This was our weekly happy hour.

A coworker found me in a BDSM chat room, and before I knew it, before I recognized him, it was too late, he'd discovered I was a perverted, masochistic, submissive old faggot.

At my employer, an insurance company affiliated with Pentecostal churches, this information would be fatal; the revelation could result in immediate and summary dismissal. I was the oldest employee, already approaching 60, and they were all in their early 30s.

So, my coworker began blackmailing me, ordering me to stay after work and abusing me as his slave and bitch. Soon, he invited several other colleagues to join what he called "their happy hour", or, as he put it, "my unhappy hour", or my hardest work hour.

They would take me to the company cafeteria, where the floor was easier to clean, order me to strip naked, get on all fours, put a collar on me, and begin beating me and shoving things up my ass. Some were so excited they'd shove their dicks in my mouth for me to give them blowjobs; others would stub out cigarettes on my nipples, back, cock, and ass, burning them repeatedly with sadism..

They loved to humiliate me. They'd bring me dog food, piss on it, and make me eat it like a despicable dog. They'd spit in my face, kick me, and slap me. I'd always end up bent over the table or on all fours, being raped by all of them, taking turns, dozens of times.

This became our weekly routine. Their happy hour was every Friday, and sometimes it extended into the weekend.

I can assure you that I was the happiest, and I had the best happy hour I could have ever dreamed of!

I have a role in this monastery, I am the sin and atonement of all the monks.

From the moment I was born, I was tormented by temptations and constantly struggled with sin and my evil nature. My older brothers, uncles, and cousins ​​sinned with me, and I led them into the worst sins of the flesh. My parents and uncles punished me a lot; they tried to discipline my body, but the more they punished me, the more I fell into the worst sins. 

My body was part of the problem; I was born with the sin of vanity, because I was handsome and very well endowed. From the moment I had my first erections, my penis dominated me and aroused envy and lust in those who saw it. When I was 16, my father took me to a monastery and asked them to accept me as a cloistered novice. He spoke to one of the monks, who was his cousin, who quickly explained to me that someone like me should be imprisoned for life, to try to avoid the impending hell. I was not consulted, nor would I have had any alternative or escape from the solution presented by my parents; However, I resignedly accepted it, believing it to be the best option. I was right; it was the best solution for everyone, including me.

I am not a monk, not even a novice, I am just a liturgical object, I am what they use to pay and atone for their sins, because I am tortured and flogged while they pray and ask for forgiveness for their sins. I am the penitent, the body that suffers the pain and must pay for the sins of all the brothers of the order. When one of them commits a more serious sin, the sinner has to wound my body with a red-hot iron and torture me brutally to atone for his guilt. Even under the worst tortures, my enormous cock remains stiff and throbbing, I ejaculate and cum many times.

They use my body entirely, I suck their cocks, I am fucked violently and with lust, and they love to masturbate me many times in a row and suck my cock with lust.

On a religious day, they burned my tongue and then, with it sore and painful, they forced me to suck the penises of all the monks, from the youngest to the oldest of the inmates.

I believe that my parents have no idea of ​​the horrors I suffer here in the monastery, nor would they believe how completely fulfilled and happy I am here, being the sinner and lust of all of them.

These pigs were not condemned, they wanted and paid to be here.

 To me, these pieces of shit have no name, age, or any individuality; they're all fucking whores.

The company doesn't want them to ever leave this dungeon again. They'll stay here naked, chained and blindfolded until they die of disease, hunger or until we kill them. They'll just be dragged out to be burned. Some of them even last several years here, eating everything their mouths can find: food, any dirt and even their own shit from the floor.

What I find most curious is that when I enter this stinking, cold and dirty cell, their dicks get hard and start to salivate. They open their mouths thirstily, searching for my dick by the smell. I leave my dick dirty and smelly so they can easily find it. When they find it, they swallow my dick and give delicious blowjobs until I cum in them. It seems that my cum is considered their favorite food. I piss in their mouths too and they drink it all, practically not letting anything spill. I come here several times a day and cum in them many times. Then I beat them, whip them violently and they cry without complaining, they just want me to let them suck me again.

