only speak when
spoken to. Again my crotch explodes in pain and I thrash uncontrollably
in my bonds as Richard rams home his lesson. When he removes it again I
have the sense not to make any sound other than deep and very ragged
breathing. Looking at me intently he smiles and nods before teaching
Sheila the same lesson. Sheila, however, does not need two shocks to her
crotch before learning it and soon Richard has released the wires
holding us off the ground. Gingerly I put my feet on the ground as
directed and immediately find it very hard to hold my balance. Stilettos
are not easy footwear. But a warning look from Richard motivates quicker
than I'd have thought possible and I now pour all my energy into
balancing. Anything to avoid the touch off his cattle prod. Sheila is
also standing quite still, but then she's had plenty more practice as
stilettos were her everyday footwear.

Richard doesn't say another word, but leads us out of the door by the
leashes attached to our collars. Sheila strides elegantly behind him,
while I stumble along, several times almost twisting my ankle. The third
time this happens, Richard stops and plunges the cattle prod into my
crotch. Soon I am curled up on the floor, trying to scream. "Don't slow
me down bitch", he hisses at me and yanks me up by my collar. I do only
marginally better this time and he has zapped me two more times before
we reach the first stop.

It's a door, just like the one we came out of. Before we enter Richard
explains: "Basically I have three kinds of bitches here: the ones who
give themselves up, men and women who crave slavery. They are always
taken by surprise when the door slams shut for the final time and they
realize just how deep their slavery is going to be and how final their
decision is. The second kind are the ones taken against their will and
then transformed so completely that they can't remember their past and
they leave here in a state of happiness because they think this is the
best thing they could hope for. I have quite a few of them, but they are
not the most popular type of merchandise I sell. The third and final
type is also taken against their will and their training is only meant
to increase their new owner's pleasure in having them. After all the
greatest pleasure their owners will have is the control over another
being, one that does not wish to be enslaved."

Both Sheila and I stand completely still, again shocked by the sadistic
madness coming from the mouth of a man we thought we knew. Richard sees
this and again smiles as he goes on: "The slave behind this door is of
the first type. A sissy bitch, she gave herself up to the interesting
stranger she met on the Net and now she's in too deep. Stacy, as she
liked to call herself, now knows that she'll never escape and that she's
destined for a life of hard slavery. See for yourself." He opens the
door and let us into a room much like the one we had just come, only
much smaller. There is a similar selection of "toys" on the walls and
this room is also equipped with a bed, a chair and a cage. On the bed is
a sexy girl, dressed up as a French maid, is servicing two guys at the
same time, one in her pussy or ass and one with her mouth. She is a very
pale shade of white and has long slender legs and a pair of massive,
very white tits hanging out of her uniform. She has a full head of long,
frilly brown hair, which hides her head and the crotch of the one she's
giving head to. On her feet are the exact same kind of boots that Sheila
and I are wearing; black stilettos at least six inches high.

The two guys fucking her look up as we enter but continue fucking her as
Richard tells them to carry on. I may be shocked, but I can see that she
knows what she's doing and that she's pouring her heart into the fuck,
moving her hips and ass just so and using her hands to help the blowjob.
The guys show it too, both of them trying desperately to hold back as
she milks them. Finally they have to let go and only a few seconds apart
they thrust into her and deliver their load. Afterwards she licks both
of the cocks clean, even the one she's had in her ass, and puts them
gently back in their owner's pants as she thanks them for their
"wonderful man-juice". The two guys leave the room as Richard says that
he'll finish up for them.

The girl comes over to Richard, drops to her knees and licks Richard's
boots, kissing them as she breathes: "Master" with the utmost devotion.
Grabbing her by the hair he lifts her up to stand. She casts us a
sideways glance before returning her full attention to Richard. She does
this not by looking him in the eye, but by standing at attention in
front of him, arms behind her back and eyes cast down. Richard lifts up
her chin and tells her: "Show these bitches the extent of your slavery".
The reply is prompt and accompanied by a perfect little curtsying move:
"Master, yes Master". Her first proof of slavery scares me badly. Stacy
simply opens her mouth and removes her teeth. All of them. And not only
that, she demonstrates that her dentures are completely useless, or
rather completely harmless, as they are made of from soft, white rubber.
Her second proof of slavery is not less unpleasant, but perhaps less
shocking. She lifts up her black satin, skirt and reveals her
inescapably imprisoned cock. It has been pierced at least four times and
is held inside a steel tube with a thick steel cage imprisoning the
head.

I look at her again and see that her face has probably had surgery to
make the features softer. It is very neatly done and I can only see a
hint of this because I know what to look for; I work as an accountant at
a clinic that performs a lot of plastic surgery. Her Adam's apple is
gone and any hint of a heavy jaw has been artfully removed, just as the
features around her eyes have been softened. Whoever did this was a
master at his craft. Her hands are still a bit too big, but perfectly
manicured and her nails are painted a deep, dark red color. Her new
tits, huge as they are, are of course fake, but they too are proof of a
master craftsman. Given the circumstances I'm not sure I want to meet
him.

Richard lets her drop the skirt and stand at attention again before
asking: "How long has your dirty little clit been imprisoned, my pretty
little whore?" Blushing slightly she answers: "Master, apart from a
glorious fuck, it has been on the entire time I've been here, Master."
"And how long is that, sissy slut?" Here she falters a little, a
confused look passing over her face: "Master, I don't know Master".
Richard smiles at that and asks: "Tell us about the only time your
clitty has been free". Stacy blushes again and dares cast a look at
Richard, a look so filled with lust that I'm taken aback and so is
Sheila. "Master, it was the time You took me, Master. Master, the night
You tied, beat me and fucked me, Master. Master and it was the one time
You touched my useless little clitty, granting me the best orgasm of my
life, Master". Stacy is almost out of breath with remembered lust now
and Richard is enjoying himself immensely as he ask a final question:
"Tell us Stacy, what you will do once your training is complete and when
you will be allowed to cum again." Stacy's head is bowed down in defeat
as she tells us: "Master, once i am deemed skillful enough i will be
transported to one of Master's whorehouses, Master. Master, there i will
work as a whore, making money for Master by servicing strangers, Master.
Master, i've been informed that i will never again be allowed to cum,
that my one night with Master was my last orgasm and that i should be
grateful for it, Master". "Are you grateful Stacy?" Richard asks. Stacy
drops to her knees and kisses his boots: "Master, deeply Master. Master,
this useless sissy bitch loves Master, Master." As Richard offers up the
sole of his boot for her to lick, he asks: "Is this what you expected
when you went to meet me, is this what you wanted?" Stacy sobs a little
as she answers: "Master, no Master. Master, this worthless slut had a
softer life in mind, Master. Master, but she is profoundly grateful for
being shown the error of her ways, Master. Master, thank you Master."
Richard chuckles and says: "Enough bitch", and Stacy stands so fast I
would have thought it impossible in those heels, "It's time to lock you
up." Stacy curtseys and says: "Master, yes Master". Then she fetches a
number of rubber items which she very respectfully hands to Richard,
after which she undresses very quickly, putting her maid's uniform away
perfectly folded. The rubber things she's given to Richard turns out to
be a straight-jacket, a big, black ball-gag and a thick, black hood.
Soon she's tied up, all but her legs hidden beneath black rubber.
Richard then walks her to the cage and puts her inside before locking
it. It is so cramped that she kneels inside, only able to move her head
and not even that can she move a lot. The cages in the room we just came
from are the same size.

Richard once again takes our leashes and lead us out of the room,
locking the behind us. I still stumble along, but the time spent
listening to Stacy's horrific fate still gave me time to at least get a
little sense of balance and so I avoid being shocked before reaching the
next door. We are led through it and our leashes are secured to a post a
few feet inside the room, which is very large. Inside it a leather-clad
man, obviously a trainer of some sadistic sort, is putting two slaves
through their paces. The slaves are two absolutely huge men. Not that
they are super tall, both are about six feet would be my guess or rather
they would be if standing flatfooted. As it is they stand six feet eight
or more probably six feet nine. Both are extremely muscular. They are
Caucasian, with a very deep tan and neither of them has arms. Their
shoulders look completely smooth and once again I hope to never meet the
man who performed that bit of spectacular surgery. On their feet are
black boots, going all the way up to their knees, which shape their feet
to look like a horse's hoof, horseshoe and all. Around their necks are
very high and very stiff black collars holding their chins up and in
their mouths are enormous black balls. Except for a very well groomed
Mohawk on the very tops of their heads, they are completely hairless.

The trainer has them by leashes, but both struggle mightily against him.
That is, they try to. Their new footwear, which is equivalent to wearing
boots with nine inch heels, only these have no heel forcing them onto
their toes, makes it very hard for them to walk, let alone struggle.
Indeed this is what the trainer seems to try to do: teach them how to
walk in their new footwear.

Richard stands and watches for a while them turns to us. "These two", he
says with obvious relish, "have been trained as ponies. Their new
master, who will be here any minute now, pointed them out to us and paid
to have them kidnapped and modified. Apart from the permanent loss of
hair and the removal of arms, he has ordered one other change". Richard
smirks here: "I wonder if you can spot it?" It's hard to miss. Both,
while obviously not enjoying themselves and clearly hating what has been
done to them, are sporting massive erections. Erections so hard they
must be outright painful.

As I watch this in horror, speculating what Richard wants to do with us,
the door opens and a man steps inside. He is a good deal smaller than
the two ponies, no more than 5 feet nine or ten, and is wearing a riding
outfit: long, black boots, white Jodhpurs, a red jacket and black
gloves. Under his arm is a riding crop. His hair is uniform grey in a
tight crew cut, he has an impressive grey moustache and his eyes are a
light grey color, containing the hint of cruel smile. His jaw is square
and he looks like the very embodiment of authority. As he reaches his
ponies (for I automatically assume that he is their new owner), he
smacks the crop into his palm and addresses the two ponies. Momentarily
diverted from their struggling, they actually stop and listen: "Now you
two will stand at attention in front of me right now or you will feel
the crop!" His voice carries such a whiplash of authority that I
actually almost step up to him. The two armless ponies also stop, but
only for a second. Then they resume their struggling. Then something
remarkable happens. The trainer lets go of their leashes and leaves the
job to the man with the riding crop. I think the attempt is doomed, but
fifteen minutes later, after surprisingly little running, but after a
true hailstorm of hits from his crop, the two ponies stand at attention
before him. Their asses and the insides of their legs are red from all
the blows he has handed out, but the blows that really brought them to
heel have left deep red welts in their crotches.

