No one imagined how perverted he was.

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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.

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.

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.

Three years of slavery: being tortured mercilessly. Part seven.

The couple took great pleasure in torturing me with great cruelty as if they wanted to discover if I could survive the cruelest brutalities. 

They deeply fucked my throat, broken into many times until I suffocated and almost passed out. They offered me to all their friends who arrived at the house, suggesting that they fuck my mouth until my throat was broken! I felt the cocks going deep into my neck. Some guys would stick their dicks deep inside and then piss directly inside me.

When I vomited, they punished me and slapped me violently in the face.

They dislocated my jaw several times. I was sore and injured; I could no longer close my mouth correctly, speak, or chew anything. I felt like my jaw was out of place; it didn't fit anymore.

One day, my owner's boyfriend bought a shock device. Their new toy had two buttons to regulate the voltage and amperage of the electrical discharges. To my despair, they loved testing the effects of electricity on different parts of my body.

During shocks, I lost control of every muscle in my body. They placed clips with the wires on my ears, on my tongue, on my balls, on my dick, and especially on my nipples and tested how much I moaned and writhed during the electrical charges. They had fun watching me scream, cry, piss, shitted, and sometimes even come in despair and pain. They stuck copper rods into my dick and gave it such strong shocks that I feared the rod would melt inside it. I felt my body convulsing; I felt terrible spasms and burns.

In all the most terrible situations, when I even feared dying, they showed that they didn't care how much I suffered or whether I would survive. When I passed out from pain or lack of air, they continued with the torture or left me there, unconscious, waiting for me to wake up to return to the fun.

Sometimes, they electrocuted me while watching a movie on television or chatting trivially with someone on the cell phone. I was nothing. I felt like just something, a despicable toy that they could use without fear of ruin or kill.

It is tense and scared.

Standing still and observing, he waits for his Owner to finish the negotiation. He can't imagine what will happen; that's why he's so tense. He had been working in the fields for months, pulling carts and plows all day. He did the work diligently and obediently, and the supervisors constantly whipped him to keep up the pace. But, they complained that he is getting old and can no longer work at the same pace.

He always strives to please, he sucks dicks smoothly and skillfully, and he knows how to squeeze his anus to give more pleasure to the men who fuck him, but over time and constant rape, his ass has been torn apart and doesn't have the same appeal for young people.

He fears his life as a pack animal is coming to an end.

If he's lucky, he might end up on another farm working for a few more years; if it goes bad, he might be slaughtered and fed to dogs that very day.

He is tense and scared.

Three years of slavery: a masochistic sow. Part five.

 I accepted and faced the entire process of physical transformation without questioning or complaining. For many months I took the injections; I felt my body changing, my breasts growing, and my dick and balls becoming huge, heavy and sensitive.

The injections in my sac and dick hurt a lot, but I felt a massive urge; I felt permanently excited and highly horny, almost having non-stop orgasms, but I no longer had erections.

My nipples became huge, like cows' udders; they became soft and sensitive. When my owner pinched or burned them, I felt very horny and in pain at the same time.

When they broke my nose and sewed the nostril higher up, it hurt immensely, but my breathing changed. My nostrils were wide open, like a pig's. I was sad; I loved my nose; I thought it was beautiful, but if my owner wanted something different, I accepted it.

They forced my jaw back so much that it was dislocated several times; at times, I could barely chew the food. They stuck big, thick dildos down my throat to widen it, hurting it and changing the shape of my windpipe and my appearance. My cheeks became more oversized and saggy, my neck was soft, and the skin was looser.

I didn't have a mirror to look at what was happening to my body and face; I spent many months without having a single opportunity to see myself reflected anywhere. When cleaning my owner's room, I saw myself for the first time in a mirror; I no longer recognized myself. They turned me into something else;

I don't think anyone in my family would be able to recognize me again. I became a bit grotesque and animalistic; I gained muscle mass, and I became much bigger, fatter, and more robust, and at the same time, with big breasts and a big ass.

During the process, my Owner met a handsome, much younger boy and began a daddy-and-boy relationship. The boy soon began to live in my Master's house, and I was introduced to the boy as his slave and, in a way, shared and given to him for his enjoyment.

