Chapter 15: New Duties, New Job, New Room

(Narrated by Hunter)

I woke up praying that it had all been a nightmare, but the chains attaching my limbs to my bed, as well as the piss-soaked diaper, now cold and clammy, told me otherwise. My groin was sore and raw and itchy all at the same time. I realized I was experiencing diaper rash for the first time since infancy. {God, could this get any worse?}I had to lie there waiting for my fat brother to get off his ass and release me. If I yelled, I knew there would be hell to pay, so I had to patiently lie there, soaking in my own piss.

Clarence began talking, coffee in one hand. He talked as he ate a granola bar sending little chunks flying into the room. “It sucks that you needed a diaper, I guess turning into a slave really does make you dumber,” he began condescendingly. A raisin flew across and landed in the middle of my chest, but I couldn’t use my hands to brush it off, so it just lay there as he talked obliviously. I was so hungry I hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast two days ago.

When he released me he made me take the diaper off and squeeze it out on the floor. there was a large puddle of piss and he made me lick it all up. “Hang your diaper in the shower to dry ... We will reuse it if necessary.” Reuse a diaper? If everything else hadn’t happened I would have thought that was a new low, but it didn’t really register. Not like I had any choice. “Then go upstairs and blow the twins. I expect to hear details.” What kind of details does this dumb-fuck want?

I hustled up to the twins’ room. They were both pretending to be asleep but I could see they were both squinting to look at me. “Which one of you guys wants a blow job?” One raised his hand, while the other continued to feign sleep.

As I went across to him he asked me what his name was. Well that was easy he was in Chad’s bed so I said, “Chad.”

He giggled and shouted, “Demerit!” The little shits had swapped beds. I realized then that my saying I couldn’t tell them apart and calling them both CT or the CTs was likely to come back to bite me now they were in charge. As I began sucking his hard little dick, he began talking, “Hunter, we care about you but you can’t go around addressing us casually like that. You gotta use ‘Master’.”

I took this as an invitation to speak somewhat freely and the words started gushing out. “I’m having so much trouble adapting and this is so unfair and I just want my old life back.” At this point, I couldn’t hold back, and started crying.

Chad couldn’t take it any longer. “Stop trying to be friends with the slave. He’s not Hunter; he’s Licker. Don’t let him manipulate you or speak out of turn. We should give him a million demerits but we might get in trouble if we don’t hurry up and get our blowjobs and get moving.”

He was right – I at least was playing with certain punishment, so I steeled myself and began concentrating on giving the best BJ I could.

The boys were talking. Tad said as I was blowing him, “Yeah, but we should give him a demerit.”

Chad replied: “But then we’ll have to tell Clarence what happened.”

“OK, well, should we punish him.”

“Definitely!” Chad said as Tad came in my mouth.

I showed him my tongue and swallowed on command, hoping to avoid further punishment. I began blowing Chad, who said he had read that some people like to have slaves lick their buttholes. I did NOT like where this was going, but now the twins were saying, “Let’s just try it” and “We don’t have to do it for long!”

Chad eventually went quiet, then let out a high-pitched whimper, and came in my mouth.

“OK, the deal is this,” Chad said after I had shown him his cum and he’d “let” me swallow. “We aren’t going to tell Clarence or give you demerits, but in future if you ever get it wrong or don’t call us Master and by our right name we will. Now you’re going to give us each thirty seconds of rimming.” They were weirdly both aroused and disgusted by the idea, but they pulled their knees to their chests, revealing two identical buttholes.

{Well, this isn’t the first disgusting thing I’ve had to do}, I thought, as I plunged my still piss tasting tongue deep into his tight hole. He moaned and whimpered, so I kept moving my tongue, wiggling and licking. Eventually Tad said, “Times up, switch.” And then I got to rim my second ass. I asked myself whether an identical ass really counted as a second ass, just as Clarence called us down to eat. I was completely famished. I wanted to rinse the ass taste from my mouth, but my bathroom was down two floors and Clarence sounded urgent. I decided I would have to live with it.

I ran down to the kitchen, moving fast out of excitement instead of fear of reprisal for a change. The food was bacon, eggs, and coffee, all foods I love. I was excited to eat not having had anything for about 48 hours. As I reached for a slice of bacon, he shocked me, quizzed me about the twins’ dicks, then made me go stand with my nose in the corner.

