Tyler
Two buses drive slowly towards Hayden’s plantation. Coreys words bounce around Tylers mind. You will be shocked at what you see. How could he believe that me of all people could ever be shocked again. I am beyond shock beyond humiliation he thinks.
Tyler, and the other members of the Civic Experiment are sat in the front bus with Corey. Liam is on the second bus with some of the strongest freed slaves. They all know it’s a daring mission. A risky mission. By the end of the day their rebellion may be over.
“Troye isn’t responding anymore” Corey says to Tyler as he preps one of the laser guns.
“That mightn’t mean anything he may just not want to take any risks” Tyler responds trying to sound positive. Trying to be the leader keep up spirits. In his heart as he says it, he knows it isn’t true. But he pushes down the thoughts. Represses them.
“Yeah maybe. This is a good time to attack. Owen and Hayden will be at the annual slave games. I know you took part in the first. They have gotten worse since when you did it in the experiment and with Owen running it this year. I fear the worst” Corey warns.
The buses stop atop a hill. Corey disembarks the bus and the rest follow. The hill is part of a valley. Inside the valley is a large plantation surrounded by an electric fence. There are automatic guns atop the fences for extra security.
Corey takes a small device from his backpack and attaches it to his eyes. He looks down at the plantation. “From what I can make out, there are over three hundred slaves, all naked and eight to ten slave guards” Corey informs Tyler.
“So now for the next part” Tyler says sadly. He looks at the other members of the Civic Experiment and at the other freed me. “Are you sure this is something you want to do?” Corey asks softly. Tyler nods his head.
“Yes, it’s the best way to do it. The other men agreed too. This is the easiest way to get inside” Tyler says while looking down at his feet. “This is the last time we will have to do something like this” Tyler adds. Tyler looks again to the freed men. “It’s time”.
Tyler kneels down and starts to untie his shoes before kicking them off and removing his socks. He slips his shirt up over his head and drops it to the ground. He then unbuckles his belt and slips his jeans off with his boxers. He stood there naked feeling no shame. He has none left to give.
The rest of the freed men begin to strip some slower than others. They all look at one another and then at Tyler. When the last of them is naked Corey and Liam come over to each slave and attach temporary collars around their necks. The naked men then climb back aboard the bus.
Corey drives the bus down the narrow road towards the plantation. The gate looks heavy and hard to break. The tension on the bus is thick as they inch ever closer to the entrance. An alarm sounds and four slave guards step out in front of the gate. Corey stops the bus and a guard approaches.
The other guards follow gripping their guns tightly. They circle the bus looking into each window at the naked former slaves. The lead guard comes to the driver’s window of the first bus. He motions for the window to be opened. Corey presses a button and it slides down.
“What’s your business here” the guard asks.
“Fresh delivery” Corey responds.
“We aren’t expecting a delivery of filth today. Owen or Hayden would have said” he responds suspiciously.
“This is a special delivery” Corey says while leaning back to show Tyler naked on his knees. The most famous and wanted slave in the world. The guards jaw drops as he looks at the first ever slave again on his knees humbled. The guard steps forward.
“Open the gates” he orders. A creaking sound comes and the gates starts too slowly open. As they open naked slaves can be seen pulling ropes to open the gate. Tlyer shakes his head knowing that electronic gates would have been much easier.
The bus creeps into the plantation and ten slave guards surround the bus. Corey opens the door and the lead guard steps in and drags Tyler out of the bus. He pushes Tyler to the ground and the other guards lead the rest of the people out of the two buses.
“You thought you were so clever escaping, look at you know, naked again on your knees. I promise you when Owen is finished with you, begging for death will be the only words out of your mouth” the guard says before spitting on Tyler.
The guards surround the naked former slaves with their guns pointed at them. Tyler looks around at the slaves on the plantation. They all look broken. One slave is missing a hand. Most have bruises or welt marks on their bodies.
“Let me be the first to give you a tour of the plantation” the head guard says while looking at Tyler. He attaches a leash to Tylers collar. The guard looks at the other slaves stood next to Tyler and a look of recognition appears on his face.
“The other slaves from the Civic experiment, oh the joy feels like I’m meeting celebrities. Thank you for all your help in changing the world. The slaves of the Civic Experiment will crawl. The rest of you slaves can walk” The guard says.
The other guards attach leashes to Kyle, Brandon, Robin and Anton and start to walk them through the plantation. Crawling barley hurts any of them as their knees are so used to crawling on rough surfaces.