I gave the boy countless blowjobs, washed his clothes, and cooked and served meals to the loving couple. I obeyed him the same way I followed my Owner and was treated with the same contempt and sadism.

One day, the boy decided to learn to handle a whip with more skill. He tied my wrists to a rope that hung from the house's ceiling and spent a whole day whipping me with violence and cruelty just to train how to make the whip snap and hurt my skin the way he wanted.

For him, it was just training and fun; for me, pain and excitement. Even with the whip hurting my body, I felt horny; when my huge nipples were whipped, I almost came; when he whipped my thick cock, I ejaculated a liter of cum! Several times, I howled with pain and excitement, not knowing whether to beg for mercy or more violent lashes!

My body was covered in wounds and scars, blood, sweat, tears, and sperm. There were thousands and thousands of painful and delicious lashes, almost all dag. The young boy seemed tireless, and I felt insatiable; I loved every good lash.

My Owner ordered me never to say anything to him. I never spoke or addressed him, but he took pleasure in cursing me, shouting with contempt - you like that, don't you, pig? You want me whipping these ridiculous big tits, don't you, slut sow? Those huge asses look pretty red like cherries, don't they?

He stopped to have lunch, to go to the bathroom, to talk on the phone, but he started whipping again, testing how and where to whip, how hard, how to hold the handle of the whip, and how to position his arm.

Early in the evening, my Owner arrived home, and they released my arms so I could tidy up the kitchen, repair and serve dinner for the couple.

During dinner, they talked sweetly, and my Owner asked his boy: what did you do all day today? And he replied: nothing significant. I was a little bored, playing with the sow and talking to my friends on the cell phone.

My Owner didn't seem to notice or care that I was covered in bleeding wounds and marks from the lashes.

Listening to this conversation removing the dirty dishes from the table, sperm ran hot and abundant down my legs.

Three years of slavery: physical transformations. Part four.

Since I surrendered myself as a slave to my Owner, we agreed that I would no longer have any decision about myself and that I accepted being his without limits or expectations.

He doesn't know me, nor is he interested in getting to know me; I'm not his friend; I'm not even a person; I'm just his slut fag. So when I arrived at the house and undressed for the last time, he examined me with some disappointment.

I was never pretty, firm, or sporty; I was just a dull body over thirty years old.

When he fucked me a few times, I remember him complaining about the opening of my ass. He started inserting plugs and dildos bigger and broader. He stuck big dildos in my anus and ordered me to keep them inside me all day. He doesn't care if it hurts or bothers me a lot; I have to bear it in silence. He knows my ass better than I do. Sometimes, he starts to insert an extra large dildo, and I despair, afraid that I will be split in half or that the monster will destroy me from the inside. The pain is terrible, and I sweat a lot as he tries to push it deeper until it no longer comes out. Sometimes I can't breathe, sometimes my ass bleeds, but he always manages to get what he wants into me.

I remain still, silent, and bear it without complaining. I am his sex toy.

What scares me sometimes is him talking to someone about me as if I weren't there, listening to the conversation. He asks his friends, who are veterinarians or doctors, what he should inject into me, the doses, and the places for the injections, and he injects without me knowing what he intends or the effect it will have. One day, he told someone that he wanted to break my nose so that it would look like a pig's; the guy took my nose and showed him where they could break the cartilage and how to force the nose up. The guy offered to do a surgical stitch so that my broken nose would be in the position he wanted.

Once, when he was shoving a dildo down my throat, I couldn't breathe as the toy went down my throat. I despaired, thinking I was going to die right there; I passed out while he calmly looked at me in agony as if he didn't care. When I woke up, I felt blood in my throat, which was very sore and raw. In the following days, he inserted even thicker dildos, deeper, widening my throat mercilessly. I fainted several times, but he didn't give up on making me a professional cock swallower.

As he loved to torture nipples, he placed suckers on my tits, sucking them hard so that they became increasingly pointier and bigger. As he wanted to torture my dick and balls, he started putting suckers that made my genitals huge.

