The Alpha Prerogative by Gay Slavemeat gsmeat2@gmail.com


A reader who goes by ”faggot slave” requested a story about being snuffed that is written in the second person – the Alpha talking to the snuff victim and others, describing what the Alpha is doing as he tortures and kills it.  That’s a bit of a challenge to write, it turns out,  and I leave it to readers to decide if my effort turned out OK. But there is no doubt every masochist faggot like faggotslave (or me) warrants a prolonged and extremely painful death at the hands of a sadistic Alpha Male, so, as to writing a second person story about that, why not?  An Alpha would likely enjoy adding to our terror by enslaving us as we’re prepared to be snuffed and then describing how we are being killed and some of what is coming next (perhaps holding back a few fun surprises).  He could show us the instruments of torture he’s going to use on us up close before he plunges them into our flesh.  His derisive laughter would add to our humiliation, helping us realize how pathetic we truly are.  He could point out our physical flaws to his buddies as they all watch and laugh, adding to their justified sense of superiority.   The more I thought about it the more right it seemed for faggotslave not to have a speaking role.  The Alpha killer is the hero of the story, and us fags should be grateful for the chance to provide him pleasure as our worthless body is brutally ripped apart.  Other than begging for that to happen, and expressing gratitude when it does, who the fuck gives a shit what the faggot meat has to say? 

I used the Art of Male Snuff setting I’ve used in a few other stories posted here.  But unlike “Career Choice” recently posted here, which reflected the complex desires of another snuff-seeking faggot reader, faggotslave is just live meat anxious to be tortured and killed. So I let myself be inspired by the great stories M3Mayhem has written on how that should happen.  As always, feedback is welcome, good or bad.

1

Into the Alpha Lair

Chief (entering the Alpha Male Society bar and greeting Bill, the bartender and owner): “Hi Bill.  It looks like you’ve got a good crowd tonight.  I see lots of our fellow AMS members.   Better yet, a bunch of them brought slaves, so maybe we’ll get some proper action tonight.  We haven’t had a snuff scene all week.  I’m horny as hell and my bloodlust requires a satisfying kill.

“But it sounds like we’re set even if none of these snuffslaves get off’d.  I got a text from Dave, who is also horny and frustrated.  He headed into town form my farm to get some action.  He does such a great job running that, but it isn’t practical to kill too many of the farm slaves.  And they’re just farm animals, not great sex objects.  Besides, there’s a lot of work for them to do, especially now that the spring weather has arrived.  So, to be sure we get some action tonight he snatched a cute young punk off the street.  I saw Dave’s truck in the alley, so I assume he’s here already, and the punk is now tied up in the back playroom naked and ready to get snuffed.  His text also said the punk’s straight, so I’m sure Dave and a lot of the guys have been enjoying fucking and torturing him.  Did I get that right?”

Bill nods as he hands a drink to the Chief.  The Chief thanks him and continues. “It’s always fun when the twink knows it’s going to die and gets all worked up trying to dodge its fate.  I look forward to enjoying the terror in his eyes as he realizes there’s no such option and starts to comprehend how long and horrible the kill is going to be for him.  After everyone takes turns fucking and beating him, I think Dave plans to slowly butcher him alive.  He’ll take some of the meat back to the farm for us to enjoy, but he’ll

 leave most of it with you to use as fresh slave meat to grill.  As you know, Dave’s a gifted butcher and can keep the meat alive for hours as he cuts it up.  He’s got a ton of experience from managing my farm.  The farm slaves do provide pretty much all our meat needs.

“One part of the punk’s capture was pretty funny.  He screamed at Dave that the police would rescue him and then arrest and punish him.  When Dave told him the chief of police would be here later to help with the kill  I guess the twink totally freaked out.  That’s why I showed up still  in uniform.  I can scare the shit out of him and send him into total despair.  I love fucking the psyche of our snuff slaves as well as their butts. 