They stand at attention as he speaks to them: "Better. We will have to
work on that sloppy posture of yours, but for now it will have to do. My
name is Randolph and I am your new owner. I know that you do not accept
this now, but you will and that soon." The two mutilated men move
nervously at this, but a few well placed blows from the crop puts an end
to the fidgeting. "As my previous ponies have discovered, so you will
discover that I am a man whom it is wise not to cross. On the other
hand, you will also discover that when pleased I am a man who shows his
appreciation. I will now demonstrate how good pleasing me can feel." He
presses his crop under his arm and takes out what turns out to be a tube
lubricant. He deposits a small amount of his left thumb and then rubs
his thumbs together, spreading it evenly on the two fingers. Then,
without further ado, he grasps the ponies' erect members so that his
thumbs are placed on the cock heads. Using only his thumbs to gently rub
their cock heads, he takes possession of them. In two minutes both are
moaning with lust, their knees occasionally flexing involuntarily. After
five minutes both are rolling their eyes with pleasure and one of them
is actually drooling copiously. Then suddenly he stops. They start,
looking at him with desperate eyes, looking for an explanation. He
smiles and says: "We will finish this little demonstration, by showing
you that obedience always pays off and that even pain, when administered
by me, can be so very good for you." Their cocks twitching
involuntarily, the ponies eye him nervously, but stand still. "Good", he
says after seeing their reaction, "I will now bring you to some fine
orgasms by whipping yours cocks until you squirt. Now stand still". One
of them doesn't but a few well placed blows brings him back in line.
Then the man proceeds to do what he said he would. Using the leather
flap at the end of his crop and a nasty flick of the wrist he
alternately beats the ponies' cock heads until they are moaning, not so
much from pain as from pleasure. It takes quite a while and their cock
heads are quite red and swollen when he gets them off, but towards the
end both mutilated men are moaning with lust, their eyes rolled back
into their heads. The amounts of cum produced by the two men are
staggering and the power with which the shoots are delivered
unbelievable. The one who shoots his load first deposits it on Sheila's
breasts. She's almost fifteen feet from him and the load looks like it
could fill a coffee cup - easily. The second one hits me - right in the
face. Homophobic as I am, I find the sensation extremely revolting and
start to shake my head when I see Richard move up until he's staring me
straight in the face. His hands have a firm grip on my balls and I
almost wet myself when I hear him tell me to leave the cum on my face to
dry. I have known this side of him for less than an hour and already he
scares me badly.

When Richard turns away I look at the ponies again. Both are swaying
slightly, but have remained standing and both have a strangely dreaming
look on their faces, as if they can't believe what has just happened.
Their new owner is praising them in the condescending tones one would
use on a dog or a..., well a pony. Incredibly their cocks are now as hard
and throbbing as they were just a few seconds ago, right before they
shot their load. Whatever has been done to them included drastic things
in their crotches.

Their owner removes their leashes and fits them with new ones: thin,
black nylon ropes which he ties around their cocks, right behinds the
heads. Only he ties them tightly, almost instantly turning the heads
bluish and causing the ponies obvious pain and discomfort. Then he leads
them out of the room, stopping on the way to exchange courtesies with
Richard. The ponies both look dazed, but they stand completely still,
unwilling to fight the man who has them by such a sensitive body part,
even if that part is swelling and turning blue.

When he has left Richard turns to us: "Those two will no doubt
experience the best orgasms of their lives with Randolph, but he somehow
failed to mention how fond he is of breath play. I supply him with a new
set of ponies every two years. Then the old ones have been worn out and
he has discarded them. It's been that way from the time of my
predecessor and I believe that those two were the sixteenth pair
delivered to Randolph." He chuckles as he turns and lead us out if the
room. Did he just say that the man in the riding costume has "worn out",
snuffed, killed thirty pony boys? The truth finally hits home and I am
frozen to the spot, for the first time truly terrified of what is going
to happen to me. I begin to keen, a high-pitched scream-like sound, as I
shake my head. I finally wet myself and to add acute embarrassment to
sheer terror, I feel a warm, wet turd crawl down the inside of my leg. I
finally get it: Richard is going to torture us and then kill us, not
just for revenge, but because it amuses him. I am unable to do anything
but keen as I loose control over my bodily functions, tears rolling down
my cum covered face.

Richard does not take kindly to this and in seconds I am screaming
again, this time in pain, as I curl up on the floor. This time he
doesn't stop until my voice is almost gone from screaming behind my gag
and my face has been washed almost clean by the tears rolling down my
face. Richard yanks me to my feet by the leash and whispers into my
face, with a voice dripping with venom: "I'll do you much worse you
shit", he spits at me, "Those two will be free of their slavery in about
two years when Randolph's worn them out, but you will remain my slave
for much, much longer than that. Just you wait and see useless, little
turd. For now you had better get a hold of yourself if you want to avoid
pain that's much worse than what you've experienced so far." I get a
hold of myself and as I stand, I see that Sheila is looking very, very
scared and that she too has pissed on herself. Richard notices this, but
does nothing. He merely smiles and leads us along.

The third room is occupied only by a man who looks and acts more like a
technician of sorts, than the brutal Dom he must be. He is preparing
something which involves a great deal of black plastic and rubber, as
well as some steel rods and the like. I can't see what it's for and
Richard is not telling. I can see from Sheila's face that she's just as
confused as I am. But from what we've seen so far, it can't be good. It
simply has to be bad.

I hate to be right. The door opens and a small cart of sorts is wheeled
in. It takes me a second or two to identify what's lying on it and when
I do. I almost scream with terror. Sheila does and in seconds she's been
shocked and lies on the floor, writhing.

It's a man, or rather what's left of him. He has no legs, no arms and
his ears have been removed and replaced with metal hoops of some sort;
the kind use for securing chains and such. Chains are locked to these
anchor points at one end and to the corners of the cart at the other end
and they are taut; effectively strapping him down hard to the cold steel
surface of the cart. His cock and balls have been left intact, or so it
seems at first glance. When I take a second look, I see that they are
not exactly intact. Rather both his balls and his cock have undergone
some rather drastic changes. First of all his balls are very large and
the skin on them looks like it is stretched from being very full indeed.
From a point between them a thick, rubber covered wire extends at the
end of which is a small handle with a red button at the very end. The
button is covered completely by a transparent plastic cap, which is
secured with a small padlock. I have no idea what it is for. His cock
has also undergone a dramatic change, in that it has been enlarged quite
a bit. It looks like it is a full foot long and very thick too. It is
also erect, so much so that I can see it twitch rhythmically as if in
great need of cuming. Having spent the last hour or so getting
acquainted with Richard this makes a kind of perverted sense to me. His
mouth is completely filled up by his tongue, now a huge thing hanging
out, unable to fit inside him anymore. His eyes are open and he is wide
awake, seemingly perfectly aware what's being done to him.

Then I spot the person pushing the cart. He or she is naked except for a
pair of boots like the ones Sheila and I are wearing, a black corset and
a black collar. I'm guessing he used to be a male, but he is now
sporting a pair of very feminine legs, leading up a very, very inviting
ass, round and full. And then there are his tits. They are huge;
enormous globules, almost beach ball sized, with large, elongated
nipples, pierced with steel rings, two inches in diameter. Acting as a
perverted and no doubt painful bra, are two steel wires connecting his
nipple piercings to a ring in his collar. The corset around the slave's
waist is very narrow and very, very constricting. I can't even imagine
how painful it must be to wear. The slave's head is, just as the whole
rest of his body, completely hairless. He doesn't even have eyebrows.
His lips are very full and look very soft as well. On his forehead the
words "SLAVE NO. 19" have been tattooed.

I can see that his crotch has received the same kind of treatment as the
amputated slave's: huge balls with a strange kind of remote hanging down
and a permanents and very needy looking erection. Only this slave's
crotch looks much, much needier and much, much worse for wear. His balls
have obviously been through massive beatings judging from their scarring
and they are almost blue in color. I am beginning to suspect that it is
the result of not being allowed to cum. The reason for my suspicion is
his huge, scarred and very erect cock. It is twitching with what I think
is need and its tip is moist with what I think is expectation.

Upon entering the room the slave no. 19 drops to his knees and crawls
over to kiss first Richard's feet and then the other man working in the
room. Neither even looks at the slave, but simply kicks him in the face
as to acknowledge his greeting.

The stump of a man chained to the cart is then wheeled over to the
stand, which the other man in the room had been working on. While the
androgyne slave stands by docilely, he releases the stump from the
table, inverts him and straps him in place between two steel poles, so
that he is now hanging upside down, his huge genitals his highest point.

Slave no. 19 now starts his work. He squats down slightly and over the
barely audible protests of the amputated slave, he inserts his own huge
cock into the other man's mouth and by the sound of it, he slides it all
the way home. Then he stands up and as he does, his cock forces the body
of the other higher up as well. Then he leans in towards the other man's
crotch, but since he has massive tits, this can only accomplished by
grabbing his own tits by their rings and twisting them as far apart as
possible and then putting his body as close to the other man's as
possible. To avoid being pushed away by the force of his massive tits,
he gets a very good hold of the other man's balls, something that makes
the stump scream with pain, or rather try to scream as the sound coming
out around the cock in his throat is very limited. Then no. 19 begins
fucking the stump and as he does, the reason for the arrangement of
rubber straps becomes apparent. The straps act as springs or rubber
bands and when no. 19 finds his fucking rhythm this means that he gets
his stump of a victim to bounce up and down on his pole with a bare
minimum of expended energy. One moment the androgyne torturer/slave is
being deep throated by his victim and the other moment he is
deepthroating him. And still he holding himself closely to the other
man's body by clinging onto his balls. Short groans of pain are emitted
every time the stump moves upwards and short grunts of frustration and
pleasure comes from the no. 19. Soon the same sounds of frustration come
from the stump of a slave being fucked.

The fucking goes on and on. No 19 and his victim are covered in sweat
and the sounds coming from both are keens of desperate frustration. But
they don't stop, no. 19 keeps up the pace while keening with
frustration. Sheila and I are transfixed by this truly bizarre spectacle
which just goes on, seemingly without loosing pace. After what I think
is half an hour, Richard picks up a phone hanging on the wall and speaks
a few phrases into it. Very soon thereafter a slave looking just like
no. 19 turns up. On this slave's forehead the words: "SLAVE NO. 57" is
tattooed, and apart from a slightly different face and somewhat less
scarred genitals he looks exactly the same, right down to the wire
hanging down between his legs.

Like no. 19 before him he drops to his knees and kisses Richards boots.
He doesn't have time to get to his feet before Richard commands:
"Blowjob". No. 57 bows his head by way of acknowledgement and when he
looks up and reaches for Richard's fly, he has the most perversely
satisfied smile on his face. With the utmost care he takes Richard's
semi-hard member out and begins the blowjob, his eyes closed with what
looks like real pleasure, hit cheeks sunken as he greedily sucks
Richard's pole. Because it is a pole, a truly impressive cock. I shake
if off and return my attention to no. 57 who is now moaning with lust,
really putting his back into the blowjob now. After a little while
Richard pats his head and says "easy bitch, slow down" and no. 57
lessens his pace a bit.

In a completely dispassionate tone of voice Richard informs us that the
stump slaves, mostly male but also some female, are very popular with
the yuppie crowd. You don't need a lot space or them, there's no chance
of them escaping and for those living in apartments they can be
delivered without the ability to produce sound. They are even good for
the constantly travelling crowd and Richard tells us that he has a large
and steady trade in these amputated slaves to travelling salesmen and
-women as well as to truckers. Richard scares the shit out of me.

