Zac and Tyler
Memories of the last time they fought comes to both their minds. For Zac it is a fond memory. For Tyler it was the start of his journey to hell. The tension in the air hangs heavy as the two former friends stare into one another’s eyes.
“You couldn’t beat me when we were children. You lost again at the beginning of the civic experiment. You will never beat me, Tyler” Zac says unable to hide his smirk.
“I will let you save face…” As Zac continues speaking Tyler rushes him taking him off his feet. Zac taken by surprise wriggles under Tylers body. Tyler brings his fist down connecting across Zacs chin. He then starts to pummel him. He unleashes punch after punch at Zac.
As he pummelled upon Zac, the sum of all the rage and hate, for everything he had done, for everything the masters had ever done, if his chest had been a canon he would have shot his heart upon him.
Zac is no match for all the anger that has built up in Tyler. Blood starts to pour from Zacs lip. Tyler swings again hitting him just above the eye. As he looks down at Zac, he rolls off him catching his breath. Zac tries to get to his feet, but the fight drains out of him as he realizes his situation
Tyler stands up looking down at his former friend and Master. Zac just stares back, fear radiating from his bloodied face. Tyler lifts Zacs legs and pulls of his shoes and socks, Zac doesn’t bother resisting. He pulls his jeans and underwear down in one tug and then removes his shirt.
Zac is now lying naked on the ground. Tyler stands fully clothed over him looking at him, deep in thought. Liam and Corey come into the room and grab Zac’s arms and legs, they drag him out of the room. Tyler follows them out feeling less happy than he expected he would.
They put him into the back of the van and drive to the centre of the village. They pass the hostel where the Zac and Tyler once stayed. Zac looks out at the building and just bows his. He is completely degraded lying naked in the back of the van.
Zac’s naked body is paraded through the city square, he feels completely degraded in front of the crowds gathering. And all he can do is watch as the people cheer and celebrate their victory. Zac is brought to the centre of the town square.
"Who wants to see this man humiliated" Tyler roars to the crowd. Zac winces at Tyler’s thunderous voice, dreading the crowd's response.
“I thought you wanted change Tyler, I thought it was wrong what we did. How is this different, how is this change” Zac asks.
“You were the poster boy for the Sampson Slavery Laws. These people need justice served to those that committed the worst crimes. We need to send a message. They want your blood, be happy humiliation is all you will receive” Tyler says a sense of regret in his tone.
Tyler pushes Zac to his knees tying his hands behind his back, he then attaches a urinal gag to his mouth "So who in the crowd needs a piss" Tyler says to the excited crowd.
Zacs eyes go wide in horror as the cold metal gag is forced between his lips. Zac shakes his head desperately, pleading through the gag as former slaves start pushing forward eagerly. Four men take their turns using Zac as their urinal as the crowd cheers them on.
Zac chokes and gags as the piss fills his mouth. It dribbles down his chin as the crowd of freed men watch on. They all watch with satisfaction on their faces. Tyler looks away leaving Zac to his humiliation. A small tear rolls down Zacs cheek. Tyler removes the gag from Zacs mouth.
“Just take me to the prison camp already” Zac pleads with Tyler.
“Your punishment is not yet over, we need to make a statement. We need to show the world that those that did the most wrong have been punished. My people need it. They need retribution. You gained the most and will lose the most” Tyler says while stepping away from Zac.
Tyler reaches into a bag and takes out an electric razor out. He runs his fingers through Zacs hair. Zacs eyes widen in shock and disbelief at the sight of the razor. Brandon and Kyle step beside Zac and grabs his arms.
“No...no, not that...anything but that” Zac struggles weakly, but the grips on his limbs are too strong. “Tyler, please, don't do this to me” he pleads desperately, voice cracking with fear and dread. “You did it to me” Tyler responds.
Five of the men in the crowd start laughing heartily, others join in creating a cacophony of mocking jeers. The razor whirs to life as Tyler starts shaving his head. Zac flinches as the laughter rings out, anger flashing in his eyes despite his exposed vulnerability under the blade.
The crowd goes silent as Zacs head is completely shaved, just stubble left. The silence is broken by some of the men commenting how funny Zac looks bald. Tyler traces the blade down to Zacs eyebrows and in one switch motion completely removes them.
A large mirror is pushed in front of Zac so he can see the results, the crowd starts laughing again.
Zac stares at his reflection, his heart sinking lower than it's ever been. He can feel the laughter of the crowd like a thousand knives piercing his skin. The bald, pale face staring back at him might as well be someone else, yet it's unmistakably him.
