This is my life as a thing; I don't complain.

I was the oldest child in the family, and I remember, as a child, still at school, when the government announced the restoration of slavery, which seemed like an excellent idea to all of us. The world had been facing an environmental crisis for years; we needed to reduce our environmental impact and fuel consumption, so all cars and airplanes were abolished. At the same time, ecological disasters, forced migrations, and unemployment generated huge contingents of migrants, and destitute people without any possibility of social inclusion. The solution was to allow them to be captured and sold as slaves. Prisons were abolished, and all prisoners were sold. Laws allowed anyone to be sold or bought as a slave, and slaves were accepted as animals without any rights.

New technologies, grafts, hormones, and drugs were quickly developed so that the new slaves would be more docile, obedient, and strong enough to work.

I remember when, at the age of 16, before I came of age, my father sold me and my brothers to pay part of his debts.

At first, I was shocked, scared, and surprised, but within a few years, I was fully adapted to my new life as a thing.

I have been working for a delivery company for years. I carry backpacks and bags weighing over 80 kilos around the city for 16 hours daily. The chips implanted in me monitor me. The company always knows where I am, how fast I walk, and my heart rate and blood pressure. A device implanted in my ears gives me orders and instructions.

In the mornings and evenings, I am fed with rations that give me strength and the will to work and have made my hair and muscles grow. I feel permanently excited and happy. When I leave for work, they put a butt plug in my ass, which gives me pleasant shocks in my prostate and keeps me excited all the time.

On the other hand, electric devices on my collar and in my ass punish me with electric shocks if I am late or for any mistake.

When I return to the company at the end of work, a report on my daily performance determines whether I will be rewarded or punished. I shit, piss, get washed and fed. 

If I deserve it, I receive drugs that make me immensely happy, and I sleep happily in my cage. If the performance is not perfect, I am whipped and brutally tortured before being caged.

This is my life and role; I can't complain. And I can even say I'm lucky to be who I am.

I haven't had a single day off for many years and I know that I'll work until the last day of my life, because when I can no longer handle this work rhythm we'll be slaughtered, and the health system will use our pieces.

My uncle realized, before I did, my true nature and calling.

When I was a teenager, my uncle recognized the masochistic faggot that I was and took me to his house. My parents and siblings were relieved, and I never had contact with them again. 

My super handsome uncle put me in a chastity cage and enslaved me, using me as his maid and slut. He put a collar on me, gave me some old, dirty bags to wear, and made me do all the housework. I cleaned, tidied, washed, and ironed clothes, cooked, and kept the kitchen in order.

Many times I would spend the whole day alone working like a slave, without a break, and when he came home, he would beat me, spit on me and slap me in the face and fuck me like a bitch.

I could run away and leave but never tried to escape; I couldn't understand why. The years passed, and I got used to it; I didn't even think about leaving.

I knew he had prostituted me for money many times.

He would often call me into the room and hand me over to other men for money. Some would come back many times, others I never saw again. When I entered the room, they continued talking as if I wasn't there, my uncle telling the guy that he could do whatever he wanted for me. The guys came to do sinful, brutal, and dirty things to my uncle's slut, me.

Some whipped me, others tortured me with pliers and lit cigars. Most of them fucked me or shoved their dicks deep down my throat until I was out of breath and almost passed out.

A cousin would sometimes help my uncle hold me in whatever position the client wanted to ensure his enjoyment. Not that I tried to escape or avoid the torture, but sometimes I couldn't bear the pain and panic, and they would hold me down or tie me up so the client could use me however he wanted.

This one brought a dildo so big and thick that I didn't believe it could fit in my ass without tearing it!

He took off my clothes, made me get on all fours, and shoved the huge thing up my ass while I whimpered and cried in pain. They shoved that monster up my ass many times until I came on the living room floor.

For a few days, my uncle made me work naked with that monster stuck in my anus. Working with that thing was very uncomfortable and painful. Sometimes, during the chores, I cried in pain, but cum dripped from my dick and smeared it on my thighs all day long.

With that monster in my ass, he couldn't fuck me when he got home at night, so he would beat me brutally with his leather belt until I came and make me suck him until he filled my mouth with cum every night. I think we both enjoyed this daily routine the most.

I was indeed the fucking bitch my uncle said I was.