They are brought to a barn and the doors opened. Inside there is a bunch of animals lying on the ground. Tyler looks closely at them. They look human, like they have been transformed into pigs. The animals grunt when they see the guards and naked men.
“These animals were all transformed. Owen and Hayden like to show what they can do with their tech. They were all once so proud” the guard boasts.
“What did these filths do to deserve this?” Corey asks. The guard bursts out laughing.
“That’s the special thing about these. Which really shows our power. These aren’t members of the civil war. They aren’t slaves who committed crimes. These are slaves who Owen decided to enslave just for fun. He transforms them into slaves when he is bored to keep them silent” he says.
Corey laughs. “Owen and Hayden are strong men” he says. The guard nods his agreement and closes the barn door. “One more place to show you before we take you to processing”
The guard leads them through the plantation. More slaves can be seen. They are all naked and collared. They all lack any sort of life. But as they notice Tyler, Anton, Brandon and Kyle a flicker of light comes across their faces.
The slaves are all toiling the grounds doing manual labour. Work that could be done so much easier with machinery. Tyler looks up at one of the slaves and gives him a subtle smile. The slaves face ignores the smile but his eyes welcome it.
The guard leads all the former slaves to the centre of the plantation. He calls for all the slaves to gather around in a circle. Slaves seem to come out of nowhere. Tyler is dragged to his feet. He looks around, from his best bet there must be at least three hundred naked slaves in front of him.
“This is Tyler, the first official scum, you have all hoped I know. I can smell it, prayed that one day he would come to your rescue. But look at him now, look at your saviour. Naked collared and in the same hell hole as you” the guard says smiling. The guard looks at Tyler. “Lick my boots”.
Tyler looks up at him. The entire area is silent. He starts to crawl towards. The guard. The head guard looks down at him with a satisfied look on his face. Tyler looks up at guard and then down to his boots. “No, I will not submit, not to you, not to anyone, ever again”
Toni, Finn and three others of the freed slaves are stood behind the guards. They have their weapons aimed at them. Tyler stands. The ten guards all draw their weapons as tension fills the area once more. The head guard begins to laugh.
“Your weapons won’t work here, all powered weapons except ours get deactivated beyond the gate” as he is speaking, he is interrupted by the plantation slaves who rush the guards. They are swarmed and dragged to the ground.
The slaves start to punch and kick and claw at the guard’s clothes. Before long they are disarmed and naked. Their clothes ripped to shreds. The tension seems to lift in the air as they all look down at the former guards. Tyler steps forward.
“You, all of you, us, we have suffered more in the last few years than any man has deserved to suffer in a life time. That guard described me earlier as your secret saviour. As someone you have prayed for.
I don’t know about that. What I do know is that we need change and by circumstance I am one of few people to be able to do that. Now I’m asking you, and I know it’s a big ask. But to follow me. To help me try and return the world to normal. To bring back decency towards our fellow man.
We came here to free you but also to build an army. To fortify, look around at this place, this place is fortified its safe. This can be our camp, our base. And I understand some of you may not want to fight. I can see from some of your wounds that you might not be able to.
If anyone wants to leave they can. If anyone wants to stay and not fight you can. But for those who wants to change the world. To bring it back to what it was please join us. The enslavers will put up a fight, and we will beat them down.
We will take back everything they took from us. Every whipping, every indignity, every shameful act. We will make them pay. Hayden and Owen will get what’s coming to them as will Dr Sampson. I will personally deal with Zac. Does anyone want to help, help our cause”
The crowd of slaves start to cheer. Some have missing limbs almost all are mutilated in some manner. An old man missing arm steps forward. He nods at Tyler. The crowd goes quiet and Tyler looks around. Then another slave nods and another. The crowd starts to chant Tylers name.
Corey steps forward. “We didn’t just come here to free these slaves or build an army, we came here to free a slave from his torment. The slave that freed my friends. We need to find him” The old man with the missing arm looked down at his feet and then motioned for Tyler and Corey to follow.
Tyler follows the man down through a beaten track through the trees. He starts to notice two torches burning. There is an odd shape in the middle hanging from a cross. All the other slaves are following close behind.
Tyler can notice the tension in the air, it’s not fear, it not enjoyment. Tyler can sense sorrow. The freed slaves from the compound and walk towards the cross. They block Tylers eyesight, Tyler brushes past them to take in what is on the cross.
Crucified to the cross is a slave, a man. Tyler looks at his face, his tongue is gone and his cheeks slit, his legs have been cut off from the knees down. His hands are gone. The slave’s head is dropped down. He is still alive just broken. Tyler looks to the sign beside the slave.