“But first I need to interrogate the faggot at the end of the bar.  You can charge my drink to him.  In fact, have him pay for everyone’s drinks tonight.  He’s a volunteer candidate Doc Johnson sent my way for me to snuff.  He sent a video of him ejaculating as another guy was fucking him and Doc Johnson was whipping him.  The faggot seemed to be really into it, which is promising.  He’s clearly a masochist fag and in the video he’s begging them to slit his throat and finish him off.  But I’m not sure he deserves my attention.  From the Doc’s report it seems he may have attitude issues.  He apparently has the absurd concept that the snuff is to fulfill his sexual needs, as if those mattered.  And he thinks he gets a say in how it’s done.  Worse yet, as you can see he had the audacity to show up wearing clothes despite Doc Johnson’s instructions.  As you know, since this is your bar and your rule, clothing is not tolerated here for slaves or snuffslave candidates.  But at least the fucker actually showed up.   That’s a start.“

Chief (sitting down next to a slightly built but fit 30-something who is nervously looking at the large screen TV above the bar): “So, faggotslave, I’ll make this simple.  You showed up on time but did not present yourself as instructed.  You were supposed to strip totally naked once you arrived at the bar, and give your possessions to Bill – clothes, wallet, phone, keys, everything you had with you.  You already turned over all the rest of your property to Doc Johnson as a donation to the Alpha Male Society. You agreed to become one of our snuffslaves, a voluntary one.  But you obviously have some residual reluctance that will need to be beaten out of you.  Only then do you get to be snuffed as you desire and deserve.  You need to learn that the snuff is for the sadistic pleasure of an Alpha Male and has nothing to do with your irrelevant desires.  Doc Johnson warned me you probably weren’t properly aligned or fully committed, but he says you’re a natural and severe fag masochist that could be properly conditioned for my pleasure.  It’s way too late to change your mind about that.  He also reported you have a high pain tolerance so the snuff could be lots of fun for the Alpha Male once you become a properly oriented volunteer.  You also have a strong cardio system so you could last a long time before your actual death.

“I’m not going to spend much time explaining what happens to you now, since your arrogance at wearing clothing disgusts me and it’s really none of your business.  You showed up here and therefore you are now a slave.  My slave, for me to do with as I wish.  Besides, even if I did interact with scum like you there’s no point making idle bar talk with you, like about the game you’re staring at on the TV.  You’re not watching it – you’re checking out Bill, the bartender.  And you’re also looking in the mirror to admire the other awesome Alpha Males in the room, probably jealous of the naked snuffslaves serving them.    But you’re still too ashamed to admit you’re nothing more than a snuffslave yourself.  You don’t understand that there is no way to overcome that shame and your only option is to admit it and donate your worthless body to the service of an Alpha Male for destruction and disposal.

“By the way, I wouldn’t recommend pissing off Bill if I were you.  I know he’s an incredibly impressive Alpha Male, almost as dominant and powerful looking as I am, and I know your aim is to get yourself snuffed.  But if you piss him off he’ll take you out back and just  beat you to death.  A wimpy faggot like you wouldn’t have a chance even if you did resist.  But you wouldn’t.  You’d like it and that would ruin Bill’s fun.  He likes faggots who resist, even fight back.  Not only that, but he’s not highly creative.  Your snuff would be far too quick and boring.  Faggots like you provide greater value when you suffer prolonged and extremely painful deaths, and you secretly want that.  Worse still for you, Bill likes to emasculate slaves early in the process of breaking your bones and beating you to death.  He’d slowly cut off your dick and then your balls.  You’d probably like watching him enjoy eating your balls, and you might even like eating your own cock, which he’ll force you to do.  But  then you wouldn’t be able to shoot a final load of cum as you die.  He doesn’t think fags ever deserve to cum, let alone a death orgasm, and he obviously has a point.  You don’t.  When we cause you to have a final orgasm as you die it is for the pleasure of the Alpha Male, just like the rest of the snuff.  Bijl would deny you that last thrill during your death throes as you feel his giant, hard cock up your ass, ripping you open and filling your hole with his cum while your death spasms make it tighter and more pleasurable for him.  Bill only keeps his snuff fags alive long enough for him to reach orgasm, so the whole thing is usually only about 10-15 minutes – even including the part where you lose your status as a male.  When the snuffslave is voluntary Bill loses interest and just does his civic duty by eliminating another pathetic fag.  What turns you on, to the point you want to be snuffed, is a huge Alpha cock up your ass, fucking and ripping your insides for a long time, as you are slowly tortured until you shoot a final death-load,.  Your aim is to feel his load explode inside you as your own load erupts and your meaningless life ends.  It’s what you want.  Right, faggotslave?

