Becoming Slave 172
by Tombscreen
14 Jan 2024 4661 readers Score 9.4 (40 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt
Chapter 10: Birthday Boy
The Story So Far:
After being convicted on trumped-up drug charges, straight boy Noah has been sold into slavery.
Over the course of his first week in slavery, the boy was stripped of its identity, forced to serve sexually, drink piss, worship his owner and take a punishment caning. This culminated in the last chapter, with the slave begging Master Ross to take its anal virginity before being spit-roasted by his owner and his former best friend, Lewis.
Our story picks up some time later, as we see how 172’s slavery is progressing.
2 MONTHS in SLAVERY
172 had slowly adjusted to its new reality in the months since its enslavement. Since losing its anal virginity to Master Ross and its former friend Lewis, it had gotten used to being fucked up the ass at least daily by its owner.
It was not long after that when Master decided his slave should be permanently butt-plugged any time its ass wasn’t being used. At first, this had felt like a new low in the boy’s enslavement, which was impressive given the number of increasingly humiliating new things it had experienced, but now it had gotten so used to it that it felt weird and empty any time the plug came out.
172’s morning routine remained the same, being awoken by the rattle of its cage’s padlock unlocking before crawling out to relieve its owner’s morning wood and gulp down his morning piss. Master Ross hadn’t taken a leak in a normal toilet in weeks.
The only difference was that now, 172 was usually serving for two. Lewis had continued to hook up with Master Ross after the night they spit-roasted the slave. 172 had thought Lewis was just doing it as an excuse to keep seeing (and using) it, but Lewis and Ross seemed to have genuinely developed feelings for each other and started dating.
After being allowed 15 minutes to use the dungeon’s bathroom and stone-cold shower, the slave was led upstairs, where it prepared its owner’s tasty and nutritious breakfast before preparing its own dog bowl of slave gruel to eat from the floor at Master Ross’ feet.
Making breakfast was the first of the slave’s many domestic duties. While Master Ross worked during the day, 172 was responsible for all the household cleaning and laundry, scrubbing the floors and toilets in between fetching Sir coffee and crawling under his desk to drink his piss.
When it came to these chores, Sir was meticulous in his standards. The boy was punished if so much as a crumb was out of place. It had taken some getting used to, but 172 had gotten his owner’s requirements nailed down with practice.
In the afternoons, once the household chores were done, the slave's tasks varied day-to-day. Some days, it would be chained to a treadmill and forced to exercise for hours on end. Then there were the days it served under Master Ross’ rim seat, worshipping his hole for hours while he worked.
On other days, it was assigned pointless tasks to fill the time, like writing lines or kneeling in the corner for hours. It had even been made to write a 10,000-word essay one week on why it deserved to be a slave and why its owner deserved to be worshipped. Sir had been so impressed with the finished essay that he let the slave watch TV with him on the sofa that evening as a treat.
In good weather, the slave would take on gardening tasks. Sir’s garden was his pride & joy, and just as he expected his house to be spotless, his garden had to be exactly how he wanted it. One time when the slave had missed a spot while scrubbing the decking, it had been made to cut the lawn using only a pair of scissors as punishment.
In September, Master Ross had set the slave the task of digging a fishpond and lining it with decorative rocks. Every time 172 saw it, the boy was filled with pride at how brilliant it had turned out, but it couldn’t help but remember the hours it spent digging it out with its bare hands.
On the days that Sir needed to go out during the day, the slave would be locked in the dungeon’s stockade for a few hours, listening to hypno audiotapes on a loop while hooked up to a fuck machine and left facing a mirror, so it had no choice but to stare at its bound and tattooed body as it endured the simultaneous mechanical fucking and brainwashing.
In the evenings, it would cook a delicious dinner for its owner. It had not been a particularly good cook before its enslavement, but after several canings for serving Sir something barely edible and after spending many hours researching and revising with Sir’s cookbooks, it had gotten quite good at making its owner’s favourite meals. On nights that it did particularly well, Master Ross allowed it to enjoy a small portion alongside its usual gruel.
After dinner, the slave would pass the time serving as Sir’s footstool for a few hours while he watched TV, usually blindfolded and wearing earplugs so as it wasn’t distracted by any enjoyment of what Sir was watching. He wanted the slave’s world to revolve around him, and only him; the goings on in the outside world were of no relevance to a slave. To help reinforce the message, the slave would usually be gagged with Sir’s used socks and have a pair of his worn boxers draped over its face to focus its remaining senses on what mattered.
Then, each night as Sir guided it to the cellar to face another night locked in its cold, steel cage, it would invariably feel its owner pull out its plug and guide it to the leather-padded fuck bench. The boy had come to recognise that its breedings came in two forms and had learned to appreciate the pros and cons of each.