I hang some of them by the collar, leaving them barely reaching the ground. If they wanted to die by hanging, they could easily do it. But, when I enter that hell they writhe lasciviously and moan with lust, like bitches in heat, begging me to let them go so they can suck me. I find their assholes too dirty and wide for me to fuck them, but many of my colleagues fuck and stick thick things in those filthy assholes.

The more we crush or twist their cocks and nipples, the more we torture or whip them, the harder the cocks of these shitty perverts become. They all have iron rings piercing their tits and cocks, because they were forbidden to have sex, but many of them cum while they are being tortured.

The most curious thing is that all these idiots gave everything they had, all their money and possessions, to be placed here, in this place and role, out of pure lust and perversion.

Some visited these pigpens before deciding to pay to be here in these brutal conditions. Some of these perverted bitches saved up money to pay to be chained here, and they all knew there would be no going back.

Nikita is also used as a gift for trading with nomadic tribes.

In addition to being the troop's whore, Nikita is also used as a diplomatic gift to other tribes and groups that appear on the borders of the Russian Empire. When a nomadic Mongolian, Arab or Persian tribe is encountered by border patrols, before the troop simply approaches and risks direct armed conflict, some horsemen approach the tribe, escorting the young man who walks naked alongside them.

As a white, blond boy with a very Russian physique, he is given as a gift to the foreigners. The fact that he is delivered naked and with a hard-on makes his usefulness clear.

Nikita docilely submits to the foreigners, gets fucked, gives blowjobs and accepts everything without question. This attitude creates the conditions for friendly dialogue between the Russian troops and the other nomadic tribes.

As a white, blond boy with a very Russian physique, he is given as a gift to the foreigners. The fact that he is delivered naked and with a hard-on makes his usefulness clear.

Then the Russian colonel comes to the tribe to talk to its leader. Often this conversation takes place while sharing drinks, tobacco and the bitch. There are long negotiation conversations, sometimes tense, sometimes friendly, and these different moods are resolved by using the troop's whore.

When the negotiators are tense, they unload on the guy's back, ripping his skin off. Sometimes they talk while fucking him, sometimes being sucked by him. Insults and difficulties are best resolved this way, often a plentiful table of food helps the negotiation, whores have always been present on these occasions - Nikita plays both roles.

The animal is brought to court gagged and chained, moaning muffledly like a frightened ox. It knows what can happen.

Legislation has advanced, and now, in the perfect neo-liberal world, everything can be resolved by private initiative and the free market. The old and obsolete labor, welfare, and environmental laws have all been removed. 

The young man had a job, but he became addicted to online gambling and began to get into debt. Because he was young and handsome, he began to prostitute himself to pay off part of his debts, but soon his situation became irreversible, and his bills became unpayable. A manager of a prostitution company proposed a purchase agreement to him, who would pay off part of his debts and have him permanently as a bitch in the brothel. The creditors filed a lawsuit to enforce the debts, and it was taken to court for a decision. The owner of the fag proposed to the creditors that he would pay off the debt in ten-year installments. The bitch would work 18 hours a day, being used like a slut, without rest. Modern drugs, hormones and stimulants, widely used in brothels, can keep these types of sexual beasts awake and excited for long hours of brutal sexual abuse.

The creditors know that in this type of work the beasts usually do not last long; in about five years they are already so ruined, sick and deformed that they are no longer of interest to the clients.

That is why they ask the judge to slaughter the beast and sell its organs to pay off the debts. Today, the transplant industry, laboratories and the animal feed industry use everything: hair, kidneys, meat, blood, all the skin, all the bones; nothing is wasted.

The animal is taken to court to be evaluated, muzzled and chained. It is not allowed to give an opinion or make any sound, but even when muzzled it moans and grunts like a frightened ox. It understands what is at stake, it knows what can happen to it.

It shows its penis trying to show that it can generate profit in the brothel. The judge looks to assess the animal's condition, but it seems that the most profitable option would be to dismantle it.

The colonel found, in the small village, what he was looking for to accompany his troops on their mission to the border.

The Tsar's army was passing through the village, heading to lands farther from the country's borders to protect them from threats from bandits from neighboring countries. The families feared their older sons would be forcibly enlisted in the army.