We continue watching no. 19 fucking the stump slave. He must have been
going for over an hour by now and his pace has lessened somewhat. This
has prompted the Dom beside the table to start whipping him to keep up
the pace and as a result no. 19 is now being covered in more welts and
marks. Beside me Richard shoots his load into the eagerly waiting mouth
of no. 57, who thanks his master profusely when he's finished swallowing
his load. As way of thank you Richard makes no. 57 stand with his legs
spread wide and his hands behind his head. Then he has to ask for a
solid kick in the balls, something he does with no hesitation
whatsoever. Soon he's curled up on the floor, retching with pain as he
tries to thank Richard for this favor.

When no. 57 has recovered a bit, Richard has him sit on the floor and
masturbate. Unbelievably he is soon rock hard and sporting a truly
massive erection, bigger even than Richard's. His cock is long and thick
and has obviously been subjected to a lot of abuse. He is playing with
it with great enthusiasm, but despite his efforts he can't seem to cum
and like no. 19 his frustration can be seen and heard. Richard turns to
Sheila and me and says: "These slaves can't cum unless the button at the
end of the wire between their legs is pressed. They can wank and fuck
all they like. No press, no cum." He smiles cruelly and turns to no. 57:
"Tell them bitch how long since your last orgasm." No. 57 groans and
answers, while still keeping up his frantic and desperate masturbation:
"Master, I'm not sure Master. Master, but I think perhaps three years,
Master?" Richard chuckles and says: "Sounds about right. How about a
blowjob, slave?" No. 57's lights up and he eagerly answers: "Master, oh
yes please, Master." I think that no. 57 should probably sound less
enthusiastic about it.

No. 57 is now getting a blowjob, a blowjob like no other I have seen or
heard of performed in real life. He is sitting on the floor, his legs
bent. His arms reach beneath his legs, right behind the knee, and up
behind his neck, pressing his head down. They are tied together there
and a cord goes from this binding and down his back, under his ass and
is tied around his scrotum so that he can't remove his hands from their
current position. The effect is to press his head down so that his mouth
now is filled up by his own cock. A huge dildo, vibrating like crazy,
has been shoved up his ass and is held in place by the rope from his
hands to his scrotum. No. 57 is forced to blow himself and with no one
pressing his button he can't come. Furthermore his position is
desperately cramped and as we leave Richard says to the other Dom in the
room: "Don't release the useless shit for another 24 hours." No. 57
screams down on his cock, while in the background no. 19 is loosing the
battle and is forced to slow down and thus is subjected to ever more
painful tortures. His arm- and legless victim is simply another
screaming package of slave meat and his screams too die down as the door
closes behind us.

Both Sheila and I are truly shaken as Richard leads us back to the room
we woke up in. If only the least drastic of the things we have seen the
slaves subject to here happens to us, and I'm not sure what that would
be, it'll be the most painful and humiliating thing that has ever
happened to us. And somehow I don't think Richard is going to pull any
punches and go soft on any of us. I think we are going to be much worse
off than any of the poor slaves we have just seen.

Chapter 2: Conditioning
I realize that I'm already becoming adept at walking in high heels. As
Richard leads us back I don't stumble at all and I don't slow him down,
even though he's pulling us along at a brisk pace. This disturbs me more
than a little, since it effectively proves that given the right - very
painful - incentive, Richard will be able to condition us to do just
about anything. Given what he's caught us doing and his, for us, newly
discovered predilections in general, this bodes very ill for Sheila and
me.

We are ushered through a door and back into the room we awoke in.
Waiting for us inside are four Doms; two huge men and two stern looking
women, and four very submissive looking slaves; again two men and two
women. The Doms are wearing variations over the same theme: leather
boots, leather trousers and leather shirts. The female Doms are wearing
stiletto boots whereas the male Doms are of course wearing military
style boots. The two men are both very muscular. One is bald with
menacing tattoos showing beneath his leather, his eyes cold and blue, a
look of revulsion on his face as he looks at me. He is at least 6'8" and
his hands are the size of dinner plates. He is introduced as Master Rob.
The other is even bigger and even more menacing; almost seven feet tall,
he's also bald and his skin is the color of coffee with just a drop of
milk. He is so muscular that he could probably break my back without
even breaking a sweat and his eyes, black as midnight, look me over like
I am just a new toy. He is introduced as Master Butch and I have a
disturbing feeling that he and I will get to know each other in ways I
definitely don't want.

The dominatrixes are both blond and blue, but apart from that very
different. One is about 5'10", or rather she would probably be 5'10"
were it not for her six-inch heels. She a classic beauty, long blonde
hair and deep blue eyes and a very kissable mouth. Except she doesn't
look very kissable. She looks menacing in her skintight black leather
pants, her tiny black leather top, holding her nice and firm tits, and
her stiletto boots, laced right up to her knees, looking at one of the
male slaves like he is just a piece of meat on the counter at the local
supermarket. She is Mistress Gwendolyn. If the first blonde looked
menacing, the second looks downright scary. I think she might be as tall
as 6'5" flatfooted, but she's not barefooted at all. She's wearing a
black leather bikini top holding her truly massive tits, an ultra short
black leather mini skirt and black leather boots laced up the front and
reaching the middle of her thighs. These boots have ultra thin steel
stiletto heels that are at least seven inches high. The effect is to
make her taller than the tallest of the very scary male Doms, an effect
that scares both Sheila and I very much. Her hair is so blonde that it
is almost white and it is clearly not dyed. It's her natural hair color.
But her eyes are the scariest of all: ice-blue and looking at Sheila
like she was already her property. She purrs that her name is Mistress
Isis in a voice that almost makes me hard and loose bladder control at
the same time.

The slaves are all very fine looking, whether male or female. The two
men, both with stylishly cut short, blonde hair and deep blue eyes, are
both slim and fit and were it not for the white six-inch stiletto boots
locked to their feet and their matching white collars, I wouldn't have
taken them for slaves at all. They have no marks on them and their cocks
are completely free. Were they not wearing stilettos I would have
thought them some kind of Doms, even if they are naked. They are
introduced as K and Y and I sense that being assigned a letter, rather
than a number, is a sign of having a higher status as a slave.

The two females are absolutely gorgeous, a redhead with green eyes and
enormous tits and a black haired girl, also with huge tits and deep,
black eyes. They too are wearing only white stilettos boots and white
collars and their slim and lithe bodies are unmarked. Were it not for
their footwear, which is locked on like that of the male slaves, I
wouldn't have taken these for slaves either. These go under the "names"
G and S.

Proof of their status comes at once. As Richard walks in all the slaves
drop to their knees and press their foreheads to the floor greeting
Richard as their absolute ruler. Richard then turns to Sheila and me:
"Your punishment will start now. These four fine Doms will handle your
initial conditioning and perhaps also some later aspects of your
training. We'll see. Have fun." He adds mischievously and stands back to
enjoy the show.

To begin with they split up in teams: The two dominatrixes, Gwendolyn
and Isis, take Sheila and the two male slaves, K and Y, to one side of
the room, while the two male Doms, Rob and Butch, pounce on me together
with the two female slaves, G and S. They drag me to one of the
gynecologist's chairs in the room, while the other team drags Sheila to
the remaining chair. Without any problems at all they strap me down in
the chair, my arms still folded behind me so that I am monstrously
uncomfortable, my back hurting badly after just a minute or so. They
then remove my gag and strap my head down hard. The only thing I am able
to move now is my jaw, my tongue and my eyes. Soon my jaw and tongue are
taken care of too: Two blunt hooks pull my jaw down until my mouth is
wide open and it has no more movement left. My tongue is trapped by a
clamp-like device, which in turn has a strap attached to its end. The
straps tied off to a boom of sorts somewhere above me and the effect is
that my mouth is now forcibly held as open as it possibly can be and
that my tongue is pulled as far out of the was as possible.

I can't help but make garbled sounds of pain and discomfort and judging
from the sounds from the other chair, the same thing is being done to
Sheila. A sharp light shines down into my eyes, so the rest of the world
is mostly shadows at the edge of my vision. So I can't see Richard, but
I can hear him hovering just above me: "Slaves are per definition
completely helpless. That means no weapons of any kind. So... no teeth."
Sheila screams first but soon I join her as I realize what is about to
happen. I am, however, completely unable to prevent it from happening
and soon I see and feel a pair of pliers close around one of my teeth.
The pain is unbelievable and the process excruciatingly slow, but one by
one all my teeth are pulled out of my mouth. I am a screaming, crying
wreck when they are finally done, but the pain is not over yet. To stop
the bleeding and disinfect the wounds, they fill my mouth with a truly
vile liquid, which burn my mouth to the degree that I almost pass out. I
am then forced to swallow this liquid, something that burns all the way
down to my stomach.

When they finally release me from the chair I am a mess, sobbing and
shaking, almost unable to stand in my heels. Sheila looks equally
shaken, her mouth open in a silent scream as none of us dare scream
anymore. The nightmare is already much worse than I imagined it could
be. But of course it gets worse.

Taking advantage of the fact that we are too weak from the previous
session to offer much resistance and the fact that they are four against
one, we are stripped and dressed again. When they are done I am wearing
a full body, grey rubber suit and my black stiletto boots. The only
parts of my body not covered by grey rubber are my face, my hands and
the tip of my cock. Even my balls and the shaft of my cock are covered
in grey rubber. In the small of my back some sort of pack is integrated
into the suit, but remarkably we are left completely untied. I am
uncertain of what to make of this until Master Butch, who is "taking
care" of me, steps up and says: "Don't try using your newfound freedom.
We have you under complete control." With that he presses a button on
the small remote he's holding in his left hand. Instantly my world is
transformed into blinding pain and I curl up on the floor, unable to
even scream, as every part of my body feels like it has been set on
fire. Suddenly the pain stops and from the smiling bald face above me a
voice tells me: "Behave, or else. Understood?" I nod eagerly and
instantly the pain returns. When it goes away the voice informs me that
this is not the correct way for a useless slave shit to address his
Master. Is this understood? This time I understand and answer: "Master,
yes Master," just like the pretty sissy Sheila and I saw on the tour. I
hear Richard's laughter mixed with that of the others and a rumbling
voice chuckles: "Good bitch". I have never been so humiliated in my
life.

