Tyler
Tyler and the slaves from the Civic experiment were treated to the best rooms in the compound. Tlyer tried but couldn't sleep, the images of Max and Jordan on the ground seared in his mind. As sunlight come through the window, he decides to give up.
He walks out to see what the compound of freed slaves looks like in the light of day. He knocks on Finn and Tonis room. They say hello and the walk out to the grounds. Finn and Toni are carrying their medical supplies.
He was grateful for Finn and Tonie's company, their presence a reminder that he wasn't alone. As they walked out, the sunlight hit him like a slap, harsh and unforgiving. He squinted, taking in the compound.
It was a haven, bustling with people living their lives, free. But it felt...off. Empty. Without Max and Jordan, everything felt incomplete. He rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. He didn't know how to shake this feeling. He was supposed to be happy, wasn't he? Safe. Free.
Walking around Tyler sees children laughing and playing, gardens full of fresh food, workshops where people repair tools, even an old school being turned into living quarters. It's clear the slaves have built a thriving community for themselves.
Despite the ache in his chest, Tyler finds himself smiling softly at the sight of the children playing, their laughter infectious. He watches a group of people gathered around a garden bed, carefully nurturing their crops.
It's a stark contrast to the bleakness of their past, a testament to the strength and resilience of these people. Even the workshops, filled with the sounds of hammering and chatter, seem to hum with a sense of purpose.
For a moment, he forgets his grief, letting the warmth of this place wash over him. It's...homey, here.
As he walks further through the gardens, he notices some of the escaped slaves that didn't have such an easy enslavement, some are missing their tongues, fingers, toes. They are all working, as they see Tyler they stop and look, glancing at him and smiling, a smile of sadness but determination.
Tyler slows down, his heart heavy. He notices the scars, the missing limbs, the mutilated features. Each one a painful reminder of the atrocities they've endured. He swallows hard, feeling sick. These people... They've suffered more than he can imagine. More than he has.
His own scars, his own trauma, seem insignificant in comparison. He forces himself to meet their gazes, to acknowledge the weight of their smiles. They're smiling at him. He's not sure why. He doesn't deserve it.
He's not the hero they seem to think he is. He turns away, shame burning in his chest. He can't bear to face their gratitude. He pauses, unsure if he should keep walking. He feels like an imposter, like he's trespassing on their private pain.
Liam and Cory, walk out from a near derelict shed, they walk over to Tyler, Finn and Toni. "How did you sleep?" Cory asks.
Tyler scoffs, his bitterness seeping through. "How do you think?" He shakes his head, his eyes darting away. He can't lie, not when the truth is ugly and raw. "Didn't sleep at all. Kept thinking...about them."
He glances at the shed, then back at Liam and Cory. "What's that place?" He asks, desperate to shift the subject, even if just for a moment.
"It's our bedroom, run down, the worst building on the compound, and that’s ok, we choose to give the better accommodation to slaves that we rescue, Liam and I don't mind living there. These people deserve some bit of comfort" Cory says waving his hand at some of the more unfortunate slaves.
Tyler blinks, stunned. He hadn't expected that answer. A strange sense of admiration swells within him. "You...you're giving up your own comfort...for them?" He whispers.
He's seen plenty of cruelty, but this selflessness...it's humbling. His gaze drifts back to the slaves, lingering on their scars, their quiet strength. He swallows hard, feeling a lump form in his throat. They're lucky to have leaders like Cory and Liam, people who truly care about their well-being.
He thinks of Max and Jordan again, his heart twisting painfully. They deserved to be here, too. "Toni and Finn here have medicine and tools to reverse the slave modifications, take us to some of the people with the worst, and we will get to work" Tyler requests.
Determination ignites within him. This, he can do. He can help make a difference, no matter how small. "We want to help however we can." He glances at Toni and Finn, his expression pleading. "Please, let me assist you. Let me do something...anything to make this right." He knows it won't undo the past, but maybe, just maybe, it'll give him a sense of purpose again, of control. And maybe, somehow, it'll ease the ache inside.
Cory and Liam lead the trio to a small hospital, more accurately a former clinic. Tyler walks in and looks around at some of the former slaves, the ones treated the worst or who had the most humiliating modifications done for their master’s morbid amusement.
Tyler's jaw clenches. He feels sick, his stomach churning. He's seen plenty of horrors, but seeing these people, these innocent people it's like a fresh kick to the gut. He grips the doorframe, his knuckles white.
He remembers the laughter of their captors, the way they'd revel in their suffering. Anger flares up, but it's quickly pushed aside by a wave of sorrow. He wants to scream, to rage, to burn everything down. But that's not what these people need. They need healing. They need hope.
He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He'll be strong. He'll help. He won't let them down. Not again. As they walk in the patients look up, happiness in their eyes, everyone’s eyes fall on Tyler. As they step closer, other people, come in to watch.
Tyler looks around and smiles he understands how important it is for him to be here. Tyler's smile trembles, threatened by the overwhelming weight of their expectation. They're looking at him like he's something special.
A leader. A symbol. He swallows hard, feeling like he's drowning in their trust. He's not sure he deserves it. He clears his throat, trying to find his footing. "We're...we're going to fix what they did to you. We're going to help you heal. All of you. And...and we're not going anywhere."
His words seem to echo, and the room falls silent. He's aware of every pair of eyes on him, and suddenly, he's speaking louder, more confidently. Because he realizes, in that moment, that he's exactly where he needs to be.
He walks over to a man, his shorts half down, his dick is rock hard and massive, almost twenty inches long. "What happened?" Tyler asks. The slave avoids eye contact with Tyler. "My master thought it would be funny to make my dick grotesquely big, so he modified it" the former slaves says.
