Becoming Slave 172
by Tombscreen
29 Oct 2023 9910 readers Score 9.5 (50 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt
Chapter 5: A New Purpose
The flashback in this chapter started as a stand-alone story and was a late addition to this story, but it was probably my favourite bit to write, to date. I hope you enjoy it too!
The Story So Far:
After being convicted on trumped-up drug charges, straight boy Noah has been sold into slavery. In the last chapter, Master Ross began the process of moulding his slave into his personal sex toy, starting with sucking cock for the first time.
To the boy’s horror, his training is only just beginning, and the next step will be the hardest yet.
DAY 3 of SLAVERY
After getting its breath back from its first blowjob experience, slave 172 was led back to its cage and locked away. Master Ross explained that the slave would get used to frequently being “stored” away, either in the cage or in some other bondage apparatus when he was too busy to need it.
When Master Ross returned to the cellar that afternoon, he found his slave fast asleep – poor kid must be exhausted, physically & emotionally.
But as compassionate as Master Ross could be, he was also firm. The slave wasn’t a young, carefree lad anymore. It had a new purpose in life, and certain duties came with that. Master Ross was determined that it would fulfil them, no matter how many gentle nudges or harsh beatings it took to get there.
Master Ross removed the padlock from the cage and opened the steel-barred door, allowing the noise to wake the young slave, who slowly emerged out onto the concrete floor of the cellar while Master Ross retrieved a few implements from one of the cupboards – a cane and a tube of Deep Heat cream.
He had a feeling that his slave may need some encouragement for its newest duty, and if striped cheeks didn’t work, then the threat of burning balls to match would surely do the trick.
Master Ross made sure the slave saw these as he retrieved its empty dog bowl from that morning’s breakfast. 172 didn’t know what was in store, but it knew it had better do what it was told straight away or else. Even so, it couldn’t help but recoil when Sir placed the dog bowl to his cock and began to piss.
172 shuddered as a vivid flashback came to life in its head. It was fresher’s week, almost exactly a year before, and its first real encounter with a slave.
1 SEPTEMBER 2033
Noah had always taken an interest in the news, so he was well aware of the debates around the re-establishment and expansion of slavery. But, growing up in a rural Yorkshire village, he had never seen a slave in person. He knew some of the big farms nearby had slave labourers, including some of the tearaways from the years above him at school, but he never had much to do with them.
So, it was a shock when he moved to Manchester for university, and suddenly slaves were everywhere - stacking shop shelves, sweeping the streets, emptying the litter bins - you name it. But it was one particular encounter he was remembering - the first time he had to use the public toilets on campus.
He was dying to pee, but his induction talk with his new lecturers had been dragging on for ages. When he finally got out, he made a beeline for the toilets but was taken aback by the sight when he pushed through the door. Instead of a row of urinals, the back wall of the bathroom featured four naked, kneeling slaves.
Their thick steel collars were securely bolted to the wall behind them, rendering their shaved heads completely immobile at crotch height for the free men entering the room and their mouths held open with ring gags. Their wrists were shackled together, secured above their heads by a taught length of chain so their arms could not slack at all. Their knees were kept far apart by a spreader bar, exposing their genitals in their nub-sized steel chastity cages, each catheterised to direct their own waste into the drains below. Noah couldn’t see it, but each also had a sizeable inflatable plug up their ass.
And above each of their heads was pinned a sign. Noah approached the slave on the far left – short and stocky, it looked to be in its 50s – and read its sign:
“LOWEST OF THE LOW: This urinal was enslaved for 25 years for armed robbery. Property of the University of Salford. Please use me!”
And the sign wasn’t exaggerating; urinal duty was absolutely the lowest, most degrading form of slavery. Only the cheapest slaves got chosen to waste away as urinal slaves, and that invariably meant they were the most hardened criminals or those convicted of the most serious crimes, which would require costly extra security in any other slave-use scenario.
Noah’s curiosity got the better of him, and he walked down the line to read each of their signs. Next up was slimmer and younger than the first, mid-30s maybe:
“15 years for sexual assault”
Then, an Asian guy, tall and lanky, probably in its late 20s:
“12 years for death by dangerous driving”
Finally, he reached the boy at the end. Beautifully toned and tanned, it scarcely looked a day older than Noah. Its cock, even soft, was large enough to bulge obscenely from its stainless-steel prison. But none of that is what struck Noah.
It was its chocolate brown eyes. All the others looked dead inside, resigned to their cruel fate. But this lad was different. Its eyes were full of terror, like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Noah wondered whether it was new.
Unbeknownst to Noah, Oliver had been enslaved only hours earlier, and while there had been a few visitors to the men’s bathroom that morning, it was yet to be used for its new purpose.
“LOWEST OF THE LOW: This urinal was enslaved for LIFE for aiding & abetting the escape of lawful slaves. Property of the University of Salford. Please use me!”
Wow, that was some serious shit!
In reality, Oli had done no such thing. His only “crime” was that his girlfriend’s dad was a senior police detective who hadn’t taken kindly to finding out about his precious daughter’s secret boyfriend.