The voice commands that I stand and I quickly comply, seeing no other
options. The first lesson follows immediately, but thankfully it isn't
hard. Soon I am standing in proper slave posture: legs pressed tightly
together, the toes of my stiletto boots pointing straight ahead, chest
out, hands folded behind my back, which is ramrod straight, and my head
cast demurely down. I stand at attention like this, not daring to move a
muscle, when Richard steps up to me and whispers in my ear: "You are
going to hate every second of this." Involuntarily I moan with fear, but
he let's me get away with it and continues: "And you are going to love
it. Love it more than you thought it possible to love anything at all.
You'll just love being a slave boy." I am very confused now and my
confusion doesn't diminish as Richard moves behind. Gently his hand cups
my rubber clad ass and as it does, I am filled with pleasure, with lust
like I have never known existed. As he continues to fondle my ass, I am
filled with revulsion, I hate faggots, but my body burns with desire,
every muscle in my body tingles with desire. Then he kisses the nape of
my neck and suddenly I notice that I am hard. Very, very hard. So hard
and needy that my cock is twitching with unfulfilled need. A wave of
revulsion washes over me at being handled by these damned faggots and at
the same time I find myself desperately wishing that he'll touch my
cock. I moan with desire and desperation as I feel like I'm being torn
apart with conflicting emotions. I hate Richard. I hate him for what
he's done to me, for the brutal slavery that he's subjecting me to and I
hate him for being a homosexual, a goddamned faggot! And I really,
really want him to touch my cock. It is my most fervent wish that he
should begin stroking my rock hard member. I should be resisting, even
if resistance is futile given the opposition I'm up against, I should be
resisting. Instead my eyes are closed and I'm moaning with lust, my
hands passive behind my back. Richard whispers for me to open my eyes
and I do, looking deeply into his eyes. Then he simultaneously kisses me
and touches my cock. I have never been more revolted my life. I have
never been so horny in my life. I feel like I'm in love with Richard,
the brutal faggot bastard that I hate. My whole being burning with lust
for him, I hate it and all I want is for him to keep touching me. I get
what I want. Kissing me deeply, Richard begins to slowly masturbate me
and within what seems like a minute, I begin moaning uncontrollably,
trembling and shaking as I move towards the biggest and most disgusting
climax of my life. As I cum, Richard grabs me by the back of my neck and
thrusts his tongue into my mouth taking possession of me as I jerk and
twitch, shooting my load in a truly fabulous orgasm.

The orgasm subsides, but the pleasure of being touched by Richard
doesn't. His hands on my body fills me with pleasure, lust, desire, but
now that I've shot my load I am momentarily in control and humiliatingly
I begin crying, pleading for him to stop: "Please.." I sob, but I don't
get any further before Richard kisses me again, again filling me up with
lust and revulsion, making me hard so quickly that I would have thought
it impossible. Somewhere in the back of my mind a voice is screaming
that this is the work of the suit; that the rubber touching my skin is
somehow filling me with these feelings, but Richard's touch is
electrifying. Again he builds me up until I am a panting wreck, nearly
begging for release. Then he lets go and the wonderful feeling of him
touching me goes with him and all I am left with is the revulsion of
being touched, being masturbated, being kissed by a faggot. Not that the
revulsion as registered in my cock, which is still so hard that it
defies belief. The revulsion doesn't seem to have reached my skin either
as it tingles with remembered pleasure at being touched by Richard.

As Richard steps back, the two female slave step up. Smiling like they
really, really want to fuck me, they step up and begin touching me,
fondling my body and face. The second they touch me I begin feeling
nauseous, dizzy and weak. I want to fuck them badly as they are some of
the best looking girls I have seen in my life, but they make me sick -
literally. Within minutes of the two slave girls beginning to fondle me,
I'm on my knees vomiting like crazy. Their touch, their kisses and the
sweet words they whisper into my ears about how much they want to fuck
me, all of it making me sick. Their touch sparks wave after wave of
revulsion crawling under my skin like maggots and even though one of
them, the gorgeous redhead, is sucking my cock for all she's worth, I'm
completely limp and getting more so with every passing second. Her
talented tongue quite simply hurts my cock, only the head of which is
free of the damned rubber suit. Not only does it hurt my cock, it makes
it feel watery, weak and limp. Her presence makes my cock shrivel. The
black haired one is kissing my lips, or at least trying to. Her soft and
generous lips are poison to me, making my skin crawl and burn and her
hands on my body are like tiny, painful electric shocks. I want to run
away screaming, push them away, beat them and yet they are gorgeous. In
the back of my mind a voice screams for me to fuck them and fuck them
hard, but I can't. I won't. And I am too weak and nauseous to resist
them.

I have no idea how long this goes on, but when they finally stop I cry
with gratitude as I slump on the floor, wracked with sobs. "Get up!" a
voice barks and when I don't comply instantly electricity courses
through my body. Soon I am at attention, chest out, head demurely down.
The black Dom, Master Butch, steps up to me and lifts my chin up until I
am looking him straight in the eye. He smiles at me and again my body is
filled with the most profound sense of pleasure. Not a minute ago I was
nauseous and in pain. Now I'm panting with desire, my cock hard and
throbbing. He holds up a bottle of water and I gratefully drink it,
flushing the taste of vomit away. In spite of the revulsion I feel at
being handled like a homo fuck toy, a voice in my head is screaming
"fuck me!" and I have to exert all my powers of control in order not to
fondle him in return. He bends forward, kisses me and says: "On your
knees bitch" so gently that a wave of warmth spreads from my crotch
outwards. Not quite believing that I am actually doing this, I drop to
my knees and at his command take out his cock. I really don't want to do
this, but the pleasure I derive from kneeling with his huge cock in my
hand is so enormous that my mouth is actually watering with desire.

My mind is still in denial as I obey his next command and take him in my
mouth, something which nearly unhinges my jaw. Were it not for the fact
that I have been forbidden to touch myself I would be jerking off like
mad. And yet my inner being is still revolted at all these damned
faggots and their abuse of my body. An abuse that makes me loose my
breath with lust and want to beg them to fuck me until I pass out.

My wish is granted as Richard orders me to stand, while still sucking
the wonderful and disgusting black cock in my mouth. I keep on sucking,
lost in desire for the black cock while I feel Richard spreading a cold
lubricant in the crack of my ass and I keep up the sucking even as he
forces his way into me, an excruciatingly painful feeling which fills me
with lust. I hate it absolutely and yet I can't stop sucking the cock in
my mouth and my own member is throbbing with need, so much so that the
second Richard touches it I explode, spraying a full load on the floor
as I convulse with pleasure, pinned with a huge cock in either end. I
want to die from the shame, but the fucking doesn't stop, nor does my
extreme pleasure at being fucked by these damned fags. For a period of
time I have no way of estimating, I am hammered by huge cocks at both
ends and my whole body screams with pleasure, cuming twice more before
they finally shoot their loads into me. Humiliated beyond belief I
greedily swallow every last drop of cum that the black cock deposits in
my mouth and as he withdraws I actually hear myself sigh with lust and
need.

I am on all fours on the floor, enjoying the aftershocks from three
fabulous orgasms and feeling both great and miserable as cum trickles
out of my ass. Richard squats down beside me and places a hand on my
ass, making me moan with pleasure. Then he leans in close and whispers
in my ear: "From now on you will be called by your proper name, the name
that best describes you, the name which defines you: slutboi. Have fun
with your new life, slutboi". As he stands up, he runs his hand gently
over my ass and up my back, a move which again makes me moan with
desire. Then he leaves the room and me on all fours, crying at what he
is turning me into: a goddamned faggot, a cock loving homo slave boy.
Slutboi.

Chapter 3: Slutboi leaves for a new life
I've lost track of time, but I think it has been several months since
Lord Richard brought Sheila and me here. Neither of us has left the room
since we were brought back here from our tour of Lord Richard's
dungeons. Lord Richard's punishment of Sheila and me has been brutal but
of course entirely just. There can be no doubt that we deserved
everything he did to us and personally I think Lord Richard has been
most kind to this useless homophobic bitch-boy. I am a slut and Lord
Richard's just designation of me as Slutboi is fair and kind. I should
still hate faggots, but I have to admit that I am one of the most
disgusting fags in existence and it is thus very hard for me to be
homophobic anymore. The fact that I have been made into one by intense
conditioning and torture and the fact that I hate being one, doesn't
change in the least the objective fact that I am a disgusting little
bitch-boy; a cock hungry slut willing to do literally anything to please
his masters.

In the months since I got here I have been subjected to the most brutal
conditioning, turning me into a slutboi who is addicted to cock. If I
don't get a cock inside me, mouth or ass it doesn't matter, at least
three times a day I begin to feel ill, shaking and sweating.

I don't wear the conditioning suit anymore. It is no longer needed now
that my true nature has been determined. I get rock hard if a cock
touches any part of my body and the sight of a Dom's cock makes my mouth
water as I anticipate the glorious taste of cum, or piss for that
matter. And should the cock belong to Lord Richard I can barely contain
myself. I love Lord Richard. I also hate him for what he has done to me,
but I have been conditioned to love and obey him, so when he is around I
am filled with helpless love and lust mingled with real, raw fear and
hate. Just as he intended. He has kept his promise of punishing me in
full and then some, but I am certain that I am far from over with being
punished. In fact I am sure of it, since I now know what a useless homo,
bitch slave I am and how I need and deserve to be punished in the worst
kind of way.

The conditioning has included turning me off women - completely. When
either of the two slave helpers, G and S, touch me I am filled with
revulsion. Nausea and outright pain ensues if they continue their
touching. A woman's lips on my cock fills my scrotum with a sensation
like I am being burned with red-hot pliers and makes me go completely
limp - and stay that way for at for almost an hour, even if I get
pounded in both holes, something I dearly love.

Sheila has been through the same kind of conditioning and is now
exclusively lesbian. The sight and touch of men does the same to her as
the sight and touch of women does to me. I still remember us being
together and in a strange way still love her as I did when Richard found
out about us. At some level I deeply wish to be able to make love to
her, but that is now torture for both us.

Yesterday was, I think, the final test for both of us as we were ordered
to make love. First we were ordered to kiss deeply, which made both of
us retch and cry with pain. Then we were ordered to fuck. We were
ordered to do this repeatedly, until both of us had vomited and lay
curled up in pain, begging to be allowed to stop touching each other. We
couldn't help looking longingly at each other as we were dragged off for
punishment, but no matter that homosexuality and homosexuals revolt me,
I am now one for good, no more than a cock hungry Slutboi.

Slutboi is of course also my new name. I am never addressed in any other
way and although I still remember my old name, it's getting vague,
somehow inappropriate in addressing what and who I am. I am also Master
Butch's bitch, his personal plaything when Lord Richard is not around,
which he very rarely is. I love and hate Lord Richard and I should have
the same feelings for Master Butch, since he has done horrible things to
me. Master Butch has been the one who has made Lord Richard's punishment
of me real, been his right hand man in it and he has tortured me like no
other. He has whipped me until I bled, held lighter flames under my
balls until blisters developed, strangled and smothered me until I
fainted and much, much more. I should hate him for this and for being
one of the homosexuals I so despise, but I don't. I love Master Butch
deeply and truly. I love it when he whips my balls, tightens the noose
around my throat or pushes his enormous fist so far up my ass I can see
it under the skin of my stomach. But mostly I love his giant cock, which
is almost as thick as his arm, but with a smaller fist. I have
dislocated my jaw several times blowing him and being fucked by him is
only slightly less uncomfortable than being fisted by anyone else, but I
love it so.

I am fervently hoping that he will be the Master who takes possession of
me when I am allowed out of this cell to begin my life as a slave
outside Lord Richard's conditioning facility. I know that Sheila, who
now simply goes by the name "cunt", will soon be the property of
Mistress Isis, with whom she has the same kind of relationship I have
with Master Butch. I am hoping that it will be the same for me, but I
hold no great hopes as Lord Richard is naturally intent on hurting me as
much as he can.

