4. Below Decks – Fun and Games
The next day Chad is scrubbing the deck, the sun beaming down on his naked back, he notices a shadow engulf him, he looks up to see Clyde and the eight frat boys, as he looks at Clyde piss splashes his face.
All eight frat boys are pissing on him, as they finish, they walk away, Clyde shouts as he walks away, "We are getting breakfast on deck, Goodluck cleaning that up" the other seven frat boys burst out laughing.
He flinches, grimacing as the warm, stinking liquid hits his skin. They're doing this on purpose. They're making sure he never forgets his place, never forgets that he's a slave, a piece of trash beneath their feet.
He wipes his face, but it's useless. The urine keeps flowing, drenching him, mixing with the saltwater and sweat on his skin. He's soaked, humiliated, furious. He wants to scream, to fight, to run, but there's nowhere to go.
Breakfast on deck. Of course. Because why wouldn't they rub it in even further? He swallows hard, his jaw clenched tight. It's all he can do to keep himself from completely breaking.
Chad watches the frat guys walk away, he walks and gets the mop as Captain Lee walks out "Who made this mess" he asks, clearly wanting to humiliate Chad further for the cameras. Captain Lee's stern expression makes Chad freeze.
He knows. He knows, and he's going to make it worse. He can feel it. He hesitates, his grip tightening on the mop handle. His eyes drop, avoiding the captain's gaze. “Me, Captain Lee... I...it was me, sir.” He forces out, his voice barely above a whisper.
He can sense the cameras, the anticipation. The captain wouldn't ask if he didn't already know. This is just another way to humiliate him, another opportunity to put him in his place, on live television.
"Hmm, I don't know Chad. Looks like a lot of piss. Seems like you enjoyed it a bit too much, didn't you?" Captain Lee laughs.
“Enjoyed it?” His voice cracks, humiliation burning his cheeks. “Enjoyed...that? No! No way!” He shakes his head violently, backing away slightly, like he can physically distance himself from the accusation.
“Captain, I swear, it wasn't like that! They—those guys—they did it on purpose!” He clenches his fists, feeling cornered. He knows denying it won't make a difference. They'll twist his words, edit the footage, make him look guilty.
"You know the rules Chad, we don't allow messes on my boat. You better clean every last drop before I make up a special rule for you to follow" Captain Lee threatens, glaring. Chad's heart sinks. Special rule?
He doesn't even want to imagine what that could entail. He swallows hard, feeling trapped. “Yes, Captain Lee.” He nods, reluctantly, his shoulders slumping. He knows what's expected. He has no choice. He begins to clean, his movements stiff and slow.
Every swipe of the mop feels like surrender, feels like he's losing himself bit by bit. He glances up, hoping against hope that Captain Lee might show some mercy, but his face remains hard, unforgiving. The camera lenses seem to bore into his skin, capturing every humiliating second.
It takes Chad two hours to mop up all the piss and clean the deck. The frat boys return, Clyde has a sinister look on his face. "Time for today’s activities, and they are going to be humiliating" Clyde says while looking at Chad.
Chad's anxiety spikes again, his stomach twisting painfully. He tries to prepare himself, steeling himself for whatever cruel scheme Clyde has come up with. He can’t let them see him break, not yet. He won’t give them that satisfaction.
But God, it’s getting harder. Every day, something new, something worse. When will it end? He stands tall, trying to appear braver than he feels, bracing himself for whatever's coming next. His eyes lock onto Clyde, narrowing slightly. He won't back down, not completely, even if he's terrified.
Clyde drags Chad to the front of the ship, the other slaves are tied, sitting on the ground, their legs spread by ropes, Clyde, pushes Chad into the middle of them, he ties his hands above his head, he then spreads his feet and ties them so his legs are spread open.
There is a line of six slaves, with their legs spread wide apart, their dicks and balls exposed on the deck. Clyde, opens a bag with a lot of American footballs inside. " Okay, guys, the first to hit all six slaves in the balls, win" Clyde says laughing.
The eight frat guys line up six metres away, balls in handy, read to take aim. Chad's eyes go wide as he's bound and displayed like an object, his most private areas exposed to the group. He tugs futilely at the ropes, panic rising. No... this can't be happening.
He glances frantically at the other slaves, seeing the same dread reflected back. They're going to...they're going to...
A strangled sound escapes him as the reality sets in. He shakes his head wildly, pleading wordlessly. His legs shake, held apart by the ropes, leaving him helpless and vulnerable. He squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for the inevitable pain, his body tensing in anticipation.
As everyone gets ready, Chad hears the frat boys counting down. "3...2...1!" one of them shouts. A football flies through the air straight at Chad's balls. The ball flies toward him in slow motion, his breath caught in his throat.
