Tag: chains

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

boss-of-fags:

depravpig:

FEED THE PIG

EAT UP FAGGOT, YOU HAVE HAD YOUR 3 HOURS SLEEP. TIME TO GO BACK TO WORK, THOSE FIELDS AREN’T GOING TO PLOW THEMSELVES, OH YEA IT’S FRIDAY, HERE IS FOOD

An older faggot once told Sam the smartest thing he could ever do was keep his mouth shut and look busy. Serving men was more important than being right, being correct, or asking for clarification. You were just supposed to know what the men want through good intuition, and Sam was getting there. So when his Master shoved food at Sam on a Friday morning, he was surprised that it was hot and fresh. Beans, wilted spinach, hotdogs, and bread. The bread was still soft too. Sam did not understand how his Master could be such a gruff asshole and then offer him such a gift – with a spoon too! Yet, Sam remembered what the old faggot had told him.

Do not ask questions. Be thankful, eat up, bow your head, get back to work. 
“Yes sir, thank you Sir.”

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A slave waits patiently for the auction to start. He’s just been photographed and in a moment will be taken to the holding area. He was worried about getting an erection, as some of the other slaves have, but thankfully he’s too nervous to get it up so it just remains soft. He hasn’t seen the audience yet either, so all he can do is imagine what the men look like and what their personalities will be… and the slave wonders what they’re going to think of him too. He looks down at himself, nude and shorn. Well, if anything, he thinks, I’m a blank canvas. I hope they see my potential. I have a lot of skills. I have to remember that if I want to be valuable to someone, I have to have confidence in myself that I am valuable, even as a slave. The Headmaster barks at him to join the others in the holding area. The slave says a clear “Yes sir” and moves quickly to that direction with his head up and eyes forward. Even if I am a slave, he also thinks, there’s no shame in being in my natural place.

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Text is fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

You can only tame a feral slave so much. He was neglected by his parents, and was considered unmanageable by the foster care system. They were also scared of him, the things that turned him on and the pain he liked. You found him on the side of the road, skinny and filthy and offering an ass for meal. He just wanted a permanent home, somewhere he could live out his sexual fantasies safely and feel like he belonged. So you trained him and sculpted him, defined the lines, set rules for him. You made sure he was housebroken and didn’t horde food. You beat him cause he loved it, and introduced him to everything in your dungeon. You took him into your bed and collared him. And he was a better boy for it, a happier boy, less reactive and more malleable. More sated.

Yet, there is a limit to how much you can do for the wild ones. They will eventually feel the call of the wild, especially on those warm summer nights when the wind blows in past the curtains. The urge to roam, the urge to seek prey, the urge to seek other men, it calls to them. The collar helps, cause people know he’s owned. His RFID chip has your information on it. Sometimes you let him go, knowing he’ll be back by morning, filthy and reeking of sex and piss and alcohol. You scrub him, examine him, give him a swat, and give him his morning chores.

When he starts to come home in a police car, covered in scratches, bite marks, and wearing a muzzle, then it’s time to put the safety locks back on the windows. Of course, you know he’ll try it again, and when he does, you’ll catch him and drag him off to your dungeon. You’ll gag him and truss him up like a Christmas turkey. He’ll grunt at you, spitting mad, his eyes shooting daggers at you. You eye him with a sigh, then haul him up and strap him to the milking machine. An hour or so of penetration and low e-stim will help get most of the pent up frustration out of the system. By the end, he’ll be too drained to run off. You’ll cuddle him and put him to bed. He’ll be docile in the morning as a lamb.

You’ll tolerate it all summer. You do the best you can. You socialize him and run him, and let him have supervised sessions at the local dungeon. It’ll be over once fall comes. He’ll want to settle and hibernate, be happy with just your cock there. And you’ll give it to him, as often as he’ll take it, until spring comes and you can open the windows again.

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Text is fictional. Source is here, and used without his knowledge.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“What’s he doing?” my apprentice whispers into my ear. We’re watching the slave on webcam together.
“Mm. Adjusting to his new reality I suppose. Slave psychology is actually a rather interesting thing. They naturally respond to orders and demands in a snap, but they need some quiet moments to think and decompress during the day or else they get overstimulated.”
“Is that why you told Master Aberdeen 3:30 and put the boy in there at 3?”
“Yes. It’s his first time at auction, I don’t want to stress him out too much. He’s lucky to have attracted a potential private buyer though. Master Aberdeen has fine taste and enjoys – mmm, how should I say it? decorating his boys. Number 867 here will have a good future with him if the sale is completed.”

He squints at the webcam. “I’ll have to take your word for it Sir, I still am new to this region. Still, that’s a pretty heavy chastity device.”
“Oh yes, that. Master Aberdeen is very strict about how slaves access their own bodies… believes it’s the ultimate reward and should be off limits and coveted from day 0. ‘A horny boy is a happy boy.’ is what he likes to say. When Aberdeen comes by the office later, you should ask him over for brandy or coffee or something, I bet you could learn a lot from him.”
“Not later, he’s here,” my apprentice says, gesturing to the screen.
I smile. “Yes he is. Now watch closely, see how an accomplished Master works and tests new product.”

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Text is fictional.

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“I can’t believe you sold him to Master Eaton!” I cried.
“Well, don’t blame me, his application was sitting on his desk and he wanted full price for that scrawny little welp. Full price!”
“You didn’t check Master Eaton’s record?”
“Well, his membership was reinstated in 2013, I thought that was good enough…”
I shook my head, wanting to smack him. “No you dolt, he’s under investigation by the police right now for abuse against his last slave. You don’t know what he does to boys – his reputation… you have to cancel the sale.”
“That sounds like a lot of heresay, if you ask me,” he folded his arms.
“Take a good look at Master Easton’s record, you’ll see, he’s going to destroy that boy! Do you really want to be responsible for that?”
I was pleased to see him hesitate. “I…I made the best decision with all the data available.”
“Oh come on, Master Kendrick. Work with me here. I found the welp a nice Master in New Hampshire, lives in the mountains on a beautiful property. They have horses, and there’s two other boys and a girl there. It’s a much better place for him… he’ll grow into a man in service there.”

We both heard a popping sound and looked over at the boy.
“Where did he get gum…?” Master Kendrick wondered.
He chewed the gum and sighed dramatically, “When are we going to play? I’m bored.”

Master Kendrick looks at me. “See, Master Eaton would straighten that attitude out.”
“Yeah and murder him in the process!” I insisted.
“He hasn’t murdered anyone!”

Another pop. We both look at the boy expectantly. He raised an eyebrow. “How about you two just stop arguing and spank me?”
“Oh that’s not a bad idea,” I say.
“Yeah, I’m for that.”
“You get the paddle? I’ll get the oil.”
“Ooo I have a new one I want to try out…”

He just shook his head and muttered under his breath, “Masters. Pfft.”

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Text is fictional.