I know it is nearly time to leave the cell, but I still don't know what
will happen or to whom I will belong. Sheila, or cunt, left some time
ago with Mistress Isis. Mistress Isis was dressed very
uncharacteristically in a black business suit, skirt stopping just below
the knee and wearing a white shirt and a tight black tie. Her white hair
was cut stylishly short and on her feet were five inch black heels. Her
dress and look was living proof that there was no need for leathers or
other fetish attire as long as you display the right attitude. No one
would ever question that she was in complete command.

The reverse was also clearly true of her slave. Sheila was also dressed
in a business suit of sorts; a suit signaling not board room like
Mistress Isis's suit, but rather the suit a secretary would wear. A very
sexily clad secretary, but still. She wore a very tight and very short
black skirt and a white silk shirt, which was tight and had the three
top buttons undone, thus showing off her ample cleavage. She had had
large breasts before being enslaved, but during her stay in the dungeon
her tits had become enormous as a result of intense hormonal treatments
and surgery. On her feet were a pair of six inch black heels and around
her neck a very tightly fitting necklace made from large, silver chain
links and looking very much like the collar it actually was. But it
wasn't the suit or the jewelry that marked Sheila, or cunt, as a slave,
but rather her clearly submissive demeanor. And turning her into a
secretary was certainly no accident. Her punishment, just like mine,
involved being turned into a homosexual, we had shared views on gays,
but Sheila had started out as a secretary and had hated every second of
it. Now Lord Richard had turned her into a lesbian secretary to a truly
powerful woman. As she followed Mistress Isis out if the door, I could
see revulsion and lust battle for control of her face. I could also see
her nipples trying to poke holes in the fabric of her shirt. Just like
me she was hooked, trapped.

Just before she left Lord Richard turned up to see her and Mistress Isis
off. Without saying a single word about it, he taunted her with what he
had turned her into, rubbed her nose in the filth as it were. And just
before they left, he underlined his complete control over every aspect
of her life, even as she was being taken away by another Domme. "Cunt",
he started, "you are about to be whisked away to a life of slavery just
as promised." Cunt blushed at this, but kept still, her head demurely
down. "Mistress Isis will handle you, making sure that you are being
treated like the useless piece of flesh you are." Mistress Isis smiled
broadly at this and cunt reacted by becoming even more still and
self-conscious. "I am aware that you think that you have a special bond
with Mistress Isis", Lord Richard continued, "but you should never be in
any doubt as to whom decides your fate and who really calls the shots."
Cunt now looked deeply worried and with good reason. Lord Richard nodded
to Mistress Isis, who without even a seconds hesitation dropped to her
knees, bent forward to kiss Lord Richard's boots with a deeply felt
"Master". Then she placed her hands behind her head and used her lips
only to extract Lord Richard's member. Both cunt and I were very
surprised to see how adept and how unquestioningly obedient she was.
Lord Richard's member free, Mistress Isis proceed to blow him expertly,
her eyes closed and a look of deep passion on her face, her hands behind
her head all the while. As his orgasm approached, she began
deepthroating him and when he came, she pressed her head forward until
all of his cock was down her throat, choking her. She kept her head
there even as her body began convulsing from lack of air and with Lord
Richard making no move whatsoever to help her, his cock only left her
throat as she slid unconscious to the floor. Cunt shuddered
involuntarily at the display. Any illusions that she would be leaving
Lord Richard's control had vanished.

Now I stand at attention in the cell, wearing only my slave heels and my
collar, waiting for my fate. I have been standing like this for what
feels hours, but truly I don't know how long it has been. I haven't seen
a single clock since I came here and I am acutely aware that the
privilege of knowing time has forever been denied me. I am simply too
low to have that knowledge. This also means that when suffering, I never
know when the punishment stops or even if it will stop.

Finally the door opens and Lord Richard enters. With him is Master
Butch, the man I so hope to belong to soon. Having seen Mistress Isis
display of obedience for her Master, Lord Richard, I am not surprised
that Master Butch should be similarly forced. But I am very, very
surprised at his display of submission to Lord Richard. Butch is wearing
a pair of ballet toed boots with at least 9 inches of heel. Since he is
nearly 7 feet flatfooted, this should make him appear enormous. But he
cannot stand up straight and his head is only at the level of Lord
Richard's chest, since he is forced to walk bent over forward and with
his legs bent as well. Around each of his balls a metals wire has been
wound and the other end of the wire has been looped around Butch's
stiletto heels. Since the wires are quite short, the effect is to have
him walk in a strange and very humiliating squat, legs bent at the knees
and spread wide and his upper body bet as much forward as he can without
toppling. All this while he balances in his ballet heels. His hands and
his extremely muscular arms are bound in a black leather arm binder and
around his neck is a black collar. His mouth is gagged with an
absolutely enormous black, ball gag, easily the largest I have ever seen
and the largest I ever hope to see. Every muscle in Butch's body seems
to strain as he balances in his impossible heels, trying to avoid
ripping his balls off. His eyes look ready to pop out of his head and
sweat is running down his body. Lord Richard leads him by a thin leather
strap tied around the tip of Butch's massive erection.

Lord Richard stops in front of me and says: "Slutboi, you heard what I
said to cunt. You know that no matter that Butch is the one fucking and
punishing you, I am the one really in control. I am simply here to
demonstrate that point". With that he unties the leather strap around
Butch's cock and loops it around is throat before removing that gag.
Then he steps behind Butch and plunges his cock into Butch's ass, making
his enormous slave moan with pleasure. As Lord Richard fucks Butch, he
uses one hand to tighten the noose until Butch's eyes are bloodshot
globes ready to leave his face, his tongue is a bluish protrusion from
his mouth and his limbs twitch spasmodically. With his other hand Lord
Richard expertly manipulates Butch's cock and just as Lord Richard cums,
he closes Butch's air supply completely and makes him cum at the same
time. The sight of Lord Richard strangling his enormous black slave
while making him cum, is enough to make me whine with sexual need. I
can't remember seeing anything remotely as arousing as Butch's sexy
black body twitching at the end of Lord Richard's cock as he looses
consciousness.

When Butch comes to, he crawls over to Lord Richard's feet, a
painstakingly slow affair bound as he is, and croaks out "Master" while
he kissing his boots. There is absolutely no doubt as to who is in
control here. As Lord Richard knows I had hoped to become Butch's
special bitch and get off a little easier because of it, but while I may
still become his special bitch, there is no chance that I will get off
lightly. None. I am so doomed.

Now I'm the one being led off to my new life. Master Butch has recovered
and is dressed in a somewhat discrete leather outfit as he leads me
away. I am dressed for the first time in months, even if the outfit I'm
wearing would have revolted me before. My upper body is covered in an
ultra tight white tank top, over which I have a short and tight, black
leather jacket. Around my neck is a narrow necklace which is fooling no
one as it looks just like what it really is; a collar. My ass and legs
around constricted by a pair impossibly tight jeans and on my feet are a
pair of black leather booties with six inch heels. I wear no underwear
of course - just a giant plug in my ass. As Master Butch leads me by the
hand out of Lord Richard's dungeon complex, I have no idea what is in
store for me.

Chapter 4: Life as Slutboi
It has been more than three years since Master Butch led me away to my
new life and I must admit that although it is a deeply, deeply
humiliating existence I lead, I am deeply happy and still very much in
love with Master Butch. Lord Richard and Master Butch have turned me
into a porn star; one of the biggest stars of the gay porn movies. I am
of course known as Slutboi to all my fans (yes, I actually have fans and
receive thousands of dirty e-mails every week). To the world Master
Butch and I are a couple. A kinky and openly gay couple, but not much
more than that. Outwardly he acts as my partner, my lover, my agent and
of course as my more than occasionally onscreen fuck buddy. Of the more
than 200 movies I have made since Lord Richard allowed me to leave his
dungeon, I would guess that Master Butch has been in a little over half,
always fucking me and usually binding and punishing me.

The S&M content in my movies is strictly vanilla compared to what I was
subjected to in Lord Richard's dungeon and what goes on when Master
Butch closes the door, but very few people would buy stuff like that.
The world likes its S&M to be safe and tame - no screaming bitch boy's
getting castrated on camera please. But as time has gone by, more and
more bondage and S&M has crept into the movies I am fucked in. It
started with a bit of basically vanilla kink; my first movie "Slutboi
gets his heels". In it I was "introduced" to wearing high heels and to
Master Butch. It was basically him giving me a pair of heels and fucking
me. The heels have since become my trademark. I haven't done a movie
without them, which is good since I can't walk flatfooted anymore. I
lost that ability in Lord Richard's dungeon.

"Slutboi gets his heels" was a success and since the movies have come
hard and fast. At first it was regular fuck pics. Then came the
variations on the gangbanging theme: "5 cocks for Slutboi", "50 cocks
for Slutboi" until finally I made "500 cocks for Slutboi". The last one
was a very hard movie to make, but at least I could use both my holes
and give hand jobs as well. The sequel was called "500 cocks for
Slutboi's ass" and in this one I had 500 different guys take in the ass
only. Master Butch had to carry me to the car and I spent two weeks
recovering, loosing ten pounds because taking a shit hurt so much I
almost stopped eating. Every little step I took was agony for the first
week and trying to waddle in six inch heels is neither pretty nor easy.
Of course this only amused Lord Richard and Master Butch who had me
walking around as prettily as I could, just to torture me and who fucked
me in the ass that very night, making me scream and beg.

Almost as a consequence of the last gangbanging movie came the ass
related movies. First some water sports movies: "Slutboi gets cleaned"
and "Slutboi gets flushed" and finally "The spotless Slutboi" in which I
serviced ten different men orally. The point was that before each
blowjob I was filled but with a very, very large enema and had to hold
it in while sucking cock. My belly visibly distended, stomach cramping
and sweat pouring down my face I had to blow each of the ten guys, thank
them and ask for permission to let the enema go. It was exhausting,
humiliating and just the thing both Lord Richard and Master Butch loved.
As I waddled over to the bucket provided after each blowjob and let the
water go trying to smile as I almost screamed with relief, they stood
behind the camera laughing like mad, which was of course only fair. The
serious humiliation came after the film crew, which didn't know about my
slave status, had left. It was then that Lord Richard and Master Butch
revealed that the first three buckets of water had been saved and that
it would be all I drank for the next few days. I of course dropped to my
knee and kissed their feet and thanked them for the favor. Even during
my training at Lord Richard's dungeon, I had never been forced to do
scat and so drinking water that had been in my ass was deeply revolting.
But I still smiled after each little sip as Master Butch's eyes rested
on me.