When the troops arrived, the colonel went to the village church to talk to the local priest, who knew all the villagers best. A little later, the two left and went to the home of one of the families.

The poor family had eight children of varying ages. The parents were immediately frightened by the risk of losing the oldest, who worked in the fields during the day. The priest ordered the father to bring Nikita, the third, who was almost twenty years old. The parents were relieved that he was the one they were looking for. The colonel waited for the boy, escorted by a corporal from his troops, in the large open patio of ​​the village surrounded by many curious and apprehensive neighbors. 

When the father brought his son before the colonel, the priest quickly opened the boy's shirt and pulled down his pants, exposing his nakedness to the officer and everyone around. The boy tried to cover himself, but the father grabbed his arms, keeping his hands behind his back. The colonel addressed the priest. 

"Indeed, the boy has a beautiful physique and a beautiful cock and balls." 

To which the priest added, "I can assure you that he is a pervert, an incorrigible and insatiable lecher, capable of fulfilling the role you desire." 

The officer addressed Nikita's father and asked: "Would the family be pleased to receive a young mule in exchange for this pervert?" 

The father, smiling, replied: "A mule is much more useful for work in the fields than this incorrigible wanker. We are very grateful for your generous offer!" 

With a brief gesture from the colonel to the corporal, he approached and passed the rope he had, tying the boy's wrists behind his back and making a loop to use as a leash to pull the boy along. 

The mother asked if they wanted to take his shirt lying on the floor, and the corporal replied, "No, it won't wear shirts anymore. You can keep this one."

The colonel smiled when he noticed that Nikita's dick was getting hard. The priest gestured, familiarly holding the boy's beautiful dick, and said to the colonel.

"This pervert gets excited every time he gets naked; his dick reveals how much he likes to be exposed, handled, or even beaten. Ever since he was born, his mother noticed that this son was a deviant, an insatiable sexual animal."

"She brought him to me countless times. We punished him severely, kept him tied up, fasting, and penitent for days. I tied his dick tight to see if it would stop getting hard and cumming, but it seemed that the more we tried to contain his lust, the more the bastard got horny and enjoyed it. He is a big problem in this community; he has already insinuated himself and led almost all the boys and men who live here to sin. His cock and his holes have already condemned almost all the young people in the community to hell. Take this animal from hell away; we never want to see him again!"

The colonel smiled happily, rubbing his hands with great satisfaction.

"Don't worry, you'll never see this piece of shit again. It seems that it's exactly what I was looking for to cheer up all my troops in the vast and unpopulated borders."

The colonel and the corporal turned their backs on the family and the priest and walked steadily toward the troops waiting for them at the entrance to the village. They crossed the entire small community with the boy walking with difficulty, practically naked, with his pants still down at his ankles, with his hands tied behind his back, being pulled by the rope around his neck. What the two soldiers observed, smiling maliciously, was that with each step Nikita's cock was swinging like a mast, hard as a rock and dripping cum from the satisfaction of being taken like that.

Everyone in the village walked in the opposite direction, curious to see the beautiful mule happily hugged by the happy family, thanking the priest for helping them solve the problem.

The brutal and lascivious life of road slaves.

This is my first post using Grok, X's AI program. The images were produced there and I ended up editing some of them manually. Please, give your opinion and leave comments about the story and the images.

Some young men kicked out of their homes for being gay end up migrating to the US in search of work. There, as illegal immigrants, they end up working on the roads, being exploited as prostitutes or manual workers for truck drivers. Undocumented and illegals, they end up being accused of all kinds of crimes, including drug trafficking and robberies. In some American states, prostitution and sodomy are crimes. Pursued by the police, they end up cornered, in debt, enslaved, exploited, and prostituted by a perverse scheme organized by truck drivers, becoming slaves of the roads.

Transport companies, truck drivers, gas stations, and highway patrol officers form a structured alliance to exploit and maintain these invisible slaves.