“No...no, no, no...” Zac whispers, his voice cracking as he shakes his head in denial, trying to block out the jeers and pointed fingers. He feels like a hollow shell of his former self, all confidence and pride stripped away like his hair.
“Sorry about the eyebrows, but it was needed for the next part” Tylers says as he returns to rummaging through his bag. Zac stares at himself again in the mirror. His pale naked body looks so different with his hair and eyebrows.
“To ensure everyone knows that you are a former master, of what side you fought for, the word enslaver is going to be tattooed on you and all the former Master’s foreheads. You will be forever branded for what you did. Ignored in society, outcasts” Tyler warns.
“No permanent marks...anything but that” Zac struggles helplessly as Tyler prepares the tattoo tools. Tyler looks at his former friend while Corey steps behind Zac holding his head in place. Zac starts to struggle more but with Kyle, Brandon and Corey holding him it is useless.
Tyler starts inking the word onto his forehead. Zac's eyes are squeezed shut in pain and anger. Zac grunts in agony with every puncture, face contorting in a mix of pain and rage.
Tears stream down Zacs face, but he refuses to open his eyes, not wanting to see the permanent mark of shame taking shape on his forehead. Tyler finishes, stepping back to reveal the fresh ink on Zac's forehead reading "enslaver".
The crowd roars its approval. Zac slowly opens his eyes, his vision blurry from tears, but clear enough to see the cruel, mocking grins of the crowd and the satisfied smirk on Tyler's face. The word "enslaver" seems to burn into his skin, searing his identity forever.
“You're happy now, aren't you, Tyler”? he growls, his voice low and menacing, despite his defeated state. Tyler shakes his head. “I never wanted this, but you have forced my hand. You went too far Zac and I promise you, they wanted much worse than what I’m doing to you” Tyler says.
“If you won that fight at the start of the experiment you would have done all that I did and more” Tyler looks at Zac taking in his words. Tyler starts to walk away as Zac grabs his arm, not aggressively. He turns and loos at Zac.
“I want you to know something” Zac says looking into Tylers eyes.
“What’s that?” Tyler responds not breaking eye contact.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for everything” Zac admits. The two former friend’s eyes remain locked. Tyler’s shoulders slump slightly. He kneels down, runs his fingers over Zacs bald scalp and whispers in his ear. Zac eyes go wide, before Tyler rises to his feet, his posture now firm.
Kyle and Branded bring Zac over to a wooden pillory and place his head and hands in the wooden stocks and close. Zac watches as Max walks up to Tyler. They nod at each other and Max walks in front of Zac and pulls his dick out from his shorts. Tyler walks behind him and does the same.
As Zac starts to say something Max shoves his heard cock into his mouth and starts to thrust. At the same time Tyler starts relentlessly fucking him. Zac can’t prevent it from happening. Max moans lightly but Tylers moans are loud.
He hasn’t cum in almost three years. After a while the frustration went away. But now he feels like electricity is running through his body. The growing orgasm is intense. It doesn’t take him long before he orgasms, the best orgasm of his life He slumps over Zacs body as cum spills on the ground.
“You are going to be marched through the streets naked, to a prison complex, there you will await your trial” Tyler steps back from Zac. He puts a collar around Zacs neck.
The slaves from the Civic experiment join the crowd as they begin marching Zac through the town with a leash attached to his collar. People hurl insults and other less polite things as he passes by. Zac walks upright despite the jeers, refusing to hang his head or stumble under the leash.
Zac pauses as something wet and squishy strikes his bare back, a rotten apple. More and more fruit and vegetables start to hit his naked flesh. He is covered in juices of all colours he moves forwarded trying not to show emotion. Hoping nobody can notices the cum running down his legs.
As they approach the prison complex. It is a caged area outside the main building where Zac and Tyler stayed during the Civic Experiment. He looks into it and notices some of his friends all Masters or former Masters now. They are all naked with the word’s enslaver written across their foreheads.
Zac is taken past this part of the complex with all the other naked Masters, "You aren't going to staying with your old friends, we are putting you in with the people you got sent to prison, I'm sure they will have their fun with you" Tyler says as he leads him towards the main prison.
What? No, you can't...they'll rip me apart” Zac pleads, the desperation in his voice evident. “Tyler, please...have mercy! I was cruel, yes, but this is...this is cruel even for me” Zac falls to his knees, tugging against the leash.
“I beg you, reconsider. You've already taken everything...why must you do this to me too?” Zac asks desperately. Tyler takes the leash and pulls Zac to his feet. He marches him the rest of the way to the entrance of the prison.