Feed the betrayer your piss and leftovers, help heal its wounds. If it dies one of you will be next. By Orders of Master Hayden and Master Owen
Felix
It’s been two days since the gates of the Kingdom have sealed shoot. All communication with the outside world is blocked. Tanner and his men have tried everything to exit the Kingdom but have been unsuccessful.
The door to the dungeon that Felix has spent that last two days opens and Tanner walks in. Felix is naked tied to an x cross. His arms and legs spread outward. He is starving he hasn’t eaten in two days.
As Felix hangs limp, exhausted and sore, his muscles screaming in protest. He knows why Tanner's here, and he'll never give him the satisfaction. The code is the only leverage he has left. He tilts his chin defiantly, despite the ache in his neck, and glares at Tanner through bloodshot eyes.
“I don’t understand what is the point of keeping us here. You spent years trying to keep us out” Tanner asks genuinely confused.
“Divide and conquer Tanner. There is a rebellion coming and the majority of your army is here. When the fighting starts the slaves will outnumber the remaining army. Then they will come looking for you might not want to leave soon. This might end up being your last place of safety”.
Tanner listens to Felix and starts to laugh. “You think those pathetic dogs will have a chance against a quarter of our army. We are going to get out and we are going to hunt down all those freed slaves and I will personally deal with that bastard Tyler. Now, tell me the code” Tanner orders.
"Not. A. Chance." Felix hisses, his voice raw. He spits at Tanner's feet, a tiny act of defiance. "You'll have to break me first. And even then...I won't tell."
He braces himself, ready for whatever torture Tanner might inflict. If this is what it takes to protect his kingdom, he'll endure. He's endured worse, after all. And he won't betray his people.
"I think you will tell me" Tanner says as he grabs Felix's balls and squeezes them hard.
Felix chokes on a scream, his entire body tensing against the cross. His eyes widen, face contorting in anguish. The pain is excruciating, radiating outward from Tanner's grip like a dark, suffocating cloud. He tries to pull away, but the ropes binding him to the cross hold tight.
His jaw clenches, teeth grinding together. He refuses to beg, refuses to yield. Yet. "N-never," he grinds out, voice cracking. He can't give in, no matter what. He thinks of his father, his kingdom, his people. They need him strong.
Tanner releases the pressure just enough to not cause permanent damage, but keeps a firm hold. "Last chance, tell me the code or I will make it worse." He warns, a cruel smirk twisting his lips.
Felix's vision blurs, his eyes watering from the sheer intensity of the pain. He's trembling, sweat dripping down his face, but his resolve remains unbroken. He swallows hard, his throat dry, and shakes his head mutinously.
"I'll...never...tell." He stammers, each word a struggle. His fingers dig into his palms, nails biting into flesh. He'd rather die than betray his kingdom. He meets Tanner's smirk with a fierce gaze, his eyes flashing with defiance. “I won't break. I won't.”
Tanner takes a needle out from his pocket. "I'm just going to use the drug that makes all men obedient, I haven’t time to torture it out of you" Tanner injects the needle into Felix's neck and steps back.
"What’s the code to the gate? Tell me." Felix starts laughing. "No, I knew you would eventually resort to the drug. I created it so I created an antidote. Your drugs won't work on me" Felix says laughing again.
Tanner's expression darkens, his grip tightening on the empty syringe. "You...what? You created an antidote?" Felix laughs again, a wild, triumphant sound, despite the lingering ache from the injection site. "Of course. I'm not stupid, Tanner. Did you really think I wouldn't prepare?"
He leans his head back, still chuckling, feeling a strange sense of liberation. He'd been prepared for the possibility of capture, for the risk of being drugged. And now, watching Tanner's confidence crumble, he feels empowered.
"You see, Tanner, I always knew you'd try something like this. And now, you're stuck. With nothing." Tanner shakes his head. "You think you've won? You're still chained up here!" Tanner hisses, grabbing the whip hanging on the wall. "I'm going to make you beg, you arrogant piece of shit.”
Felix's smirk falters, his heart racing despite his bravado. The whip is a stark reminder of his vulnerable position. But he refuses to back down, even as fear whispers in his ear.
"I may be chained, but my mind is free. You can't take that from me, Tanner." He straightens his spine, staring down the whip. "Beat me all you like. I'll never beg for anything from you, especially not the freedom of my kingdom."
His eyes narrow, burning with determination. He'll take whatever punishment Tanner dishes out, silently, proudly. Anything to protect his people. He won't let Tanner see him break, no matter how much it hurts.