Chief (continuing after a shocked faggotslave meekly acknowledges the Chief’s comments):  “There’s a reason you go by faggotslave when you’re after sex, and you showed up here tonight in hopes I’d snuff you to fulfill your masochistic desires..  But you fucked up like you fags always do. 

“It’s not that you won’t wind up being tortured and killed.  That’s reality for any faggot who enters Bill’s bar.  And you can’t hide your status as a fag even if you are having second thoughts.  Fuck, even if I didn’t know all about you, as you now realize I do, your scrawny body and whole demeanor scream out “faggot!.”  You can’t keep your eyes off the Alpha Males who frequent this bar.  Even your drink betrays you.  A rum and Coke is a pussy drink.  You probably also drink white wine.  Alpha Males drink beer and whiskey.  So we know you are a faggot and therefore one of us will kill you when we feel like doing so.  But you don’t get to be snuffed tonight the way you want to be.  The first reason is because you were disrespectful and did not present yourself as the snuffslave you are.  The slaves we tolerate in Bill’s bar are required to strip naked and stay that way so we can use them sexually before we torture and kill them.  We often allow them to wear a dog collar to further remind them of their status and a cock ring to keep themselves hard for our enjoyment, but nothing else.  They are snuff slaves, serving us in whatever way we want and then dying horrible deaths that satisfy our sadistic bloodlust.  They know that’s all they are good for, and they are grateful to us for allowing them to provide some minimal value as we  kill them.  They know our pleasure is all that matters.  Their desires are irrelevant. 

“You showed up trying to conceal the fact you’re one of them.  I suppose the button-down shirt is meant to make you look like just another nerd instead of a flaming fag, but most nerds are fags at heart and deserve the same fate.  Your stupid little beard confirms your sexual insecurity, and the designer jeans are way too tight for a straight guy.  It looks like you’re trying to advertise that you’re getting an erection as all of us Alpha Males turn you on, although it’s not much of one if that’s what’s happening.  From the video clips Doc Johnson sent me I can see you’re one of those fags who doesn’t have much of a cock.  I also know it functions best when you’re being tortured and humiliated, although for my purposes that is actually useful.  Your one hope comes from the fact I greatly enjoy watching a snuffslave’s cock explode when I reach my own orgasm as the slave dies.”

Chief (turning toward Bill as faggotslave, as its new reality starts to sink in, continues to listen): “I’ll take another drink when I’m done dealing with this piece of shit fag.  I  want to join in the fun with the twink in the back, so you can bring it there.  As for faggotslave, it accepted its status and fate by entering your bar, but for tonight just beating him up should be enough.  He showed up as instructed seeking a snuff scene, which is a start, and Doc Johnson says he can become an acceptable volunteer.  It needs an attitude adjustment before it meets my standards. I suggest you punish it accordingly as you throw it out.  I know you’ll enjoy that.  Then you can leave it in the back of Dave’s truck so Dave can take it to my farm for further conditioning.”

Chief (turning back to faggotslave): “Like I said, I’ll make this quick.  It’s pretty straightforward.  Even faggots like you can understand if I talk slow and keep it simple.  You’re already trembling in fear, which you should be.  If you are having second thoughts about volunteering to get snuffed, it’s too late.  In due course you’ll be tortured to death and disposed of like a used cum rag.    Or maybe it’s sexual excitement that has you shaking so much.  Maybe you’re getting turned on because You know that’s what you want.  And you know it’s all you’re good for.