When Sir was tired or worked up, he would fuck the boy hard and fast, combined with lots of physical and verbal abuse. It dreaded the nights when it was on the receiving end of a brutal fuck; even with experience, it hurt the boy like hell when Sir was pistoning in and out, but they were usually over in a matter of minutes before the boy had all night in the cage to recover.
Then there were the nights when Sir took it slow and steady, savouring the feeling of his property’s velvety hole massaging his shaft. Despite it frequently lasting over an hour before it felt Sir’s warm, gooey cum fulling up its colon, the boy had learned to allow its thoughts to melt away and just focus entirely on the sensations. It understood that however unfair, its life had been given a new meaning and purpose. It felt genuinely privileged, lucky even, to be able to serve and bring comfort to its owner. Those were the nights that it went to sleep with a smile on its face.
2 MONTHS in SLAVERY - 5 NOVEMBER 2034
Amongst the monotonous routine and isolation from the outside world, the slave had lost track of the date. But today was no typical day. As the old British saying goes, “Remember, remember the 5th of November…”, but Noah Roberts had more reason than most to remember the date – it was his birthday.
Master Ross himself would have been unaware of the day's significance if Lewis hadn’t reminded him a few days earlier. He’d forgotten most of the details from 172’s National Slave Agency file. That was the slave’s old life; he was forging it a new life. But sharing a bed with the slave’s friend was proving to have its perks beyond the obvious upsides of a cute twink boyfriend.
They decided the slave should still get to mark its birthday, just a little… differently. And so, as a mischievous smile crept across Lewis’ face, they set about organising a surprise party for their slave.
That morning, as the boy was gulping down its owner’s powerful stream of pungent morning piss, Sir gently stroking its shaved head, it heard Sir speak:
“Fuck that feels good. Good boy. Happy birthday, by the way! I’ve not got you a present as such, but we’ve got a little something planned for you later, boy. I think you’re really going to enjoy it”.
The boy was slightly stunned at not realising today was its birthday. Its wide-eyed shock had made Sir chuckle, but with its mouth still full of cock, it at least had some moments to formulate a verbal response while it drank the last of Sir’s golden juice.
As Sir tucked his dick back into his jockstrap, the boy meekly decided on a response:
“Th… thank you for your morning cum & piss, Master. It’s grateful to receive that gift every day, Sir.”
Sir chuckled at how cheesy the boy’s responses had become since he had started brainwashing it, but he still enjoyed catching glimpses of the boy’s old personality from time to time.
The rest of the day went as usual. 172 could have easily forgotten about its birthday all over again as it licked up its cold gruel and set about scrubbing the kitchen floor. But mid-afternoon, Lewis arrived and asked the boy to give him a hand moving the fuck bench up from the dungeon into the living room where the coffee table usually sat.
As Lewis headed off to play video games with Master Ross, he instructed the boy to go and prepare itself for its birthday party. It was to ensure it was clean and completely hairless below the neck and that its head was freshly buzz-cut.
At 7pm on the dot, the slave was instructed to kneel next to the living room door and await the guests that Lewis and Master Ross had invited. The boy was extremely nervous; it had been made to serve a few of Sir’s friends, but never more than one at a time. Some had been patient and gentle, others had been harsh and sadistic. All had been supervised by Sir, who the boy had learned wouldn’t let any severe harm come to his prized possession. But with a large group, especially with alcohol involved, who knows what could happen.
It wasn’t left waiting for long before the doorbell went, and a smirking Lewis left the room to answer it. The kneeling boy’s heart was pounding so hard & fast it was surprised it wasn’t audible in the room. And then… it skipped a dozen beats as the group of young men entered the room.
Sam, Max and Malik had been Lewis and Noah’s other roommates while living in their uni halls. They were shortly joined by Aaron and Tom from Noah’s law course. This time last year, this was the group Noah had been out drinking with for his birthday bar crawl. This year, it was the only one crawling, as Master Ross instructed it to approach each friend in turn on its knees and kiss their feet while he shook their hands and exchanged pleasantries.
Sam, Aaron and Tom had classic twink builds. Max and Malik were more muscular and played sports for university teams – hockey for Max; basketball for Malik. Malik was a little bicurious, but the rest all considered themselves straight. But that wouldn’t matter tonight; society had accepted that sex with slaves didn’t count when considering sexuality.
They each looked both shocked and amused at the sight of their friend, kneeling naked but for his steel restraints and chastity, sporting new tattoos and a large butt plug. Some of them had been unsure about coming when they got Lewis’ invitation. A few of their other friends had decided not to come. But the 5 decided they were too curious to see their mate as a real-life slave. The prominent tent in each of their pants told everyone they made the right decision.
For the first hour or so, the slave fetched beers and waited on the guests as they laughed and told stories from the slave’s free-boy past and listened to humiliating stories of 172’s first few months in slavery. As the alcohol began to kick in, Tom was the first to excuse himself to use the bathroom, but as he turned to leave, Lewis whispered into his ear. The slave knew what would be happening next.
