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Months have passed now and I am resigned to my fate. I am now fully trained to a life of slavery. I know that I can never return to my former life as successful jock boy, athlete and businessman. My destiny is now to spend my life as a naked slave. I waste my life away in constant naked menial work for Master Dennis, and in serving Master Lewis as his body and house slave. Nothing that I do is vital or worthwhile: I am under no illusion. They keep me enslaved because they enjoy degrading and humiliating me. My life is destined to be the naked puppet of my Masters, wasting away in slavery.
I have forgotten what it is like to be free, to laugh and chat and dream of the future, to have leisure time and friends. I have forgotten the pleasure of free man's food and alcohol, of sport and watching TV, of sexual release. All of these are beyond my world as a humble slave boy. As I kneel here naked on the floor, sucking Master Lewis's toes as he watches TV, I have come to accept that my place in life is as a slave object to give him pleasure. I am accustomed to his cock breeding my arse as his bitch, accustomed to eating his sperm and drinking his piss. I know my place.
I think of my former friends, colleagues and football team members. They looked up to me, respected me. Now their lives continue, no doubt enjoying their youth and the niceties of life as a young 20-something. Whereas I have no future, no life, no humanity. Even my family have given me up to Lewis's control. They have seen me humbled under the plans of Lewis.
And yet despite my totally controlled life and my new place as the lowest slave imaginable, I cannot rid my thoughts of my former best friend Ben, and what has become of him. My Master informed me that he was alive and had experienced surgery, but I have seen no evidence of him and I long to know if my best friend is coping with whatever they have subjected him to. Ben is a great guy: he had come to look for me and tried to rescue me. Only he knew that all was not right. Only he believed in me. And his reward for that faith was to be himself enslaved. I hope and pray that he is still alive, and has accepted his fate. I have no doubt that he has become enslaved like me. But maybe he has received a kinder treatment.
I had hoped that Lewis would have tired of humiliating me by now. He has taken everything from me. My life is now his. He has sold anything of value that once belonged to me, and I own nothing at all. Some of my old belongings he retains, as if to taunt me of what I once had. I have no clothing, no belongings, nothing to mark me as a human being. Instead I am destined to live as his fuck hole, naked on the floor like this. I pause for a second, my tongue resting on the nail of Master's big toe as he watches football. It does not take Master long to realise I am being lazy, and I receive a kick to my side. I continue bathing Master's foot with my spit.
The football finishes. How I used to love "Match of the Day" at the start of this football season. Now the names of football clubs and footballers wash over my conscious thought. They are irrelevant to me now. I have no interest in the television. I am forbidden from interacting with the real world any more in any way.
My stomach rumbles with hunger but I know better than to beg for food. Master feeds me when he sees it as necessary. Some days I starve when he forgets to feed me. My food is not a priority to him. My body is now honed to perfection, not an ounce of fat on my exposed frame, as I am constantly working. The small amount of food that I am allowed means that my body craves food as I work and serve. My enforced hunger reminds me I am not even allowed food when I need it. The most basic of human rights lies in the hands of my owner.
I hear the click of the TV as Master switches it off and I hear him yawn and stretch above me on his settee. He pulls his foot from my mouth and pushes my face to the ground, standing on my face with his wet bare foot. He grinds the sole of his foot into my face and stretches again.
"You are fucking pathetic, cocksucker," he snarls. "What sort of man allows himself to be enslaved like you have done. I think you wanted this all along. You have always been a closet homo eh boy ? No one submits as easily as you did."
I feel my chest lurch in a sob. He always knows exactly what to say, to remind me I am nothing now. What I once was. And what I now am. "I h… h.. had no choice," I stammer. "You …. You g.. gave me no choice Master."
I stammer now. I used to be so confident and articulate. Now I am barely allowed to speak at all and when I do I have learnt that my opinion counts for nothing. I speak quietly and meekly, with a pronounced stammer impeding any dignity in my speech. I also lisp as a result of the heavy ring that Master has pierced through the centre of my tongue. A ring that makes normal speech impossible and means I am always silent in the presence of free people. A ring that is sometimes used to tether me to the wall if I forget my place at any time. A ring that is used to give him pleasure when I tongue his cock in my mouth.
He has taken my personality away from me and reduced me to a humble shell of my former self. My mind, my confidence, my former jock body preened to catch a girl's eye. All long gone.