"We can't help with surgical modifications, but we can with anything done with drugs" he turns to Finn, who digs into his bag and nods. "Finn, here is going to reverse this, you will be back to normal in a few minutes" Tyler says, grasping his shoulder.
Tyler's grip tightens, a surge of protectiveness rising within him. He forces himself not to react with disgust or shock, knowing how dehumanizing it must be for this man to live with such a cruel modification. Instead, he focuses on the man's face, his words gentle but firm.
"It's not funny, what he did. And it's not your fault. We're going to fix it. You shouldn't have to live like this."
He steps aside, giving Finn space, but stays close, offering what little comfort he can. He watches Finn work, his eyes locked on the man's, trying to convey understanding. This isn't right, but we're going to make it right.
As Finn applies a small machine to his dick, it starts to soften and then shrink, returning to about six inches long, the slave looks at Finn then Tyler, his smiles is bigger than anything imaginable, he hugs Finn and Then Tyler.
The people watching has grown, the clinic is filled with people. More and more from the compound have come to watch. Tyler hugs him back tightly, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He blinks them away, but can't hide the relieved grin spreading across his face.
The room's collective energy shifts, joy and gratitude radiating from the crowd. Tyler glances around, overwhelmed yet uplifted by the sea of faces. For once, it's not fear or despair that binds them together it's hope.
He pats the man's back, still holding onto him. "You're free now, brother. Free to live your life, however you want." His voice cracks slightly, but he pushes forward. "We're gonna fix as many of you as we can. You're safe here."
The room erupts into a chant "Tyler! Tyler! Tyler!” Tyler blushes furiously, his face burning. He didn't expect this. He raises his hands, trying to quiet them, but the chant only grows louder, echoing off the walls. It's deafening, and he feels like he's drowning in their admiration.
He's taken aback, unsure how to react. He's never been one for attention, never sought to be a hero. "Hey," he stammers, embarrassed. "Stop, seriously. You're making me...uncomfortable." He laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He glances at Finn, Liam, and Cory, desperate for backup.
He walks further through the clinic and finds a man on the bed, he is moaning, loudly, his toes curling. "Oh, god, please, he says over and over again" Tyler looks to Cory, his look displays the question, without words.
"His master, had him modified, so he is constantly edged without being able to cum" Cory explains.
Tyler feels his blood boil. This is this is beyond cruel. He clenches his fists, shaking with rage. He wants to find the bastard who did this and make him suffer. But he can't. Not now. Now, he has to focus on helping this poor soul.
He leans closer, his voice low. "Finn, can you help him? Please tell me you have something." He sounds urgent, pleading. He can't leave this man like this. "This is more Tonis area, but yes we can help" Toni removes a device from his bag and gets to work.
Tyler nods sharply, his eyes locked on Toni's hands, willing him to work faster. He moves closer to the man, offering what little comfort he can. He reaches out, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to ground him.
"Shh, hey, you're gonna be okay. Just hold on. Toni's gonna fix this, alright?" He whispers fiercely, his throat tightening. He can't imagine the agony this man's endured, day after day, unable to escape. Toni makes one final adjustment and whispers into the man’s ear.
"Oh, fuck me, this is going to be a moment you will never forget, a feeling that almost every man in the world would dream of" as he steps away the man starts to moan louder and louder, "oh god, oh god, oh my fucking god" he screams as he climaxes, cum firing so hard it hits the ceiling.
It seems to shoot for minutes, the former slave looks like he has entered a different plain of existence, where pleasure is beyond words, he lies back down catching his breath, panting in delirium. The crowd now completely filling the clinic start to cheer.
Tyler stumbles back, awestruck, his breath caught in his throat. The sheer intensity of the moment leaves him breathless. The man's reaction, the pure ecstasy...it's almost too much. He can feel the collective exhilaration radiating from the crowd, their cheers echoing through the clinic, vibrating in his chest.
For a second, he forgets the horror of their past, the pain they've endured. All he sees is this man, finally finding peace, finally feeling something other than torment. He's smiling, grinning like a fool, tears stinging his eyes again.
"Good god..." he murmurs, awed. He turns to Toni, his expression one of stunned gratitude. "You, you're a miracle worker." Tyler walks to the centre of the room, "We are going to stay here, we are going to help everyone that needs it.
I have been trained somewhat so have the rest of the men from the Civic Experiment, it will be over seen by Finn and Toni, who are medically trained, we are going to help you all. Let’s get to work" Tyler says to the crowd of onlookers
The crowd quiets down, their faces filled with gratitude and adoration. Someone whispers, "Tyler's gonna lead us," and suddenly, the atmosphere shifts. People start nodding, determination etched on their faces. They're ready to start healing, and they're trusting Tyler to lead the way.
A warmth spreads through Tyler, a sense of purpose he hasn't felt in a long time. He straightens his back, his voice steady. "Let's do this. Let's take back what was stolen from you. Let's show them that even in the darkest places, there's always hope."
He raises his fist, and the room responds with a renewed energy, a sense of unity. This is it. This is the start of something new. "Let's start helping," he repeats, his conviction unwavering. "One person at a time. We'll get through this together."
Two weeks have past, Tyler and his group have healed all that can be healed, they have stripped away, all the cruel modifications of the escaped slaves, everyone in the compound has gathered for a BBQ there is music playing, people are drinking, eating and dancing.
Tyler leans against a tree, watching the celebration unfold. He can't help but feel proud. Proud of what they’ve accomplished, proud of these people who've found happiness again. He smiles, taking it all in. The laughter, the smiles, the freedom. It's beautiful.
He grabs a plate of food, his stomach growling, and makes his way through the throng of people. He's clapped on the back more times than he can count, congratulated for his leadership, thanked for his help.
