A Picture is Worth About a Thousand Words

Martin was making money. He was 17. The supplier in his neighborhood also knew his brother, who was 19 and working for him as a driver and general gofer. Lately, Martin had been given the local high school as his exclusive territory, and he was going to make something of it. He was learning, he had some native intelligence, and he worked hard at it. The idea of business as war appealed to his nature, taking territory, taking riches.

He’d thought that far ahead building his empire in the clouds when Lt. Harding of the Callum county sheriff’s office took the boy to lunch as a favor, explained the dangers that lay ahead in his intended course, and offered the boy an alternative path that required him to betray his employer and probably his brother as well.

But the boy was not wise or worldly at 17 and transparently explained the matter to his boss. The man nodded and said, “You’ve done well to come to me. You are a good boy." He waved to his man and said, "Take the boy to the kitchen and see he gets fed. And Martin,” he said, looking directly at the boy. “I will think on this tonight. I think I know what to do.”

But of course, at the moment, the only immediate danger to the drug dealer was Martin himself; yes, he’d have to find another dealer for the high school, but that’s the nature of the business. One way or another, Martin would have to disappear. It’s what he would think upon that night, ways and means.

And after a budget of thinking and some phone calls, he was able to reach Fletcher House’s assistant gamekeeper, with whom he had a lively and enjoyable conversation and a bit of bargaining, reaching finally, an agreement to transfer the boy on the following day, naked and unconscious in a standard-issue county-morgue body bag. The boy’s bona fides, such as they were, would be sent over to Fletcher House that evening and cash would be transferred to the drug dealer on receipt of the boy.

That the boy had been fed just that afternoon was actually part of the negotiation, as Fletcher House wanted the boy hungry when they took possession -- 24 hours fasting was best. This was accomplished and within that time, the boy was brought as described ‘round to the rough cells outside the slave entrance. A thin neckband and leash were quickly attached as well as thick, rough leather wrist and ankle cuffs, each with its own tiny padlock. The boy was laid out on a flat, table-like boulder, something like an altar, and left to wake up from his drug-induced state.

After the boy had wakened, after he’d taken stock of his situation and examined the cell minutely, he returned to his place on the rock and determined to sleep until he was disturbed. But it was hard. The place smelled strongly of baking bread and roast turkey, and he was now acutely hungry. For hours he lay half awake, contending with his gnawing hunger until the door opened and the assistant gamekeeper came in with some helpers who brought in a bench they placed in the middle of the cell. The man walked directly to the boy and smacked the bottom of its foot with a thin willow stick.

The man stood, feet apart, hands held behind his back and regarded the boy lying before him. “Listen to me! You now belong to Fletcher House. As its slave, you will do what you are told to do without question or thought; you will do so with alacrity and good cheer. For the next two months you will be trained in manners and comportment and how to build and maintain muscle and flexibility. After that we’ll see which of your talents to develop in specialized training that lasts 10 months. And then you’ll be ready for a year of provisional service. What happens to you after that depends on how well you do up to that point. But for the present you’ll do two things for me today and then we’ll get you fed and make you more comfortable.

“First, once I leave, you’ll go over to the bench there. You’ll notice there’s a not very large dildo standing up on one end and a somewhat larger and longer one on the other end of the bench. They are both smooth and well lubricated. Straddle the bench and slide the smaller of the dildos right up your ass until you have the whole thing. Smack your butt cheeks down on the bench three times to make sure it’s all the way in and then stand up, turn about, and do the same with the other one.

“And then, second, you’ll see the red spot on the floor at the end of the bench; you’ll pump out a load of cum right on that spot.” He stood quietly after delivering this speech, then for emphasis, added, “And then we’ll get you fed.” He smiled briefly, turned on his heel and left the cell with the helpers, locking the door behind them.

This had all come upon the boy suddenly and unexpectedly and disturbingly. And right now, his mind was a storm of confused questions, surmise, and anger. And hunger. But first, no! He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. What was he going to do? He couldn’t do that! And if he didn’t? Well, he wouldn’t eat. And that put rather a fine point to the matter. He’d die if he didn’t eat. And how long would that take? And when he got close to death and started hallucinating, would he then wish he’d stuck that thing up his ass? Did he rather die horribly? And this went on for quite a while because he was very much against putting anything up his ass.

But of course, in the end, needs must. The boy approached the bench as one might a coiled rattlesnake and stared at it with tears in his eyes. An exploratory touch to the latex glans produced a slow oozing of lubricant and a brief vibration. Repeated touching of the dildo produced repeated bursts of vibration and slime. “Oh God! Oh God!” he said as he straddled the bench and bent his ass toward its fate.

He touched his sphincter down onto the very tip of the dildo and flinched when it began to vibrate. “Oh God! I can’t,” he moaned and stood up straight. Stood there for what seemed a long time, shaking and sweating. But he knew he had to do this, and again he forced himself onto the latex spike and moved his ass around the tip pushing slowly, slowly until the tip suddenly slipped up into his hole. This surprised the boy so much he literally jumped up, pulling himself off. Again, he stood there trying to pull himself together, until finally with the determination of one jumping into an icy lake, he took the plunge, slowly and evenly shoving himself down on the dildo all in one forced move.

The pain was enough to blind him and make him cry out, but he made it all the way down and smacked his butt cheeks onto the bench. He raised himself up as far as he could, keeping the glans in, then let all his weight press down on the dildo and smack his cheeks on the bench again. And again, this time with a cry wrenched from pain and success.

Afterward he lay curled up on the floor for minutes, panting, cooling his face on the flag stones, readying himself for the next attack. He had to do it without thinking. Just do it! He got up and approached the large dildo as he had the first one, but this time, wrapped his fist around the shaft and moved his hand as though he were wanking it. It started oozing and vibrating and the boy gripped it even tighter so that the vibrations reached his arm bones.

And this time he thought to make the vibration work for him. He settled his ass slowly on the tip and then let the vibrations relax his ass, his abs, his prostate, and slowly he slid down the pole all the way to the bench. It hurt like hell. It hurt all the way into his abdomen, all the way into his cock. Everything hurt and he had two more strokes to go. Up he went and then down by force of gravity, resisted by the strength of his asshole and how tightly it slid down. And before he could rise for the third time, his whole groin, from his ass to his balls and up into his abs was filled with an ecstatic heat he had never experienced and filled his cock to fully hard. And then descending down the long dildo for the third time, his cock exploded gouts of cum, some of which landed right on the red dot at the end of the bench.

I’ve no doubt the boy will become a proper player. It’s just that it was so hungry that day. Stay hungry boy!