Taken
The damp chill of the early morning air seeped into my bones as I huddled inside my tent, the zipper half-undone to let in some faint moonlight. Seven days. That's how long I'd been out here in these godforsaken woods, surviving on canned beans and rainwater, my heart pounding every rustle of leaves thinking it was Raymond's goons closing in. I am Ethan Simmonds, nineteen years old, and I'd fucked up big time borrowing from that bastard loan shark. Now, at 3 a.m., the world exploded into chaos.
Rough hands yanked the tent flap open, and before I could even scream, they dragged me out by my ankles. I hit the dirt hard, pine needles scraping my back through my thin shirt. Four of them—big, burly fucks in black tactical gear—pinned me down. 'Got the little debtor,' one growled, his breath hot and sour against my face. I thrashed, but it was useless; they were too strong. They ripped my shirt off, buttons flying, then hauled me up and shredded my pants and boxers in one brutal tug. Cold air hit my bare skin, my cock shrinking from the shock, balls tightening against the night. “Shoes, socks OFF NOW, get barefoot” a voice boomed and without hesitation, shaking with fear, I obeyed.
Naked and shivering, they shoved me to my feet. The senior guard stepped forward—a tall, scarred brute with a shaved head and a smirk that made my stomach twist. 'Let's see what we're working with,' he said, circling me like I was livestock. He started at my feet, grabbing my right ankle and lifting it, his thick fingers probing the sole of my bare foot. He squeezed the arch, dug into the heel, even spread my toes to check between them, his nails scraping the sensitive skin. I winced, trying to pull away, but his grip was iron. He did the same to my left foot, kneading the ball, inspecting every inch as if hunting for hidden tattoos or scars.
Satisfied, he moved up my legs, his hands rough on my calves, squeezing the muscles, then higher to my thighs. He gripped my inner thighs hard, spreading them apart, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh near my groin. My cock twitched involuntarily from the exposure, but he ignored it for now, turning me around to check my ass. He slapped my cheeks, watching them jiggle, then pried them open with both hands. His finger circled my anus, pushing against the tight ring, probing the rim before sliding in knuckle-deep. I gasped, clenching around the invasion, but he twisted it inside, feeling every fold. 'Tight little hole,' he muttered, pulling out with a pop.
He spun me back, dropping to one knee to examine my cock and balls. He yanked back my foreskin roughly, exposing the head, his callused fingers rolling it around, checking under the ridge for cleanliness or marks. Precum beaded at the tip from the unwanted stimulation, and he smeared it with his thumb, chuckling. Then he cupped my balls, rolling them in his palm, tugging gently on the sac, squeezing just enough to make me yelp. Up my stomach he went, pinching my abs, then my chest, tweaking my nipples until they hardened against my will. He grabbed my arms, bending them, inspecting my pits, even sniffing under my arms like a damn dog. Finally, my face—pulling my lips apart to check my teeth, tilting my head to scan my scalp, ears, everything.
'Clean enough,' he declared, stepping back. But the humiliation wasn't over. 'On your knees, boy. Time to earn your ride.' They forced me down, the dirt grinding into my knees. The four guards unzipped their pants, pulling out their cocks—thick, veined shafts already half-hard from the thrill of the capture. The senior one grabbed my hair first, yanking my head forward. 'Open up.' I hesitated, and he slapped my cheek, the sting blooming hot. His cock shoved past my lips, salty and musky, filling my mouth. He thrust deep, hitting the back of my throat, making me gag as tears welled up.
He fucked my face relentlessly, hips snapping, balls slapping my chin. 'Suck it good, debtor.' I had no choice—my tongue worked the underside, lips sealing around the girth as he groaned. After a few minutes, he pulled out, stroking himself furiously, and hot cum splattered across my face, ropes landing on my cheeks and lips. I coughed, tasting the bitterness, but the next guard was already there, shoving his shorter, thicker cock in. He was rougher, grinding against my teeth, forcing me to hollow my cheeks and bob my head. His hands clamped my ears, using them as handles to ram deeper, until he grunted and flooded my mouth, cum dribbling down my chin as I swallowed to breathe.
The third one made me lick his balls first, heavy and sweat-slick, before guiding my mouth to his long, curved shaft. He was slower, savouring it, making me swirl my tongue around the head while he murmured filthy encouragements. 'That's it, take it all.' When he came, it shot straight down my throat, choking me until I sputtered. The last guard was the biggest, his cock a monster that stretched my jaw aching. He face-fucked me hard, no mercy, until my nose buried in his pubes, and he unloaded with a roar, pulling out to paint my tongue and chest with thick spurts.