All it took was a few bits of easily fabricated evidence and a few hundred quid in a brown envelope for the judge. Before he knew it, he was watching the pathetic lad wail and sob as he was forcibly restrained and stripped by the guards in court, protesting his innocence. It served him right for deflowering his innocent daughter!
Ironically, Oli and his girlfriend hadn’t even gotten to third base yet. His impressive dick was still virgin, and now it would remain that way forever.
Noah undid his zipper and reached for his free boy dick, which he only now noticed had grown semi-erect while examining the spectacle of the urinals. Noah tentatively brought the tip to the slave’s quivering lips and began to empty his bladder, christening the new urinal.
The first blast of the bitter, acrid liquid hitting the back of its throat caused the slave to cough and splutter, spilling lots of the golden fluid down his newly hairless, exposed body and narrowly avoiding splashing Noah’s jeans. Eventually, it had no choice but to gulp it down as best it could, but it still struggled to keep up. It knew it would have to stay kneeling, covered in the stale spilt piss, for the rest of its 12-hour shift.
Even then, the best it could look forward to afterwards was a hosing down outside with ice-cold water before being fed its piss-infused gruel & caged for the night.
But tonight, it would also be getting a special first night “treat” from its new guards. They were planning to gangbang its virgin hole on their break. In the months ahead, it would actually come to enjoy the nights the guards raped it; at least it broke up the monotony of being treated as an inanimate object day after day.
Now satisfied, Noah smiled and stowed his dick back into his boxers. He would be sure to use the lad again whenever it was on duty over the coming year. As Noah turned to leave, the tears began to stream down the lad’s cheeks.
“P… pl… please… help me…” the boy stuttered through the ring gag that forced its mouth to remain open and caused it to slur its words.
Noah turned back to the lad and gently patted its head, “Shush, pissboy, you know this is what you deserve”.
The last remnants of the kind & bubbly boy next door that used to be Oliver Adams would soon be gone forever, his promising future as a would-be surgeon stolen from him, even though he’d done nothing wrong. Instead, it had a new purpose now.
His aching body was nothing more than a receptacle for free men’s piss. Just an object. An “it”. Owned for the rest of its life by the university he had been due to enrol at today.
It would never get to graduate in a fancy cap & gown. Instead, it would be spending the decades to come in nothing but chains. Day after day, month after month, for hours at a time. A life of unfair, abject misery.
172 was snapped back to the present by the sound of the metal dog bowl clinking against the concrete floor as it was set down in front of it for the second time this morning, this time filled with Sir’s warm, golden urine.
“Right, boy. I always need to piss first thing in the morning, so you’ll be taking care of that for me from now on. Eventually, you’ll drink it straight from the tap, but I don’t want you to make a mess. For now, you can lap it up from your bowl. You’ve got 10 minutes to empty the bowl before I start punishing you.”
The slave was stunned. It had seemed fair enough that the urinal slaves had to drink piss; it was what they were there for. They had committed serious crimes to deserve it. Surely this pervert couldn’t expect him to do it?
172 attempted to make a start a few times but could never bring itself to touch its lips to the golden liquid. The boy was snapped out of its stupor by a crack of the cane, directly across both buttocks, stinging like hell and prompting the slave to leap momentarily before regaining its balance on its knees. Another four whacks came in rapid succession, making the slave shake like a leaf in a storm.
“5 minutes gone, boy. 5 minutes wasted. Drink up or there’ll be more where they came from”.
The slave didn’t know what was worse – being forced to drink piss or facing more of the cane. But deep down, it knew it would be drinking the piss either way. It was time to set the moral principles aside and do what needed to be done to get through this.
Slowly, it took a tentative lap with its tongue at the liquid. It tasted awful, but what did it expect? The slave gradually built its confidence and began to lap more at the bowl until Master Ross’ voice rang out again.
“2 minutes left, boy. You’ve only made a small dent in that bowl. You think it’s bad now? I’d hate to be you once the Deep Heat kicks in on your balls. Once it’s on, the burning won’t stop for hours, no matter how quickly you give in.”
With that, 172 began lapping like crazy, desperately gulping down the remaining piss. It overran by 20 seconds, according to Sir’s stopwatch, but Master Ross chose to lie to his relieved and grateful slave.
“A few seconds to spare, boy. Good effort. Tomorrow, you’ll be quicker. By the end of the week, you’ll be gulping it straight from the source”.
“Thank you, Master. Sorry for being slow, Sir. I’ll be quicker next time”.
Master Ross smiled. If he’d punished it for its marginal failure, it may well drink quicker tomorrow out of fear of punishment. But he knew the threat alone had served its purpose – the slave had overcome its mental blocker and would drink quicker tomorrow anyway, purely to please him.
The grateful slave was relieved it had got it done. As if to prove Sir’s point, the slave made a mental note that quickly was definitely the way to go; it had barely noticed the rank taste towards the end.
Wait, was he really making mental notes of how to drink piss? On Monday, he had been partying with his mates, drinking shot after shot of cheap spirits. Now it was Thursday, and he was drinking hot piss from his dog bowl and falling over himself to be grateful for it.
Five years would roll around eventually, but slave 172 could never, ever be the same again.