"Let's see how long you can keep that up," Tanner lashes the whip across Felix's chest. Felix grits his teeth, bracing himself against the stinging agony. The whip cracks against his skin like lightning, sending shockwaves of pain radiating outward.
His breath hitches, his body instinctively straining against the cross, but he refuses to cry out. Instead, he closes his eyes, focusing on the sensation of the wounds, counting the seconds until the next strike. One. Two. Breathe.
He won't give Tanner the satisfaction. He won't give in. Not yet. Not ever. 4 more lashes later, Felix gasps for air, the wounds from the whip bleeding profusely. He remains silent, determined not to crumble under Tanner's torture.
Blood trickles down his torso, mingling with his sweat. Every muscle tremble, shaking beneath the weight of the torment. But Felix clings to his stubbornness, his pride battered yet unbroken. He's trembling, panting, his lips pressed tight together, refusing to give Tanner any satisfaction.
He's convinced himself that he'll survive this, that he'll endure. That somehow, someway, he'll find a way to escape, to free himself, and reclaim his kingdom. The pain is real, but so is his conviction. He won't yield, won't surrender. Not even when his body is screaming, pleading for mercy.
Tanner puts the whip on the table he picks up two heavy metal balls connected by a chain, he wraps the chain around Felix's balls and drops the weight. They are swinging back and forth, supported by Felixs balls. Tanner takes a chair and sits a foot away from Felix and watches him.
Felix inhales sharply, his entire body tensing. The weight of the metal balls is crushing, each swing sending ripples of excruciating pain through his abdomen. His vision blurs, his body betraying him with involuntary twitches.
He grips the wooden beams of the cross, knuckles white, as if holding onto something solid might anchor him against the turmoil. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he forces them back, glaring at Tanner through sheer force of will.
Tanner's calm, calculating gaze only fuels Felix's anger. He wants to lash out, to scream, to curse, but he knows better. Instead, he focuses on breathing, shallowly, carefully, trying to ignore the rhythmic torment.
Every sway of the weights seems designed to shatter him, to reduce him to a whimpering mess. But Felix won't let it happen. Not yet. He won't give Tanner the satisfaction of watching him break.
"Rob escaped, I don't like slaves escaping tell me where he is, he must be somewhere in the Kingdom" Tanner orders. Felix finds a glimmer of hope amidst the torment. Rob's escape gives him reason to cling to his silence, even as the weights continue to torment him.
A low, strangled laugh escapes him, laced with irony. "Rob... escaped?" He shakes his head, wincing as the movement causes the weights to shift. "Id... tell you... to torture me... till Judgment Day... before revealing... a damned thing."
His voice cracks, but his resolve hardens. He won't compromise his people, his kingdom, or Rob's freedom. Not even under this unbearable torture. Felix presses his lips together, sealing his lips tighter than the chains binding him.
"You are a tough one" Tanner grins, picking up the whip again, he moves behind Felix. "Let's see how tough you are after this." Tanner brings the whip down on Felix's ass. Felix steels himself, anticipating the blow. He knows what's coming, and still, it's like being punched in the gut.
The whip bites deep, fire spreading across his skin like wildfire. He clamps his jaw shut so hard he's surprised his teeth don't shatter. A strangled noise escapes him, half-growl, half-sob, but he won't—he won't give Tanner what he wants.
His fingers dig into the wood, splinters embedding themselves under his nails. His knees buckle, but the ropes hold him upright. He's hyperventilating, his entire world reduced to the agony radiating from his rear. But even as his body screams, his spirit remains defiant.
I won't break. I won't... I won't... 10 lashes more, Tanner discards the whip, leaving Felix bleeding and gasping, tears streaming down his face. Despite his agony, he still refuses to crack.
Felix hangs limply, his body bruised, battered, and shuddering. Tears streak his face, but they're silent, angry tears. Tears of frustration, of impotence, of rage. He won't sob, won't beg. He won't give Tanner the pleasure of hearing him break.
His breaths come in ragged gasps, his throat raw from suppressed cries. Every fibre of his being screams in protest, but his mind clings to the one thing he has left: his pride.
He lifts his head, slowly, deliberately, his eyes blazing with a fierce determination. Blood drips from his lips, mixing with his tears. He spits again at Tanners feet., his spit weak, but his spirit unyielding. Tanner looks pissed as the spit lands in front of him.
"You'll...never...win." He whispers, barely audible, yet unmistakable. His defiance is a flame that refuses to flicker out, no matter how much fuel Tanner throws onto it.
"You know, Princey, I could do this all day," Tanner taunts as he reaches for a pair of rusty pliers. "But I suppose we should move onto something a little more...creative.”