Drained and humiliated, cum drying sticky on my skin, they hauled me up. Cold metal cuffs snapped around my wrists and ankles, chains linking them short so I could only shuffle. A collar went around my neck. They marched me through the woods to a waiting van, then to the dock where a speedboat idled, engine humming low. Shoved aboard, still naked and chained, the boat roared to life, slicing through the dark water toward Raymond's yacht. My loan repayment was about to begin, but not as I had planned.
After a long cruise the yacht docked at the edge of Master Raymond's private tropical island, and as I stepped onto the sun-warmed pier, the humid air hit me like a wall. Palm trees swayed overhead, their fronds rustling in the breeze, and the turquoise ocean lapped gently against the shore. It looked like paradise, but I knew better. I was the newest slave shipped here for whatever twisted purposes awaited. Guards in crisp uniforms flanked me, their eyes hard and unyielding, prodding me forward with the barrels of their rifles.
As we marched inland along a winding path lined with lush vegetation, I caught glimpses of the island's true nature. Young slaves toiled under the relentless sun—some hauling crates of supplies, others tending to manicured gardens or scrubbing the decks of luxury villas. Their bare backs glistened with sweat, but what chilled me to the bone were the whip marks crisscrossing their skin. Red welts, some fresh and angry, others faded to pink scars, striped across shoulders and spines. They moved with hunched postures, eyes downcast, never daring to pause. Guards patrolled nearby, whips coiled at their hips, barking orders that echoed through the air. One slave stumbled while carrying a heavy load, and a guard's lash cracked down immediately, drawing a sharp cry. My stomach twisted. Was this my future—constant surveillance, punishment for the slightest error? I swallowed hard, my heart pounding as we approached the medical facility, a sleek white building that stood out amid the greenery like a sterile sentinel.
Inside, the air was cool and antiseptic, a stark contrast to the tropical heat. The guards shoved me into an examination room dominated by a padded medical table equipped with restraints. one nurse ordered, his voice flat. Two male nurses, both burly and clad in white scrubs, waited with the island doctor, a tall man with a clipboard and a clinical gaze. They wasted no time. 'On the table,' the doctor commanded. I climbed up, the cool vinyl sticking to my skin, and they strapped me down—thick leather cuffs securing my wrists, ankles, and even a band across my chest and thighs. I couldn't move an inch, my body splayed out like a specimen. The doctor began the inspection, his gloved hands probing every part of me with detached efficiency. He started at my head, shining a light into my eyes, ears, and mouth, noting my teeth and throat on the file labelled 'Ethan - Intake.' Then down to my chest, listening to my heart and lungs with a stethoscope, his fingers pressing into my ribs to check for breaks or weaknesses.
The invasiveness escalated as he moved lower. He palpated my abdomen, kneading firmly to assess organs, then parted my legs wider despite the restraints already holding them open. One nurse held my thighs steady while the doctor examined my groin. He lifted my balls, rolling them between his fingers, checking for abnormalities, then gripped my cock, measuring its flaccid length with a ruler—'Four inches soft,' he muttered, jotting it down. He stroked it a few times, not to arouse but to test response, watching as it twitched involuntarily. 'Erection potential noted,' he said, recording the details: girth, vein patterns, circumcision status. My face burned with humiliation, but I bit my lip, knowing resistance would only worsen things.
Next came the catheter. A nurse lubed the thin tube, and the doctor inserted it into my urethra without warning. I gasped at the burning sting as it slid in, deeper and deeper, until it reached my bladder. Urine flowed out into a collection bag, golden and warm, which they immediately sealed for testing. 'Sample acquired,' the doctor announced, taping the catheter in place for now. They continued with my ass, gloved fingers probing my hole, spreading my cheeks to inspect the rim, then inserting a speculum to peer inside, noting prostate size and any irregularities. Every inch of me was catalogued—height, weight, scars from my past life, even the faint bruises from transport. The file grew thick with my vulnerabilities, a blueprint for my subjugation.
Once the inspection wrapped up, the doctor stepped back, peeling off his gloves. 'He's healthy. Prime stock,' he said to the nurses, who exchanged smirks. 'You two can proceed as per protocol. Enjoy.' My pulse raced—what did that mean? The doctor left the room, file in hand, leaving me alone with the nurses. The taller one, with a buzz cut and tattooed arms, unbuckled his belt first. 'Time to break him in,' he growled, his cock already hardening as he freed it from his pants. It was thick, veined, and curving upward. He climbed onto the table, straddling my chest, and shoved it toward my face. 'Open up, slave.' I had no choice; the restraints pinned me. His hand gripped my hair, forcing my mouth wide as he thrust in, the salty head hitting the back of my throat. He fucked my face roughly, hips snapping, grunting with each push. 'Suck it good, boy. Use your tongue.'