In fact, I am sure that my former friends and team-mates in the football team would no longer recognise me. The confident, self assured athlete that I once was is no more. I now walk with my back stooped, ensuring that my head is always below that of my Master, bowing in deference. My body is beautiful, honed to perfection. When I am alone in my cell, I feel the contours of my abs, my perfectly formed chest and legs. My body is not for admiration though: I will never again feel the admiration of a woman's gaze. I am only property. Owned property.
My body may be starved and worked to perfection, but my body is also permanently scarred by whip marks across my back, and the welts of Master's cane across my arse. Never a day goes by without me being stretched naked over his knee for a spanking or a caning, my red arse exposed to his torture as the tears stream down my face. He doesn't need a reason: he does it simply to humiliate me. What have I done to deserve this treatment ? I had so much promise, and so much respect. Now I have no self respect at all: how can I see myself as a man when I spend hours nose to the wall in naked corner time, hands on head with my red arse displayed for the amusement of its tormentor. My life wasting away in total control and degradation.
In addition to my punished body, my enforced hairlessness makes me appear like an overgrown boy, my genitals starkly bare in my hairless crotch. Hairless except for the pink triangle of course. The triangle that is trimmed on a weekly basis by Pierre and his obscene gay team. They revel now in the fact that I am forced to visit them every Friday after work. I hate what they have done to my body, but I have no choice at all. No matter who is in their salon, I am under strict instructions from my Master to follow Pierre's orders to the letter. And Pierre thinks nothing of ringing Master if I stray slightly from his word. No doubt the queer loves his total power over a stud like me. And I am completely powerless to resist anything. Pierre now insists that I walk in through the door, walk up to him and kiss him full on the lips regardless of who is present. Then I am to ask for permission to strip. I strip my only item of clothing – my slave overall - off in front of him and whoever else is present. They fondle my body, they play with my abused genitals, they flip me over on a work surface and fondle my arse. They lube my arse and fuck it with dildos. And I can do nothing.
It knocks me sick, the constant smiling, the fawning and bowing to Pierre and jumping to his every command like some weird fag, my naked body on display enforcing my total submission. And I stand there naked, shaved, my head buzzed to a permanent skinhead, my pink triangle on display and the word OWNED tattooed down my cock. At least my barcode and Lewis's mobile number - tattooed on my neck – is hidden beneath the leather collar that is locked permanently around my neck. Who would ever recognise the former captain of the football team?
As I wallow in the misery of my existence, Master Lewis brings me back to reality, my face still pressed to the floor. He takes his foot away from my head and utters the word "PISS".
Obediently, I kneel up before him and gently pull down the front of his tracksuit bottoms to reveal his expensive white CKs. Again, my mind reminds me that once I wore CKs. Now any single piece of underwear - ever - would be heaven. Gently I take out Master's cock and wrap my lips around it. With a sigh, he unleashes his piss down my throat, and I silently gulp it down before washing his cock clean with the tip of my tongue and placing his cock away.
"Th.. th.. thank you Master for allow allow …ing me to d..drink," I stutter, head bowed before him. My face flush with embarrassment as I thank him for drinking his piss. Its acrid taste hitting the back of my throat. Even the water in my bowl is diluted with his piss. Its unmistakeable taste forever in my mouth.
"Stand at attention slut," he grins, sitting down on the settee again. The expensive Italian settee that was once mine, imported especially. The settee that I am now forbidden from touching, let alone sitting on. Like all furniture. My place is on the floor.
I stand before him and spread my legs, my own imprisoned cock still locked in place via a chain from under my shaved balls. I have not been allowed to cum since I was enslaved, and so my cock aches for release. I dare not think about release, the pain from an erection still unbearable in my cruel bondage. I clasp my hands behind my head and stare forwards into his eyes. The standard ATTENTION position that he likes. His eyes boring into mine, into my soul, as my owner and captor.
"You are one pathetic loser, slaveboy. Do you know that?" Lewis stated, after a pause.
Blinking away my humiliation, I whisper. "Yes Master".
"I need to cum slaveboy, so it's a good job your mouth is warmed up with my feet and my piss. Go and kneel at the bottom of my bed and get ready to suck me dry."
I scurried from the room and knelt in position at the bottom of Master's bed. Ready to once more see him empty the spunk from his balls into my mouth. Ready to accept it, my own balls blue from their enforced bondage. I sobbed inwardly, a bitch waiting for his Master to fuck his face.
And my reward for eating his cum ? A night locked in chains, naked in my tiny cell, before the humiliating prospect of my ballet class tomorrow.
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