First Time Abroad

The grey room was exactly that - a small grey concrete room, with a simple metal bed and a couple of wooden cabinets and bookshelves. Henderson pulled Caleb reluctantly into the room, threw him to the floor and closed the door behind them. He went to the first cabinet and opened the door - inside Caleb could see various packages of clothes, all neatly pressed and sealed in plastic. Henderson selected a packet and threw it to Caleb.

'Put those on, quickly' Henderson ordered.

Caleb did as instructed, although he was surprised to be told to put on clothes - it seemed like forever he had been walking around in the nude, although it had really only been since last night. He opened the packet to find three items - a tight white cotton t-shirt, a pair of tiny white briefs and a pair of sports shorts, like boxers but made out of some sort of plasticky material, they were also white apart from two parallel back stripes running down the side.

The T-Shirt fitted easily, although it was very tight, and only long enough to reach to his navel. The briefs were a different proposition - they were at least a few sizes too small. Caleb was able to pull them up with difficulty, but they refused to go high enough to totally cover his manhood, and they left him with a good patch of pubic hair and skin showing at the base of his cock. They also felt horribly constraining, he hoped he wouldn't have to wear these all day, or he might lose all blood circulation in his crotch. The sports shorts were also too small but compared to the briefs they slipped on easily.

Henderson watched the stud squeeze into his virgin suit and smiled. He returned to the cabinet with four pairs of handcuffs. Caleb was expecting to be ordered to lie on the bed, but instead, Henderson made him stand at the foot of the bed, and handcuffed Caleb's left wrist to the bed frame, at a low enough height to force Caleb to bend forwards. He then roughly kicked Caleb's feet apart, and attached handcuffs to his ankles, which he attached to metal loops set into the room's floor about five feet apart. He attached the final set of handcuffs to Caleb's right wrist, but did not attach them to anything for now. Caleb was going to need that hand free.

Henderson stood back, and admired his handiwork. Even though he despised these studs that the Master enslaved, he could not help admire the sight of this particularly beautiful young body, wrapped in white, waiting to be taken. He noted how broad and strong the boy's shoulders and upper body was, compared to the narrowness and tightness of his waist, and how the skin of the legs and arms stretched and pulled to accommodate the large and powerful muscles underneath. He could not resist running his palm over the pert young buttocks, the shape of which showed clearly through the tight material of the shorts.

'The Master will be here shortly' Henderson said. 'He will ask you some questions, there is only one answer for you to give, that is 'Yes, Master'�, nothing else will be acceptable. He will then take this fine ass and make it his own - I suggest for your own sake you try and relax as much as possible when he takes you. Also, I recommend you try as hard as you can to make the experience pleasurable for the Master - you may hate the experience, but believe me it is nothing to compare with the experience you will have if he gets bored of you, and decides to give you over to the General, and all the other perverts on this island.'

Caleb whimpered at the thought 'Please sir' He said, 'I don't want this. Please let me go, I don't want him to take me like this...'

Henderson felt no sympathy for the boy. 'You will take your punishment and like it' he said. 'You are not the first to be tied here, and you will not be the last. You will accept that this is your destiny to be here, and you had better learn to live with it, or your time here will be long and hard'. Henderson went over to the bookcase and pulled out a large, photo-album type book, which he laid on the bed in front of Caleb.

'Your Master will be here in ten minutes. Read this, you had better be prepared. Oh, by the way, in case you're wondering, the Master has preferences about colours - he likes any slave who has never been taken from the rear to wear white' Henderson said, and left the room.

Caleb pulled against his bindings, but without success, he was going nowhere. He looked up at the photo-album in front of him. Curious, he opened the book to its first double page spread.

The first thing that struck him was that, across one half page, there was a pair of skimpy white briefs, just like the ones he was wearing, except that the elastic along one side was split and torn. They were held in place in the album by staples. Surrounding the briefs, a selection of photos, firstly a candid, beach shot of a young guy, maybe in his late teens or early 20's, smiling as he ran through the surf on the beach. The photo looked like it had been taken from a long way away, with a telephoto lens. The guy was tanned and fit, with clearly defined pecs and abs, strong legs and arms, and wearing nothing but a pair of swimming shorts. He had a mop of distinctive chestnut brown hair.