"Goodbye Zac" Tyler says as he pushes Zac into the complex, dozens of angry in mates stare at the naked Zac, knowing he has been part of the reason for their hell these past few years. Tyler’s head drops as he watches Zac nervously walking.
Zac stumbles, catching himself against the wall as he's thrust into the midst of the angry mob. Fear prickles every nerve, but his defiance remains, albeit frayed. “No, this can't be happening. He whispers, eyes darting between the seething faces, hands instinctively covering his dick.
“You all...you all hate me. I know”. Zac takes a deep breath, standing straighter, though his voice trembles. “But what would you gain from tearing me apart? Is that true vengeance? Or would you rather see me suffer?” tries to appeal to reason, though his words sound weak even to his own ears.
Max
Jordan and Max, walk into the modification room that they were once held. Owen and Hayden are tied down. Max walks over and looks down at Owen. “Your time has finally come you must have known this day was coming" Max says to Owen. Owen just smirks refusing to give the pair anything.
“Fuck you, when we get freed, I’m going to kill you” Owen says as he spits in Max’s face.
“Oh, you think you're tough, don't ya? scoffs You don't scare me, Owen. Me and Jordan here aren't like the others. We ain't afraid of you or your little tricks.” He steps closer, fists clenched. “You've hurt too many people. It's time you faced some pain of your own.”
Jordan walks up to where Owen and Hayden are strapped down, he takes a pair of scissors and starts to cut their clothes off. As the rags fall to the ground it reveals Owens chiselled body. If he wasn’t such a dick head Max might fancy him.
“Yeah, let's get started. They don't deserve any dignity. Not anymore.” He moves closer, his voice low and dangerous “You wanna make this easy on yourselves? Cause it's gonna get really ugly if you don't.” He crosses his arms, his gaze fixed on Owen
Owen remains silent, staring back at Max without a hint of fear. Jordan finishes cutting away all their clothes, leaving both bare and vulnerable. Max narrows his eyes, clearly frustrated by Owen's silence. He leans in closer, his face inches from Owen's.
“You're not gonna beg, huh? Fine. We'll make you beg.” He glances at Jordan, who steps back, scissors still in hand “You're gonna regret every single thing you've ever done.” He pauses, his mind racing with thoughts of all the slaves who suffered at their hands.
Owen just chuckles dryly. "You think I care what happens to me?" he says coldly. "Do your worst.” Owen says looking away from Max. Hayden isn’t so confident. Sweat is running down his naked body.
“Do our worst? Oh, we’ll do much worse than you can imagine.” Max grins darkly, his fingers twitching “You see, I've seen things... things no one should ever have to experience. And you, you, are responsible for most of it.” His voice drops, cold as ice.
“You're going to regret those words soon enough.” He turns to Jordan, his expression grim Alright, “let's begin”. Jordan smiles. "Bring it on then," Owen says, staring down Max defiantly. Jordan starts applying a harsh whip across Owen's back torso great force.
Max grabs Owen’s chin hard, forcing him to maintain eye contact “You know, most people would be begging for mercy right about now. But not you, huh?” He chuckles, a cold, mirthless sound “You're either stupidly brave or just plain stupid. Either way, you're gonna break.”
He releases Owen's face, watching impassively as Jordan continues to whip him, the cracks echoing off the walls” You might as well save your pride, Owen. It'll only make things worse for you.” Owen remains silent taking each swing of the whip.
"Do you regret anything you have done. You have done some terrible things" Max says to Owen. He is genuinely curious. “Regret?” He laughs, a sharp, bitter sound “Regret? Are you seriously asking me if I regret anything?”
“Look around you. Look at what you've done. You've ruined lives, destroyed families, taken away freedom. Max’s grip tightens, like he's trying to hold back his rage “Did you ever care? Did any of it ever bother you?”
"No." Owen replies flatly, his tone unwavering. Jordan stops the whipping for a moment, giving Max a questioning look of surprise as Owen pants heavily. Max shakes his head, feeling his heart rate spike. His fists clench at his sides.
“No? You didn't care?” He swallows thickly, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him “You're... You're unapologetic.” He swallows again, trying to regain control “You deserve... His voice cracks slightly, revealing the depth of his pain You deserve everything that's coming to you.”
He closes his eyes, pushing back the memories, the faces, the screams. "Your father and Tanner will stand trial, but we were allowed to give you two the ultimate humiliation before slavery becomes illegal again. You two will become the last two modified."