He would go to work and leave me there, on the laundry room floor, with the suckers, with the hooks pulling my nose and cheeks in complete suffering, all day.

When he arrived at night, he would let me go so I could serve him dinner, and then, even before I ate anything, he would inject several syringes into my dick and my nipples. He would give some injections in my butt and arms. He never bothered to tell me what he did or what would happen, and I just accepted it because I'm his slut, right?

In a short time, my body was already very different from what it was before, and my libido was also other.

Three years of slavery: humiliation. Part two.

Being a submissive slave has a series of challenges. I know that I am nothing more than a shitty faggot to my Owner, that he despises me. He takes pleasure in humiliating and treating me poorly, and I realize that the humiliation helps me understand what a shit I am.

I feel so despicable and miserable how he treats me; I feel like I deserve to be treated this way, that a stupid submissive faggot is a piece of shit like he says and makes me think.

When I entered the house, he showed me that I should sleep under a table, in a corner of the laundry area, directly on the cold ceramic floor. He didn't even give me an old cloth to cover or lay on.

At first, I thought sleeping there like this, on the hard, cold floor, would be a big challenge, but I got used to it. When my owner enters the kitchen in the middle of the night, he checks if I'm there, just as he told me.

One cold winter night, he noticed that I was shaking from the cold and asked if I was freezing. I answered yes, imagining he would give me a cloth to cover me and keep me warm. He just pissed profusely all over me, from head to toe. I've never felt your piss ever so warm and comforting.

Beside me are the water and food bowls. He forbade me to drink or eat anything that wasn't in the bowls. I had to learn to drink and eat without using my hands, on all fours, directly from the pots, like a dog. He controls the amount of food and water I consume and frequently pisses in the bowls. I only have to eat as much as he puts in the bowl, everything he puts in. Sometimes, he makes me suffer from hunger, giving me just one measly meal a day. I feel my stomach growling with hunger all day. Sometimes he makes me suffer from thirst and only lets me drink his piss directly from the source.

Another way to humiliate me is to lend me to your friends. I don't know if he rents it to me or lends it for free. I know that sometimes, one of his friends blindfolds me and, ties my wrists behind my back, puts me in the trunk of the car, and takes me somewhere. There, blindfolded and gagged, I can't tell how many guys raped me; I lose track of time; I believe I stayed there for many hours without rest, and I can't count how many times I'm fucked. They don't see my face; to them, I'm just an open ass to be fucked.

I feel like an object, a hole without value or name.

I love being reduced to shit in every way.

To see the previous part click: https://bdsmmaledrawings.blogspot.com/2023/11/three-years-of-slavery.html

One day, he realized that in his deep soul, he envied these miserable and handsome servants tied on the totems.

Court princesses could use servants as they saw fit. It was considered suitable for their training, education, and future to know everything about sexuality and sex. That's why the noblewomen organized a section of the palace's garden so they could stroll around pleasantly, talking about issues of sexuality. This themed garden was surrounded by tall hedges, which delimited flowerbeds with sculptures, pavilions, and totems with themes relating to sexuality. Court women could take young men to serve them sexually, selected and trained to give them pleasure.

Some nobles chose some of the most gifted and handsome young men and gave them as gifts to the Garden of Delights.

Phallic totems of varying sizes, made of solid stone, were used to tie these naked boys so that they could be handled, tortured, or dissected for the pleasure or education of the court girls.

Some of the young men tied up had their dicks hard, excited by fear and nudity. Some were masturbated by the girls many times until they used up the last drop of sperm. Others were chosen to serve as sex toys in their rooms.

Some of the young men were so shocked to see others like him being whipped to death just for the amusement of the maidens that they were petrified, catatonic, and unable to plead for mercy or attempt to escape the brutal and fatal fate.

The beautiful princess in the drawing is interested in and enjoys the sexual use of whips and how men get horny when they are tortured. She placed bells on the nipples of one of her servants and blinded him to serve as her toy pony in the garden. So, riding on her blind pony, she spent entire days destroying some boys tied to totems.

So many times, she whipped her slut pony almost to death cause she was intrigued that he got a hard-on when he was whipped or when he saw or heard other men being brutally whipped. That's why she decided to make him her pet blind pony.