He ducks his head, still not entirely comfortable with the attention, but happy nonetheless. He walks up onto the stage, the band playing stop, they leave, the crowd notices and falls silent, they are waiting for him to speak.
"My friends… my brothers and sisters in freedom. Corey and Liam asked me if I am going to go back for Max and Jordan, the answer is no, I'm not going back for just Max and Jordan. I am going back for every enslaved man, woman and child.
I am going back for them all. And I feel reluctant to ask you, I know you escaped, I know you are free now, but I need to ask. That every free man that is able and willing, to follow me to help me change the world, to rid it of indecency, of unfairness, to end slavery, to bring the world back.
There will be losses, but more victories. Will you follow me, will you help me rescue, a thousand and ten thousand, more, free the weak, free the helpless, my friend my brothers and sisters in freedom, will you join me" Tyler says almost shouting at the end.
The silence that follows is heavy, charged. Tyler's words hang in the air, a challenge, a call to arms. The crowd seems to vibrate, every pair of eyes locked onto him, searching his face. Some shift uncomfortably, clearly torn. Others stare, resolute, their jaws set.
Tyler's chest heaves, his heart pounding. He can feel the weight of their decision, the weight of his own words. He's not asking them to fight a battle they've already fought one, and won. He's asking them to fight forever. He's asking them to risk everything again.
But he's not afraid. He's sure. And he's ready. The old man missing an arm step forward, "I may not be much of a fighter but, I will join you" another man steps forward. "You gave me back my sight, I want to watch as you take the world back"
The crowd starts murmuring, inspired by their bravery. Tyler's eyes sting, a lump forming in his throat. He swallows hard, trying to keep himself together. He manages a nod, his Adam's apple bobbing.
One by one, people start stepping forward, faces set with determination. Some are scarred, others still recovering, but they're all standing tall. Tyler raises his hands, palms up, like he's receiving a blessing.
"You're...you're all insane," he whispers, shaking his head, awed. "You're brave, reckless, wonderful people. And...and I'm honoured. I'm honoured you'd trust me with this." He takes a deep breath, drawing strength from their collective courage.
"We'll do it," he declares, his voice cracking slightly. "We'll do it together. We'll build an army, and we'll bring down the whole damn system. We'll show them what it means to be free."
The crowd erupts, cheering, crying, embracing each other. Tylers swept up in the tidal wave of emotion, surrounded by the people he's grown to love. He's overwhelmed, but he wouldn't have it any other way.
"Ladies, gentlemen, heroes, we won't anymore be remembered anymore as those slaves that made it to Canada, we will be remembered as the people that tore down an institution, because friends, we just became a fucking army" the crowd erupts again, chanting Tyler, Tyler, Tyler.
Tyler grins, basking in the fervour of the moment. He pumps his fist in the air, letting their energy fuel him. His name becomes a rhythm, pounding through his veins, driving him forward. He feels unstoppable. Invincible. Like nothing can stop them now.
"We're not just an army," he shouts, his voice carrying above the din. "We're a movement! A revolution! And we're not stopping until everyone is free!"
The cheers grow louder, more intense. He's lost count of how many times they've chanted his name, but he doesn't care. All that matters is the fire burning within them, burning because of him. He's never felt so alive.
Max
Two weeks have passed since Troye was enslaved by Owen. Two long weeks Troye. Owen enters the dungeon with his friend Hayden. He connects a leash to Troyes collar. Troye is marched naked out of Owens house.
Outside is Conor and Brian who have Max and Jordan on their knees with their hands cuffed behind their backs. “Well, well, well. Look what we have here.” Owen smirks, pulling Troye's leash tighter, forcing him closer.
“Conor, Brian...you boys done a wonderful job.” He nods approvingly, running his eyes over Max and Jordan. “I see you've already gotten them ready for their punishment.” He turns to Max, his expression twisting with satisfaction. “Long time no see, Max.” He chuckles darkly.
Max looks up at his former prison bully. “You thought you'd escaped me, huh? Foolish. And Jordan... He tuts, clicking his tongue. Tsk. Family is supposed to stick together, isn't it? But here you are, knees bent, hands cuffed. Pathetic.”
He tugs Troye's leash, positioning him directly in front of them, ensuring he has a prime view. Now, we'll see how much they can take. And you, Troye, will watch.
Troye shudders but stands firm, meeting Owens gaze with a defiant look. Despite everything, he refuses to break again under Owens control. Owen's eyes flash dangerously at Troye's silent defiance, a muscle twitching in his jaw.
For a moment, the others hold their collective breaths, sensing the tension. “You've got spirit left in you after all, haven't you Troye”? He muses, his tone dripping with menace as he circles around Troye like a shark. “Not wise, but... admirable.” He pauses behind Troye, leaning in close once more.
“Let's see how long that lasts.” He hisses into Troye's ear, then shoves him forward, making him stumble into position between Max and Jordan. “Now watch... and learn.” He nods to Conor and Brian, giving them permission to begin.
Conor walks in front of Max and pushes him on his back, he pulls of his shoes and then socks, he roughly pulls his jeans down and removes his boxers, at the same time Brian does the same thing to Jordan. Both Max and Jordan are left in just their T-shirts.
The two brothers then cut off their T-shirts leaving both guys naked on the ground with their hands cuffed behind their backs. Owen watches the display dispassionately, his face a mask of cold calculation. Once the two men are fully exposed, he steps forward, his boots heavy on the earth.
“Well now, aren't you two lovely sights to behold”? His tone is conversational, but laced with venom. “On your backs, vulnerable and powerless.” He shakes his head. “You should've stayed loyal. Should've stayed obedient. But you didn't. And now.” He looks to Troye.