Time seems to stretch out, giving him a sickening sense of inevitability. He's paralyzed, unable to even flinch. Then, impact. Pain explodes in his groin, forcing a raw, guttural cry from his lips. He doubles over as much as the ropes allow, his entire body convulsing.
Tears spring to his eyes, blurring his vision. He gasps, trying to catch his breath, but it feels like someone punched him in the chest. His balls ache, throbbing with the force of the hit. He can't breathe. He can't think. All he can do is suffer.
The frat boys erupt in wild laughter, cheering as Chad is writhing on the ground. Clyde walks over and nudges Chad with his shoe "What a shot, eh?”
He curls inward, curling his arms inward as much as possible, trying to protect himself. He can't believe this is his life now. He's being tormented, brutalized, and they're all just laughing at him. Like he's some kind of animal, a plaything.
He grits his teeth, his face contorted in agony. The laughter echoes in his ears, mocking him, fuelling his anger. He wants to scream at them, to tell them to go to hell, but he can't. He can barely breathe. He manages a weak, anguished whimper, almost a whine. It's humiliating, pathetic.
He hates himself for it. "P... please..." He knows he will receive no sympathy. "Aww, the poor baby can't take it." One of the frat guys mocks, stepping closer and grabbing Chad's hair roughly.
He flinches violently, flinching away from the touch. His hair is gripped tightly, sending a sharp spike of pain through his scalp. He's trembling, his face burning. He's so ashamed, so furious, so trapped.
“S-shut up!” His voice cracks. His pride is shattered, and he knows it. He's being torn apart, piece by piece, and there's nothing he can do about it. He's completely at their mercy, completely powerless.
Clyde looks down at Chad, a wicked gleam in his eye. "Hey guys, looks like Chad here lost his fighting spirit. Should we...reawaken it?" He asks his friends with a devilish grin.
Chad's heart drops, his mind racing. What does that even mean? Reawaken his fighting spirit? It sounds like a threat, a warning. And coming from Clyde, it probably is. “N-no... please...” The six slaves, including Chad are pushed on to their backs.
Six of the frat guys pick up newspapers, left by the breakfast table, The walk over to the slaves, Clyde stands over Chad, “time for our rim jobs,” Clyde says as he drops his shorts, he lowers down on to Chads face, his ass pressing down on his nose and mouth.
"Lick" Clyde says as he opens the newspaper, the other frat boys do the same.
Chad's world narrows down to sheer desperation. He shakes his head frantically, trying to resist, but it's useless. Clyde settles onto his face, suffocating him. The stench of yesterday's grease and grime fills his nostrils, making him gag.
No...nononono... He tries to turn away, but Clyde shifts, keeping him pinned. He can feel the weight, the heat, everything about this situation is degrading.
He squeezes his eyes shut, tears leaking out. He can't believe his life has come to this. Slowly, reluctantly, he sticks out his tongue, hating himself more with each passing second.
As Chad licks, Clyde moans and rocks on Chads face, while reading his newspaper like nothing is happening. The other slaves do the same, forced to service the frat guys.
Bile rises in his throat as he's reduced to nothing more than an object for their amusement. He continues licking mechanically, his mind numb, disconnected from his body. Anything to make it stop, to survive this torment.
But it won't stop. He knows it won't. Not until they're done with him, until they've used him up and tossed him aside like trash. He's just a plaything, a toy to be played with and humiliated.
He focuses on the sound of the waves crashing against the hull, trying to block out Clyde's satisfied grunts, the cruel chuckles of the others. Anything to escape, even if only mentally.
Suddenly Clyde pulls up and steps off, looking down at Chad, his cock dripping with cum. "Now that's how you motivate a slave. Chad gasps, sputtering, his face wet, sticky, and burning. He's trembling, his face twisted in disgust. He wants to vomit. He can't believe...he can't believe he just...
He swallows hard, trying not to gag. It's like he's drowning, suffocating under the weight of his shame. He's been forced to...to... He swallows again, fighting back tears. He's never felt so dirty, so used. He's lost all control. He's nothing more than a tool, a servant, a slave. He's utterly broken.
"N-no..." He whispers, barely audible, his voice barely holding on. "No, please, no..."
Clyde looks around at all the other slaves, some still reading their newspapers while others are finishing up. "Remember boys, Chad here loves being treated like the filth he is." He smiles, winking as he walks off.
Chad trembles, feeling like he's been stripped bare, inside and out. His face burns brighter, his skin crawling with shame. He feels like he's drowning in the stares of the other slaves, the camera lenses capturing every humiliating second.
They're probably all thinking the same thing: Chad's been broken, thoroughly. Clyde's words echo in his head, a poisonous reminder. He's filth. Worthless. Less than nothing. He's just a thing to be used, discarded, and forgotten. He's not even a person anymore.