From his perspective he couldn’t actually see, but I knew if he figured out that my nose wasn’t physically touching the corner that there would be hell to pay. It was quite awkward, cramming myself into the corner like that. I’m not even sure if he ever bothered to check...

As I was wedged there, I could hear my fat brother and the twins taking seconds and thirds and fourths, gluttonously munching away. I realized that it was my enslavement that was paying for all that food, but what could I do? Nothing but stand and savor the residual taste of piss and ass I’d gotten this morning.

I was hoping to sneak a few leftovers or scraps as I cleaned up, since I was sure they’d make me do the cleaning. But one of the twins figured out my plan and said I’d “cheat” to use his word for eating. I’m not sure which one of the CTs it was I am going to have to start making sure I can tell the difference. Nobody wanted to supervise me, so Clarence dumped bleach over the delicious-looking leftovers, making sure there was nothing edible left. “Clean that shit up, get washed including enemas and get in your cage in the trunk,” Clarence directed me. “Pronto. Or else.” I knew that the threat wasn’t idle: he’d punish me over much less.

So, I hauled ass. Throwing away food, loading the dishwasher, wiping up. Then I literally ran down for my shower and enemas, I managed to do it all in ten minutes. I didn’t dare jerk off even though my dick rose as soon as I was in the shower. Then I ran back upstairs. The transport cage is very awkward for one person to move, but of course a slave can’t ask a free person for help. I could just barely hold the corners with the tips of my fingers. I stumbled with the awkward device, slowly hauling it to the trunk of the car, then sliding it around to make it fit in the trunk.

I was aware that I probably wasn’t going fast enough, and I was sweating with exertion and the sense of urgency to avoid punishment. Quickly I opened the cage door, and backed my muscled ass into the cage. I closed the cage door behind me, locking myself in. I breathed a sigh of relief.

After all the hurrying up, I expected the family to come down and get going in short order. At first, even though I was cramped, it was nice to be left alone. But then I started to get uncomfortable as the hot sun started shining right into the trunk, I shifted as much as I could, trying in vain to get a cooler or less cramped position. At one stage I was staring into the kitchen that I had just cleaned. Clarence was still relaxing and drinking his coffee, no apparent urgency at all. We accidentally made eye contact: he looked comfortable and composed in the spacious, air-conditioned house; I was sweaty and miserable. He raised his coffee in my direction to mock me.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, he got up, and he and the twins came out. One of the boys, I think it was Tad asked, “Why didn’t Hunter use the cage-dolly?”

Clarence laughed as he replied: “As usual, whenever you have to work with slaves, you should assume that they’re idiots.” He slammed the trunk leaving me in total darkness.

The car started moving. It was warm and dark, and I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t really even tell how long the drive was, although we made the same drive many times later, so now I know it’s about an hour. The car came to a stop and the trunk popped open.

Clarence unlatched my cage and I struggled out, trying to get my bearings. “Hurry up,” he said walking toward a door labeled “Auditions”.

My ex-brother was given a few forms to fill out and then I was led to a part of the building that looked a bit like a doctor’s office. Without any conversation, they took some blood and swabbed my mouth and nose with gauze.

A technician was handed a vial, pointed at me and told to collect a urine sample. I reached down to grab my dick to piss in the cup but he batted my hand away. Instead, he casually jammed a catheter up there. I screamed and the guy yelled, “Can we get a gag on this one?” without missing a beat. Turning a knob the pee flowed into the cup. Now that I was gagged he yanked the catheter out hard, deliberately. The inside of my dick felt like it was on fire.

Then it was time for a semen sample. Was there a small chance that I’d get to masturbate? I realized that I was actually really, really horny all of a sudden. Well only forty eight hours ago I was a healthy teen jock who was used to getting off at least three or four times a day. Since being enslaved I had only managed one sneaky jerk off. I was made to get on all fours, so my boner was hanging down. Another technician pushed a steel rod up my ass and spent a while moving it around. When it was positioned to his satisfaction, he attached a sample cup to my penis with a simple spring-loaded wooden clothespin.

He said simply “Go” and I felt an enormous electrical shock in my ass. It was incredibly painful. I shot the hardest load I can remember. It nearly knocked the sample jar off. “This one’s got some kick,” the nurse remarked, removing and labeling the sample jar. He looked around for a place to put the clothespin, and failing to find one, he just attached it to the very tip of my very sore dick.