After water sports came fists. First one was, of course, "A fist for
Slutboi", which wasn't too bad since I had been fisted several times in
Lord Richard's dungeon and actually liked the feeling of being
thoroughly stuffed (all the while hating myself for being so aroused at
the abuse). Then came "Five fists for Slutboi", which was something of
an ordeal, followed by "Fifteen fists for Slutboi" at the end of which I
cried for mercy; receiving none of course. Finally came "Fifty fists for
Slutboi", which very nearly killed me. For the first time since Lord
Richard brought an actual doctor in to see me and repair the damage. He
of course succeeded, but after that film my ability to open my sphincter
has been an "on-off" affair: Either it is open all the way, holding
nothing back or it is wide open letting everything out, which means that
if I should try to fart I'll shit myself.

The fisting films, which were huge successes especially the last one,
came a variety of different films, usually with some sort of bondage or
torture element to them and nearly all were great successes, earning
Lord Richard even more money. One porn website even went so far as to
write that my films could be credited for making hardcore BDSM
acceptable and widespread in gay porn. Not only did this make Lord
Richard and Master Butch laugh, but me as well. Compared to what went on
in Lord Richard's dungeon and in those of his clients as well I suppose,
the stuff I was subjected to was almost vanilla. In a scene the website
referenced in their article, I was suspended in hogtie involving hemp
ropes. On my feet were six inch, black stiletto boots, which the website
reviewing the film thought was very hot (and so did I). My balls were
each weighted with two pounds of lead shot, my cock, which had been tied
off very tightly at the base, had a couple of alligator clamps biting my
cock skin. All this while I was being fisted at one end and blowing a
couple of guys at the other end. I thought it pretty standard and
actually had a good time, even though I wasn't allowed to cum and I did
look pained in the video. The article claimed that scenes like that one
moved standards for what was acceptable in porn movies.

It may have been extraordinary in porn movies, but for me it was
extraordinarily soft and mild. Master Butch had me in a similar hogtie,
briefly, once when he decided that I needed to loose some weight. He put
me in ballet heels, tied my wrists and ankles with broad rubber straps
and suspended me like that. While outrageously stressful on the
shoulders, arms, hands and legs, I had tried it before. Then he produced
a large dildo; very long and quite thick, with a hole down the center. I
originally thought that he was going to try out a new and painful way
for me to hold an enema in, but then he went around to my front. Larger
than anything I had ever had in my mouth I open my mouth with
trepidation, which turned out to be entirely justified. Dislocating my
jaw on the way, he pushed down until it filled my entire throat and then
he began turning it slightly, while I twitched and jerked in panic over
not being able to breathe. Then he found the right position and I could
breathe again, albeit only with difficulty. Hanging as I was,
horizontally, it was natural for me to look up to see Master Butch, but
when he went around to my backside, I tried to relax and hang my head
down, only to find that it was impossible. The dildo in my throat went
all the way down and filled both throat and mouth completely. Not only
that, but it was apparently also reinforced with steel making it
completely rigid and forced me to look straight ahead as I hung there.

But I had other things to think about as Master Butch reached my ass.
Before commencing he had given me a very healthy dose of Viagra and I
was harder than forged steel. This had puzzled me a bit since I had
never had any problems with getting it up, almost no matter what he did
to me. Master Butch made me wild with lust by his mere presence. He then
fitted me with an automatic suck-n-fuck machine, designed to bring bitch
bois to orgasm and sucking away their jism. Master Butch had fitted me
with it once before, tying me up and turning on the machine so that I
was occupied while he attended to other things. When he returned, some
hours later, I was barely able to see straight from sheer ecstasy. But
he hadn't needed the Viagra that time. He did probably need it this
time, however, as the first thing he did after putting the suck-n-fuck
on my cock and turning it on, was to plunge a large needle deep into my
right testicle. The pain was unbelievable and I tried to scream my head
off. Tried because the monster in my throat made sound impossible, so I
was simply left to twitch and jerk in pain, silently while he turned my
tender balls into pincushions, although I seriously doubt most people
sowing use needles that heavy.

After the needles came a warm oil enema for my ass, making me look
almost pregnant in the private photos Master Butch took, held in place
by a merciless inflatable plug. Then he whipped every available patch of
bare skin on my body before putting pulsating electrical current through
the needles in my balls. Almost completely out of my mind with pain I
was nonetheless able cum with astonishingly regular intervals as the
suck-n-fuck machine did its thing, although it was clearly the most
painful orgasms I had ever experienced. To top all of this off Master
Butch then started playing with my breathing, plugging my one tiny
breathing hole for extended periods of time until I passed out.

It went on forever, but finally he stopped playing with my breathing,
leaving me hanging to scream soundlessly from a mixture of extreme pain
and extreme pleasure. Then he got cruel and brought into the dungeon a
perfect little hard bodied slave boi; a lithe, smooth and exceedingly
attractive black slave whom he then proceeded to fuck senseless in front
of me. I love Master Butch; I love him deeply and profoundly even if I
am only a slave and I know that he has the right to fuck whomever he
wants. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt when he does so, especially
when he does it right in front of me.

Apart from cuming three times himself, he made the little boi scream
with ecstasy five times that night, while I watched. Then they left me
hanging while they spent the night together. It was the worst night ever
for me. Every muscle and tendon of my body screamed with exhaustion on
strain, while my genitals screamed with a brutal mixture of pain and
pleasure all the while I was insanely jealous of the slave boi my Master
had chosen to take to bed that night.

The next morning Master Butch released me, my body and mind completely
and utterly spent, exhausted and almost broken. I couldn't move and the
ability to produce recognizable sound didn't return until late the next
day. Yet I had to prove how much I loved him and with a pathetic panting
- the only sound I could produce - I crawled over to his feet and kissed
them. I then somehow - I am still unsure how - managed to make it clear
to him that I wanted to blow him and did so. I fought to prove my love
for the brutal man who now owned me and his surprised look told me that
he understood my gesture, even if I was unable to articulate it.

It took me three days to recuperate slightly from that session; to be
able to even crawl and almost two full weeks to recover as fully as I
was able to. But in that time Master Butch's attitude towards me seemed
to change. He seemed to respond to my display of affection.

About a month after that torture session, I woke up one Sunday morning
in his bed, naked except for my bedtime ballet heels and unbound for
once. It was a glorious summer morning, the early sunlight streaming
into the bedroom and falling on my Master's beautiful form. I lay there
for a couple of minutes admiring him, loving him before he woke up. His
eyes opened slowly and then looked straight into mine. I couldn't help
myself and I whispered: "Master, I love you Master", in the low tones of
a smitten bitch-boi. Master Butch smiled and then he surprised me,
moving close to me and kissing me. Kissing me deeply, just holding my
body at first, then moving on to fondling me, groping, probing all of my
openings, his fingers thrusting first into my ass, then my mouth as far
down as the top of my throat and finally even pressing into the very tip
of my cock. Hard as steel, I had never been so aroused before as his
hands found all of my sweet spots and while rough, they were also caring
and gentle for the first time. I responded as best I could, giving up my
body while fondling him and whispering continuously how much I loved
him.

Suddenly he threw away the blankets and straddled my face, him facing my
feet. I tilted my head back as far as I could and opened wide. Soon I
was rewarded as his massive tool slid into my mouth and throat. It got
even better as his hands found my genitals and began manipulating them
expertly. Being a slave I was never allowed to cum inside someone and
the feel of a tongue on my cock was only felt in connection with teasing
performed by another slave, but it had been years since I had adjusted
and come to love hand jobs best of all (as they were all I was ever
going to get). A hand job from Master Butch, whether administered with
his cock in my ass or mouth, was about as good as it got. Then, just as
I thought life couldn't get any better, I felt his lips envelop my cock
and the feel of his warm and moist tongue on my exposed cock head.
Everything stopped; time stood still as a wave of extreme surprised was
followed by a warm, gentle and caring tsunami of pure love and affection
for my Master.

I have no recollection of the rest of that glorious morning fuck, except
for my mind going completely blank with happiness as I came into his
mouth. I must have swallowed his load and cleaned his cock as I always
do, but I don't remember doing it.

When I came to my senses I lay in bed crying with happiness as Master
held my shaking body and whispered soothing things into my ear, one of
them being that he loved me too.

Chapter 5: No love for Slutboi
That was six months ago and since then I have been happier than I ever
thought possible. I am still a slave and the number of times Master
Butch has used his lips on me since then can be counted on one hand. He
still ties me up and tortures my ruthlessly and mercilessly, but now he
also takes time to kiss me gently and hold my hand. Sometimes he
prepares a candlelight dinner and treats me almost lady like; giving me
flowers in a vase by the plate and dancing with me afterwards. The dates
would not be recognizable to most people as the romantic dinners they
are, but that is what they nonetheless are. He might have me tied up in
a rubber straightjacket, wearing ballet heels and with my feet connected
by an impossibly short chain. My head might be covered with a rubber
hood leaving only my mouth free, but as he hand-feeds me while we talk
softly or when he leads my blind, bound and helpless form in a slow
dance ending in a glorious fuck, I challenge anyone to tell me that that
isn't a romantic evening.

I find it more than a little strange that what started out as a
punishment, which forced me the most brutal way to completely change not
only my sexual orientation but also my world view and even personality,
has ended up making me deeply happy. I have found the love of my life,
he loves me too and since I have no right whatsoever, I am also
completely free of care and worry. I need only obey every order given
instantly and everything will be ok. Since I love the one issuing the
orders, this is the easiest task in the world.

Perhaps it is this paradox that is playing tricks with my mind, but
today I am, for the first time in years, a little nervous; anxious about
what is going to happen. Normally I just follow Master Butch and just
obey him no matter where we are and what we do and my mind is happy and
unworried since I am obeying him. But today we are going to see Lord
Richard and I have a bad feeling about this visit. Not that we haven't
paid many painful visits to Lord Richard, but this is the first one
since Master Butch used his mouth on me.

There is, however, nothing I can do about it and so I merely follow
Master Butch. I sit next to him in the car as we drive to Lord Richard's
house. I am dressed in a tight white tank top and a pair of very tight
cutoff jeans. On my feet is a pair of ankle high booties made of shiny
leather and sporting seven inch metallic heels. Around my neck is a
tight, black leather collar with a not-so-discrete ring dangling down
the front. My hair is short and my face and body are perfectly smooth;
devoid of hair, tanned and shining ever so slightly from my habitual
application of oil to keep my skin smooth. Where it not for the lack of
breasts and slightly masculine features, I could pass for a very slutty
female.

Since I am a slave, my eyes are covered with impenetrable shades,
leaving me blind and in my ears are plugs cutting all sound off. My arms
are twisted behind the car seat and tied there, a very painful situation
were it not for the fact that I like being tied up next to Master Butch.

The car stops and I am helped out of the car; a leash is attached to my
collar and I follow the tugs on it docilely and obediently, acutely
aware of my lowly position and taking extra care to be the good slave
today of all days, as I am quite sure that any bad behavior on my part
will reflect poorly on Master Butch. I wish to avoid this at all costs;
not because of the punishments that would inevitably follow such an act,
but because it would hurt the man I so love.

My world is sightless and almost soundless, filled only by the tugs on
the leash, the carefully conditioned air touching my skin, muted
rustlings of other people and the clicking of my heels against the hard,
concrete floor of what is presumably the parking basement. We ride an
elevator up and walk a short distance on hard tile floors until I am
finally brought to a standstill. I hear very muted conversation and
almost imperceptible rustlings: a bump here and some scraping there, but
I remain utterly passive as I should.