At specific gas stations, they are traded and sold like cattle, to serve as sex bitches, helpers, cooks, or beasts of burden in loading and unloading cargo. They are kept chained and practically naked, with their bodies covered in bruises and wounds at all times, to prevent them from escaping. Part of the scheme's success depends on them being regularly humiliated, beaten, tortured, and raped without mercy, keeping them submissive and frightened.

Rape and sexual violence are a fundamental part of this scheme. Gay slaves have their stigma reinforced: "You are in this life because you are gay", "You deserve this brutal treatment", and "You are truly slutty bitches". Those who are not gay end up being raped so many times, given so many blowjobs, and having to fuck so many men that they no longer know how to say whether they do it for pleasure or out of obligation. They lose their own identity and natural sexual orientation. Brutal, promiscuous, collective, and humiliating sex makes them feel dirty and inferior and facilitates their subjugation.

Any man captured by the police, near the roads without clothes, without documents, and with his body bruised from beatings, is taken to the police stations to be brutally beaten, tortured, and raped so that they know that they cannot go to the police or try to report their inhumane condition. Some cruel police officers, to punish and scare those captured, cut off the little toe of their left foot to mark them forever as fugitives. Then, they are returned to their owners or sold to other truck drivers.

It's not just illegal immigrants who are put in this position and role. Faggots are a problem for many American families, even non-Latino families. Some of them are taken to the roads to work by uncles, relatives, or "friends" while they are still young, under the illusion that working on trucks that cross the country will earn them some money and opportunities to go to bigger cities. But they end up being deceived, exploited, in debt, and subjected to this condition of slavery over time. 

Some religious families feel relieved to lose contact with the perverted young people. There are reports of families and pastors who hand over these young men to transportation companies that belong to the church members. These "deliveries" are especially perverse because the pastors explain to the young men that they must help their families so, they start working already with large debts from the money they "would earn" that is advanced to the churches and their families. These debts quickly grow and the young faggots will never be able to pay them off or receive any money throughout their lives.

Some of them end up getting used to and accepting this life and even being happy as slaves of truck drivers. They live hidden as illegal cargo of the box trucks, or in containers. At the stops, they wash the trucks and the drivers' clothes, cook, and are used sexually by their owners. Some drivers are "straight" so at the bigger stops, they pimp their slaves to serve other truck drivers. 

They work their entire lives without documents, without receiving any pay, without being able to wear more than old shorts, and without being able to have their bodies free of wounds and welts, because these are the signs that keep them in the condition of slaves. The marked bodies are important signs that they cannot escape exploitation, so all truck drivers contribute to maintaining the wounds. It is common for those who, after fucking one of the slaves, make a mark by burning a cigarette or cigar on the animal's butt, back, or neck. Pliers, hot irons, cigarettes, whips, pocket knives, and all kinds of instruments are used to mark the body temporarily or permanently, reinforcing, recording, and perpetuating their condition as slaves of the roads.

Some of these roads`s slaves remain in this condition, passing from hand to hand, from one truck to another for many years, without receiving any payment or escaping this situation. Many suffer their entire lives, but some perverts even admit to their owners that this is the life they dreamed of.

The sergeant of the army had known me since high school when I was his sex toy.

The sergeant of the army had known me since high school when I was his sex toy. 

He was the leader of the worst gangs in the school, which caused terror among classmates, teachers, and staff. He was the one who helped me understand what I`m, I felt and desired. He would tell me to go to the bathroom and wait for him naked. I, trembling with fear and lust, obeyed. He would grab me roughly, slap me in the face, pinch and bite my nipples and fuck me so hard that I cried with pain and lust. He taught me to suck and endure his big, hard cock that hurt my throat until I almost choked. He widened all my holes and my mind, he taught me the thrill of being his!

He had dozens of girlfriends and friends, but he would fuck me and use me often in front of his classmates without any embarrassment or shame. Being fucked in public, behind the school, on the street, or in the bar turned him on, and it turned me on even more. 

When he joined the army to become an officer, all he had to do was send me a message telling me to go to the barracks and I would drop everything and obey! 

Several times he kept me naked and chained up for days, being tortured, sucking him, and being raped by him and his fellow soldiers. He and his colleagues were truly sadistic; it wasn't just fucking and being sucked that made them cum. They tortured me cruelly, with pleasure, they beat me a lot, to make it hurt and bruise, but I never asked for mercy. I cried, moaned and sometimes even fainted, but I didn't ask for mercy.

