The long weekend with the four sadistic dominators was a dream.

I had finally found the dominator I had dreamed of. Paul was handsome, calm, mature, very sadistic, and experienced. He lived alone in a beautiful apartment, and we started with sporadic encounters lasting a few hours, scheduled through apps.

The routine was simple: I would undress as soon as I entered the apartment and obey all commands without question. He would test my submission and resistance. If he disapproved of me, each encounter could be the last. I would suck, get fucked, clean, cook, and be beaten without any hesitation.

So, sometimes, he would have friends over, and I would serve whoever he wanted. However, he wanted to prove my intentions and prove that I had no limits. 

On Friday, when I arrived, he had three friends over. He explained: We have a long weekend, and you will stay here with us until Wednesday, okay? I invited these friends over so we could abuse you together. You've already served one of them, and you know he's more cruel and sadistic. The other two brought whips and ropes; I believe they will also want to torture you brutally.

I didn't know the other two, but I had already noticed that Paul advertised me as his bitch on other gay BDSM sites. He was pimping me out, charging sadistic men who paid to fuck and torture me. I confess that I loved this idea and found it even more exciting.

I smiled and nodded. This man was indeed particularly sadistic; he loved to burn my nipples, cock, and balls with cigars and cigarettes. I loved his tortures, but I especially liked the way he fucked my throat, shoving his thick, hard cock inside until I was suffocating.

The weekend was brutal; the four of them used me, fucked me, and tortured me the whole time, taking turns without limits or rest.

The four of them were sadistic and domineering. I was whipped and tortured with brutality beyond any limits I had ever imagined. I could only endure it because I was tied up and gagged. 

I cried, moaned, fainted, and vomited several times. I fainted a few times. But I loved it all and came dozens of times. I did everything, obeyed all the orders, and endured it without complaining because I hope Paul calls me many more times.

The joy of selling our perverted and despicable youngest - the parents' view.

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Three years of slavery: deciding what to do with the ugly pig. Part nineteen.

 

My owners lost all interest in the ugly pig.

After all the days of being tortured with electric shocks and hanging by the ankles from the structure of the shed, the animal simply lost all cognition and coordination and became a worm.

It could no longer walk or even stand up on its own. It could not move its paws like a human; it looked like an old, clumsy monkey. It could barely balance some food to put in his mouth. Its feet were twisted and stiff, and it could not step on the ground like a human.

Its mouth was a little crooked; it could no longer speak or chew properly what it tried to eat. He grunted like a pig, moaned, and cried all the time.

It had a dazed look and did not seem to understand what was happening, where it was, or what it was. It lost control of his systems and pissed and shit without any control. His cock seemed semi-hard and throbbing all the time, ejaculating precum, sperm, and piss alternately at any given moment. I gave up on washing it or keeping it clean; it was always dirty with sweat, tears, drool, piss, feces, and sperm, stinking like a filthy pig.

When I whipped him, it didn't even react like before; it simply kept crying and moaning without any reaction. He didn't seem to care or fear any pain, nor did he feel any pleasure.

I showed my owners the pig's stupid, lethargic state and uselessness. They agreed that keeping him in the house no longer made sense and said they intended to eliminate him.

I had no idea what we would do with that dirty, useless, disgusting, and despicable animal.

Shopping day was the best day of the month!

I had recently retired and finally could no longer go to work, and, as I had agreed with my young Master, I became his full-time slave.

I moved permanently into his apartment, gave him all my bank codes and passwords so he could receive my pension, and gave him everything I had and my savings.

The young man was addicted to games, worked freelance from time to time, and spent all day at home playing games and smoking marijuana with friends. Having me as a slave solved several of his problems, including his financial problems with my pension and all my savings; I started to clean the apartment, wash clothes, cook, and work as a domestic servant; he and his colleagues fucked me and made me suck them all the time.

I didn't leave the house for anything; I stayed there naked and working all the time. I only went out once a month when we went shopping, and I looked forward to that day all month long.

When we had to go for monthly purchases, he would make me walk ten blocks always to the same crappy supermarket in the worst part of the poor neighborhood where we lived. Before I left, he would lock my cock in a chastity cage, stick a three-inch butt plug in my ass, and order me to go around wearing only an old jockstrap and worn-out shorts that kept falling.

Walking around the neighborhood barefoot and practically naked, with a collar and leash, was very humiliating and exciting. I could feel my cock throbbing and dripping inside the cage, very horny as if it were going to explode. My Master would take an UBER and meet me at the grocery store. I had to be there to pay for the monthly groceries because he used the retirement voucher I had to sign.

The manager of this grocery store had figured out our thing and let me walk around the joint practically naked like that.

When it was time to pay, he always took me to the office and made me suck him and two other employees at the establishment as part of the payment. They saw my body covered in welts and marks from the beatings that my Master gave me regularly. While I was sucking the guys, the security guard at the grocery store liked to beat me brutally with the rubber truncheon they used to beat up little thieves.

After paying for the groceries, I walked back to the apartment, where my owner took his UBER right after I signed the voucher.

Shopping day was the best day of the month!

Three Years a Slave: Starting to Destroy Him. Part Eighteen.

Little by little, my Owners lost interest in the Pig. Sometimes, they would go two or three weeks without going to the barn to see him.

I was the only one who went there every day, two or three times a day, to feed him and pick up feces and urine from the floor. Sometimes I would whip him or make him suck me off; he could give an excellent blowjob, very competent, which made me cum nicely even with the chastity cage.

One day, I talked to my older Owner and asked what they planned to do with the Pig and what I should do with him. Our Owner was brief: Destroy him, make that animal go completely crazy, and ruin it.

He instructed me to hang him by his ankles, upside down, and alternately place electrical wires in his sensitive parts, his ears, tongue, nipples, and cock. Then, I turned on the shock machine, with the timer set to deliver violent shocks for one or two long minutes every 15 or 20 minutes.

I followed the instructions, even though I realized the sadistic cruelty of the idea. He didn't ask me to whip the Pig nor to use clamps on his nipples because we had already seen the animal ejaculate with pleasure while feeling these kinds of pain. Many forms of torture gave the Pig as much pleasure as they did to his sadistic owners. So now, they told me to do something that would ruin the Pig without him enjoying the process.

However, what I saw surprised and shocked me.

I left the pig there, hanging for a week, receiving electric shocks that made him writhe and contort like a fat, grotesque worm, howling, screaming, and crying in despair and exhaustion.

Twice a day, I took him down and gave him food and water, leaving him on the floor chained near the food and water bowls. To my amazement, even in that state, he could still drink and eat on his own, directly from the pots, without using his hands.

After an hour, I would return to the shed and hang him up again, and the electric torture would begin again.

What surprised me was his resistance. Even hanging like that, he was so exhausted that he could sleep for minutes between shocks. During the shocks, he would writhe, drool, cry, groan, piss and shit himself. His wide eyes looked like they would pop out of their sockets. But, at various moments, I would still see his hard cock ejaculate, and he would cum with excitement from feeling so much pain and suffering.

The Pig still felt moments of pure excitement and pleasure even with this brutal torture!

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.