Suddenly I feel cold metal against my skin, travelling from the top of
my booties, up my leg and ending as the fabric of my jeans part at the
waist. The process is repeated at the other leg and my jeans fall to the
floor or are taken away. Then my tank top is cut away too and I stand
naked in heel and collar; still blind and almost deaf. Slave that I am,
I am both afraid and aroused, my cock at full mast while I shiver
slightly with fear. My hands are sealed inside tiny rubber mittens,
rendering them useless. Then my arms are folded up between my shoulder
blades and secured with straps around my torso. My knees are connected
with a strap and finally a huge penis gag is forced into my mouth and
secured with a strap around my head. Then a tug on my leash informs me
that it is time to move again, something I now do with only the utmost
difficulty. But I neither can nor will complain and mince along as fast
as I can, many aggressive tugs informing me that I am not doing it fast
enough for Master Butch or whomever might be holding the other end of
the leash.

This time the elevator goes down and the floor is concrete as I am led
away from it. I am brought to stand and left there for a long period of
time. Naturally I stand utterly still and await whatever is going to
happen to me.

Then the blindfold is removed and after blinking at the harsh light for
a little while, I see the evil grin of Lord Richard. I bow my head and
move to drop to my knees, but he stops me with a tug on the leash and as
he pulls out the earplugs, he speaks: "Not yet, you useless fucking
slut. I have something you must see before you show me the proper
respect." Then he moves aside and I get one of the worst shocks of my
life. Impaled on a very solid looking dildo pole in front of me, I see
the man I love, Master Butch, tied and gagged in a most uncomfortable
manner: On his feet are ballet heels that are so small that he can
impossibly have gotten them on without damaging his feet. Looking at his
trembling legs and pained face, I am guessing that they are crushed. He
does, however, have other things to look pained about. His arms are
folded far up between his shoulder blades, so far up in fact that I can
see them even though he is facing me, and since he is nowhere near as
flexible as a weak and pathetic slave such as myself, and much taller
too, this position must be damaging them. His gag is a standard ballgag,
but very large and from behind it he emits a series of low screams. From
the rhythmic nature of the intensity of the screams, I am guessing that
the dildo in his ass is delivering electrical shocks at steady
intervals.

Unable to speak or scream, a mewling sound of pure despair escapes my
gagged mouth as tears begin running down my face. I turn my face
upwards, silently and tearfully supplicating Lord Richard for mercy for
my love, but he of course only smiles that evil smile of his and says.
"Time to show proper respect, slut". In utter despair but with no other
options I bow my head and drop to my knees. Then I tilt forward to
attempt a gagged kiss to his boots. From this position I am of course
unable to get up again without assistance, but Lord Richard helps me up
by grabbing my collar and yanking me to my feet. The fact that he
actually helps me stand - no matter how painful the act is - is very
alarming.

Speaking mostly to Master Butch's bound and rhythmically screaming form,
Lord Richard says: "I gave this cheating, worthless bitch to you with
the clear purpose of punishing it for its transgression, you useless
shit!" Master Butch flinches at the intensity of his voice and looks at
him with a horrified look in his eyes that breaks my heart. "And what do
you do? After a fine start you fall in love with the bitch! You actually
fall in love with him?" Incredulity strains his voice as he says this
and continues: "Along the way you manage to transform him from a
suffering, guilt-ridden and conflicted, forced homo-boi into a love
struck, comfortably gay slave who is happier than ever. I can't remember
being so let down by one of my trainers before; can't remember being so
disappointed with one either. No matter bitches. You will both pay now;
pay in full".

Both Butch and I stare at the cruel man owning us with abject terror. I
think I know what will come next and I think Butch knows too, but for my
part, I pray fervently for a miracle to intervene and save the man I
love.

There is, however, no miracle for me and certainly not for Butch.

Over the next many, many hours Lord Richard systematically tortures
Butch, the man I love so very dearly, until there is only a broken and
incoherently screaming shell left. His arms are broken beyond repair as
are his feet. His teeth are gone and his entire body is covered with
marks of different types of beatings. Finally his comprehensively
smashed genitals have been sheared off; the wound sealed by a white hot
iron. The man who would shoot his glorious load into my ass and kiss me
as we lay sated and sweating in bed, is now a sexless and mindlessly
screaming and utterly broken shell of a man; even his voice reduced to a
weak rasping.

Lord Richard has of course forced me to watch all the torture while
never doing anything to me. I have, crying and pleading around his cock,
blown him three times during the ordeal, but otherwise he has left me
alone.

I have never been so unhappy and miserable in my life. I love him. I
love Butch, this wonderful man; the man who brutally and without even a
hint of me wanting it, helped me to understand what I really am: A
homosexual slutboi; a gay slave. I never knew and I certainly hated it
for a long time, but Butch made me love it. Satisfying his needs, making
him happy made me deeply happy. Deeply happy. I loved him not only for
that, but for the sparkle in his eye when he looked at me, for the times
his hand cupped my ass, squeezed the butt-cheek possessively, for the
times he said I looked good in heels or that tight jeans made my
gorgeous ass look even better and for the many times he kissed my
toothless and defenseless slave mouth deeply, his insistent erection
telling me that he wanted me, desired me. I look at the broken wreck he
is now and for the first time ever I hope that Lord Richard will kill me
as he will surely soon kill Butch. But I know better. Butch is an
instrument to punish me and is as such disposable, while I am the object
of Lord Richard's hatred. He will let me live; I am sure of it and yet I
fervently hope to join the love of my life.

Presently Lord Richard pulls Butch off the dildo pole he has been
impaled on during the entire torture session. As he is set down on the
floor, he collapses with a rasping scream as his broken feet are unable
to support him. He lands on his knees and tilts forward, so that he ends
up with his head in the floor a mere foot from my own. I can no longer
stand as I watch Lord Richard torture Butch and am now kneeling, crying
helplessly. Butch looks upwards at me, eyes desperate with pain. Seeing
me so close however, seems to focus him somewhat and locking eyes with
me he croaks in the lowest possible voice: "Hush baby. It'll be
alright". I cry even harder at this sweet attempt to comfort me, knowing
full well that it will not be alright. It will be anything but alright.

Butch has landed ass up and I cry he plunges his fist into Butch's ass.
His mouth opens in a soundless groan as Lord Richard's fist passes his
already abused sphincter and his eyes seem in their way to actually
popping out as his arm plunges in until the middle of Lord Richard's
forearm is inside Butch. Lord Richard then pulls it back a little, only
to force it further in with a vicious push. Butch's mouth is wide open
and his eyes have never been bigger and extreme pain is clearly
displayed on his once beautiful face, yet now sound other than a low key
exhalation escapes him. Lord Richard pushes on; first pulling back, then
plunging further in. Again and again; over and over until his entire
forearm is inside Butch. Butch's legs and feet spasm feebly from time to
time, but it as if even this is beyond him as Lord Richard is fisting
him to death. Lord Richard pulls back on final time and then plunges in
again; first reaching elbow depth and then going further in until his
arm is inside Butch past the middle of Lord Richard's upper arm. Butch's
legs piston weakly back, but he doesn't fall down, being held up by Lord
Richard's arm. His eyes and tongue are now as far out as they can come
without actually popping out and with a soundless scream Butch convulses
around his tormentor's arm and dies, his head flopping down in the
concrete floor with a dull sound. Lord Richard pulls his arm, now
covered in blood and shit out and lets Butch body flop to the ground as
I rock back and forth crying like I have never cried before. I want to
curse Lord Richard, but deep and permanent conditioning prevents me from
ever doing this. I want to beg Lord Richard to kill me too, but can't
get words past my hopelessly blubbering lips. I can hardly see the cruel
man who owns me and dominates me so utterly and so viciously, but I can
hear him speak: "Do you want me to do you too, you worthless slut? Do
you want to follow your lover?" he asks, taunting me, knowing what my
answer will be even if I can't speak, crying too hard as it is. "Not a
chance, you useless bitch," he spits, voice so full of hate that I can
hardly believe it. "I want you to suffer as much as possible, for as
long as possible and I will not achieve this by granting you your wish,
now will I?" I knew it was coming but still I cry harder as I hear his
words. I am doomed and my doom has caused the death of the love of my
life. While I am sure things can get worse, I cannot see how right now
as I cry and cry.

Chapter 6: Final form
After Lord Richard had killed my love, I was transported back into the
conditioning cell where Sheila and I had been brought when Lord Richard
had first caught us. Once again I was fitted with the grey conditioning
suit, but instead of six inch stilettos I was fitted with ballet boots
with nine inch heels. Once again I was tied up and ready for new
training, but this time I was even more miserable than the first and
with a frightening knowledge of exactly how bad things could become
which I had not possessed last time.

The cell has no clocks of course and the lights never go out, so I had
no way of judging time, but after a long time alone Sheila was led into
the cell too, dressed exactly as I was. I had spent the whole time
crying and Sheila looked like I felt: Miserable and robbed of her true
love. Locked in cages right across from each other neither of us were
gagged and neither dared speak, being far, far too well conditioned for
such an obvious breach of the rules. I estimate that I have been in the
cell for more than four months and I still don't know what Lord Richard
did to her or her lover and she doesn't know what happened to me. We are
not allowed to speak and neither of us can break our conditioning. Even
thinking about it makes me scared, uneasy and clammy and I can see
similar thoughts going through her head.

Lord Richard is training us for something far worse than last time: we
are being turned into toilets, eating whatever waste is put into our
mouths. I am almost sure that every single Master, Mistress and other
non slave person in Lord Richard's training facility shits into either
Sheila's or my mouth. We in turn swallow all that is put there and
dutifully lick every asshole presented to us completely clean, moving at
least two inches into that person's asshole to achieve a comprehensive
cleaning.

It is bad enough being turned into something truly revolting. All Lord
Richard really had to do to accomplish this was to order us to do so.
But Lord Richard is far more cruel than that. He is using our
conditioning suits to make it worse for us. Once presented with an
asshole and shit or piss to swallow, the suits power up and fill me
first with extreme lust; lust so intense that I almost shoot my load at
once. Almost, but not quite. Less than five seconds after the lust kicks
in, the revulsion, disgust and outright pain follows, being just as
powerful as the lust. This means that while lusting crazily to eat shit
I am filled with the most extreme revulsion and disgust imaginable,
amplifying even my own natural sensations about the whole thing.

This conditioning means that while I hate - absolutely hate! - eating
shit and is filled with the most comprehensive loathing for it
imaginable, I am also completely unable to resist doing it. Presented
with a pile of shit on a floor - as I often am - I eat it instantly,
wracked with disgust as I do so. The conditioning makes sure that this
behavior will never, ever leave me. And I can see that Sheila is
experiencing the same.