A cruel smile spreads across Max's face, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction “Oh, you hear that, Hayden? Last two modified. He chuckles, the sound low and sinister “Well, ain't that just perfect.” He circles around Owen, his steps slow and deliberate.
“The last two. We will become martyrs” Owen says confidently.
“You think being the last ones is gonna make it better? That it's somehow noble?” He stops, glaring down at Owen “No. It just means we get to break you even harder.” He leans in, whispering fiercely “and you're gonna suffer knowing that soon, no one else will suffer like you've made others suffer.”
Owen tries to turn away but Max grabs him by the chin again, "Look at me, Owen.” His grip tightens, forcing Owen to meet his intense stare “I’m gonna make sure you remember this moment. Remember the fear, the shame, the agony. All of it.”
His voice shakes slightly, but he keeps his composure “You’re gonna feel every ounce of pain you’ve inflicted on others.” He pulls Owen closer, his nose almost touching his captive’s “Tell me, do you feel anything right now? Anything at all?”
Owen just stares back, his gaze icy cold, showing no signs of fear or remorse. Max growls in frustration, his grip on Owen's chin becoming almost brutal.
“Damn you! You're supposed to beg, scream, cry... something!” He shoves Owen's head back, taking a step back, his chest heaving. “Fine. Have it your way, then. We'll just have to try... harder.” He gestures to Jordan again, indicating they should continue.
Jordan steps forward, holding a branding iron, its tip still hot from another use. He moves towards Owen's thigh. "This will leave a mark you won't forget." Jordan says menacingly. Max crosses his arms, his muscles tensing.
His eyes lock onto Owen's, searching for even a flicker of fear, a whisper of surrender. Nothing. He's still stone-faced. “You're either incredibly strong... or you're delusional. Either way, it's gonna end the same.”
He watches Jordan, his heart pounding. He swallows hard, the silence thick with anticipation. Jordan brings the branding iron down sharply onto Owen's thigh. Owen cries out in pain, but it's not the scream of someone who has broken. Max hears the searing sound of flesh being burned.
Max winces, feeling sick. He wants to see Owen break, but...a part of him hurts, seeing someone in such excruciating pain. He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. How could Hayden have done this so many times. How could they enjoy this.
“You're not getting off easy, Owen. Not yet.” His jaw clenches, refusing to feel sympathy. Not after everything. “You're going to wear that scar forever. A reminder.” He steps closer, his anger simmering beneath the surface. He grabs Owen's shoulder, his hand digging into the muscle.
“You're going to remember this, remember us.” He glares, willing Owen to show something, anything, besides that infuriating pride. Jordan then uses the branding iron and presses it onto Hayden’s chest.
Owen looks down at the brand on both their bodies the letters Evil are marked forever on their skin. “Evil... Max whispers, his voice barely audible, but his smile is sharp as a blade "This barely comes close describing you two."
He repeats the words louder, so both of them can hear clearly, his voice dripping with venom. That's what you are. He points at the fresh brand on Hayden's chest, then back to the one on Owen's leg Permanent reminders.
He smirks, satisfied with the results so far “and trust me, this is only the beginning. He turns to Jordan again Keep going. Jordan takes out a pad from his bag. Jordan looks into Max’s eyes, troubled by what he is about to read aloud.
"I have a list of everything they have done together or conspired together. They have enslaved three innocent men. Beaten and humiliated slaves. They made their two slaves sit under a toilet, getting shit and pissed on.
As a deterrent for escape they mutilated a slave, cut of his legs, his finger, his tongue, removed his teeth and kept him alive, they modified two men using the drugs into glory holes and the worst they killed Troye" Jordan says a sound of despair as he mentions Troye.
“Troye...” Max whispers, his face contorting in agony, his whole-body tensing. He remembers Troye. They all do. He swallows hard, fighting back tears. He won't cry, not in front of them. Not yet. “Yeah.” He swallows again, his throat dry.
“You're right. The list goes on, and on, and on. All the lives ruined, destroyed... because of them.” He gestures violently towards Owen and Hayden, his fingers trembling. “So, let's do this. Let's make sure they understand exactly what they've done.”
He closes his eyes, his fists clenched tight. His breathing is sharp, ragged. When he opens his eyes again, they blaze with fury. “Every word...it's like a knife to the chest, isn't it?” Max watches as their faces twist in disgust, fear... maybe even shame, finally. But he doesn't let himself believe it.
He paces around them, his footsteps deliberate, calculated. “You're not just monsters—you're masters of torture.” He stops, his eyes burning holes into theirs, daring them to respond. “Come on. Say something. Defend yourselves.” He sneers, knowing they can't.