The other nurse, shorter but stockier, worked at my lower half. He yanked the catheter out with a quick tug that made me yelp around the cock in my mouth, then lubed his fingers and plunged two into my ass without preamble. He scissored them, stretching me, his free hand jerking my own cock to full hardness—now measuring over six inches, he chuckled. 'Look at that. Doctor was right.' He replaced his fingers with his dick, slick and insistent, slamming into me in one brutal stroke. Pain flared, but it mixed with unwanted sparks of pleasure as he pounded my prostate.
They used me relentlessly, switching positions. The buzz-cut nurse pulled out of my mouth, strings of spit connecting us, and moved to my ass while his partner took my throat. Spit-roasted between them, I gagged and moaned, their cocks stretching me, filling me. They slapped my thighs, pinched my nipples, calling me their fuck toy. 'Tight little slave hole,' one groaned, thrusting deeper. Sweat dripped from their bodies onto mine, the room filling with the wet sounds of flesh slapping flesh. Finally, the stocky one came first, burying himself balls-deep in my ass and flooding me with hot cum, groaning as it leaked out around his shaft. The other followed, pulling from my mouth to shoot ropes across my face and chest, marking me.
They stepped back, zipping up, leaving me strapped down, body aching and sticky. 'Welcome to the island, Ethan,' the buzz-cut nurse said with a wink, before they sauntered out. I lay there, panting, the reality sinking in—this was just the beginning of Master Raymond's control.
I lay there on the table, restraints biting into my wrists, my body a map of their use—cum drying in sticky trails across my chest, ass throbbing from the rough pounding. The room spun slightly from the overload, my cock still half-hard and twitching against my thigh, betraying me. Footsteps echoed outside, and the door swung open again. Not the nurses returning, but a guard, his uniform straining over a muscular frame, eyes raking over my spent form like I was fresh meat.
"Intakes done? Good. Master's orders: clean up and report to the quarters." He unstrapped me roughly, his callused hands lingering on my inner thighs, thumb brushing the slick mess leaking from my hole. I winced, sliding off the table on shaky legs, but he shoved a rag at me. "Wipe yourself, slave. Can't have you dripping all over the path."
I scrubbed at the evidence of my violation, the coarse fabric scraping sensitive skin, while he watched with a smirk. My mind raced—quarters? What fresh hell awaited? "Walk," he barked, yanking me forward.
The path back through the island felt endless under the late afternoon sun. Other slaves glanced up from their labours—hoeing soil, polishing marble statues of nude figures in submissive poses—but their eyes darted away quickly, welts on their backs a silent warning. One, a lithe guy with sun-bleached hair, met my gaze for a split second, his expression a mix of pity and knowing heat. Did he remember his own first day?
We arrived at a low bungalow clustered with others, the air thick with the scent of sweat and salt. Inside maybe twenty slaves all naked, some nursing fresh bruises, others entangled in hushed, furtive touches—fingers tracing scars, mouths seeking comfort. My guard unchained me and instructed me to blend in. " Dinner in an hour. And then... orientation with the master. Be ready to serve."
As he left, a slave approached—tall, olive-skinned, with a brand on his hip marking years of service. "New? I'm Kai. They all start like you—shocked, sore ashamed of being naked. But you learn to tolerate it here." His hand grazed my arm, sending an unwelcome shiver through me. Before I could respond, the dinner bell rang, pulling us into a line for surprisingly good food: rice with chicken, fruit, and water laced with something that made my skin flush hotter.
We were marched to the main villa, a sprawling palace of glass and stone overlooking the sea. Inside, the air hummed with low moans and the snap of leather. Master Raymond lounged on a throne-like chair, surrounded by naked attendants—all young men kneeling at his feet, lavishing attention on his impressive erection with lips and hands. He was older, silver-haired, but his body was sculpted, eyes sharp as he spotted me.
"Ah, Ethan. Your file says you're responsive. Let's test that." He beckoned, and I was pushed forward, forced to my knees before him. His cock, thick and commanding, bobbed inches from my face. "Suck," he ordered simply, hand tangling in my hair.
