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!

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.

The fate of a submissive and masochistic man from a poor family in the countryside.

 From an early age, I knew that I was different from the other boys at school, because I was gay and submissive. My mother raised me and my brothers alone, working tirelessly, and when she saw that I was a sissy, she took me out of school and put me in charge of the housework. I learned to cook, iron, and care for the house without stopping. I learned through beatings, I was spanked by her, my brothers, and my older cousins. I spent years without leaving the house for anything, barefoot, wearing only old and dirty underwear, because no one bothered by my nakedness, not even me. I slept on the floor in the utility room, almost always naked, and often woke up in the middle of the night to someone fucking me or pissing on me.

My mother left early and came back late at night. The only people who lived in the house were my four brothers and three cousins. It was a house with many teenagers and men. From them, I also learned to give blowjobs and give my ass without stopping or moaning. I do not complain about being put in this place and role. I like being the slut and treated as such. All the humiliation, the fucking and the beatings only made me horny and happy. Growing up like this, I learned from my family who I am, what a slut faggot like me is for, and how much it's worth.

When I turned 18, my mother told me I should travel to the nearest big city because she had gotten me a job with an uncle, a brother of hers I hadn't met yet.

She gave me a sealed letter, an old suitcase with two t-shirts, a pair of underwear, and shorts, and put me on a bus. When I got there, I walked to the address I had memorized for my uncle, a bar.

The uncle was sitting at a small table in the bar. He wasn't very welcoming or friendly, he was very direct.

- You're Silvana's little faggot son, aren't you?

- Yes, I am.

- You brought the letter she sent, didn't you?

I handed him the envelope, and he opened it and read it.

- You little shit, do you understand that your mother sent you here to work with me?

- Yes, she told me you had a job for me.

- No, it's not a job; she just sold you to me. You're going to be my whore.

- She didn't explain much to me; she just told me to come here and give you this envelope. She said you had a job for me.

- That's right, but don't expect it to be a job. You're stupid, illiterate and gay, you're a fucking whore, you understand?

- I expected something else, I didn't expect this, but I'm going to have to accept it, right? Do I have another alternative?

- I already paid her, you're mine.

He and his helpers took me behind the bar, ripped off my clothes and fucked me brutally.

I was chained up and collared, and held captive in a warehouse behind the bar.

What my "uncle" did was put me in a van and took me to farms, clubs and construction sites to be fucked and abused by groups of drunk and cruel men.

I was beaten, fucked and had to suck the dirtiest and most sticky cocks while being slapped and pissed on.

My mother actually sold me to this guy, I never saw the color of money.

Throughout the long journey, Nikita is humiliated and trained to be the troop`s dog.

When Nikita was handed over to the soldiers, he wore only old pants and boots. A soldier covered him in the army's standard raincoat tent, a thick tissue with a hole for the head and a hood for long foot journeys. 

Nikita followed the troops for weeks, on the long journey on foot to the empire´s borders, being led by a leash like a stray dog, always with his hands tied and shirtless under his raincoat. 

Having his hands tied behind his back was part of the humiliation and training. He often shit and pissed in his pants. He ate only what was thrown on the ground so that he would eat like a disgusting dog, and on his knees, he often drank the piss that the soldiers made directly into his mouth. To make it easier for him to piss or shit, a creative soldier tied the string that held his pants at the base to his cock and scrotum, leaving his ass exposed. The soldiers did not hide their interest in the guy's body, pinching and touching it with enthusiasm and lust. Nikita also showed his dirty and slut nature, insinuating himself to the soldiers, showing off his hard cock, and shaking his ass. 

When the troops camped, the boy was tied to a post or tree and gang raped by all the men. All of them fucked the slut bitch and many of them beat him with belts and whips. Nikita did not scream in pain or beg for mercy, on the contrary, he moaned lewdly, horny, and provoked the group asking for new fucks, worse punishments, and offering blowjobs as a reward to everyone.

When the group was satisfied, exhausted, and went to sleep, the boy covered in piss, sweat, and cum, still tied to the post, willingly sucked all the cocks of the soldiers who wanted to clean their penises before sleeping.

Nikita slept all night tied to the post, filthy with dirt, and with a smile of pride and satisfaction.

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.

A debt management startup that offers innovative debt renegotiation alternatives for young guys in debt.

This young man, like many others, became addicted to online gambling and lost everything he ever had gambling. He took out loans on his credit card and at his bank to recover the money he lost but only managed to end up completely ruined and even more in debt.

I created a debt management startup that offers innovative debt renegotiation alternatives for people in debt. Professionals, such as carpenters, bricklayers, or computer technicians, sign employment contracts of up to ten years, working within their areas of expertise without any remuneration, receiving only food and the necessary medical care, working up to 16 hours a day without rest, and subject to physical punishment!

Like this young man, others were so in debt that he was auctioned off to the highest bidder. It was the perverted faggot who suggested this alternative, because, being young, handsome, and well-endowed, he dreamed of being bought by some international human trafficking group or some rich pervert to be a sex slave. 

One of my partners explained that one of the companies that frequently participates in our auctions buys our debtors to turn them into sex bitches to be raped and tortured by cruel and perverted rich clients. Other companies often castrate their whores before putting them in brothels, and even offer the richest and most perverted clients the option of simply roasting them alive after torturing and fucking the whores to serve them to the paying customers.

After the online auction, when I finished reading the purchase contract with the company's name and the pervert saw the confirmation that he had been sold, he ejaculated on the table.

Representatives of the company were waiting for the completion of the commercial transaction and the signing of the papers to strip him naked, handcuff him, and take him to the truck.

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.

 

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!

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.

Three Years of Slavery: Establishing a Routine. Part Sixteen.

From now on, I, Toy, will be the one narrating what happened to this masochistic and perverted pig. He can no longer talk about what he feels or goes through; he is in no condition to say anything.

Our Master has put me in charge of taking care of this piece of shit. In addition to taking care of the house, washing clothes, cooking, tidying up, and cleaning everything, I still have to take care of the Pig, who is chained and locked in the storage room at the back of the yard. I confess that what could be a burden for me is the most fun part of the day.

When our owners want to see how the Pig is doing, I set up chairs and bring them drinks so they can sit in the yard. During these visits, I tie the disgusting faggot up in various and painful ways to torture and whip him. Sometimes, they are the ones who whip him violently and brutally. But beating him hard and fast is tiring, even for my young Master. So most of the time, after they get tired and the Pig's body is already injured and bleeding a lot, they order me to take over the task and make me whip him for hours without rest for me or the animal.

When I get discouraged and tired, they protest and order me not to lose the rhythm or violence of the blows. Many times, I continue even after the Pig has passed out. What surprises me the most is that the animal moans, cries, and goes crazy with so much pain but often ejaculates with so much excitement and pleasure in being so brutally whipped.

To me, it seems that neither I nor my owners feel as much pleasure as this shitty faggot.

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.