I think our conditioning period is soon over. Lord Richard is here and
we are on all fours in front of him, heads down in supplication. I have
just eaten a giant pile of shit straight out of his ass, Sheila taking
care of his piss on the other side. We are unbound both of us, alone
with the man who has hurt us beyond the ability of words to describe,
yet I am - we are - unable to fight him, hurt him or even resist him. I
want to, but cannot. I am simply far too well conditioned and he not
only knows this; he flaunts his knowledge making us even more miserable.

He orders our suits removed so that we are only clad in our nine inch
ballet heels; footwear I now master with a disturbing degree of
confidence. A parade of Masters and Mistresses then pass through the
room, each taking a shit in our mouths. For my part I am now,
unfortunately, sure that my conditioning is complete. I experience the
exact same emotions as when the suit was on: absolute disgust at
shiteating and a deep compulsion to do it; a desire for shit in my mouth
even. Except for Butch's death I have never been so low, yet I am
certain that Lord Richard can make it worse.

I am right. He can. Having proven to him that our condition as
shiteaters is indeed complete, Lord Richard moves on to punish us in
extreme ways.

Sheila is punished first. Over the next several hours I kneel unbound on
the cold tile floor as Lord Richard destroys her sex in a ferocious
torture session. Her clit has been pulled to more than two inches in
length, starting at less than half an inch long, and looks as if it has
been flayed. At the base a thin wire has been tied cutting off blood
supply. Her breasts have received the same treatment; beaten, whipped,
electrified and skewered, they have now been tied off very, very tightly
at the base and just as with her clit, they are turning black. The wires
have been on for hours and there is no sign that Lord Richard will
release them.

As Lord Richard leaves us for a break, I stare in soundless horror at my
former lover, tortured almost to unconsciousness or even death, her clit
and tits dead or dying. Although unbound she does nothing to alleviate
her situation, but rather docilely accepts her fate. She will lose her
clit and her breasts, but she can do nothing about it even though she
has free hands to do it. She cannot.

When Lord Richard returns I am equally unable to stop him as he leaves
me unbound and attacks my genitals with the ferociousness of a complete
madman. I am ordered to kneel and sit back on my heels, arms behind my
back as he attacks. At first the attacks are simple and brutal: He pulls
my balls away from my body with one hand and slaps them as hard as he
can with the other, ten, twenty or thirty slaps in a row before pausing.
Soon I am vomiting with pain, screaming and pleading, but still with my
hands behind my back. Then he takes a testicle in each hand, holding
them gently at first. He then squeezes them, squeezes them hard, very
hard, for a long time. He counts slowly: twenty before pausing first
time, thirty the second and more until he reaches a count of seventy
before I dry heave and pass out.

Again I wake up begging and pleading, but unable to defend myself. Lord
Richard smiles that evil smile of his and simply orders me to clean up
my mess. My balls swelling to three times their normal size, I eat the
shit I have vomited out on the floor, probably the most revolting thing
I have done so far. I am again ruled by my conditioning, both revolted
and excited at once, but this time my screaming balls intrude, covering
everything with a haze of pain.

Once I am done he picks up the torture, slapping, squeezing and kneading
my balls until I am incoherently babbling nonsense pleas for mercy that
will never be granted. I am granted a brief respite when Lord Richard
makes Sheila, her tits now the dead black color of dry rotting flesh,
blow him. Then he returns his attention to me, this time directing it at
my cock. He spends what must be hours beating, scratching, electrifying,
burning and needling it before he finally ends my cock. He inserts a
catheter deep into my bladder and then ties a thin wire around the base
of my cock, cutting all blood flow of and leaving it to the same fate as
Sheila's clit and tits.

My balls, though grotesquely swollen and misshapen by now, their color a
mixture of deep purple and red, are as of yet still living - sort of. I
see in Lord Richard's eyes that this will change soon. I am right. Over
the next nightmarish hours he first, slaps, squeezes and kneads them
even more brutally than before. Then he electrifies them, burns them
with a cigarette lighter and finally skewers them with long, broad
needles of sorts. When he finally ties a wire around the base of my
balls as he has already done with Sheila's sex and my cock, I actually
thank him profusely, babbling and sniveling my incoherent thanks to the
cruel, smiling psychopath who owns me. A psychopath who has conditioned
me so comprehensively that he has done all this damage to me without
tying me up in any way. I am simply too well trained to resist in any
way.

I am then allowed the privilege of sucking my owner's cock as a way of
thanking him. I sob as I suck his pole, my tears and crying hiccups
obviously pleasing him as he pushes his cock deep in throat to shoot
his. He keeps it there until I convulse and pass out, convinced that he
is killing and offering no effort to save myself. The last thing I feel
before darkness descends if is pubis hair pressing against my face and
his cock filling my mouth and throat completely.

He has, however, not killed me and I wake up inside my cage; Lord
Richard having left the cell. I see Sheila in her cage, looking just as
miserable as I feel. My cock and balls ache terribly in spite of the
blood flow to the having been cut off for hours now and I wonder if her
clit and breasts are the same. They probably are. None of us make even
the slightest move to remove wires. We are much too well conditioned and
besides it would be futile: my genitals are damaged beyond repair and
even if I removed the wires it would require a skilled doctor to help me
and there is no way Lord Richard will allow that for me.

I sit for a long, long time staring at Sheila and her dying sex, trying
to blank out the fact that my own sex is gone too. I am afraid of what
will come next, since I am absolutely sure that Richard will not kill us
yet. Considering how my heart still aches for Butch, how much I miss his
cock in my ass, his hand stroking my leg and his gentle whispering in my
ear and how I am now reduced to being a sexless shiteater who is
conditioned to blindly love and hate this no matter what, I can honestly
say that I would rather be dead. This is precisely the reason I know
that Richard will not kill me; I am to suffer as much as possible.

Two men enter the cell, each holding a syringe. As the approach our
cages I know that it will be bad for Sheila and me. Very bad. But soon
that doesn't matter. A syringe is plunged into my arm and all fades to
black.

Although I don't really know for sure, Lord Richard's destruction of
Sheila's and my own sex was several years ago, quite possibly more than
five years, but all sense of time is long lost to me. Sheila and I are
now long out of the conditioning cell and have assumed what I believe to
be our final form: that of portable toilets in Lord Richard's home.

Our appearances have changed dramatically. I am now completely hairless,
not even having eyebrows or lashes. In fact I don't even have eyelids.
Instead my eyes are covered by in ultrathin and completely transparent
polymer film that prevents my eyes from drying out. This means that I am
unable to close my eyes and am as such at the mercy of Lord Richard when
it comes to sleeping and even resting. Lord Richard being who he is,
there isn't much mercy to be had.

Me genitals have of course been removed altogether and my crotch is now
completely smooth, not even a hole for urine visible. My urinary tract
has been rerouted and now ends in my ass. My ass, which had provided me
so much pleasure with Butch's magnificent cock lodged solidly inside,
has also been remade and is now not suited for sexual activities. It has
been fitted permanently with a short length of pipe threaded on the
inside. This is not visible when you just look at my ass, but when
parting the cheeks it soon becomes clear that Lord Richard has also
removed the pleasure of being fucked from me too. Instead I have a pipe
which is either plugged with a threaded stopper screwed in place or
connected to a waste removal pipe also screwed properly in place.

I no longer have arms either as they are not required to function as a
toilet, my shoulders now smooth.

My mouth has also seen some minor remodeling. My lips have been enlarged
slightly and now have a somewhat odd shape, oddly pointed and large in
the center and very broad. This is to ensure a better lock with the
asses I eat shit from. My tongue has been altered to be long and thin so
that I may clean the ass feeding me properly. Finally my vocal chords
have been modified so that I am now only able to produce modulations of
a monotonous screaming sound. I have no words left to me.

My outer ears have been removed and inserted into the inner parts of my
ears are now a set of tiny loudspeakers, controlling all sound I
receive. At the touch of a button Lord Richard can plunge me into
complete and utter silence or he can turn the volume up so that each
breath of the person using me sounds like a hurricane. The removal of my
outer ears gives my head a disturbing and very humiliating bullet like
shape, which is very unnatural to look at.

All these changes were performed by a doctor in the aftermath of Lord
Richard removing Sheila's and my genitals. Since then he has also had
some fun with the removal of all our toenails and the subsequent
crushing of our feet. The horrifically painful process ended with him
forcing our feet down into outrageously small ballet boots with ten inch
heels and forcing us to walk with them from the second the crushing
process was done. As a consequence our feet are now shaped after these
much too small boots and we are unable to wear anything else on our
feet.

Sheila and I now look almost completely alike, only our slightly
different heights, our slightly different faces and a slightly more
rounded set of hips on Sheila marking us as different persons. Otherwise
we are now remarkably alike: we are both armless and completely sexless,
mouths specially made for a proper seal on ass cheeks, no ears, no
eyelids and always posed in impossibly high, white ballet heels. We are
both clad in white rubber from our feet to our necks, which are
encircled by broad, white collars made from unbreakable plastic. Our
heads are also covered in white rubber, except for our faces, which are
of course without even a trace of hair.

We act as Lord Richard's personal toilets, although we are very often
shared among his guests. Usually one kneels in front of him, holding his
cock - the lucky one - while the other clamps gently on to his asshole,
taking every possible care to catch and eat every tiny, little droplet
that comes out of his ass regardless of how much he moves about. One
might think that he can't possibly punish me more than he already has,
but that would be wrong, oh so very wrong. Not only is my conditioning
unbreakable and impossible to resist, but I am also - still - absolutely
terrified of him.

When not in use we are stored standing up in a tiny cupboard. We are
mounted on sturdy pipes, screwed into our asses, continuously emptying
us. Our legs are always strapped together around the pipe, securing us
in place. In storage our mouths are always stuffed with something of
outrageous size and our "ears" are shut off leaving us in utter silence.
It is not always, however, that the lights are out inside the storage
cupboard. Often we go for what is probably days without being able to
sleep.

When in use we are either stationed in one of Lord Richard's toilets -
he has five in his mansion - standing in a corner until it is time for
use, or we are placed in a strategic corner of a gathering or party, the
public toilets on display. When there is a party we usually end up with
grotesquely distended bellies, while we often starve when only Lord
Richard is there to feed us. We eat only shit, occasionally supplemented
by pills, which I assure are vitamins and possibly antibiotics to keep
us healthy. The only drink we are allowed is of course urine.

This how I exist now and probably the way it will be until I die. Every
single day of my life is torment, torment which I am conditioned to lust
after. A lust which is now utterly futile as I have to sex. There is no
hope for me, no chance at all that the smiling and successful psychopath
who owns me will let up ever. He would rather I live and suffer than
allow me to die.

Sometimes, when a black rubber hood is pulled over my head so that I can
sleep, I dream of Butch. Dream of his touch, his voice and of how I,
sometimes crying with happiness, sucked his pole. Dream of how much I
loved that man and of how he showed his love for me in every little
facial expression, every word and in every action taken. These dreams
are the only tiny light in my life, but they invariably end with me
screaming impotently as Lord Richard fists to death the utterly broken
form of the man I loved, extinguishing all our hopes.

THE END

If you liked the story please drop me a line at: story_2nn@yahoo.com


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