The boy tied to the totem on the left in the drawing is not a servant. He is from a wealthy merchant family who was sent to court to see if any princesses would marry him. He frequented the garden and got very horny seeing young men like him being whipped. He discovered that deep down in his being, he was jealous of their fate. He asked his father to give it as a gift for the garden. The father soon realized the advantages this could bring him. He requested an audience with the Duchess, and before her and the court, he undressed his son, collared the pervert, and gave him as his gift to the Garden of Delights.

The princesses placed him on the last of the totems so that he could watch with a hard-on the others being whipped to death.

Now he's happy his turn has come!

Mr. Kristofer fulfilled his oldest dream.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

In this drawing, my sister and I are riding beasts through the fields of one of our farms.

 With the improvement of neoliberal capitalism and the elimination of all institutional and legal barriers to the free market, the world found a long phase of development and wealth like never before. 

Slavery was legalized in all countries; people could now be officially registered as human beasts. The laws were clear: "HU" beasts could not be humanized again, and the reduction was irreversible and definitive.

HU beasts are not protected by any law or right; not even laws that protect animals apply to these brute and despicable beings; they are just things to be used and discarded without limits.

This new law solved many illegal migrants, homeless, and needy people who disturbed order and generated police and environmental problems. Finally, they were incorporated into production chains to generate wealth as enslaved workers, herds for producing blood and organs for transplants, or even livestock for slaughter and production of milk and meat. 

Farms for breeding HU beasts have prospered in all nations. Advanced veterinary care for these beasts allowed the development of breeds more adapted to heavy work, more muscular, larger, and more docile. Other smaller breeds were developed for work in tunnels, underground pipes, wells, and maintenance of large machines. More lustful and permanently horny breeds were created for all types of prostitution and sexual diversions.

Any human can be enslaved either for having committed crimes or for debts, so there are no more problems of crime or poverty in our cities! Families could sell children to generate income or because they are unwanted. With the legalization of all forms of slavery, the number of voluntary slaves was also surprising; most were perverted fagots who volunteered for slavery out of simple sexual perversion or to pay off their families' debts.

My family gets rich by raising and selling different types of HU beasts for different types of work. I grew up having several of these animals in our home. In this drawing, my sister and I are riding beasts through the fields of one of our farms. 

I, like some of my uncles and cousins, prefer to ride beasts that were once people born human, especially those reduced by poverty or debt as adults.

This type of beast, as soon as it is enslaved, usually has its vocal cords cut, and even if they receive high doses of hormones and steroids, they do not lose that sad, melancholy, and resigned look to slavery. They maintain a particular shame throughout their lives due to nudity and humiliation, which I find charming and makes me horny. 

These two riding beasts still moan and cry when whipped and fucked.

I love seeing them crying sad!

Our shared sex toy.

We met years ago through gay BDSM apps. He sought some sadistic dominator and dreamed of being kept in permanent and irreversible captivity. A friend of mine, a sadist, is a partner in a transport company with garages and warehouses in various parts of the city's outskirts. He said he had a small, unused mechanic shop that no one had been to for many years.

I organized with this friend and three other sadistic colleagues to keep the shit fagot chained in this place for shared use. We have the keys to the site; we can go there and do whatever we want with the opportunities we get. We are all married, heterosexual men with families, good incomes, and friends. The fag appears to be a guy of Arab origin with a big nose, very hairy and ugly. He must be around 30 years old, not tall, fat, and bald, with a beautiful, thick, and big dick and beautiful, soft balls hanging from a big scrotum.

This arrangement has been working very well for over seven years!

I picked him up when he arrived at the bus station in our city; I took him straight to the garage. I undressed him, chained him, and burned his clothes and documents. I didn't want to know his name, story, or voice. We agree that he must always remain silent and learn not to say anything anymore. His mouth is just for sucking our dicks and swallowing whatever we tell him to swallow, be it dog food, piss, or shit. He sucks very well; with affection, passion, and competence, he swallows all the cum without spilling a single drop. Our cum seems to be his favorite food.

