No Use to Society

“Want to see them?” James asked with a smirk.  “Want to see my herd of slaves?”

Matt pulled away from the bars and nodded, unaware of the fact that he licked his bottom lip in anticipation.  This was turning into a most stimulating afternoon, and he adjusted his eyes to the dim light as he stared down the long room in front of him.

James turned behind them and pressed a large button on the wall.  The room was filled with the sound of metal grating along the concrete floor, as the front bars of each tiny cell slid to the side.  There was also the unmistakeable sound of movement from the cells, as slaves got to their manacled feet.  James reappeared at Matt’s side, and waited until the sound of the doors had ceased.  With a smile, he walked down the centre aisle, with Matt following behind him.  The sound of their boots as they walked down the aisle was now the only sound in the air as both men walked slowly through the slave shed.

Matt looked into the small cages as he travelled down the aisle.  Each one contained a young male slave.  Each slave facing the rear wall of their cage, their legs spread as far as their ankle chains would allow and their hands spread against the wall to the side, equally manacled by their wrists.  Each slave’s face touched the wall in front of them, each waiting no doubt for permission to be able to exit their cage.  Matt noticed the filthy colour of each slave.  Clearly they were not allowed to wash, their arses and legs coated in filth, their own excrement and thick mud coating the lower halves of their legs.  The brands of their ownership numbers clearly marked on their arses and standing out amidst the filth.  And yet every one of them was in prime physical condition.  Their bodies were youthful and athletic.  Their backs showed a perfect musculature, their arses were pert and their legs perfectly formed.  These were men in the prime of their lives, reduced to prime livestock.  Their lives wasted in absolute misery as nothing other than animals.  Helpless.  Degraded.

“They’ve been trained what to do from the moment their cell door opens.  They know better than to piss me off,” James growled.  “They learn that obedience is the only solution if they want to avoid punishment.  I don’t accept any free thinking from these animals.  If they forget that, they are punished severely in front of the rest of the herd.”

Matt nodded in appreciation and chuckled to himself.  “This is awesome.  They are basically just animals then aren’t they?” he stated, his eyes widening at the possibilities of owning twenty two naked animal boys.

“Totally, yes.  That’s how they are treated and how I expect them to be at all times.  They learn that they are not human anymore.  They can’t communicate now of course with their tongues chained to their noses, and they don’t have freedom at any time.  Their cocks and legs are always chained up.  The number tattooed on them also enforces their status.  They are under no illusion of what they are.”

Matt and James reached the end of the room and James entered a small ante-chamber, returning into the room dragging behind him a large plastic container filled with a dark mushy substance.  As he spoke to Matt, he poured the substance into a channel that ran along the concrete floor, in front of the cages.  He then moved to the other side of the room and poured the same amount into the opposite channel.

“I love looking into their eyes.  They are so ashamed of what they have become.  A mixture of fear and hatred in their eyes when they look at me.  They were all prime hunks in the prime of their lives.  They thought they were invincible and had beaten the authorities.  Crept over the border in the backs of lorries without any identification.  Agreed to come and work for me when I promised them riches.  And look at them now, naked and in chains.  No longer tough macho guys any more.  I know they would overpower me if they could.  They would try to regain their freedom if I gave them half a chance.  But it won't come.  They are destined to a life of slavery for the rest of their lives.  I have many ways of controlling them."”

James chuckled aloud, and Matt jumped as a shrill whistle pierced the air.  Two naked slaves appeared from their cells, shuffling down the centre aisle towards their Master as fast as their chains would allow.  Number 3 from the right hand side, and number 14 from the left.  Their anxiety to please their owner making them look ridiculous as they stumbled forward, their numbers prominent on forehead and chest and their cocks stretched upwards in front of them, mocking the fact that they were once men.  They reached their Master in tandem, and fell to their knees before James, head facing up towards the man who owned them and had sentenced them to a life of degradation.

“They never get treated with compassion or any acknowledgement that they are human.  I always treat them as dumb animals,” James sneered, looking down at the two naked men who grovelled in front of him.