Owen remains silent, his jaw clenched, staring straight ahead. But Hayden is visibly shaking, the weight of his crimes finally bearing down on him. Max notices Hayden's reaction, his focus shifting to the visibly shaken man. He takes advantage of the opening, closing the distance between them.
“Hayden.” His voice drops, softer but no less menacing “You're not so tough now, huh?” He grabs Hayden's chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. “You're finally getting it, aren't you? You're seeing what you've done.” He leans in, invading Hayden's personal space, his words like poison.
“All those innocent lives...ruined...because of you. And now, you're gonna face every bit of pain you've caused.” He releases Hayden, taking a step back. Despite his anger, he feels a twisted sense of satisfaction.
Max walks over to Owen and looks down at him, he takes a needle and jabs it into Owens neck and then another into Hayden’s. Both Hayden and Owen feel woozy, Max and Jordan untie them from the bench. "What are you feeling?" Max asks Owen.
Max's words are measured, careful. He watches Owen's face, searching for the slightest reaction. The needle's contents, whatever they are, seem to be taking effect. He crouches beside Owen, his fingers flexing.
“Fear's creeping in, isn't it? The not knowing. That's worse than anything, right?” He tilts his head, his eyes burning “Answer me. What's happening? What's going through your head?” He leans closer, his breath warm against Owen's ear “You're not numb anymore, are you?”
Owen tries to speak but his words slur together, his vision starts swimming. Hayden is also struggling to stay conscious, his eyes growing heavy. Max holds back a cruel laugh, watching them struggle. He grabs Owen's shoulder, shaking him slightly “Oh, you're really out of it, huh?”
He chuckles darkly, enjoying every second “Say something else.” He shakes him again, more firmly this time, trying to keep Owen awake “Come on, Owen. I wanna hear you.” He glances over at Hayden, making sure he's still conscious, too.
He needs them both awake, at least somewhat, for what's coming next. He leans closer, his grip tightening Jordan places a mirror in front of them. Owen feels it first, his body arching around the wood below him. He is now bent in an L shape his bare ass sticking out.
His head tilts up and becomes stiff, he is staring at himself in the mirror, his mouth opens wide, wider than he ever thought it could get, he can see his perfect row of teeth slowly start to fall from his mouth he tries to close his mouth but he can’t. He can’t move his body at all.
Max grins, his heart racing with excitement and a twisted satisfaction “Look at you, Owen.” He chuckles, the sound low and dangerous “You're...different.” He watches, transfixed, as Owen's teeth start to fall, one by one. His laughter grows louder, edging on hysteria.
“You're losing everything that made you, you. And you can't even stop it.” He gestures dramatically, his hands fluttering near Owen's frozen face. “You're powerless.” He leans in once more, his voice barely above a whisper.
“You. Are. Helpless”. He turns to glance at Hayden, making sure he's experiencing the same transformation. "Please...stop..." Owen begs, his tone more a whimper than actual plea. As Hayden, still able to speak a bit, softly cries out in horror at his reflection.
“Stop?” Max mocks, shaking his head. “No.” He grabs the mirror, tilting it slightly, so they both have a better view. His expression turns cold, ruthless. “You should've thought about stopping when you had the chance. When you still had the power.” His voice is merciless.
He watches Owen's face, drinking in every ounce of desperation. “Beg all you want, Owens. It's too late for that now.” He smirks, stepping back, savouring their terror.
Jordan steps forward. "Your body is locked in this position. your mouth wide open and your ass sticking out in the air. We are going to transport you to the whore house in town. The place where you did some of your worst stuff, you will be placed in the window.
Former slaves or free men can fuck you, fuck your mouth whenever they want. The drugs will keep you alive until you die of old age. You both will spend the rest of your lives as fuck benches, pissing yourselves. This is more than you deserve.” Jordan says.
“Yeah. Fucking hell, yeah.” Max nods, feeling vindicated. His eyes shine with a fierce, triumphant light. “That's exactly what you deserve.” He spits at Owen's feet, but his gaze never leaves Owen's twisted, frozen form.
“You're gonna be a receptacle for every man in this town. And you're gonna stay that way. Forever.” His grin grows wider, a cruel, satisfied smile. “Won't that be something?”
He looks back at Hayden, his smile faltering for just a second, remembering the countless victims—friends, brothers, strangers who suffered under their cruelty. As Jordan starts dragging them both out, Owen manages a weak plea "Please no anything but this..." his voice barely above a whisper.