I learned that he can bare different types of torture very well; he moans, cries, sweats and writhes, and even faints, but he has horny, has many erections, and cums while I crush his nipples or balls. He has excellent healing; the wounds we open on his back with the whips bleed extensively but heal quickly.

The slut is our perfect sex toy; he obeys meekly and accepts everything to please us. My toy partners and I have taken many other colleagues, friends, and curious people to abuse and play with it. For me, it's easier to use it in the middle of the afternoon on workdays; I can stay there for two or three hours fucking, being sucked, and crushing its nipples in between visiting a client or supplier. One of my partners gets his friends together to "play cards," they all tell their wives that they are at the other's house and spend the night testing whips and practicing whipping the fagot until the walls of the workshop are covered in stains from the blood that splashes.

A friend of mine went with me on a "visit" while I cruelly crushed the pervert's nipples; my friend had fun burning the faggot's penis with cigarettes and cigars. Some of the burns were so severe that they left a permanent mark, but while he held his penis to burn it, the fagot came and ejaculated a lot! I don't know if he was moaning with desperation or with lust.

One day, this friend, who enjoys CBT, found a big industrial battery in the corner of the garage that automotive workshops have for charging truck or bus batteries. And it still worked! We spent hours attaching the electrical clips to the faggot's tits, dick, balls, and tongue, testing different voltages and ways of making him suffer. He had convulsions, shook a lot, and then stiffened, becoming stiff and tense with his eyes wide open. The bitch pissed and shit without control; we had a lot of fun with the new torture instrument.

Sometimes, a perv toy goes days or weeks without any visit or use. That's why we leave pots of food and water within his reach. We agreed that when we left the warehouse, we would always leave it chained with its hands behind him so he couldn't touch himself. He is chained so that he can only crawl; he has learned to eat like a pig without using his hands.

His ass was still narrow when we started using it. One of the partners began to insert increasingly wider dildos, stretching his anus. The garage owner pays one of his employees to clean the place, wash his clothes, and shave his hair once a month. It seems that the guy who does the service also uses our toy, but okay, we don't see a problem with that.

I don't know how this situation will end. I know it will end one day, but I will miss having a toy to use freely, without worries or fears. Even though I can only use it once or twice a week, even when I'm at home on the couch with the family watching TV at night, I get a hard-on remembering that that piece of shit is there, naked and chained to the dirty, hard, cold, dirty garage floor waiting for me.

I was chosen to be one of those who serve as the collective bitches.

I had been sold ten years ago; after being sentenced in court for debts, I lost all rights as a free man and became a slave, an animal without dignity or hope. When they stripped me naked, cut my hair, and put me in front of the cameras at the virtual auction, I had no idea who would buy me.

I hope the proceeds saved my family from debt; my wife didn't want our eldest son to be sold. I don't think I'll ever know what happened to them or see them again.

I was sent to my buyer blindfolded and handcuffed; I felt utterly lost without knowing where I was going or my fate.

As soon as I arrived, I was incorporated into the herd, into a large group of enslaved people who worked the fields. It was a large organic farm which heavily used slave labor. Groups of foremen armed with machine guns, whips, and electric batons motivated us to maintain the pace of work all day without rest.

In the early years, I couldn't keep up with the others, was very out of shape, wasn't used to heavy manual work, and received several whips and blows throughout the day.

At the end of the afternoon on my first day, when we returned to the farmhouse, some foremen removed me from the group and hung me by my arms from the high branches of a leafy tree until I could no longer reach the ground with my feet.

The pain of being there with all my weight on the ropes crushing my wrists was already suffering, but soon, two approached with a long leather whip.

I was whipped hundreds of times, calmly and cruelly, until my entire body was covered in purple, red, and black welts. When the whip stopped cutting the air and my body when my screams and the cracks of the whip stopped, I was stunned, but I noticed that most enslaved people had hard cocks. The foremen lowered the ropes so I could stand, and the slaves were organized in a line so that each of them fucked me before being taken to their cages. I can't say that they all fucked me, but I can guarantee that many of them, dozens, raped me and filled me with their cum.