You get to witness exactly what happens to those who cross me. He kneels down, grabbing Max's chin roughly, forcing him to meet his gaze. “This is what happens when you run from your rightful place.” He backhands Max hard across the face, splitting his lip.
He turns to Jordan. “This is for betraying Tanner”. He drives his knee into Jordan's gut, eliciting a pained gasp. "Where is Tyler, where are my slaves Kyle and Branden?" Owen says almost spitting at them.
Max and Jordan stay silent. “That bastard Tyler has a lot to answer for.” He paces around the them, his wrath simmering just below the surface. He kicks Max hard in the ribs, then moves to Jordan, grabbing a fistful of his hair.
“You think this is bad?” He yanks Jordan's head back roughly. “You have no idea what I have planned for you yet.” His smile turns cruel. “But Troye here...he knows. Oh, he knows exactly how creative I can be when I’m betrayed. Don't you, Troye”? He looks up at Troye, daring him to respond.
"Yes, Sir" Troye says looking down at his bare feet. Owen looks at Max "Where are the slaves, answer me." Max flinches, as Owen walks around them again. Owen's patience thins, his grip tightening into a fist.
“Answer. Me.” He leans closer, his voice low, menacing. “You're not getting out of this, Max. You're going to tell me where they are.” He raises his fist, threatening. “I'll beat it out of you if I have to.” His knuckles crack, a warning.
Max swallows hard, shaking his head. Owen's face darkens, his anger spiralling out of control. “Fine”. He straightens, his movements jerky. He glances at Conor and Brian, who exchange uneasy glances. Get some water. He snaps, his orders abrupt. We'll see how long he lasts.
Brian hands around bottles of water "We are going to need full bladders for later" Owen says to Conor, Brian and Hayden. He then turns and looks at Troye, "how should we humiliate these two to get answers Troye. You must have some ideas with your history" Owen says.
Reminding Troye of his past is further torment from Owen. “Yeah, I'm sure you've got some... suggestions. You've been on both sides, after all”. Owen's smirk is wicked, enjoying Troye's discomfort.
“You've seen plenty of humiliations, suffered through plenty yourself”. He crosses his arms, clearly expecting Troye to speak up.
So, go ahead. Share your expertise. What's the most degrading thing we could make them do? He tilts his head, genuinely curious. It's clear he's trying to unsettle Troye, to remind him of his own vulnerability.
“Maybe... maybe we should make them beg like dogs. Or force them to drink something disgusting”. He shrugs, pretending to consider, “But I'm sure you've got better ideas. He steps closer, his presence suffocating” he wants to break Troye further by making him choose the punishment.
Troye looks terrified, "Yes make them crawl around the mud like dogs" Troye suggests. Owen grins, delighted by Troye's suggestion. “Excellent choice. You always were one of my more...creative friends.” He pats Troye's cheek mockingly.
“Get to it then” He orders Conor and Brian, who drag Max and Jordan over to the muddiest part of the yard without ceremony. “Right here, on your bellies. Both of you. And don't even think about resisting.” Owen watches impassively as they're forced down into the muck.
“Now...let's see you crawl for us like the pathetic dogs you are.” Owen's tone is dripping with disdain. “Move it. And don't stop till I say so.” Conor uncuffs them freeing their arms. Neither Max or Jordan fight. Not yet, not with four of them there.
“Good, good.” Owen nods approvingly. He nudges Troye forward, keeping a tight grasp on his leash. “Get a closer look, Troye. Make sure they're doing it right.” He chuckles, obviously enjoying himself.
And don't forget, boys," he shouts at Max and Jordan, who've begun crawling hesitantly "if you stop moving or try to escape, we'll...well, you don't want to find out.” He smirks, leaving the threat open-ended. Keep going. He gestures sharply, his eyes glittering with malice.
Max and Jordan continue to crawl in the mud as ordered, their movements slow and demeaned as they begrudgingly obey. Troye watches them with a cold expression, his own past mistakes brought painfully to the forefront.
Owen watches, entranced by their humiliation. After a few moments, he snaps his fingers, drawing Troye's attention back to him.
“See that, Troye? See how easy it is to break someone?” He leans in, his voice barely above a whisper. “They're just...broken. Just like you will be. They are used to submitting I barely need to try.” His words are laced with a mix of cruelty and fascination.
Hayden snickers, clearly entertained by the whole scene. Owen shoots him a dark glance, the two try and outdo each other in humiliating slaves. "Jordan has being have being having an affair behind my cousin’s back with Max, what do you think of that Troye should it get an extra punishment"
“I guess so” Troye answers, Owens mouth twisting into a scowl. “You think you can betray family, betray trust, and just...get away with it”? He spits at Jordan's prone form. “Disgusting.” He turns back to Troye, raising an eyebrow.
“What would you recommend, Troye? You're familiar with the consequences of deceit.” His voice drops, taking on a dangerous edge. "I don't know Owen, maybe they have had enough for today" Troye says.
“Enough? Enough?” Owen explodes, his face red with rage. “Enough? You think they've suffered enough?” He grabs Troye by the collar, pulling him close. “You're telling me what to do now? After everything?” He shakes Troye violently.
“They'll suffer as much as I decide they suffer.” He releases Troye abruptly, his chest heaving. “And if I think they need more...if I think they deserve more...then they'll get it. It actually sounds like you want to join them in their punishment.”
He strides over to Max and Jordan, who've frozen mid-crawl, sensing the storm brewing. Owen crouches down, his eyes blazing with fury.
“So, tell me, Troye.” He says slowly, his voice dripping with venom. “What's the worst punishment you've ever seen a slave receive”? A cruel smile spreads across his face. “Maybe that's what these two need. A refresher course.” Hayden steps forward.