He curls in on himself, wanting to disappear. He's not crying, not yet, but he feels like he's shattering, piece by piece. The yacht comes into dock and the slaves are marched off the boat, they are brought to a beach, with hundreds of people around.
They are all laughing at the six naked slaves as they drink beers and lounge around, there are six pillories set up in the sand, the slaves have their heads and hands placed in the pillories and closed shit, their asses are sticking out in the air.
Clyde walks behind Chad slapping his ass hard five times on each cheek, leaving his ass red. "Time for these slaves to be fucked" he announces.
Chad flinches with every stinging slap, his cheeks blazing. He's trapped, exposed, utterly vulnerable. The crowd's laughter is deafening, a constant, crushing reminder of his degradation. He's never felt so vulnerable, so utterly powerless.
No... oh God, no... He whimpers, pulling futilely against the pillory, his face burning with embarrassment. He's going to be...they're going to... Panic seizes him. He's hyperventilating, his heart racing. He can't do this. He can't be violated like this in front of all these people.
Camera crews come forward, recording everything, this brings the attention of the people on the beach, who surround them, recording on their phones. A circle of shirtless guys is surrounding the six slaves.
The six frat guys drop their board shorts. Clyde’s rock-hard dick is pressing against Chads ass, he looks into the camera and winks. Chad freezes, frozen in horror. The cameras, the phones, the people...they're all watching. They're all going to see this.
He's going to be live-streamed, broadcast, immortalized in his humiliation. Clyde's wink is the final straw. Chad's breath comes in short, panicked bursts. He tries to shrink away, but there's nowhere to go. The pillory holds him firmly in place, leaving him completely vulnerable.
His mind races, searching for escape, for rescue, for anything. But there's nothing. No rescue, no mercy, just the cold, hard truth: he's about to be taken, violated, and humiliated, all while the world watches. He shakes his head, denying reality, but his body betrays him, tensing up involuntarily.
Clyde pushes his cock inside Chad's tight hole, groaning with pleasure as he starts to thrust. The crowd cheers louder, recording everything. Chad's cries join in the chaos.
A scream tears from his throat, raw and primal, as Clyde invades him. Pain radiates through his body, making him see stars. He thrashes, trying to break free, but it only seems to spur the crowd on further. He's trapped, impaled, and helpless.
Each brutal thrust makes him feel like he's being torn apart. Tears stream down his cheeks, mixing with the sweat dripping from his face. He's never felt so violated, so completely dominated. He's lost all sense of self, overwhelmed by agony, shame, and terror.
"Please...stop...please..." He begs, voice cracking, though he knows it's futile. There's no stopping this. No escape.
Despite the intense pain, Chad feels something unwanted building up inside him. He desperately tries to fight it, not wanting to respond positively to any of this, but his body isn't listening to him anymore.
He grits his teeth, refusing to acknowledge the unwanted sensations growing inside him. This can't be happening. He won't let it happen. He won't respond, he can't. He digs his fingers into the wooden beam of the pillory, trying to distract himself, anything to push back against the creeping warmth that's spreading through his body.
But it's no use. His body betrays him, reacting despite his best efforts. He shakes his head wildly, denying it, refusing to give in, but his traitorous body is already betraying his pride.
“Goddammit! No! Stop!” He shouts, his voice hoarse, desperate. He doesn't want to enjoy this. He doesn't want to feel anything except hatred and disgust. But the truth is, he can feel it, every thrust, every movement, his body reacting against his will.
Clyde notices, a wicked grin spreading on his face. "Looks like someone's enjoying this after all" He sneers, picking up speed. The crowd roars approval. He shakes his head violently, his face blazing. He's being torn apart, his secrets exposed, his lies shattered.
“N-no! Shut up! Shut up! I'm not...!” he protests.
He's furious, ashamed, and terrified all at once. He's losing himself, disappearing beneath the weight of Clyde's mocking tone. The crowd's cheers are like a drumbeat, pounding the truth deeper into his skull. He's powerless, and his body is giving away the only secret he has left.
As Clyde continues to thrust, his moans louder, his orgasm closing in, Chad looks down at his dick, its rock hard, he notices he too is moaning, he is getting closer, very close, he feels like he is going to cum, he is trying to avoid it.
He squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to look down, refusing to acknowledge the betrayal of his own flesh. But he can't escape it. Every motion sends tingles through him, building the pressure, inescapable as the tide.
No... not gonna...not gonna... He chants silently, a futile effort to override his body's responses. His mind recoils in disgust, horrified by what's happening. He feels like he's being pulled apart, fragmented between revulsion and reluctant, unwanted pleasure. He's going to...he can't...oh God...
"Cum for me, slave!" Clyde demands, the crowd goes wild as he feels his own climax nearby.
The command hits him like a punch to the gut, making his stomach twist. He shakes his head wildly, tears streaming down his face, his body tensing against the inevitable.
