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

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