I stared at Master Raymond's cock, thick and veined, the head already glistening with pre-cum under the villa's warm lights. My knees dug into the cool marble floor, and the attendants' hands still roamed my body—one pinching my nipple hard enough to make me gasp, the other sliding down to grip my own hardening shaft, stroking it slowly to keep me on edge. Refusing wasn't an option. Those whip marks on the slaves' backs flashed in my mind, red and raw, a promise of agony if I hesitated. I had to please him, had to make this good, or I'd end up just like them.
Swallowing my fear, I leaned forward, my lips brushing the smooth skin of his cockhead. It was hot against my mouth, salty from the bead of pre-cum I licked away with the flat of my tongue. Master Raymond's fingers tightened in my hair, pulling me closer, a low growl rumbling from his chest. 'That's it, boy. Take it all.'
I opened wider, wrapping my lips around the bulbous tip and sucking gently at first, my tongue swirling along the underside where the vein pulsed. He was bigger than the nurses, filling my mouth more, stretching my jaw as I bobbed forward, taking another inch. The taste of him—musky, masculine—flooded my senses, mixing with the lingering bitterness from the medics' cum still coating my throat. I hollowed my cheeks, sucking harder, determined to show him I could be obedient, useful.
His hips bucked slightly, pushing deeper, the head nudging the back of my throat. I gagged a little, eyes watering, but I didn't pull back. Instead, I relaxed my throat like I'd seen in those desperate moments with the nurses, letting him slide further in. Saliva built up, dripping down his shaft as I worked him with my mouth, lips sealed tight, tongue pressing and flicking. One hand came up to cup his heavy balls, rolling them gently in my palm, feeling them tighten under my touch.
'Good slave,' he murmured, voice thick with approval. That praise sent a twisted spark through me—humiliation mixed with relief. No whip today. I redoubled my efforts, humming around his length to vibrate against him, my free hand gripping his thigh for balance as he started to thrust shallowly. The attendants didn't let up; the one behind me spat on his fingers and probed my ass, two digits pushing in to stretch the sore hole still slick from earlier. I moaned involuntarily around the cock in my mouth, the dual invasion making my own dick throb painfully, untouched now but leaking onto the floor.
Master Raymond's breathing grew ragged, his grip yanking my head to set a faster pace. I matched it, slurping noisily, spit trailing from my chin as I deep-throated him over and over. His balls slapped against my chin with each plunge, and I could feel him swelling, twitching on the edge. 'Swallow every drop,' he commanded, and I nodded as best I could, eyes locked on his intense gaze.
With a guttural groan, he came, hot spurts flooding my mouth, coating my tongue. I gulped it down greedily, not spilling a bit, sucking through his pulses until he softened slightly. He pulled out with a wet pop, smearing the last remnants across my lips. 'Not bad for a newbie. But you'll get better.' His hand patted my cheek almost affectionately before shoving me back to sit on my heels, spent and panting, the taste of him lingering as the attendants dragged me aside for whatever came next.
Master Raymond's eyes bored into me as I knelt there, still tasting him on my tongue, my knees aching against the marble. He stepped back, adjusting his pants with casual indifference, and picked up a tablet from a nearby table. The screen glowed, casting shadows on his stern face as he scrolled through whatever records they had on me. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, feeling the sticky remnants smear across my skin, but I didn't dare move otherwise. The attendants flanked me, their hands occasionally brushing my shoulders, a reminder that I was property now.
He cleared his throat, voice booming in the villa's open space. 'Ethan, is it? Let's hear your side. Tell me about yourself. And while you're at it, make a case why I shouldn't keep you here on my island for the next five years to work off that debt of yours.' His tone was almost mocking, like he already knew the outcome, but I had to try. My heart pounded—five years? That couldn't be real. I was just a guy who got in over his head with loans, trying to scrape by in the city. Hiding seemed like the only way out at the time.
I swallowed hard, my voice shaky as I started. 'Sir, I... I borrowed the money because my business failed. The economy tanked, and I couldn't pay back right away. I didn't mean to run; I was scared. My family's back home—they need me. I'm good with my hands, I can work construction or whatever you need here. Please, just let me earn it off somehow else. I can send payments, or... or find a way to repay it without this.' Words tumbled out, desperate pleas about my skills, my youth, how I'd never been in trouble before. But even as I spoke, I saw the disinterest in his eyes. The debt was small only 4000—but I had dodged collectors for months. No case would sway him.