“No! No! No, I won't! I won't!” But his body has already made up its mind, his traitorous muscles clenching, ready to surrender. It's too late. He tries to hold it back, but the dam breaks, and he's overwhelmed by the sheer force of it.
A pathetic whimper escapes his lips. He's humiliated beyond belief, his dignity shredded. But his climax hits him like a wave, intense and unstoppable, washing away any remaining resistance.
"Ahhhh!" He cries out, his voice cracking, his body spasming uncontrollably, completely surrendered to the shame and ecstasy. Clyde finishes inside Chad with a satisfied groan, pulling out slowly and smirking down at the broken slave.
Chad slumps forward, exhausted, defeated, utterly spent. The emptiness left behind by Clyde's withdrawal feels strange, humiliating. He can't believe what just happened. He can't believe he...he...
He swallows hard, the taste of defeat acrid on his tongue. He's broken, shattered, reduced to nothing more than a toy, a plaything. His pride lies shattered on the ground, trampled by Clyde's boots, drowned in the jeers of the crowd.
He hangs limp, his head drooping, unable to meet anyone's gaze. Even the sun feels cruel, beating down on his flushed, sweaty skin. "Please...just...leave me alone..." He whispers, barely audible, his heart shattered beyond repair.
The camera men focus in on Chads cum on the sand, the crowd are cheering and laughing. Clyde high fives the other frat boys.
Chad buries his face in the wooden beam, wanting to disappear. He can't bear to see their faces, hear their laughter, witness his own shame being broadcast to the world. The thought of strangers watching this, reliving his degradation, is too much to handle.
He curls up, his shoulders shuddering, silent sobs racking his body. He's mired in a nightmare, trapped in a living hell. The laughter and cheers swirl around him, suffocating him. He wishes he could vanish, cease to exist.
"I hate you..." He murmurs, the words muffled, meant for no one and everyone. He hates them all, but mostly, he hates himself. Clyde retrieves the pillory keys from his pocket and unlocks Chad, the other slaves are helped off the pillories and the crowd begins to disperse as the show ends.
As the pillory opens, Chad collapses, his legs weak and trembling. He doesn't dare move, afraid of collapsing completely. His mind is numb, reeling from the aftermath of the ordeal. Every muscle ache, every fibre of his being feels raw.
He watches through blurry eyes as the crowd disperses, their jeers and snickers fading into the distance. The silence that follows is almost worse, oppressive, heavy, a reminder that he'll never forget this.
He glowers at Clyde, his hatred burning brighter than any embers of humiliation. But what's the point? He's a slave, and slaves don't get to hate. They don't get to feel.
He slowly pushes himself up, using the pillory for support. His body screams protest, but he forces himself upright, his jaw clenched against the pain.
He glances around, taking in the other slaves, searching for some kind of solidarity, some semblance of understanding. But they're all just as broken, just as lost.
The next day, Captain Lee has the six slaves, sat around a table "So, the charter was a success. They tipped very well, Clyde really enjoyed his birthday" the captain says as he opens the cash tip and puts it on the table.
"In the old times, we would split all the tips, but now, I get it all because you are worthless slaves, but you have earned a reward, tonight you will get a nice hot meal, and get to sleep in a bed, not a dog cage, well done slaves, you earned it " Captain lee says, magnanimously.
Chad listens, his jaw clenched, as Captain Lee monologues about the charter's success. He's seething inside, but keeps it hidden beneath a mask of stoicism. A hot meal and a bed? Is that supposed to make up for...everything? Yeah, real generous of you, Captain, he thinks bitterly.
He glances at the others, wondering if they're equally resentful. They've been reduced to this, to being treated like dogs, forced into unspeakable acts, and then "rewarded" with scraps. It's sick.
But he swallows his anger, playing along. He'll take the bed and the meal, and he'll pretend it's enough. For now.
"Well enjoy, tomorrow is our next guests arrive and they are pretty sadistic, by the way this episode was aired live, it’s the highest rated episode of all time, eat up and get some rest, tomorrow it all starts again" Captain Lee says while leaving the slaves alone, making sure to pick up the tips, wads of cash. Highest-rated episode of all time. Great. Just great.
Chad scowls, his appetite momentarily soured. They're going to make us entertainment again, force us to endure God knows what kind of torment, all while millions watch. He shoves his hand through his hair, feeling a wave of nausea wash over him.
After a beat, he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. There's no point dwelling. He needs to survive, even if it means enduring the worst.
He reaches for the food, his hands shaking slightly. A hot meal, a real bed...it's something, at least. He'll take what he can get, and prepare himself for whatever fresh horrors tomorrow bring.
He eats mechanically, trying not to think about what lies ahead. Sadistic guests. Tomorrow's already feeling like a nightmare.