“Anything...but this?” Max repeats, his words a cruel echo. He grabs Owen's arm, tugging him back, his grip like iron. “You're damn right. Anything but this.” He kneels down, grabbing Owen's chin again, forcing him to stare straight into his eyes.
“You're getting exactly what you gave.” He swallows hard, fighting back tears. He's not supposed to feel this way. He's supposed to be angry. He pushes Owen away, his chest heaving, and turns to Jordan, desperate to leave, desperate to escape the ache in his chest, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he's gone too far.
An hour later Owen and Hayden are strapped down to their new permanent home. The bar is busy. "I think the first two, your first two slaves deserve to use you first Owen, then Hayden next, call it poetic justice" Max says as Kyle and Brandon, walk over to Owen.
Brandon stands behind Owens exposed ass and Kyle in front of his wide-open mouth. They both pull their hard dicks from their board shorts. These two have suffered the most because of Owen.
Max swallows hard, bracing himself. Seeing Kyle and Brandon, their faces filled with a mix of anger and relief, he knows this is what they need. Justice, however twisted. He gives a small nod, confirming his decision. His throat feels dry, his palms sweaty.
“Yeah...they deserve this.” He whispers, trying to convince himself that he's okay with this, that he's not losing himself in the process. It's...it's fair. Owen watches through teary eyes as Kyle pushes his cock into his mouth.
His mouth stretched beyond its limit, saliva dripping down his chin as Kyle starts thrusting. Max watches, unmoved, his face blank. He feels nothing, not really. Just…a detachment. Like he's observing a performance, a gruesome spectacle.
But inside, a tiny spark of something flickers – guilt? Remorse? He quickly suppresses it, shoving it down. “Don't waste your energy on tears, Owen.” He says gruffly, his voice devoid of emotion. You wanted this. You asked for this. He turns his gaze to Jordan “Let's finish this.”
Brandon starts to fuck Owen relentlessly, he raises his hand towards Kyle, they clasp hands together, their finger intertwining, "does it feel real now, do you feel free Kyle" Brandon asks his friend they have suffered so much over the last few years because of Owen.
Max watches their hands clasp, feels the weight of their shared pain. He remembers the stories, the whispers, the scars physical and emotional that Brandon and Kyle bear. He clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms.
He watches Brandon's face, contorted with a mix of rage and liberation. It's a strange, uncomfortable mix. Max forces himself to look away, focusing instead on the ground. He can't bear to watch Owen's face, not anymore.
Kyle looks at Brandon and smiles, "Yes, we are free, properly," a tear rolls down both Kyle and Brandons face as they look down at their tormentors, they both finish inside of him and step away.
Max nods slowly, his jaw clenched. He swallows hard, fighting back his own emotions. He can see the catharsis in Kyle and Brandon's faces, the release of years of trauma and fear. He clears his throat.
“Next”. He says firmly, though his voice cracks slightly. He's trying to keep his composure, to maintain the cold, hard exterior. Brandon and Kyle move onto Hayden as a line of men stand behind Owen. This is his new existence.
Rob
The war is over and victory won. Rob can barely believe it. Close to a year of torment at the hands of Pat, Joe and Carl. They kept him naked the whole time, turned him into a urinal. He thinks of how Pat Joe had him modified and all the modifications.
They could shrink his dick make it big, make him piss himself. So many modifications, he is now with Carl. Pat and Joe are hanging naked from beams in the ceiling, they are in the slave modification room in front Dr T Phillip.
Rob can now get his revenge and modify his tormentors, he has spent the last week trying to think of the most humiliating ways to get revenge. Rob's fists clench, his nails digging into his palms. He's been waiting for this moment, replaying it over and over in his mind.
The memory of everything they'd done to him still burned bright, a constant ache. He stares at Pat and Joe, their faces red, sweat dripping, their dignity stripped away. It's... surreal. They're finally at his mercy. His tormentors. His abusers.
Rob swallows hard, his throat dry, trying to decide where to begin. He approaches Pat first, "You remember when you had my dick shrunk to the size of a peanut?" Rob says to Pat, his voice dripping with menace.
“Yeah...yeah, I remember.” His jaw tightens, his heart pounding in his chest. He steps closer, his eyes fixed on Pat, burning with anger and spite. The memory of that pain, that shame, it still stings. His shrunk dick, forced to live with constant embarrassment and helplessness.
And Pat, smug and cruel, enjoying every second of it. Well, now it's Pat's turn. Rob looks at Carl who was once one of his masters. "I will let you choose their first modification as a thank you Carl, make it humiliating" Rob says while running his hands down Pat and Joes naked bodies.