Tom turned back to the group, grinning like a Cheshire cat at the realisation the bathroom wouldn’t be needed tonight. He nonchalantly whipped his cock out from his jeans as he stepped forward towards the slave, who silently opened his jaw and took it into his mouth.
A single tear rolled down the slave’s cheek as it dutifully swallowed the bitter, slightly alcoholic drink it was being served in front of all its friends, who watched on mesmerised with their mouths open and rubbing their own growing bulges.
“Thank you, Sir”, the boy muttered as his friend withdrew his cock without acknowledging the slave before turning to high-five Lewis. Within the next half hour, everyone had drained their bladder into their former friend’s welcoming mouth.
Max was the last to need to take a piss, but when he had finished, instead of removing his cock as his friends had all done, he firmly gripped the slave’s head with both hands and forced his growing cock further in towards the boy’s throat before proceeding to facefuck the poor slave, as the rest of the group removed their clothes.
Once Max filled the boy’s throat with his huge load, which he’d clearly been saving up for at least a few days, Master Ross dragged his slave to its feet by the collar and led it over to the fuck-bench it had moved into the room that afternoon. As Lewis helped to strap the boy down, the rest of the guests played rock-paper-scissors for the right to be the first to fuck their former friend’s ass, which Malik won.
Having now been acquainted with each of their tools while on urinal duty, 172 knew Malik’s 9” big black cock was not only the biggest of the group, but the biggest it had encountered since its enslavement.
“Right then, mate, let's see how good a fucktoy you are…”
In one swift motion, Malik plunged his cock into the boy’s hole and pressed forward until it was sunk right to the base inside the slave’s rectum, prompting howls of laughter and wolf-whistles from the group as they continued drinking, waiting for their own turn.
To 172, the ordeal of being mercilessly bred by Malik had seemed to go on for hours, but it didn’t take long for the searing pain to start giving way to a bittersweet satisfaction.
By the time Malik started pumping his hot seed into his ex-roommate, the slave was quietly moaning with pleasure with each thrust, though the sound of the party drowned it out and spared the boy’s embarrassment.
When Malik eventually pulled out and flopped down onto the sofa, he was replaced at the slave’s rear by Tom, while Aaron had taken up a position at the opposite end of the fuck bench and guided his cock down the slave’s throat. Tom and Aaron were inseparable as friends; they had joked that any girl they pulled would have to put up with them both, yet it was poor Noah who had ended up as the cross-piece in their Eiffel Tower.
As the night went on, each guy took several turns at each end, rotating over the course of a few hours, getting progressively rougher the drunker they got. The only one who seemed to take pity on the slave was Sam. He had been calm and gentle with his former friend and had been the only one to stop and check periodically how the slave was doing when his turn came around.
As the night drew late, Master Ross and Lewis had become engrossed in a passionate make-out session on the sofa, seemingly oblivious to the slave’s ongoing use; Max & Malik had gotten lost in a drunken philosophical debate; and Tom & Aaron were browsing the slave auction photos on their phones, picking out their favourite slaves that they absolutely couldn’t afford to buy with their student loans.
And so, as Sam wandered over to the fuck bench to pump the final load of the night up the slave’s hole, he took advantage of the others being distracted to stop and whisper into the slave’s ear.
“I’m going to try to get you off with this one, mate. Give me a little nod when I find your prostate. I’ll see if I can get a good rhythm with it and wiggle your cage enough for you to cum. It’ll be our little secret”, he winked.
True to his word, Sam’s gentle thrusting and slow, deep strokes soon found 172’s prostate, prompting a series of whimpers from the slave as it felt the pleasure rising deep inside its body to the edge of orgasm.
As soon as the slave felt Sam reach down and touch its cage, it toppled past the point of no return and groaned as the mindblowing orgasm clouded its mind, the boy’s caged nub throbbing as it pumped out the contents of its full balls, even while trapped in the confines of the tight, steel chastity cage.
Once the slave’s orgasm had subsided, Sam picked up the pace and soon added his own load to the dozens that had already flooded the slave’s rear. As he paced round to the slave’s face and presented his cum-coated cock for cleaning, he gently stroked the boy’s cheek and patted his head with a warm smile.
Last year, Noah got the newest iPhone as a present. This year, 172’s “present” was the nearly 30 loads of cum it had taken from Master Ross, Lewis and the 5 guests by the time Lewis escorted them outside to their waiting taxi, most of them still half-naked but drunk enough to not notice or care.
As Master Ross gently inserted one of his largest butt plugs up 172’s gaping, cum-drenched pussy and untied the boy from the bench, he gently stroked the boy’s back and whispered how proud he was of the slave’s performance. As he lifted the boy from the bench to stand face-to-face with him, he gently kissed the boy’s forehead.
“Happy birthday, slave”.