Then, when I thought nothing more could be done to destroy me, the workers came and made me suck all the dicks that wore pants on the farm. When I choked or tried to remove any penis from my mouth, I was beaten so violently that all I could do was suck as competently as possible, most affectionately and gently I could, each of the executioners' cocks.

I must have done an excellent job because, in these ten years that I have been here trying to survive the daily hard work and all the violence and humiliation, at least once a month, once every four weeks, I have been hung from trees, whipped, raped and abused. Like a bitch used by all the males on the farm. Not all slaves go through this monthly rite, some never went through it, but around 30 of us were selected as collective bitches.

When I'm not the slut, nor am I in the ward recovering, every day I watch horny, with my hard dick, another fag slave go through the same sequence of whippings and violence. Then I get in line and rape the fag of the day with strength, desire, and lust.

This daily exercise of violence and humiliation awakens in each of us sadism and the complete lack of solidarity and compassion among slaves. It shows daily that each of us is just a despicable, disgusting bitch to be used by everyone else without mercy.

I can say that I love and get horny seeing slaves moaning and squirming while the whip rips them apart and that I love raping them after the spankings. However, I can say that with experience, what I like most is when I'm the bitch hung, whipped, and raped, I'm the one who sucks with the most affection and lust to thank each foreman who taught me what I really am.

I let him spend the night there, tied up, sweating the better to absorb all the spices and sauces.

He found me on the internet years ago, asking me to do this to him. 

He said that he was a submissive and masochistic faggot. He dreamed of being roasted like a piglet and served to rich and sadistic men who would enjoy his suffering and submission, eating his flesh with satisfaction and contempt. At first, I thought it would be just another wanker faggot fantasizing to masturbate. Due to his insistence, I realized that this was precisely what he ardently and really wanted.

Since I am a famous and experienced barbecuer and specialist in preparing pigs and large hunted animals on the grill or in the oven, I gave him the conditions and the price I would charge for baking him when he found someone who would make his fantasy come true. He contacted me months ago, delighted to have found a group of wealthy Germans who would rent a farm in the interior of Portugal for a month, and wanted him to be served at the group's last lunch.

When I received my advance payment, I traveled by train to Lisbon and by UBER to the address given to the south of Coimbra.

I stayed ten days at the beautiful and sophisticated farm before we started preparing the tender fag. In those days of vacation and rest, I saw the naked pig restless, working all the time to please all the ten men staying there. I soon understood that four of them were the Germans paying all the expenses, including mine. It was an uneducated, noisy, fat, and drunk group who treated everyone with truculence and did not speak or understand a word of Portuguese. The other men were all relatives of the fagot, two brothers older than him, an uncle, and three cousins who owned the farm.

The cunt slut worked around the clock, always naked and on a leash, to serve and please them all, serving meals and cocktails, tidying up rooms, giving blowjobs, and getting fucked by everyone, especially the Germans. All men treated the slaved fag with brutality and contempt, but the Germans were incredibly violent and cruel, giving brutal slaps, kicks, punches, and beatings with sticks and whips.

Two days before dinner, the fag was handed over to me to start the preparations. I made him vomit many times and did a violent and complete stomach and intestinal lavage, removing everything solid in his digestive system. I began stuffing it through the throat and the anus with spices and cooked vegetables. I kept him in a very hot corner of the kitchen, next to the oven, very hot indeed, almost a sauna, to open up all his pores, and I rubbed peppers, oil, and salt all over his skin.

In this preparation process, his eyes were irritated by the salt, pepper, and oils; his throat burned with the peppers and spices; I had to put the gag sealing the top outlet so he wouldn't vomit. It took nearly ten hours of prep before your belly was stuffed with all the vegetables I shoved up your ass.

The process was cruel; he felt nausea, burning, thirst, hunger and pain from having his anus broken into by more than five kilos of fruits and vegetables. The worst part for him was that after stuffing it, I had to sew his anus so no filling would spill out. The pain of the stitching must have been immense; he was sweating, moaning, and shaking with pain. He could barely breathe and couldn't vomit because he had the gag on.

The Germans and the faggot's relatives accompanied part of the process, laughing and taking photos of his extreme suffering. His relatives, especially his uncle, seemed buoyed by the money earned and relieved to be rid of this family problem.