“Your shrink, Dr. Johnson, had you surrender all your possessions and then sent you to New York so you could finally accept what needs to happen to your pathetic life.  It needs to end.  He’s tired of you being too stupid to get the point and too cowardly to get on with it.  Asshole faggots disgust him, as you do all Alpha Males.  I know from his report that you’re ready to get snuffed and ready to welcome it.  I might be willing to consider you for one of my scenes if you show the right level of appreciation and enthusiasm  for the event, realizing it’s not about your needs but about my sadistic pleasure.  It’s my prerogative to torture and kill you whenever and however I decide to do it.  The fact you haven’t accepted that yet is the other reason you don’t get off’d tonight.  You are a worthless piece-of-shit homo whose only real use is to die at the hands of an Alpha Male for his pleasure, especially the pleasure of fucking you as you’re brutally tortured to death.  You’re not much physically but you might provide me a little fun for a few hours, including a satisfying fuck.  Fags your size tend to have tight little bubble butt assholes that my giant cock can rip open. I enjoy that.  And you want that.  And, of course, New York is a great city to disappear in.  No one will notice, not that they would anyway  As Chief of Police I have the power to assure that.

“And let me be clear.  There’s no negotiation, no conditions.  When an Alpha Male decides to kill you, you have no say about how he does it.  You die how he wants you to die, entirely for his enjoyment.  It’s none of your business.  You’re just there to receive unbelievable levels of pain and, if you’re lucky, to have a final orgasm as you die that the Alpha can enjoy feeling your body produce as it also tightens around his pulsating cock.  It’s for his sexual fulfillment, not yours, watching and laughing, ideally as he has his own orgasm inside your near-dead ass.  Oh, and you’ll be in such pain and so close to death you probably won’t get any actual pleasure.  Dead faggots don’t report how it felt, after all.

“The only issue since you walked into this bar has been if you add a little extra value during the snuff for an Alpha Male like me who enjoys killing willing faggots, or if you don’t volunteer and get killed by an Alpha Male like Bill who likes fags that resist.  Some of us get more pleasure when the meat is willing.  Other Alpha Males like it better when the meat is not willing, and even tries to fight back.  It’s a matter of taste but the constant factor is the kill.  I like fags who volunteer and who worship me as I deserve.  They should express their gratitude for the honor of pleasing me by cooperating as I torture and kill them.  You have that potential and that’s why Dr. Johnson sent you to me.  But you need further conditioning.”

“Now get the fuck out of our bar, faggotslave.  Strip naked and leave your clothes and all your other possessions with Bill, like you should have done when you entered.  You are a snuffslave and will present yourself as such.  You  no longer have possessions.  You do not own property.  You ARE property.  My property.  Crawl out of the bar on your hands and knees, then kneel in the alley outside next to Dave’s truck and wait for Bill to arrive and administer your initial punishment for your arrogance.  You will be punished often, with or without a reason, because we Alpha Males enjoy inflicting pain on our slaves.”

Chief  (to Bill as faggotslave quickly does as instructed, exposing his small but rock-hard cock in the process): “Have fun.  But don’t kill him or break anything yet.  You can dump him in the back of Dave’s truck when you’re done with him.  I assume he’ll be unconscious for quite a while and he can spend the night there.

“He’s both terrified and massively turned on by our little chat, as you and everyone else can see.  Now that he’s naked I can confirm I like his body type and the appearance of his meat.  He’s not very big but he’s pretty fit.  Time as a slave at the farm will make him even more fit.  The cock is unimpressive, but he’s got a decent set of balls and I’m guessing the tiny cock is matched by a super-tight hole for me to destroy.  He’s not all that bad looking and as you know I enjoy sniffing guys with his sort of build.  They’re fun to break apart.  I think he’ll be a fun kill for me, volunteering entirely for the purpose of satisfying my sadistic bloodlust once he’s properly oriented.  That’s why Doc Johnson sent him my way.   Tonight I don’t get to snuff a volunteer, but we can all enjoy the twink you have in the back, killing it while it protests and resists.  That’s still lots of fun and appeals to our sadistic natures.  But for me  there aren’t near enough of these snuffslaves who admit what they are and deserve.  Like the ones in the bar now, they make great slaves for a while.  So faggotslave will become a farm slave until it is ready to be harvested as an enthusiastic snuffslave.”