Matt looked down at the two slaves in front of him.  Both were muscled, well built young man.  He estimated them to be in their early twenties.  Their handsome faces looked up and Matt noticed the fear and humiliation in their eyes.  He wondered how such virile young men must feel, so enslaved and beyond any hope of release into the free world.  He noticed the fact that their feet were black, the soles engrained with thick dirt.  These men had forgotten the luxury of clothing, of footwear.  They had clearly become hardened to a life of naked hardship.

He noticed that the slave on the right, number 3, had an erection that was causing him considerable discomfort, pulling on the chain link attached to his belly button.  Matt knelt down before the miserable young creature and reached down to its erect penis.   Feeling the dirt engrained on the slave’s cock, he recoiled back at the smell of the unwashed animal.  Living in filth, the animal’s body reeked of earth and of shit.  Forbidden any cleanliness.  The slave gasped as Matt touched its cock, pulling it away from the slave’s body and relishing the total shame in its eyes.

“When do they get to cum?” he asked, looking at the blushing of the young straight boy who was powerless to stop this free man pulling on his cock.

 “Occasionally I let one of them cum for my own amusement, or as a reward.  It's a good motivator for the others when one of them is placed on a bucket in front of them and allowed to cum.  Of course, they lick up their cum afterwards - I don't like waste.  But it doesn't happen very often.  Some of them haven’t cum since they were enslaved.  You cant think of yourself as a man if you are not allowed any access to your cock can you?”

Matt laughed as his eyes made contact with the wretched creature kneeling naked before him.  Once a proud jock boy no doubt.  Free spirited and adventurous.  Once the girls would have flocked around him, such a handsome young stud.  Now reduced to a nothing.  An animal.  A subhuman piece of meat.  Nothing but owned property.  He ran his finger along the bottom edge of the slave’s cock, eliciting a groan of desperation.  With a sneer, he pouted a face of mock pity and stood up again.

“Their wrist manacles makes it impossible for them to touch their cocks: their hands are held up and away from their genitals.  No doubt they try to cum when alone in their cells at night by rubbing their cocks against things but it must be agonisingly painful.  I am a heartless bastard, but they know what a whipping they will get if I see any evidence of cumming.  Cumming is for free men, not for animals.”

The two free men laughed openly, looking down at the two humble animals naked at their feet.  “Watch the power I have over them,” James chuckled.  He reached forward and touched the slave’s mouth in front of him.  Obediently, the slave tilted its head back, its mouth already open with the cruel rings exposing its tongue.

Matt watched as his friend hawked some phlegm, before leaning over the slave and spitting the phlegm into the slave’s open mouth.  The thick goo rested on the ring through the slave’s tongue, before slowly dripping down over the animal’s tongue and into its open mouth.  Matt chuckled, and made eye contact with number 3.  In seconds, he felt the complete power over another man as he spat the contents of his mouth into the waiting slave before him.  The two slaves were incapable of doing anything other than allowing their Masters waste to wash down their throat, their tongues stretched out in cruel pain.  They knelt there and accepted their fate, powerless to resist their superiors.

James nodded to the slave boys in front of him, and both of them scurried to their side of the room.  Using a brush which they held before them in their manacled hands, they pushed the pile of food along the channel so that it was spread before all of the cells before returning to their own cell.  With a sharp whistle signalling food time, each slave knelt down in front of their cell and manoeuvred their heads down into the channel before them.  With heads fully in the foul looking mixture, the slaves used their tongues as best they could to ladle food into their mouths.  A long and time consuming process that was not over until James was satisfied that the slaves had eaten to his requirements.  No slave looked up or moved its stubbled head above the channel as James and Matt watched the scene.

Twenty two muscular naked men, filthy and enslaved.  Twenty two animals with no free will. Their individuality removed, now only a slave animal with a tattooed number on its forehead reminding it that it was forever an animal, never to return to the safety of its homeland and family.