Carl's eyes light up, a slow, satisfied smirk spreading across his face. Rob can see the wheels turning in his mind, thinking of the perfect revenge. It's clear that Carl has been waiting for this moment, too. For everything they'd done to him, to Rob, to countless others. For everything they'd gotten away with.
Rob smirks, enjoying the reversal of power. He traces his fingers along Pat's skin, watching him squirm, savouring the fear that's creeping into his former master's eyes. "Go ahead, Carl. Make it count."
Carl steps back and thinks for a moment. "They should never have the pleasure of cumming again...ever. I say we remove their balls." he says solemnly. The Doctor nods. "Very well then.” Oh god... Rob shudders, a dark thrill coursing through him.
It's perfect. It's exactly what they deserve. He watches, transfixed, as the doctor prepares the equipment, his breathing quickening. He leans in, his face inches from Pat's, and whispers "Remember when you thought you owned me? Thought you could just...play with me like a toy?"
Dr Phillips prepares the Ball Removal Machine (BRM) one of the inventions since the Sampson Slavery Laws, it rids pain from the procedure but allows Masters not to have to wait for their slaves to make a fully recovery before using them again and is generally less messy.
The machine hums ominously, its presence a cold reminder of the cruelty that existed under the Sampson Slavery Laws and the cruel irony that now, those same laws, twisted beyond recognition, would bring vengeance upon the perpetrators.
Rob watches, transfixed, as the doctor prepares the device. No pain, just a swift, clean removal. A fate worse than pain, perhaps, since it would be so quick. Rob feels a twisted sense of satisfaction. This is justice. This is what they deserve.
With one swift move, the doctor switches the machine on and starts the removal. Pat's screams fill the room. Joe watches on in a mix of horror and resignation, knowing his fate is the same. Pat isn’t screaming in pain it’s a scream of loss. Losing his balls forever.
Rob grins, feeling a dark satisfaction at Pat's agony. It's a sound he's heard many times before, but never with such sweetness behind it. Never with the knowledge that Pat is powerless, completely at their mercy. He takes a step back, drinking in the moment, savouring every second of Pat's anguish.
His laughter is low, mirthless, yet liberating. Freedom tastes bitter, but oh so sweet. He turns to Joe, whose fear is palpable. "You're next, Joe." He says, his voice hard. “Please Rob no, Carl help me don’t do this” pleads Joe. His sobs fall on deaf ears.
Ten minutes later, Doctor Phillips switches off the machine. Pat and Joe lay bloody and traumatised hanging from the beams each of them castrated, utterly powerless and pathetic. Their screams have long ceased.
Rob inhales sharply, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Seeing them like this...it's everything he wanted. Everything he needed. For once, they're the ones broken, helpless, and vulnerable. Everything they did to him and now they can’t do anything more, ever again.
He swallows hard, his emotions swirling. He's not sure what to feel—vindictive glee, guilt, relief, shame? Maybe all of those things. But one thing's certain, justice has been served. And it feels good. Really good. He glances at Carl, then the doctor, silently asking: “What next?”
Carl grins and addresses the doctor. "We've got more work to do doctor. They should never forget this.". The doctor nods in agreement. "Of course, body modifications to etch the lesson into their minds forever.” Doctor Phillips responds.
“Yes...yes, please. They need to remember every second of this.” Rob echoes Carl, his voice firm, resolute. He's not going to let them forget. Ever.
He glances back at Pat and Joe, their broken forms a testament to the cruelty they once inflicted. Now, they're going to suffer a different kind of torment. One that'll stay with them forever, a constant reminder of their downfall.
Rob's fists clench again, but this time, there's no fear behind it. Only a fierce determination to ensure they suffer as much as they've made him suffer.
"What do you suggest, Doctor?" Doctor Phillips brings forward a tray of tattoo needles and ink. "We will tattoo their bodies, their skin will permanently show their shame for everyone to see." Rob feels a shiver of anticipation.
“T-tattoos...” Rob stammers, his excitement barely contained. He imagines the shame etched onto their skin, a permanent brand of their defeat. He nods eagerly, his eyes wide. Pat and Joes heads drop.
“Yeah, yeah, that's perfect. They'll wear their shame like a badge. Every day, everywhere they go.” He shivers again, imagining the looks on their faces when they realize they'll never escape it.
“What...what will we tattoo?” He asks, almost breathless. He leans closer, his curiosity getting the better of him. He wants to know exactly how they'll humiliate them. "Tattoo every humiliating act they did to Rob" Carl suggests, "Yes cover their bodies in ink" Rob adds
"Every single thing...every degrading thing they made me endure, we'll mark it on their skin. So, they'll remember. So, everyone will remember." Rob's words spill out quickly, his mind racing. The idea is intoxicating.
