A Picture is Worth About a Thousand Words

Failing Up

Fletcher House slave number 1125, like all of his cohort, was taken within four days of the Harvest Festival’s opening ceremony. The rules of the game require that all four captures be presented to the membership in the final ceremony that day, and that they are there proven or eliminated as contestants for the Harvest Games.

Sometimes a capture will fail the first test, and the team will be reduced. But for many years, Fletcher House has fielded a full team of four, and that owes to the gamekeeper’s care in vetting member selections, and to the care members take in making their selections. And Fletcher House has won the Harvest Games more often than not, and this has made the market what it is today and secured Fletcher House’s command of that market. The winner of the Harvest Games is among the most expensive of yearling slaves in the world.

The picture of 1125 above shows it gaining its place as a team member in next year’s Harvest Games. I’d like to have it give you it’s experience first hand, but weanlings are not permitted to speak. So I’ve talked to a Harvest alum (1043) from a few years ago who gave me a pretty complete account of its first three days at the House. We talked over several days during exercise periods and I have reconstructed the recordings and shoved things around and left out a lot, but this is a typical experience for the Harvest slaves and is pretty close to what 1125 experienced.

One bit of background: 1125, just 18 years old, was taken from the Fox Valley Technical College in Appleton, WI, where it was working on certificates in heavy equipment mechanics. It was prepared -- shaved, washed and oiled -- then left for two days in solitary, fed well and then brought out with the other three for presentation to membership. 1043’s account follows:

“The door to the cell opened and three men in grey uniforms came in. I was quickly taken by the wrists and shoulders and made to kneel. My hands were cuffed behind me and then two of the men locked a leather collar around my neck and attached a leash to it. I was stood up and led out the door into a large sunny courtyard, and through a sally port just ahead. We passed through a pair of sliding, barred gates, walked down a hall and entered a large room something like a gymnasium.

“My attention went first to four stainless steel poles that rose from the floor to a complex of pipes high above. I was frog-marched over and the ring on my collar was clipped to one of these poles, adjusted so that the back of my head was touching the pole and I was looking into the center of the square. The cuffs on my wrists were clipped to the sides of the pole and my ankles were cuffed and linked by a cord that ran behind the pole. A black curtain opened along one wall and a crowd of hundreds was revealed.

“Somewhere behind me a voice rang out: ‘Attention!’ All the uniformed staff on the stage sprang at once to attention and stood facing a group of three -- I supposed they were officers -- who came into the center of the square made by the four poles. I knew at once who was in charge here. He looked at each of the four of us like a judge at a dog show. In short order, he returned to the other two officers and had a few words with them before they left for the sidelines, leaving the chief officer alone in the center of the square.

“‘Today is your first test,’ he began, looking at each one of us in turn. ‘Let me be clear. If you fail this test, you will immediately be returned to your home, just as you left it. Today's test is in three parts: (1) can your cock be made to stiffen and stand up; (2) can your cock be made to stand up hard for an hour; and (3) at the end of that hour, can you shoot cum beyond the blue line on the floor in front of you? To lead you through the trials, you will each have three members of our training staff whose own training and hard work are dedicated to your success. We will begin now.’

“I had a brief moment of relief at the thought of failing. Of course, I could fail one of the trials. And just as I was thinking this, one of the trainers applied a warm slick substance to my nipples and began to rub them with his palms and fingers. I immediately lost any thoughts I'd grasped at and began jerking spasmodically trying to get away from those fingers. Never had I felt anything as intense and unfamiliar. Another trainer was parked in front of me sitting on his heels; he took my balls into his hands and pulled them, massaging them with his thumbs. It's impossible to say which distracted me from the other as my focus swung wildly from one to the other and my cock stood straight out and hard.

“‘Goddammit!’ I wailed. The three trainers stood to attention; one raised his hand to signal the end of the first trial. ‘Goddammit,’ I thought. I lost that bout in two minutes flat. I looked at the guy across from me. He was hard and writhing and moaning until his trainers let go of him and stood to signal his trial's end. Within another two minutes, all four training teams had signaled success. The chief officer looked to each team to confirm four hard cocks and then called out, ‘Start the clock.’

“Two trainers ran their fingers purposefully everywhere over my torso, ever more oily and slick as they went. I was unprepared for their teasing my nipples, tickling my abs, licking my cock hole. It made me blind and spastic and rattle the links on the wrist cuffs. It made me hot. This went on for minutes at a time and seemed eternal and then they'd stop, but only for a while. This was watched by the other two officers. Once the trainers stopped jacking me up, one or the other of the officers looked at my cock, then whacked my balls with a riding crop and called out, 'Hard on.'

"This went on for round after round of a dozen ways they worked to keep me hard. I had never been this hard before. To be honest, I'd never seen another man with a hard-on, but now in the pause in what must have been late rounds I was now less completely blind and deaf and slowly became aware of the boy across from me. His neck collar pressed against his throat; every muscle tensed. The beautiful shape of his balls and the obvious power of his thighs touched something in me and made me even harder if that was possible. It was such a surprising thought and was suddenly interrupted with a whack in the balls and the officer calling out, 'Hard on.'

"That last shot went all the way up to my abdomen and throbbed. I reflexively doubled over and choked myself against the collar around my neck. Oh my God, I thought, this sucks, maybe my cock will go down, maybe this is how to fail. And for the first time I felt like maybe my cock wasn't totally hard, was maybe falling. And this is when a trainer seized my ball sack with both hands, swallowed my pretty-hard cock all the way down, and then rode it three times up and down and then let go of me just as a bell sounded, and he watched me shoot three great ropes of cum arching out in front of me.

“I’d passed all three tests.”