Felix's heart drops like a stone, dread curling in his stomach. He swallows hard, trying to push past the creeping terror. The pliers look vicious, menacing, and he knows exactly what they're meant for.
"You're bluffing," he whispers, his voice barely holding steady. He's desperate to believe it, desperate to cling to any shred of hope. But deep down, he knows Tanner isn't bluffing.
Felix's chest heaves, adrenaline coursing through him. He's trapped, helpless, and at Tanner's mercy. He squeezes his eyes shut, bracing himself for whatever horror comes next. Tanner puts the pliers on the table.
"They are for another day. I just want you to see them, know what’s coming, live in fear."
He unties Felix from the cross and he slumps to the ground. He lifts Felix's naked body and takes him to a pillory in the middle of the room. He puts his hands and head into it and closes. Felix is bent over his ass sticking out in the air. The weights still hang from his balls.
Felix groans, his exhausted body barely responding as Tanner manhandles him. The pillory's wooden beams creak, trapping him in place. The weights continue their merciless sway, tormenting him without respite.
He's exposed, vulnerable, and utterly humiliated. His breathing is ragged, his mind reeling from the constant barrage of pain. Tanner's tactic is clear break him through psychological terror rather than physical brutality alone. He's forcing Felix to anticipate, to imagine, to dread.
Felix feels cold, exposed sweat trickling down his back. His thoughts are a jumble of fear, anger, and humiliation. He squeezes his fingers tightly around the pillory's edges, his knuckles white. His pride still burns, but it's being slowly suffocated by the crushing weight of his situation.
"I'm going to give you time to think. I will be back tomorrow. I figured while you wait for me to return you can entertain my friends. A whole night of being fucked relentlessly. That should give you time to think.
Since you helped their slave escape again, I think the first two should be Joe and Pat. You owe them." Tanner bangs the door and Joe and Pat, walk in a wicked grin on their faces. The look at Felix with hatred.
The words strike fear deep into Felix's core. A whole night of... no. No, no, no. He shakes his head violently, his pulse racing, but there's no escape. He's trapped, powerless, and at the mercy of these monsters.
Their names alone send shivers down his spine. He remembers the way they sneered at him during his rare visits to the dungeons, the way they treated the Robs... He knows exactly what they're capable of.
Felix tries to speak, to plead, to threaten, but his voice cracks under the strain. His throat closes up, choking him. All he can manage is a faint whimper, a pathetic sound that only spurs on his tormentors.
"Since you don't want to speak, we will attach this" Tanner says putting an O gag into Felixs mouth and attaching the straps behind his head. It doesn't take long before Felix begins to drool.
"This will also keep your mouth open so both your holes can be used at once." Tanner takes a step back and looks at Joe and Pat. "Enjoy boys" he says before leaving the dungeon.
Felix chokes back a sob, his face burning with shame. The metal bit forces his mouth wide open, rendering him incapable of speech. Drool starts to drip down his chin, dripping onto the wooden frame of the pillory. Every muscle in his body tenses, shame warring with desperation.
He watches, frozen, as Tanner departs, abandoning him to the mercy of Joe and Pat. Their grins spread wider, like wolves sensing prey. In this moment, he feels utterly broken, stripped of his dignity and power. The weight of his predicament crashes down upon him, suffocating him.
He shakes his head frantically, but it's useless. The gag holds fast, mocking him. His cries are muffled, pitiful sounds that only seem to egg them on. Pat moves behind Felix and moves towards his ass lowering his shorts. Joe walks over to Felixs drooling open mouth.
Fear paralyzes him, rendering him helpless against the impending violation. His eyes dart between Joe and Pat, wide with horror. He tries to squirm, to twist away, but the pillory holds him firmly in place. The drool continues to slide down his chin, humiliating him further.
Felix's stomach churns, threatening to empty its contents. His breaths come short and fast, panic setting in. There's nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He's completely at their mercy.
Pat roughly shoves his cock into Felix's ass, causing him to shout behind his gag. Joe follows suit, forcing his cock into Felix's mouth. They begin to pound without hesitation.
Pain rips through Felix, radiating from his ass, as Pat forces himself inside. The gag muffles his scream, turning it into a strangled, helpless noise. Before he can fully process the agony, Joe thrusts forward, claiming his mouth.
The dual invasion is too much, overwhelming his senses. His body convulses, struggling against the restraints, but it's futile. Tears stream down his face, mixing with the drool that continues to flow. He gags, struggling to breathe, his throat protesting the rough treatment.