"I have an idea Owen, since Troye doesn't want to help. We need to eat you me, Conor and Brian. Its past lunch time. Let’s get some food. But tie these to the crosses, cover their balls in honey, leave them in this blistering heat for a couple of hours.
Let the bugs bite away at them and then come back and see if they have any answers for us, Troye included" Hayden suggests. Owen pauses, considering Hayden's words. He nods slowly, his features darkening.
“Oh, I love it.” He grins, clearly delighted by the idea. “Yes, that's perfect. Tie them up, expose them, crucify them and let nature take its course. We'll leave them to swelter. And Troye” He narrows his eyes. “Will join them.” He grabs Troye's leash again, tugging him closer.
“You're going to learn that some things are worse than being my slave again, Troye. Like being at my mercy without any protection. You could have joined us for lunch but you wouldn’t help me. He laughs, a harsh, mirthless sound. “Let's get lunch, boys. These three can entertain the insects.”
“Crawl” Owen says to Max and Jordan. Owen pulls Troye by the leash, his bare feet are now covered in mud. As Max and Jordan begin to crawl mud splashes up onto their chests. Their knees, lower legs and arms are covered in mud.
Hayden walks over and kicks both of them in the side. He pushes both their faces into the mud, lifting them up and pushing them back in. Their faces are covered. Max’s blonde hair is caked in mud. Neither say anything, neither resist. The reach a long line of wooden crosses.
Conor and Brian help Owen and Hayden. They spread their arms and buckle them in place to the vertical beam and then buckle their legs to the horizontal. They are stood there crucified. Owen and Hayden then start to spread sweet honey over their balls and dick, pinching as they do it.
Their cock and balls are covered in it. The honey is thick and sweet. The sun beams down on the farm. "Let’s get a long lunch" Owen adds as the four free men walk away, leaving them there, the sun beaming down.
“Yeah, take your time, enjoy your meal. These three aren't going anywhere.” Owen calls back, his laughter echoing through the air as he exits. Troye attached to the middle cross looks to Max. “Why aren’t you fighting back.”
“No point fighting back not now. Outnumbered, that’s not even including his security. We have to wait for Tylers return. We have nowhere to go, no help” Max says as the four men enter Owens mansion.
As they disappear, the trio left behind swelters under the sun's relentless glare. The honey coats their private areas, sticky and sweet, attracting unwanted attention from buzzing flies. The flies begin to circle, landing and crawling across their skin, seeking the source of the sugary treat.
Max tries to turn his body away from the sun, Jordan tries to pull at his restraints hoping for any relief, Troye just stays still, a hint of fear in his eyes as he watches the bugs descend. From a distance, Owen watches through a window, a satisfied smirk plastered on his face.
He takes a sip from his drink, savouring the sight. "Ahh, that's beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "They're gonna be begging by the time we're done eating," he says to the others, smacking his lips.
After a moment, he turns back to the table, his appetite suddenly increased. “Alright, let's not waste any more time. We've got a show to get back to.” He digs into his food, his appetite fuelled by the suffering of the three men outside.
Bugs and flies start to bite at the honey on their balls causing stings, Max and Jordan are still determined not to break. Time passes, the insects growing more aggressive, their bites swelling. Owen's patience grows thinner, his food growing cold. He taps his foot, clearly getting restless.
“They should've cracked by now.” He mutters, pushing his plate away. He stands, his chair scraping against the floor. He glances outside, where the trio remains bound, their faces slick with sweat, their bodies trembling. “Leave them for a few hours” Hayden suggests.
Three hours have now passed, Owen gestures for them to return, they walk back to Max, Jordan and Troye, there are hundreds of fly’s bugs around their dicks. "So Max ready to talk" Owen asks smugly. He gazes at Max, enjoying the sight of his torment.
“You've been out here for three hours. Three. Hours.” He repeats, shaking his head. “I'm sure those little buggers have made your...situation...pretty unpleasant.” He gestures vaguely toward the swarming flies.
Owen takes a long look at the three naked men. The hone in the heat has started to run down their legs. Ants are crawling up their legs. Their balls are full of insects. He looks at Owen who just stares back at him if he is pain, he is not showing it.
“So, come on. What's it gonna be? You ready to start talking?” His words are slow, deliberate, meant to provoke.” If not...well, I'm sure we can always add something else to the mix. A little something...extra.” He grins, his eyes sparkling with menace.
"One day you will realise, you can't break me Owen, I'm better than you, and also Tyler is coming for you, for you all" Max says forcing a smile through the pain. “Better than me?” Owen scoffs, shaking his head violently.
“You're literally covered in insects, stuck to a cross, and you're still trying to act tough?” He snickers, clearly amused.
“And Tyler? Oh, Tyler's coming for me?” He mocks, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a low growl. “That little prick who thinks he can play hero? I'll show him what happens when he tries to mess with me.” His gaze narrows, his anger simmering beneath the surface.
“What makes you think he'd stand a chance? Owen leans forward, his breath hot against Max's face. Max just smiles. Owens seems a bit surprised. The silence. The strength in Max’s eyes. His refusal to break, if anything Max doesn’t even seem worried. Owen motions to Hayden.
"We have plenty of time to get answers, lets store these two away" he says pointing at Max and Jordan. Hayden knows what he means. He starts to unbuckle Max and Jordan. He leads them to an outhouse, the old-style toilets. There are two of them beside each other.
Hayden opens a panel under the left toilet and pushes Max in, he then opens the panel under the right toilet and makes Jordan crawl into it. He closes is down and locks it shut. They are both sitting under the toilet seat, barely able to move.