I did not understand the reasons or circumstances that allowed him to keep me chained for so long, nor how long my captivity would last. He never said, and I never asked when I arrived, how long I would be there. He tested my total obedience and willingness, and I never disobeyed or disappointed him. Sometimes it was just one night, more than a week.

When they told me to leave the barracks, I could barely walk. Sometimes they had to keep me in the infirmary for a few days until I could walk without help.

But when I got home, he almost always sent me a message:

- So, bitch? Did you like being used like this? I'll call you again, be available, ready, and recovered!

And I would answer: - I'm your shitty slave! I'll run as soon as my man tells me to! All my holes are yours!

He's the hottest thing in my life!

Finally, Tuesday arrived, and I heard them coming, my pimp is still negotiating prices with the clients.

Finally, Tuesday arrived, and I heard them coming, my pimp is still negotiating prices with the clients. 

I already know the routine, because I've been in this life for years, I know most of the clients, their needs, and ways of acting. Some bring their whips and batons, others will use the equipment that is here in the brothel. Some will also want to fuck me, in all my holes, others will wish to blowjobs. 

They can do the worst evils to me, breaking my back with dozens of violent lashes, fucking me, and then continuing the whipping. Some like to fuck me while my ass bleeds from the beatings, using the blood that runs down my back as a lubricant. 

After hours of pain, torture, brutality, and rape they leave, leaving me on the floor, covered in wounds and bruises, in a pool of blood, sweat, sperm, and piss. It takes me weeks to recover. Some wounds turn into permanent scars, others heal and disappear. During this time I work daily, without rest, cleaning and tidying the brothel. I find some of the clients who have destroyed me coming to the house to pick up some of the boys or girls who are prostituted here.

Precisely for this reason, and at the request of some of them, my pimp makes me work naked all the time so that they can see the gradual healing and recovery of my body. Some even tease me by showing me the wounds they have made and celebrating that they have not yet disappeared.

So, on the first Tuesday of every month, my pimp ties me up against the wall and the clients come to break me and fuck me.

 

He has no chance of escaping alive. I am too horny.

My servants and employees know what is going to happen now, they know me, they fear me and they have seen similar scenes happen before.

When I order one of my servants to be brought to this tree, he knows he will be brutally punished. One of the foremen accused this servant of stealing the missing sheep. I ordered the young man's clothes to be taken off, I like to see them naked, this one is still quite handsome and has a beautiful cock to make what is to come even more fun.

One of the foremen tied his wrists to a stick and put the gallows collar around his neck.

My cock is throbbing and erect under my coat, I am almost cumming from so much arousal.

The young man begs for my mercy, says he has nothing to do with the missing sheep, that he is innocent - as if that matters to me, as if this detail would stop my fun.

My favorite foreman is already impatiently holding the heaviest whip, with the hardest and roughest leather, anxious for me to tell him how many lashes the sentence will be.

I know that after 20 the boy will be so injured that he will be unable to walk for more than two weeks; after 50 he will probably faint and may die from the infections in the wounds.

But today I am very horny, I am going to sentence him to 100! I want the intervals between the lashes to be long, so that he can cry, moan and beg for my mercy, because I love to hear his screams and pleas, but he has no chance of escaping alive. I am too horny.

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.

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.

Three Years a Slave: Making him suffer alone while he waits. Part Seventeen.

 

As the months went by, my Owners began to lose interest in the Pig, and I started experimenting with new ways of making him suffer.

Since I was the only one who went to the shed to feed him and check on him, I began to feel as if he was mine alone and to discover that I also felt the sadistic pleasure of watching him suffer.

The life of a shitty slave faggot is not only work, tasks, rape, and torture; it is, above all, waiting, suffering, bored and silent for the moment someone decides to use you. Being just a thing that waits to be used.

So I started to tie the Pig in positions where he could stay for many hours, even days, without me doing or having any work with him.

I hung him from the high beam of the structure by the gag, like a fish hanging by its mouth. I ensured he could reach the ground with the tips of his feet, with discomfort and difficulty.