His mind reels, consumed by shame, disgust, and despair. He's never felt so violated, so utterly defeated. Each brutal thrust steals a piece of his dignity, leaving him shattered. All he can think is, I hope this will be worth it.
Zac
It’s the day of the 3rd annual slave games. The first of which was broad cast to investors during the civic experiment. 16 slaves will compete but only one will win. This is the first time in its history that the winner will receive a pardon and release from his slavery.
There are 75,000 people packed into the old football stadium. Most in the audience are free men, some have their naked slaves with them. They fetch them drinks during the games and act as urinal. There are a lot of free men with no slaves who are waiting patiently for the games to begin.
Owen invited Zac who felt he had to agree. He still isn’t pleased with what happened to Troye but he must not show any signs. He feels if Owen knew of him and Troyes relationship it throws his loyalties into question.
"Let the games begin" Owen says, the crowd starts cheering wildly. Zac remembers the first slave games and all the humiliating events as he looks down at the 16 naked slaves, his attention is drawn as Owen starts to announce the first game
His eyes narrow he recognizes three of them. Jordan, Max... and Troye. He shakes his head slightly, a flicker of something like concern crossing his face Owen's gonna drag this out, make it hurt. He glances at Hayden, who's grinning like a maniac
You'd think they'd get tired of this sick stuff. He rolls his eyes, but doesn't look away. Owen laughs and raises a hand, the slaves flinch as he calls out, "The first game will be... tag. However, this isn't an ordinary game of tag." He grins wickedly.
Zac watches as sixteen slave handlers walk onto the field. "The catch? One tag, and the tagger has to brand the slave with a hot iron. When 8 of you scum is tagged the round is over and you are eliminated" Owen's announces his laugh echoes around the arena.
Is Owen making a point by inviting him. Jordan his friend, Max the slave he traded Tyler for and Troye his lover. This can’t be a coincidence. This must be by design. Zac feels emotions for all three in very different ways.
The slaves look terrified, shifting uncomfortably on their feet as the anxious energy in the arena builds up. "3...2...1...BEGIN!" Owen shouts. The slave handlers are handed hot Irons by naked slaves who quickly run off the field.
Zac watches, frozen, as the slaves scramble to get away, desperate to avoid being branded. He's gripped by a mix of horror and morbid curiosity Come on, come on... his knuckles whiten, gripping his seat. Come on Troye you are fast, run.
The 16 slave handlers chase the naked slaves wielding hot Irons with the letter O for Owen burning red, they seem to be aiming for the slave’s asses as they chase them, when 8 slaves are branded, the round will end Zac remembers. Jordan, Max and Troye have a chance.
He watches, transfixed, as the slaves scream and dodge the burning irons. His stomach churns, but he can't look. He grips the edge of his seat, his nails digging in And Owen's just sitting there, enjoying the show. He glances at Hayden, who's cheering wildly God, what's wrong with these people?
2 slaves are branded already, the rest of the slaves are trying their best to avoid being caught, the sound of their screams pierces the air. Owen keeps on encouraging the chase, his twisted grin never leaving his face.
Troye narrowly avoids thrust aimed at his balls. 4 more slaves are branded, their skin now marked with a red O, some of them are visibly limping as they try to leave the field. Owen starts to slow down his shouting, seeming to enjoy watching their agony.
Another slave gets branded the mark landing on his left butt cheek. His gaze flicks back to Owen, pure disgust etched on his face He's getting off on this. His hands curl into tight fists again, but he doesn't say anything, biting his tongue.
The 8th slave gets branded and falls to his knees, Zac glances around and notices Max, Jordan and Troye are still in the game, he's not sure ff that is wise, the 8 branded slaves are dragged away from the games, most have had their asses branded, one has the branding on his leg.
Zac breathes a sigh of relief, a mix of sadness and relief, as the branded slaves are dragged away. He swallows hard, knowing that every round, the stakes will only get higher. The longer they last, the more they'll suffer. But the greater chance Troye has of freedom.
Owen stands up "Time for round 2" he says with a wicked grin on his face. "This round, it's a bit different." Owen says, waving his hand, a helicopter with the American flag painted on it flies to the centre of the field. Carrying a large container of water.
As Zac looks closer, he notices the container is not filled with water but filled with piss. There are eight taps evenly spaced, the slave police roll tables filled with glasses in front of each one and guides the eight remaining naked slaves in front of each tap.
There are four empty pint glasses. Owen starts to speak again. "This game is all about speed, each slave must fill their four glasses with the piss and drink all 4 pints. The four slowest slaves to finish will be eliminated. Slaves ready, steady go" He roars.