“Perfect. They can rot in there.” Owen smirks, satisfied with the arrangement. “At least they won't be annoying us anymore. Not until we decide to...interrogate them again.” He chuckles darkly, rubbing his hands together.
He turns back to Troye, still fastened to his cross, the sun beating down mercilessly. “Now, Troye.” His expression hardens. “You're not getting off that easy. You're staying right here.” He tugs on the leash, just to remind Troye he's still under his control.
“We'll see how long it takes before you're begging for mercy. Or maybe” He tilts his head thoughtfully. “We'll just leave you here until nightfall. Let the night creatures join the party.”
Hayden looks at Owen, with quick glances to Conor and Brian "Don't know about you guys but I haven't used the bathroom in hours I really need to go" Hayden says while looking at the two toilets with Max and Jordans heads barely below the toilet seat. "I really got to go" he adds.
“Oh, that's perfect.” Owen bursts out laughing, clearly entertained. He slaps Hayden's back, almost manically giddy. He approaches the toilet, looking back at the others grinning. "You guys want a show?" he asks.
“Oh, hell yeah, we're staying right here.” Owen smirks, leaning against the wall, eager to witness the spectacle. “This is gonna be hilarious.” He folds his arms, watching Hayden intently, his earlier frustration completely forgotten.
Hayden unzips his pants and relieves himself right into the toilet where Max's head is just beneath the seat. The warm piss splashing against him. Max tries to turn his head away but is limited by the confined space.
Owen cracks up, holding his sides. “Oh my god, oh my god!” He exclaims, tears streaming down his cheeks. This is amazing! Conor and Brian chuckle, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before them. “I bet that's not how they expected their day to go.” Owen manages to choke out between laughs.
"Come on guys you should all join in, we drank a lot at lunch" Hayden says as if this was already planned. “Absolutely.” Owen nods, his grin wide. “We wouldn't want to waste a single drop, would we?” He steps forward, motioning for the others to follow suit.
“Let's make sure they're nice and... damp.” He smirks, clearly delighted with the situation. Conor and Brian exchange a glance, then shrug, clearly caught up in the twisted amusement of it all. They move closer, unzipping their pants.
Owen walks up to the toilet that Max is in, and Brian and Conor to the one that Jordan is in, they all unzip their flies. The three men stand above their respective targets, ready to unleash a torrent of urine upon them.
Owen, especially, seems to savour the moment, his eyes glinting with cruel delight. “Boys, say...cheese. He chuckles, preparing to desecrate Max further. He points his camera down at the toilet. “Any slave thinking of rebelling, will think again, seeing the escapee Max, back under control.”
Owen starts to let loose, creating a steady stream onto Max's face, as does Brian on Conor, both men groaning as they release, their relief obvious. The aim for their mouths. Max and Jordan try to turn their faces away but it is difficult.
Owen sighs, clearly feeling a sense of satisfaction. “There's nothing quite like emptying your bladder, especially when it's” he pauses, grinning wickedly “into someone who deserves it.” He shakes off the last few drops, making sure to hit Max's face again.
He starts to press keys on his phone. “I’ve just uploaded this. The great Max, escapee of the Sampsons Slavery Laws locked in a toilet. Every Master will show their slaves this. Tylers revolution will fail Max, I promise you.”
Rob
Rob has spent the last five days in a dungeon. Fed scraps and his Master’s piss. When the doors opened, he was happy. But now as he is strapped naked to a bed in a surgical room with a milking machine attached to his dick, he wishes he was still in the dungeon.
"This is going to be fun" Pat says as he turns on the milking machine. Rob tries to pull his arms free, mostly to test the restraints, they are secure, he looks down at the milking machine encasing his dick and up at his three Masters.
He whimpers, his eyes wide with fear. His body trembles involuntarily, his breath quickening. He can feel the cold metal of the machine, squeezing him, holding him tight. His heart pounds in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts of what they're going to do. He looks at them, pleading silently, but he knows it's useless.
He's trapped. There's no escape. Pat walks over and takes a seat next to him, grinning as he watches the machine's rhythmic movement. "You should relax, this will be pleasurable" he says in a taunting tone.
Relax? He swallows hard, his throat dry. He shakes his head slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I... I can't.” Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He tries to shrink away, even though he knows it's pointless. He hates how exposed he is, how vulnerable.
The machine's steady rhythm is unnerving, making his body react against his will. “Y-You're not making it pleasurable...” His words are weak, his resistance feeble. "Oh, we'll make you feel pleasure like you've never felt before." Pat says as he runs his hand down Rob's chest.
A shiver runs down his spine, his skin crawling beneath Pat's touch. He flinches, pulling against the restraints, his voice cracking. “Please, Sir...” The words fall from his lips without him meaning to, a reflex born from years of submission.
He wants to say more, to beg, to plead, but what's the use? They've broken him, again and again. The machine keeps pulsing, mercilessly, and his mind spins with dread. He can’t come, he knows what they will do with it. Trying to fight the orgasm is so difficult.
The machine suddenly increases its pace, designed to push Rob to the edge. The master leans in closer, whispering in his ear "Give in to the pleasure, boy. Ah! He gasps, his entire body tensing. His face flushes, sweat beading on his forehead. His breathing becomes ragged, his chest heaving.
The increased pace sends waves of unwanted sensation coursing through him, threatening to overwhelm him. He tries to resist, to hold back, but his Master's words pierce through his defence’s, echoing in his ears. How could something so humiliating feel so...good?
He can feel it building, his body responding to the machine's rhythm despite his deepest fears. A moan escapes his lips, mingling with his desperate whimpers. His cheeks burn bright red, shame washing over him. His body betrays him, and he can't stop it.
The sounds coming from his mouth disgust him, shameful proof of what's happening. He turns his face away, trying to hide, but the restraints keep him exposed. The machine is relentless, pushing him closer, closer...