The chestnut brown hair was what identified it as the same boy in the other pictures, but these weren't taken at the beach - most of the pictures were in a room just like the one Caleb was in now, and they showed the youth undergoing a series of perverse sexual acts and tortures. The expression on the boy's face told it all - he was not faking this for the picture, it was obvious that he was really in the midst of either extreme discomfort or an extreme orgasm, it was difficult to tell which. One picture showed hot candle wax being dripped onto his chest, another showed a whip leaving one of several red marks across his back. Chains and ropes tied the stud in position as his abuser tormented him, and Caleb identified the abuser easily - it was the man who now was preparing to defile Caleb -the ambassador, Sir Harold - the one who was referred to as the Master.

Caleb flicked through the rest of the book, and each double page showed the same story - a different pair of briefs, sometimes white, sometimes red or blue, accompanying a candid shot of some young stud at the beach, and a varied and extreme selection of photos showing what happened to that stud at the hands of the Master.

There must have been a dozen different boys in the album, each undergoing a selection of wild and outrageous sexual acts. Some of the briefs stapled into the book were stained and dirty, all looked like they had been ripped or torn in one way or another - one pair was practically shredded to nothing.

Caleb turned to the last page, and confronted what he knew would be there - one picture only, of himself, Caleb, lounging on the veranda of the beach hut, probably taken only a day or two ago but feeling now like an antique from a past life, looking sun kissed and relaxed, his red Speedos covering up his manhood, his eyes closed as if sleeping, a cool drink by his side.

He realised then that he had been under surveillance for a while. He knew that these pages would soon be filled with pictures of him being tortured and abused, whilst the tight briefs he was wearing would be stapled into these pages, another trophy for his new Master. He looked up at the bookcase and saw now that the shelves were filled with twenty or so albums like the one in front of him, and he realised the scale of what he was mixed up in.

'You can appreciate the importance of my endeavour, then?' Said the Master's voice from behind Caleb. He had slipped into the room quietly, and observed the boy reading the album. He too had been admiring the boy's perfect body shape, emphasised beautifully by the tight clothing. The Master was already naked.

'Yes, Master'

'You understand that it is my God given duty to take unruly studs like you and break them down, erase their arrogance and ego and make them realise their true place in the world?' He asked

Caleb swallowed. 'Yes Master' he said.

'And you are now willingly prepared to offer yourself as a sacrifice, in order that you may be purged of your wickedness and trained to better serve society, as a slave?' The Master asked. Caleb did not answer.

'Answer me now, slave' The Master ordered.

Caleb did not want to answer, but he did so, anyway. What difference would it make?

'Yes, Master' Caleb said.

The Master nodded in approval. He moved up behind the boy and took Caleb's free right wrist, which he handcuffed to the bed frame. Then, he wrapped a strip of tape, also white, around the boy's face, covering his mouth.

'I will now begin the process of destroying your wickedness', the Master said. 'You will experience the revelation of my majesty, and you will forever more be in my debt. My seed will enter your body and begin reforming you from the inside out, removing your wicked temptation and turning you into what you have always been destined to be - a servant of society, forever offering up your filthy body for the good of others ' Caleb wanted to scream out - somebody rescue me from this lunatic! But the whole island seemed to be in awe of this strange, evil man, and Caleb knew that there was no rescue for him today. He had to cling onto that slender thread of hope from earlier, and ride out the storm...

The Master then began another detailed examination of the boy, running his hands all over the muscular chest and abs, whist at the same time pressing his crotch up against the boy's firm buttocks. He admired the feel of strength beneath the cotton of the shirt and then, reaching the neckline, he ripped the shirt open to the belly, reaching in through the tear to rest his palms directly onto the firm flesh.

Caleb struggled, vainly. He despised the feel of the man's crotch, even through the material of the shorts as he rubbed up against him, and he knew how vulnerable he was here, but he knew he would not be rescued. That album had explained to him how he was not dealing with some random abuser, who would make a mistake or suddenly change his mind, no; this was a determined and experienced fiend behind him, who would never stop until he was satisfied.