The eight slaves fill their glasses quickly and start to drink, each knowing the winner of the games will gain their freedom. Owen and Hayden watch on gleefully as the slaves start drinking. Zacs eyes are locked onto Troye who looks hesitant.
Zac watches the slaves down the piss, his face twisted in a mixture of revulsion and pity They're so desperate, they'll do anything. Each slave seems so used to this task. There is no delay not even from Troye who seems to be growing into the games.
It’s a close race and all 8 slaves finish the pints of piss, Jordan has been eliminated leaving two slaves Zac doesn’t recognise and Troye and Max remaining, each now have a one in 4 chance of being freed.
He starts to feel hopeful for Troye. He would even be happy if Max won. Neither of them deserves this. Tyler never deserved it. He pushes that thought from his head. Zac looks to Owen waiting for him to reveal the third event, no doubt it will be humiliating and degrading.
Max seems unfazed, Troye looks terrified as Owen starts to announce the third round. His heart drops, sensing Troye's fear. He's seen how cruel Owen can be, especially towards Kyle and Brandon. Troye's...not doing well. Concentrate Troye, two more rounds.
Four old men walk out into the field, the slaves are lowered to their knees in front of them, the men pull their dicks out of their pants. "The first two to make the gentleman in front of you to cum will make the final round and be in with a chance of freedom, it’s another race" Owen declares
Max and the two other slaves start to work hard, the crowd cheering them on as Troye hesitates for a moment before succumbing to the desperation, Max seems to be the frontrunner. Zac watches on nervously as Troye begins to move faster.
He watches as all four old men seem to be getting closer. He is willing Max and Troye on. If they are both in the final then he will be happy with winner. A red headed slave seems to be making his master moan the loudest. Zac can’t tell who is closest among the men. Then.
A groan cuts through the noise and the old man spills his load in Troye's mouth. The crowd goes wild, a smile comes across Zac’s face which he tries to hide. He concentrates on Max trying not to show any emotion that Owen or Hayden might pick up on.
Max is getting his partner very close, as he thinks he is about to be the second into the final the slave beside him makes his master cum, the slave is a big muscular tall man, he stands up and raises his hand, there is now only Troye and the tall slave left in the final round.
Owen signals the final round, Troye seems drained, physically and emotionally. He looks over at Max who has a grim expression on his face, he nods at Troye, silently cheering him on. One more round Troye you win it and I’m taking the two of us far away from here.
Owen stands again his demeanour turns serious. He looks at Troye hatred in his eyes. "The final round what should it be" he scratches his head and then a smile comes across his face. "I know a fight to the death" the crowd goes silent. Troyes face turns pale.
Zac looks at Troyes skinny frame and then at his contestant who must be 6ft 5 and full of muscle. The two slaves look at each other stood naked on the sandy ground. Max starts to scream ‘no’ but is escorted away by the slave the police.
Troye looks terrified and the tall slave has a wide grin on his face. Time seems to slow. A fight to the death? No, no, no... this can't be real. Not like this. Not Troye. Fear grips him, paralyzing him. He wants to shout, to scream, to run out there and shield Troye with his own body.
But he's powerless. He can't bear to look, yet he can't tear his eyes away. The difference in size alone...it's almost certain Troye won't survive. He's going to watch him die. A choked noise escapes his lips, a pathetic, helpless sound.
The slave throws the first punch, Troye manages to dodge and returns with a gutsy kick, landing a hit against the muscular slave's ribs. The crowd erupts into a frenzy of cheers. A flicker of hope, impossible and fragile, flares within him Did...did he just...?
He leans forward, his entire body tensed. The crowd doesn't understand Troye shouldn't be able to do that. He shouldn't be able to land a hit. But...he did. Oh, God. Please, let him win. Please. Owen's face is dark, furious. He didn't expect Troye to fight back. Didn't expect him to have any fight left.
The crowd's support fuels Troye, he dodges another attack and lands another painful kick to the ribs, his opponent starts to slow. The slave stands shaking, clearly feeling the impact of the kicks. The crowd's roar is deafening. Zac's fists clench, his heart pounding wildly.
This...this might actually happen. Troye might actually win. The slave's slowing. It's actually working. He's not giving up. He's fighting back. Zac's smiling now, a desperate, shaky smile. He's rooting for Troye with every fibre of his being.
He's willing him to survive, to win. "Come on, Troye," he whispers, his voice barely audible, over the roaring crowd. "You've got this. You're so close." In a last-ditch effort, the tall slave tackles Troye hard and pins him down, both slaves are breathing heavily.