He feels like he's drowning, suffocating under the weight of their amusement, his own helplessness, and the creeping, dreaded pleasure. “No... No... Please...” He whispers, his voice broken, desperate.
Joe and Pat chuckle darkly, watching Rob's strained face intently, savouring every ounce of suffering mixed with euphoria. "Yes, that's it, give in! Carl looks at them both. A look of disdain painted on his face. He doesn’t say anything.
Rob squeezes his eyes shut, tears spilling down his cheeks. He shakes his head furiously, trying to deny the master's command, trying to deny his own body. But it's no use. His body is taut, trembling, consumed by the sensations. He's powerless, completely at their mercy.
He can't think, can't breathe. All he can do is feel. He whimpers again, louder, more desperate. His fingers curl into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He's being torn apart, his shame and degradation intertwined with the building pleasure.
With one final push, the machine brings Rob over the edge, wringing every ounce of ecstasy from his overwhelmed body. “No!” He cries out, a pathetic, strangled sound. His body convulses, shaking uncontrollably, as the machine milks him dry.
The pleasure crashes through him like a tidal wave, crashing against the wreckage of his pride. He's left gasping, panting, utterly spent. His eyes flutter open, hazy with shock, humiliation, and something worse shameful gratitude. They've taken everything.
The machine slows down, stopping completely. The Three masters rise from their seats, looking at their work with satisfied grins on their faces. Pat undoes the restraints, pushing Rob off the bed leaving Rob exposed and vulnerable on the floor.
Pat picks up a small tube and collects Rob’s come from it. He takes a label and writes the date on it. He takes the tube and puts it into a small fridge. He looks down at Rob a smile appearing on his face. He spits at Rob, it landing just below his left eye.
Lying there, spent, exhausted, and utterly defeated, Rob curls into himself, wrapping his arms around his chest protectively. He feels raw, exposed, stripped of any dignity he once had. His breathing slows, but his mind races, replaying what just happened.
His face burns with embarrassment, and he buries it against his knees, unable to bear the thought of facing them. He wants to disappear, to vanish, to cease existing. He’s just a shell of himself, a hollow husk of a person. They’ve broken him, again.
As Rob is lying on his back, his body is covered in sweat. Pat and Joe, walk and stand either side of him "Let's wash that sweat of you" Pat says. Pat and Joe unzip their fly’s and pull their semi hard dicks out. They both start to piss, Pat aims for his mouth while Joe sprays the rest of his body.
Rob flinches, trying to shield himself, but there's nowhere to go. He can't escape. The warm liquid hits his skin, and he chokes back a sob. He turns his head, shutting his eyes tight, attempting to avoid the stream headed toward his open mouth.
His stomach churns, revolted. He's disgusted, ashamed, and terrified. He feels utterly worthless. This isn't washing away the sweat. It's washing away his dignity. Pat stops pissing and leans down to Rob. He grabs Rob by his hair roughly, forcing his head up while still aiming his cock at his mouth.
"Open up.” The pain in his scalp is sharp, making him wince. Fearful compliance wins out over everything else, even his revulsion. He hesitates, his jaw trembling, but eventually, he opens his mouth, his lips parting slowly. He can smell it, sour and pungent, and his stomach churns violently.
He trembles violently, tears streaming down his face, but he doesn't dare close his mouth. Not again. Not now. "Good boy," Pat says as he pushes his cock deeper into Rob's mouth, his hot piss flowing inside. Joe watches on, enjoying his friend's victory.
Rob gags, the bitter taste coating his tongue, burning his throat. He struggles to breathe, his throat spasming. Every ounce of resistance has been smothered, leaving only submission. He clenches his fists tight, willing himself not to struggle, knowing it would only make it worse.
The words echo in his mind, “Good boy.” Good? No. He’s not good. He’s ruined. Broken. Used. And he hates himself for giving in, for being so weak. But still, he takes it. He takes every drop. Joe and Pat drag Rob to his feet.
"We are headed back to the town, The president has heard about work of the start of a slave rebellion. Slaves getting freed an army built. He is going to squash that. Guess what you will be taking us home on" They lead Rob naked out through the streets.
There is many rick shaws with two naked slaves attached to the front where the horses would be. Three army officers sit in each rickshaw. The naked slaves are standing waiting to pull them. Rob is taken to the top of the line.
Chained to the rickshaw already is a naked Prince Felix, former royalty now turned slave. Pat chains Rob to the other side. In the rick shaw they are about to pull sits Presidents Hicks and Tanner. Tanner looks at Rob, he gives him a subtle wink.
“Wh... what?” He stammers, horrified. The streets, exposed like this? With...with others watching? His heart pounds in his chest, his cheeks burning with humiliation. He looks at Felix who seems distracted.
Rob swallows hard, his throat dry. He’s never felt so degraded, so utterly at the mercy of his masters. He can feel the weight of their chains linking him to the rickshaw, connecting him to the prince, binding them both to their fate. Tanner stands up.
"We are heading to the capital. It will be a long exhausting journey for some. When we leave these walls, we are going to head south, we are going to stop in every town, the folk there will be delighted to see you, especially our Prince and our escaped slave Rob.
We are going to let them fuck and humiliate you all" he says all the army officers in the rick shaws start applauding. "Now let’s begin" he says while bringing a whip down on Robs back and then Prince Felix's.
A jolt of agony shoots Rob’s his back, the whip's sting making him flinch. The prince stifles a similar cry, their eyes locking in shared despair. Rob's breath comes short and quick, panic setting in. He's trapped, forced to endure this journey, this spectacle.