Caleb felt the remains of his shirt being torn away, and then felt eager bony fingers probing the elastic of the sports shorts, pulling and tearing until the material gave way, and the plastic layer slipped to the floor. Only the skimpy briefs defended him now, and they were already under attack, as one set of nimble fingers pulled and tugged, looking for weaknesses, whist the others busied themselves by probing for the boy's cock, first stroking through the material, then finding where the shaft partly emerged from it's too-small confinement, and feeling the flesh without mercy or compassion. There was hardly enough room for anything else inside the too-tight briefs, but the fingers made it inside, stroking and examining.

And then the briefs were gone too, torn away in a sudden sharp movement. Caleb felt his Master's cock against his buttocks for the first time, hard as a broomstick. He heard some sort of squelching noise as the Master applied some sort of lubricant, and then the bony fingers were gripping Caleb's butt cheeks, prizing them apart.

His instinct said to pucker up, resist the invader, but he knew this was futile. He remembered Henderson's words and, although it was impossible, the tried to relax. He felt the first probing touch of the alien invader. Despite his best efforts at control, he lost it, and began pulling and fighting at his bonds, struggling like a caged rat, fighting this horrible injustice. But the bony hands landed on his thighs, taking a good solid grip, and the Master's cock attacked with full force.

Caleb screamed as the white-hot rod entered him. IT was by far the worst thing he had experienced in his time here, and probably in his entire life. He felt like he was being torn open as the cock pushed into him with incredible force. It was so strange and uncomfortable, and it seemed like it was going so far inside him that he half expected to look down and see the Master's cock bursting through his stomach wall like an alien giving birth.

The cock withdrew, and then entered again, and the rhythm began, as the Master began to pump his fine firm ass, the one which he had worked on and modelled for so long. The initial burst of pain had passed but the pressure and the humiliation really began to take hold, as the Masters sweaty fingers clamped hold of his waist, and the cock pounded in and out of him. He felt his own cock becoming involuntarily erect, and his shame doubled at the betrayal of his own body.

The Master looked down at the broad shoulders and fine slender back below him. He admired the way that the boy's blonde mane of hair flicked from side to side as he impacted against the butt cheeks. This slave was worth teaching, he decided. He could feel the familiar sexual pressure building up in his crotch. He began grunting. He spat on the boy's back, and watched the spit run down the boy's defined backbone.

Caleb did not even feel the spit on his back; he was now gripping the bed frame tightly, riding out the sensations. He even found himself reciprocating, in that his own hips were gyrating back against the Master's pressure, intensifying the sensation. He did not know why he was doing it, but somehow it eased the humiliation, it was as if he was somehow a participant now, rather than just a sex toy.

The Master was pumping quicker and quicker now, enjoying breaking open this fine new ass, and loving the way the boy's own gyrations increased the pleasure. Yes, he thought, this one is worth it. I will have lots of fun reforming this slave... He pumped harder, harder, grunting louder, absorbing the sounds of the boy's own feeble wails and grunts, and then it was time for the christening. He pushed one final time, a good stabbing thrust, and he felt himself let go. He felt a good healthy spray bursting from his cockhead.

Caleb felt the warm, damp sensation deep within him as the master ejaculated. He let out a sigh, and felt the Master's limp body fall across his back as the Master relaxed after the climax. He was revolted by the feel of that dry skinned old man against his own firm young back, but he knew he had been defeated, and his muscles were no match for the old man's cunning and ingenuity. He felt broken and weak.

After a few moments, the Master pulled out. Caleb felt a warm, sticky sensation running down his inner thighs. Caleb collapsed to his knees - the pain from his backside was intense, and he wanted to cry in self pity, but a new strength had taken him - he would not show pain or fear in front of this man. He heard the sound of the Master putting on his clothes, while Caleb still remained tied and naked.

Henderson entered the room, and the Master instructed him to untie Caleb and lie him on the bed for half an hour's rest. The Master left the room, and Henderson did as instructed.

'I think you did well' Henderson said, as he uncuffed Caleb's ankles. 'The Master seemed pleased with you'

Caleb said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Henderson lifted Caleb's weak form onto the mattress. 'You may rest now, and I will bring food and water. You're going to need your strength for what follows next'

Caleb waited for Henderson to leave the room before he rolled up into a ball, and began, quietly, wailing.