He couldn't sleep in that position; hanging there without sleeping for many hours, whole days began to destroy him.

I only let him go when it was time to feed him, once a day, for a little over half an hour. During that time, he would fall to his knees on the floor and eat the food from the bucket and drink the water from the bowl, still with his hands tied behind his back and his ankles restrained by the irons. He ate desperately and greedily because he was exhausted, hungry, and trembling with pain and cramps. If the tortures had not managed to break the perverted masochist, the long hours of solitary immobilization in the closed shed were working very well! I loved to see him crying, moaning, and trembling in deep sadness and despair.

While he was still eating, I would grab the gag to cover his mouth, and he would start begging, in desperation, crying with his mouth buried in the bucket of food.

- For the love of God, I'm hungry and tired. Don't hang me up again; leave me on the floor for a while. I can't stand being hung up like this.

I wouldn't answer; I would finish his feeding, rest, and hang him up again.

I finally arrived at the place I always dreamed of.

I finally arrived at the place I always dreamed of.

For as long as I can remember, I have always been a piece of shit born in a pigsty.

I was born into a family of poor, working-class people in the city's suburbs. A family where violence, alcohol and drug addiction and religion make a perverse mix of moralism and debauchery. I saw my father fuck my cousin, my mother gets fucked by a neighbor, and an aunt makes a living from prostitution. I tried very hard to be the worst of the worst.

I never wanted to be anything other than that; I was a shitty, lazy, and stupid student. At school, I sucked the dicks of all my classmates; I was fucked by them and by the cleaning staff and the janitors. When they beat me or humiliated me, I got a hard-on, and I came while moaning like a happy bitch.

I was the dumbest of my many brothers; no one ever thought I was worth the food I ate, nor did I see any quality in myself. I don't remember if it was me or them who first realized I was a faggot bitch, but the whole family knew I liked to suck and be fucked, and they liked to use my talents! My brothers fucked me, I sucked my cousins' and uncles' cocks, and more than once, my father pissed in my mouth while I masturbated. 

My religious and devoted mother took me to church and handed me over to the pastor to spend the weekends with him, with him fucking me and beating me all the time. Later, I found out that I was given over in place of the tithe she owed to the pastor. I couldn't complain; the pastor had the most enormous cock that fucked me and beat me so hard and skillfully that I came when my breasts were spanked.

I was the shame and the problem of the family. At school and home, I was treated with contempt and anger; everyone knew I was worthless.

In the jobs I've had, I've been fired for being stupid, for the mistakes I made, and for being caught sucking dick in the locker room.

I'm chubby, pot-bellied, and very hairy. I've never even been handsome.

A few months ago, a cousin found a website and suggested that the family sell me online—a great solution for everyone. My parents were thrilled, and so was I.

They quickly weighed me, measured me, photographed me, and did the required health exams. To my and everyone else's surprise, I didn't have any STDs, even after a life of irresponsible follies!

The sale was quick and successful. I don't even know how much they paid, but my uncles seemed surprised that someone would want to buy a piece of shit like me and that it could be worth so much.

A van came by my house to pick me up, and now I'm here, tied up and naked in a dark warehouse, waiting to be delivered to my Owner.

I am 22 years old today, and from now on, I will be just a body, a collection of furry flesh and bones, ready for them to do whatever they want with me. My stomach is spinning with excitement, anxiety, and lust. I don't care if I get fucked, tortured, or just plain slaughtered; this is where I have always dreamed of being, in this place and role!

Three years of slavery: the first months. Part Fifteen.

They didn't release me from the chains in the first few weeks, not even once. I would hear them talking to each other about how I should get used to being part of the warehouse's playthings.

Luckily, the sun would shine in that garage in the late afternoon.

Toy had to provide for my subsistence; it was one of his daily tasks. Sometimes, he would put water and food in the dog bowls, and I would eat on all fours, with my feet and collar still tied with chains. Sometimes, I was chained up so that he had to shove the food in my mouth.

I would piss and shit as I could, dirtying my legs and the floor like a filthy animal. Toy would wash the floor and my body with brooms and soap.