Still, only I noticed that the faggot had several erections during the painful process, and I saw that he was crying with grief and lust when he came the third time without no one touching his dick.

I let him spend the night there, tied up, sweating the better to absorb all the spices and sauces. I went to the corner of the kitchen a few times to see if something was leaking, and what was dripping the most was the sperm from his dick.

I can only say that everyone praised the meat served at lunch the next day.

I think he was the happiest of all of us.

Our village was poor; the region was just sand and stone, and it wasn't easy to plant anything. Life was uncompromising and straightforward. The little water in the area was scarce and very controlled. Summers were hot and dry, winters very cold. Most of the days were consumed carrying water for the houses and livestock. Our mules had to do this painful and heavy work as the slopes were very steep. In addition to mules, we raised a few cows, goats, and chickens. The shepherding of the goats was the lightest task and involved the youngest children.

My father used to say that at this stage of childhood, when he was so young, he and his brothers stayed with the others taking care of the goats; one of his brothers, our uncle, had already asked to be among the goats; he liked to be naked and be treated like one of the animals. The boys who worked with the goats started their sex lives by fucking these animals; my father used to say that our uncle was treated, beaten, and fucked as if he were one of the goats. One day, our grandfather saw the other boys abusing him, and he was naked, on all fours, with a collar on and bleating like one of the goats in the herd.

My father says their father squatted next to the youngest, pulling him by the collar and asking: Are you a fag goat? The boy, without blinking, replied to his father: Yes, I am a fag goat.

My grandfather pulled the leash until he lifted the naked kid off the ground, spat in his face, and threw him on the hard ground, saying: From now on, this fag shit is not a boy anymore; he is one of the village animals, you always keep him on a leash, ok? You can hit, kick, fuck, do whatever you want with this slut goat.

So, since childhood, this uncle of mine was treated by the whole family and everyone in our village like one of our animals. My grandfather never again let him wear clothes or walk without a collar and harness like other mules. The tin bells that we tied to the animals to locate them were tied to his balls, and wherever he walked, he made that noise that mules, cows, and some goats made when walking along the steep and uneven trails in our region.

My sisters, brothers, neighbors, and friends used to lead the animals in transporting water and supplies up the hill. Any one of us drove any of the animals, we knew each of them, and we learned how to make them march in rhythm, even in the most challenging passages, using sticks and whips to motivate them. 

Our life was rough; we worked hard, didn't treat any animals with kindness, and were stiff and scratchy in dealing with them. But I tell you that my uncle was the one who was treated with the most violence and cruelty by everyone. When my father led his brother up the hill, he whipped so violently that the animal arrived at our house with its back dripping with blood. Our grandmother, one of the village's gentlest women, beat her son with such sadism that I was amazed at how her old arm cut such deep wounds into the animal's thighs.

I believe it was hard daily work that made him the strongest of all we had. The robust and hairy body, dirty with earth and sand, covered with wounds and scars, with fleas and ticks, stank like the other animals, circulated without rest or embarrassment all day up and down the hill. All day, we listened to the shouts of command from those driving him, mingled with its moans, the cracking of sticks and whips, and the ringing of bells between its legs.

At night, like all the other men in the village, I would go to the stables to rape or be sucked by the filthy animal.

None of us in the village felt any pity for the slut animal, as we all knew it was like that because it wanted to be like that. I could see that it took absolute pleasure when it was whipped, fucked, or worked hard, naked all day. I saw him sucking the guys' dicks with such care and enthusiasm that none of our women felt when putting those dirty, pissed, and sweat-smelling dicks in their mouths. When we fucked him, we could do it brutally and forcefully, one after the other, as it never complained. Sometimes, during rapes, his cock got so hard it felt like he would come at any moment. Sometimes, revolted by our animal's lust and pleasure, I would kick his colossal cock, and he would moan and ejaculate with desire.

We all took out our frustrations, revolt, and dissatisfaction with life on him. Seeing him covered in sores and bruises, blood and sperm from all of us, we felt superior - we were fucked up, shitty, but he was the most miserable and despised of all! And yet, I think he was the happiest of all of us.