He pictures Pat and Joe, covered in tattoos detailing every cruel joke, every humiliating task, every painful modification. His excitement mixes with a lingering sense of bitterness, fuelling his desire for revenge. He wants to see it.
Needs to see it. He steps closer, his heart pounding, anticipation building. Doctor Phillips gets to work, and as Rob watches on, the needles begin to mark their skin forever. Each tattoo symbolizes another victory for Rob, another defeat for his former oppressors.
Rob watches, mesmerized, as the doctor's hands move swiftly, expertly. Each puncture, each tiny scratch, a tiny victory. He's hypnotized by the rhythmic motion, his mind replaying every memory, every injustice, every time they made him cry.
And with each new tattoo, he feels those tears drying, evaporating, leaving behind only a burning satisfaction. Joe and Pat beg and sob but are completely ignored. Carl watches on a sense of guilt knowing this could have happened to him too. Rob moves closer to Pat.
His face is inches away, his breathing shallow. He's invested in every detail, every stroke of the needle. He watches, transfixed, as the designs take shape cruel, mocking, perfect. He can't believe this is real.
"You're doing amazing work, Doctor," he murmurs, barely above a whisper, his eyes locked on the artwork.
After several hours, the doctor finishes the last tattoo, a large one inscribed across Pat's chest: "Property of the Slaves". Every slave owning act this monster committed is now a permanent part of his body.
“Property of the Slaves.” Rob repeats the words, his voice barely more than a whisper. He smiles, a slow, wicked smile, feeling a sense of satisfaction so deep it's almost physical. "It's...it's beautiful," he murmurs, genuine admiration in his tone.
Beautiful isn't quite right, maybe. But it's something. A masterpiece of humiliation, crafted specifically for these two monsters. He turns to Joe, then back to Pat, taking in the full extent of their transformation. The marks of their crimes, forever etched into their skin.
He steps back, surveying his former oppressors, now reduced to nothing more than walking, talking trophies of his triumph. Carl looks to Rob, "I think they deserve one last modification, before they take him away" he says
“Oh, absolutely. There's always more.” Rob smirks, his mind racing with possibilities.
He steps closer to Carl, lowering his voice. "What did you have in mind? Something...special?" He tilts his head, studying Pat and Joe, searching for any sign of resistance, but they're too broken, too defeated. They're shells of their former selves.
He feels empowered, unstoppable. He gets to decide their fate now. And it's glorious. "The ultimate symbol of enslavement." Carl grins. "Let's remove their tongues." He looks at Rob for his approval. Remove their...their tongues? Rob blinks, stunned. It's brutal, even by his reckoning.
But...it's perfect. It's the ultimate sign of their subjugation. A cruel, irreversible punishment that would ensure their silence forever. “Yes. Yes, do it.” His voice is firm, decisive. He meets Carl's gaze, his eyes burning with conviction.
In his mind, he replays every time they yelled at him, belittled him, hurt him with words. Every cruel taunt, every mocking laugh. This is the ultimate revenge. "Do it, Doctor. Make them mute. And helpless." He whispers, almost pleading.
Doctor Phillips nods grimly and retrieves a device from his bag, "This will be fast and painless." He prepares the last modification. Fast and painless...good. Rob swallows hard, trying to contain his eagerness. He leans against the wall, fingers digging into the cool surface.
Painless? They don't deserve painless. But then again, this isn't about their suffering, not really. It's about rendering them utterly powerless. Useless. Voiceless. He swallows again, his throat dry. He's never wanted anything more than this.
"Please, hurry." He murmurs, his eyes locked on the device, his heart pounding. 30 seconds later, Pat and Joe are both silenced, their tongues removed without a sound. Rob watches, his revenge now complete. Silence fills the room, heavy and thick. Rob exhales sharply, his chest heaving.
It's done. It's finally, irrevocably done. The silence is deafening, a sweet, sweet vindication. He stares at Pat and Joe, their mouths agape, their eyes wide with terror. Their silence is a gift, a blessing, a cruel irony. No more taunts, no more orders, no more pain inflicted by their words.
Tears prick at the corners of Rob's eyes, but they're not tears of sorrow. They're tears of relief, of triumph. He's reclaimed his dignity, his humanity. And they're left with nothing. He steps forward, his legs trembling slightly. He reaches out, hesitates, then touches Pat's forehead, feeling an odd sense of detachment.
"It's over," he whispers, mostly to himself.