Troye's face contorted with pain but also determination. The crowd is frozen in anticipation. Get up, Troye. He pleads silently, incapable of making a sound You're not done yet. You can't give up now. His mind racing, willing Troye to find some hidden strength
Time seems to stand still as Troye's gaze meets the slaves, only one will survive, the slave's eyes are wild, he raises his fist. Every muscle in his body is rigid, every thought consumed by Troye's fate. His eyes lock onto the scene, frozen, as if time really has stopped.
He can't even blink, dread and anticipation swirling together in a toxic mix. The air feels thick, heavy, and suffocating. The silence is crushing, punctuated only by his ragged breathing. He's begging, silently, desperately, for Troye to survive.
With a powerful swing, the slave's fist connects with Troye's face, the crowd gasps and then erupts into applause. Troye is unconscious, blood trickling from his nose and mouth. A strangled cry tears from Zac's throat, shock and grief rendering him speechless.
His hands fly up to cover his mouth, as if he could somehow muffle his own anguish. His eyes prickle with hot tears, his chest aching like someone’s stomped on it. ...No...no, no, no. He whispers, his mind reeling. It can't end like this. Not like this.
He feels like he's drowning, suffocating under the weight of Owen and Hayden’s clapping. He wants to scream, to shout, to tell them all to shut up, that they're monsters, monsters for enjoying this. But it’s useless. Nothing he says will change anything.
The tall muscular slave raises his hand and the crowd starts to clap slightly "It’s not over yet, it’s a fight to the death if you want your freedom, you have to finish this." Owen screams at the naked slave. The tall slaves head drops as he looks down at the helpless Troye.
Max and Jordan push forward but are tackled by five slave police. The branded slaves are watching on. Max swings an elbow and knock an officer to the ground. More slave officers arrive and surround them. Zacs head drops and he looks back to Troye.
No. No, please, no, no, no. That's...that's not how it's supposed to work. He's unconscious. He's already been through enough. That's...it's over. It's supposed to be over. He feels like he's drowning, suffocating under the sheer cruelty of it all.
The crowd's clapping, but it sounds distant, hollow. Like a death knell. Oh, Troye, wake up. Wake up, damn it. Please. The slave slowly looks down at Troye's unmoving body, his expression hard and cold, before raising his foot, preparing to crush Troye's skull underfoot.
Zac's breath hitches, his vision blurring. He can't… he can’t bear to watch. He’s numb, paralyzed by the horror unfolding before him. He can’t breathe. He can’t think. The slave brings his foot down on Troye, Zac looks away just as the impact happens, he looks at Owen and Hayden who are laughing.
He turns away, stomach churning. He's going to be sick. He's going to vomit. He can't believe it. Laughter. They're laughing. They're actually laughing. His hands clench into fists again, shaking violently. He's shaking with rage, with grief, with disgust.
He wants to slap that smirk right off Owen's face. He wants to scream until his voice cracks. But. He can't move. He's stuck. The slave police standing around Max and Jordan step away. Zac just watches on as if in a daze.
Max and Jordan run onto the field and start shaking Troyes limp body, Max is crying as he looks down at Troye. The crowd starts to boo loudly. Plastic cups with beer and other objects are thrown at Owen, Hayden and Zac as the angry crowd boo at what they just watched.
Beer splashes across his face, but he barely registers it. His eyes are glued to Max and Jordan, their anguish echoing his own. The boos and shouts wash over him, but they're distant, irrelevant. That could've been stopped. It should've been stopped.
Owen...Owen did this. He did this, and he's smiling. Zac's anger flares, burning away everything else. His gaze locks onto Owen, burning holes through him. He wants to make him hurt. He wants to make him feel a fraction of the pain that Troye's suffered.
He stands, his movements jerky, his voice low and deadly. "...You bastard." He spits the words out, but they're lost in the cacophony. As he stands the cups of beer and coins are aimed at him. A small rock hits his left shoulder.
Zac can't understand why the crowd are angry at him, some of Owens guards come in shielding them from the cups, they grab Owen, Hayden and Zac up by the arm and start to usher them out of the stadium. In the centre of the field, Troye is wrapped in Maxs arms as Jordan looks down at them
They're angry at me? But...why? I didn't...I didn't do anything. I just...watched. Like they did. Like Owen did. Like everyone did. He's stunned, confused, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He's not responsible. He's not the monster here. He's not...he didn't...
He stumbles forward, half-dragged by the guards, his eyes fixed on the scene behind. On Max, holding Troye. Holding him like… God. He can't even finish the thought. He swallows hard, fighting to keep himself together.