Next there were some “flex tests” where I was strapped to things that would measure how far I could bend in various directions. It was more uncomfortable rather than painful, but nobody bothered to remove the clothespin, so my poor dick was really starting to hurt.

Finally they removed the clothespin and gag, but it wasn’t for my benefit. It was time for the “pain tests”. Apparently, these were so they could evaluate how I would look modeling various products that involve pain. It was as bad as it sounds. They had electrodes attached that displayed my pain level. They would pick a way of torturing me, for example, squeezing my balls, or sticking thumbtacks in my feet. They would slowly increase the level, videotaping me up close: they really wanted to see my facial expression for some reason. Eventually they’d get to an unbearable pain level. Then they’d stop and switch to a new test.

I was so happy when that was over ... they regagged me, this time with a penis gag that had a thick belt that went all the way around my head. This gag completely silenced me. Most gags make it so you can’t talk, but this one makes it so you can’t make a sound at all. Obviously nobody explained anything. Then they handcuffed me, and led me back out to my brothers.

A businessman came out with a pile of papers. “OK, let’s go over our offer for Licker!” He patted me on the shoulder and herded us into his modern private office.

The businessman spoke only to Clarence and the twins, even though I had a lot of questions and comments. But of course, I was gagged and handcuffed, so I was just left worrying. It was obvious now why they used the penis gag. I couldn’t even interrupt unintelligibly- I was totally silenced. Clarence’s only goal seemed to be to get the most money and gear possible from my exploitation, and was all too eager to sign me up for some unpleasant activities.

With me never having had a chance to say a word, the documents were signed. A BondCo employee grabbed my leash: I was apparently going to work my first shift now. And the others were going to go shopping. I was fresh enough to slavery to still be fuming at the repeated unfairness.

The dude escorting me shouted to a coworker: “Hey we’re not supposed to mark this one up, or stretch him out.”

“Well, what the hell are we going to do with him?”

They went back and forth about which products needed modeling that I could perform. For some reason, I had a weird feeling of inadequacy that I couldn’t model some of the products they wanted to film.

The first product I was to model for was a shower, specifically a golden shower. I had heard of golden showers but had never really thought about them at all.

Anyway, what I had learned was that golden shower just meant a guy peeing on someone. What I modeled was a golden tsunami. The shower-sized box had fast pumps that went from the drain to the top. The top wasn’t a faucet, instead the ceiling was a grid of holes, causing the piss to be a very even “rain”. If it wasn’t pee, it might have been nice.

At first, it was a light drizzle of urine. Because I wasn’t used to it, the smell was pretty wretched. Then it became a gentle rain, then a thunderstorm. At the maximum, I could barely breathe. They turned on a fan and it really was like a tsunami. All this happened in slow motion so they could get lots of footage. I was in the shower for more than an hour.

Then they turned off the flow, but turned up the wind to demonstrate how fast it would dry you. The end result is that I stank of urine so badly It would make your eyes water. I’m not sure who is into this, but the device works as designed.

I was hoping for a real shower but they decided there wasn’t time. They clearly weren’t bothered for me but I noticed they were keeping their distance. I was locked to a St Andrew’s cross and an electrical clip was attached to my balls, another to my glans, and a final lead was shoved into my dick. A monitor in front of me said:

BALLS 1 SHAFT 1 SOUND 1

A lab-coated guy explained it through a PA system, presumably not wanting to deal with my stench. “This is a technical video. We have to show our product functioning at every setting for at least two seconds. Each of these settings goes from 1 to 10, 10 is calibrated to be excruciating. So there are 1000 settings. See you in 5000 seconds or about 1.5 hours. With that, he closed the window leaving just me, the video cameras, and my suffering.

The numbers counted “in order,” so the “SOUND” number, which meant the electrode inside my dick, would count to ten, before dropping to one and the “SHAFT” electrode advancing. This meant that my balls were just slowly getting shocked harder and harder over the whole ordeal. I was worried that they’d catch on fire by the end.

For the third product, I was dressed in a leather dog suit. It was designed so that you walked on your knees and elbows, while the suit forces you to bend completely. It was like you had four stubby short limbs. They said not to put a hood on me because my “expression was so marketable”.

They were selling exercise equipment for “dog slaves” as they called this suit.

First I was filmed on a treadmill at many different speeds. This suit made it really hard to go very fast without falling on your face. Whenever I did, one guy would joke “One for the blooper reel.” It was so annoying, but of course I had learned not to say anything.