He set the tablet down with a sigh, shaking his head. 'Running and hiding only makes it worse, boy. The law handed you to me, and I'll see that debt paid in full. Five years of service on this island. You'll work the grounds, maintain the estate, and serve me and my guests in every way required. No questions, no refusals. That's your sentence.' His words hit like a punch, final and unyielding. Five years. My life, gone. The attendants hauled me up by my arms, my legs wobbling as they marched me out of the villa, down winding paths lined with palm trees and the distant crash of waves.
The cell wasn't what I expected. No dank dungeon with iron bars and straw. They pushed me through a door into a spacious room, walls painted a soft beige, lit by warm bulbs. Two single beds sat against one wall, neatly made with crisp sheets and pillows. A small kitchenette corner had a sink, mini-fridge stocked with water and fruits, and a machine for brewing coffee or tea. A radio hummed faintly on a shelf, tuned to some island station playing soft reggae, and a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall flickered with a paused nature documentary. It felt almost... comfortable. Like a budget dorm room, not a prison.
Kai was already there, lounging on one bed he was naked of course, his toned body relaxed but marked with scars from old whippings. He looked up, a knowing smile crossing his lips as the door clicked shut behind the guards. 'Welcome to the good side of hell, Ethan. Told you the Master runs a tight ship, but he knows how to keep us functional.' He stood, stretching, his muscles rippling under sun-kissed skin. We'd met briefly earlier when he showed me around the quarters, his easy confidence a stark contrast to my panic.
I sank onto the edge of the other bed, head in my hands. 'Five years. How do you even survive this?' My voice cracked, the weight of it all crashing down—the exam, the nurses, sucking off the Master like some trained pet. ‘Since last night I have been forced to suck off seven people! I have been treated like a slab of meat, like an animal.’ I burst into tears, embarrassed and vulnerable.
Kai sat beside me, close enough that his thigh pressed against mine, warm and solid. 'One day at a time, newbie. Work hard during the day—gardens, repairs, whatever they throw at you. Nights and off-hours? That's when you usually serve sexually. But Raymond's smart; he wants us sharp, not broken. Good sleep, decent food—it keeps us from cracking.' His hand landed on my knee, squeezing gently, a mentor's touch that lingered a beat too long. 'You've got potential. Saw how you handled the Master back there. You were Obedient. That's key. Look at our cell, he looks after our basic needs. Your back WILL be whipped for sure, your hands will be caned, the soles of your feet will be whipped, the guards will abuse and torture you and the Master will use you. There is nothing you can do about any of these things. Trust me, some of us have tried. I have seen slaves crucified, burnt alive and fed to the fishes. But those of us who serve and accept our fate and our punishments, survive. But you have a friend here, cell mates are so important for our survival. I hope to get to know you, Ethan. You can trust me, rely on me to help you through each day. It won’t be long before you are helping me too. Sometimes the embrace of a friend is all you need to be able to cope.’
I glanced at him, his dark eyes holding mine, a spark of something more than advice flickering there. He leaned in, breath warm on my neck. 'Let me show you how to settle in. Relax those shoulders.' His fingers trailed up my thigh, my naked body tensed, then betrayed me, stirring under his touch. Kai chuckled softly. 'See? This place gets into you. We're in it together now.' He guided my hand to his growing cock, mentoring turning intimate as he pulled me closer, lips brushing my ear. 'First lesson: trust your cellmate. I'll make sure you sleep well tonight. You have more inspection and evaluation tomorrow and of course you still need to be branded.' BRANDED! I looked at Kai with an obvious look of shock on my face. “Yes, the Master’s mark burnt into the front of your left shoulder. The same way ranchers used to brand their cows.” Kai showed me his brand. With everything going on I had not noticed the slave brand on all the slaves. I asked if branding hurt, stupid question. “Nah it’s just the Masters mark burnt into your flesh” Kai said with a sarcastic tone. “You will survive.”
Kai suggested that I stop thinking about tomorrow and enjoy the facilities of the cell, and Kai’s company. His mouth found mine then, kissing deep and insistent, tongue exploring as his hand wrapped around my shaft, stroking slow and firm. I moaned into him, the cell's warmth wrapping around us like an invitation, the radio's rhythm underscoring the shift from fear to reluctant surrender. Kai's body pressed against me, hard and ready, promising guidance in the only currency this island understood. My compliance with Kai’s advances was not unwanted compliance. Right now, the only source of comfort that I had was a guy that I had just met. I think Kai needed me too even if his demeanour suggested that he was fully institutionalised into the island. I think he needed comfort from me.