When my Owner and his boyfriend came to the garage, it was to whip and torture me. In this first stage, they came three or four times a week, sometimes for short, violent beatings, as if they were angry about something and wanted to release the tension in my back. They were nervous, violent, and very painful whippings. Sometimes, both came calmly and slowly and spent hours whipping me and talking about any subject, their work, sports, or travel plans. They whipped me while they smoked and drank, without rushing, varying the types of whips and having fun showing how they could hit the softest parts. 

Some Sundays, they stayed all afternoon, until sunset, whipping me. There were so many lashes that I passed out several times, and in the end, my entire body was covered in wounds and blood dripping. After these worse beatings, they immobilized me in very uncomfortable and stressful positions so that Toy could apply the medicines, disinfectants, and healing agents. And they left me like that for a day or two, suffering and healing my wounds. 

Sometimes, Toy had to clean the dried sperm off my legs.

Three years of slavery: starting the routine. Part fourteen.

After the structure was built and the rings were placed piercing my nipples, dick, and ears, I was firmly chained with my arms up and standing upright.

They didn't want to release my chains in any way; I understood that I was now part of the structure, and soon, I had to learn to sleep and eat while chained, which was not easy.

I was no longer the slave who cared for the house or them; for household chores, they had Toy. It was Toy who took care of them and me.

He came to the shed for two days to treat the ring wounds, applying sterilizing and anti-inflammatory ointments. My skin has always healed very well; the wounds were already healed within two days.

Toy fed me by putting large spoons of dog food in my mouth, he gave me water, and he washed me with the nozzle and the broom as a mop, cleaning the urine and shit that ran down my legs.

Being chained there was already a terrible torture for the arms, wrists, and legs. My whole body ached with fatigue and cramps from having to stand in chains for so many hours.

However, on the third day, locked there, sweaty and tired, the door opened early in the morning, and Toy held a long leather whip.

Without saying anything, he gave the first lash in my back and then another and another. He spent the whole day whipping slowly, calmly, and with long intervals between each lash. He was learning how to handle the whip, practicing how to make the whip cross the air, crack, and hit every part of my body.

I confess that I found it humiliating to be whipped by another slave. I imagined that only my Owners could do that, but I was less than a slave like him; I was now really a pig chained to serve as a toy, even for a young and beautiful slave like the Toy.

He only stopped for a brief time to eat, but throughout the day, he whipped me with accurate blows and other clumsy and erratic ones. It hurt a lot when he hit the lash accurately, but the pain was even worse when he missed the blow.

At the beginning of the night, he stopped; I stayed there for about an hour or two, thinking that I would spend another night alone in the shed when my Owners entered, each carrying a whip in their hands.

Three Years a Slave: Adjusting the Flesh to the Support. Part thirteen.

After my youngest Owner checked that the structure inside the shed was ready he began to adjust me to the new support.

I had fixed a whole series of iron rings in different positions on the wooden beams to allow for tying in different ways. I could have imagined they would do the same to me.

He tied me to one of the wooden pillars, gagged me so I wouldn't scream and started drilling me.

He used a very thick injection needle, the likes of which I had never seen before, and pierced my huge, grotesque nipples. Piercing the sensitive tits already hurt immensely, but it got even worse when he forced the needle to the sides to widen the hole.

After the tits, the boy pierced right in the middle of my ears; it wasn't in the lobe like they do with earrings; it was right in the middle of them. The holes painfully burst the ears' folds; I felt like they were being ripped apart.

I moaned in despair, I cried profusely, but he continued painfully opening the holes for a long time until he was able to pass through them the steel rings, four-inch rings, at least a quarter of an inch thick.

After he placed the rings, he used a blowtorch to weld them closed permanently.

I had already almost passed out from the painful process and still felt my nipples pulsing extremely painfully when he grabbed my dick.

I struggled in despair, and for the first time, I could test how solid the structure I had built was. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I tried to struggle, the structure didn't even shake. He was able to firmly and calmly hold my immense, thick cock, pierce it and make the same cruel and painful enlargement of the hole to install the steel ring on it.