Every town, every stop, another chance for strangers to torment him, to reduce him to nothing more than an object, a plaything. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall, not yet. Not in front of the prince, not in front of the crowd.
He steels himself, his jaw clenched tight. Another lash might come at any moment. He braces, his muscles taut, his chains rattling with every small movement. "Why...?" The word escapes him, barely audible, directed toward no one in particular. Why are they doing this? Why won't it ever end?
As the rickshaws set off, Pat climbing onto the cart alongside them, Hicks gives a command "Start walking slaves!" The officers laugh and urge their "horses" forward.
Rob falters, his legs trembling beneath him. He feels the chain tugging, pulling him forward, forcing him to move. He glances at Prince Felix, searching for any kind of comfort, solidarity, or reassurance. But he knows there's none to be found.
They're both victims, trapped together in this living nightmare. He takes a deep breath, his eyes welling up again, and starts walking, each step forward feeling like an eternity. Pat's presence above them, watching, looming, makes the experience even more unbearable.
Rob's mind races, trying to prepare himself for the endless road ahead, the unknown horrors waiting in each town, the endless ridicule and cruelty. As they reach the gates. Rob can feel sweat falling down his forehead. Then suddenly the gates close.
The metal reenforced steel. An alarm starts to sound. Trapping them inside. Rob feels the shackles fall from his limbs. "Now" Felix shouts. The naked slaves all turn and start to attack the army officers. Naked slaves fighting their captors. Rob stands there frozen like a deer in headlights
W-wait...what…? His brain struggles to comprehend the sudden shift. The clanking of chains, the shouts, the chaos everything's happening so fast. The shock of freedom, of possibility, staggers him. He looks around, disbelieving, his heart pounding wildly.
“F-Felix...what's going on?” He stammers, still stuck in his frozen state. The other slaves, fighting back... It's surreal. Unreal. He's seen the punishments, the brutality, the crushing oppression. How can this be happening?
"Come on!" Felix yells, managing to pick up one of the fallen whips "We need to get out of here!" He swings the whip at the nearest officer trying to gain some ground. Oh god...right! He snaps out of his paralysis, adrenaline surging through his veins.
He looks around frantically, trying to get his bearings, to find an escape route. His eyes widen as Felix takes down one of the officers, and he nods, determination sparking within him. He might not know how to fight, but he can try. He has to try.
He grabs a piece of debris from the ground a broken wooden slat, a rusty old pipe, anything and holds it tight, his knuckles white with tension. He is watching the chaos unfold naked slaves fighting the army. There are so many more officers than slaves.
He moves closer to Felix, trying to stay near someone who seems to know what they're doing. Together, maybe they can make it out. Just maybe. "Keep going!" He whispers urgently, his voice shaking, but his grip on the makeshift weapon firming.
Two arms grab Rob, it’s his Masters Joe and Pat. Rob struggles but it is useless. Then he sees Carl his other Master appear, he pushes a stun gun into Joes back and then Pats. They both fall to the ground.
Beside Carl is Todd, Rob forgot about Todd, one of the slaves that was with him as he escaped, before being recaptured. "We need to go now" Todd and Carl start to lead Rob away from all the fighting.
“T-Todd?!” He exclaims, stunned, as he's pulled away from the fray. He stumbles after them, still disoriented. Relief washes over him when he sees Joe and Pat drop, but it's short-lived. There's no time to celebrate. He glances back at Felix, hoping against hope that the prince will make it out, too.
But he's quickly dragged away, deeper into the confusion. He swallows hard, focusing on the people helping him now Carl and Todd. They've risked everything to save him. Again. He nods, his throat tight, and quickens his pace, his bare feet padding against the pavement.
He doesn't dare look back, fearing what he might see. He just runs. "Thank you," he murmurs, barely audible. He owes them so much. He doesn't know if he'll ever be able to repay them. “Our communications are out” he hears someone shout.
They lead him into a hidden tunnel entrance, Todd pushes Rob inside and then Carl closes the door behind them. Inside is dark and confined. "Stay close" Carl warns, his voice echoing off the walls. There are sounds of gunshots and screaming behind.
“Okay...” He whispers, his voice barely audible. His eyes strain to adjust to the darkness, but it's too thick. He reaches out blindly, desperate to follow Carl's instructions. The air is stale, and the silence is oppressive.
Every sound seems amplified his own ragged breathing, the soft rustle of clothes (their clothes, not his), the creaks of unknown structures. He presses himself close to Carl, his skin crawling with anxiety. In the blackness, he feels vulnerable, exposed, even without anyone watching.
What if they're trapped here? What if they're found? His mind spins with worst-case scenarios. He clutches at Carl's arm, trying to anchor himself, praying he won't lose the only lifelines he has left. "Please... please, don't let go," he whimpers.
As the door to the tunnel closed Rob took a glance at the fighting, the slaves are losing. They are no match for the army officers, the last thing he saw was Felix being surrounded by four officers on his knees. Tanner walking towards him.
Horror grips him, his stomach twisting painfully. He watches helplessly, frozen once more, as the officers close in on Prince Felix. The image sears itself into his memory, burning with a sense of despair. He feels sick, guilty, even though he knows staying would've meant certain death.
Maybe worse. His eyes burn, but he has no tears left to cry. He wants to scream, to fight, to do something, but he can't. He's trapped in this tunnel, powerless. Again. A light turns on, Rob blinks letting his eyes adjust. The tunnel seems to run for miles. Todd walks over and looks at Rob.
“History will remember you. History will remember this day. Small steps and giant leaps and whatever else a poet would say. Whenever song writers or historians draws inspiration from today, they will remember you Rob” Todds says.
“What are you talking about we are trapped” Rob responds.
“No Rob, we aren’t the ones that are trapped.”