I spent the night tied to the post and covered in sweat, tears, and blood that oozed abundantly from my open wounds. The steel rings seemed to weigh many kilos! My tits and dick hurt terribly and every hour, my Owner or Toy came to rotate the rings so that they wouldn't stick during the healing process. This process of turning the rings on the wounds hurt so much that I became desperate and shook in panic.

I was tied like that for two days, and I understood that that wooden structure and I were now definitively linked. Me and the wooden beams were now the same thing.

Since I was sold as a beast of burden due to debt, my life is just painful and horny; I am much happier in this role than in the life I had.

 The new super-liberal laws abolished all labor and social legislation limiting the free market, allowing everything to be freely traded and sold. All public services were privatized. In a short time, society entered a cycle of unlimited prosperity and wealth.

Companies that manage prisons sell their prisoners. Indebted families sold their children, and animal breeding companies began raising humans for sale and work.

This is the perfect world in which I grew up and studied. I worked excitedly at an investment consultancy company, and within a few years, I already had shares in very innovative and profitable companies. However, when I was 22, one of these companies went bankrupt, leaving me no way to pay off my debts.

Privatized justice is much more agile and efficient; within a week, all my assets were taken, and I was sold to pay my debts.

Delivery apps use human animals to work as beasts of burden until exhaustion and slaughter. So that they work without problems, drugs were developed to make these beasts more stupid, docile, and obedient. For the working beasts to have more strength, they inject large doses of hormones into their muscles, testicles, and hair all over the body. Ever since they made me the beast of burden, I feel doped, stoned, horny, and my dick is dripping with cum all the time.

A guy who knew me from the bank bought me to ride around town on me. He put rings on my nose, nipples, and the head of my dick; he likes a riding saddle strapped to my hips connected to a huge dildo shoved up my ass. When he jumps over the tackle, I feel as if the dildo enters my throat, causing more pain and excitement.

He enjoys going to the bars I used to go to, on the streets where I walked, showing off naked and hairy, spilling cum on the asphalt. He uses a long carbon stick to spank me and seems to poke my dick and balls when we walk. The more he pounds me, the hornier I feel, and the more cum I spill.

The most surprising thing is that I feel so horny that I feel like I also like being seen by my friends and colleagues as this disgusting, perverted animal.

I believe that I am much happier in this job than in the life I once had.

The only thing left of him for me is his sadism, and I'm happy with that.

I had been looking for a gay BDSM relationship for years without success. A little over five years ago, I finally found a handsome and sadistic young man who accepted me as his exclusive fag slave.

He is young, sexy, beautiful, intelligent, and charming, and I decided to live just for him, doing all his wishes.

I work for a transport company and don't make much money, but since he came to live with me, my salary has been entirely deposited into his account. I haven't had the slightest control over my account for years, and everything I have now is his.

From when I get home until I leave for my job, I spend the entire time naked and taking care of the housework, washing his clothes, tidying his house, and cooking for him. 

In the early years, I sucked his dick from time to time, and he fucked me a few times, but over time he lost interest in me and started inviting cute boys the same age as him to fuck him at home. I couldn't complain, I'm just shit, and he's my owner! He is over twenty years old; I am already close to fifty.

The only interest he still has in me is when he exercises his sadism. He is really sadistic and loves to spend hours making me horny, suffering, feeling endless pain and excitement. He enjoys giving painful electric shocks to my nipples, balls, and cock. This is our sex; it is the reward I get for giving myself entirely and without limits to him.

Sometimes, he leaves the house on Friday night and leaves me chained with the wires stuck in my body, sets the timer so that I get shocked for five minutes every hour, and he only comes back on Sunday afternoon, tired and Too drunk to remember to unchain me. On Monday morning, he releases my chains, I take a shower, removing all the cum, piss, and shit that runs from my body, and I go to work famish and exhausted to earn money for my owner.

I know I'm worthless, too old, and ugly to please a handsome young guy like him, but I'm thrilled to live for him. He treats me like a shitty old perverted faggot, but that's what I am. I'm happy for every minute he uses me; I love the humiliation, the contempt, and the violence with which he treats me. That is my pleasure, and I feel that, in my way, I still give you some fun.