2

Conditioning

(in the alley)

Bill:  “Well, faggotslave, you didn’t run away.  That’s a start, although tracking you down and punishing you for that would have been more fun.  I’m sure the Chief would have let us kill  you instead of just beating you unconscious.  But we’ll still have lots of fun doing that as punishment for your arrogance in the bar, as the Chief encouraged us to do.

“To start, my buddies and I are going to piss down your throat, then you are to use your tongue to get our cocks hard.  Dave and Sam are going to fuck you first, then we’re going to torture you while I fuck your ass.  They’ll fuck you at the same time, with both their cocks up your puny ass.  That’s more fun for them and a lot more painful for you.  Puny guys like you tend to have tight assholes.”

Bill (after his buddies finish double-dicking faggotslave, who obviously enjoyed the pain and eagerly sucked Bill’s dick as they did so):  “Wow.  is that all there is to your cock?  You truly are the nerdy masochist faggot Doc Johnson described.  But I thought he was exaggerating when he said you didn’t have much of a dick.  I bet it’s not more than 4 inches.  If you had the balls to fuck another guy in the ass I doubt he’d even notice.  But I’m guessing you haven’t done that.  You’re the kind of faggot who just sucks cock and gets fucked.  And judging by what a good job you did drinking our piss I figure you’re an experienced urinal too.  So you are good at sucking cock and drinking piss, two skills that are useful, plus a nice tight ass to plug.  We’ll take advantage of that.  But next we need to tie you up so I can take my turn fucking your ass and we can all have fun hurting you.  This electrical pole should do nicely.  We’ll tie your wrists above your head so I can fuck your ass while Dave and Sam torture the rest of you.  There are so many fun places to administer pain!

Bill (ramming his huge cock up faggotslave’s ass after faggotslave is secured to a crossbeam extending form the electrical pole):  “Well, you do have a nice tight ass like everyone reports  The Chief will enjoy ripping it open when the time comes.  His cock is a lot bigger than mine, as he’s fond of pointing out.  But mine’s big enough to get your attention.  It’s nicely lubricated too, so I think Dave and Sam did a decent job filling it with cum.  It’s obvious you enjoy being fucked, but we’ll add a lot more pain so you don’t enjoy it too much.  Of course, we also realize you enjoy the pain.  We’ll see how much you enjoy it when It’s at the levels we’re going to inflict.

“Feel very free to scream, by the way.  We enjoy listening to that, and it’s late enough that there is no one nearby to hear you.  Even if there were, remember that the cops work for the Chief. He owns you now and he’s the one who asked us to beat you.  This will be way more than you’re used to, but comparatively tame compared to what he’ll do, so you can start imagining the kinds of things that are going to be done to you before you get to die.  You’ll be begging for that.  But for now I’m going to fuck your ass while Dave and Sam enjoy themselves administering pain to your body.  As I cum they’ll finish beating you unconscious.  You are going to be bruised and in pain for days, but we  won’t kill you.  Fuck, if you’re lucky you might even have an orgasm as you pass out.  Your erection is throbbing already and there’s a little pre-cum dripping from it..  That’s always highly amusing to see.  The best part is having your body tighten around my cock while you pass out and shoot your load.  That feels great.”

Bill (as faggotslave screams loudly):  “Yeah, I bet that hurt.  Dave has a strong arm, and he was holding brass knuckles when he wailed on your balls.  You’re lucky he moved away before you threw up, or you would have really mad him mad.  If some of it got on him he might have lost his temper.  Your balls are going to be swollen for a long time, especially since he’s not done hitting them.  You’re probably all out of puke so he can move in close. 

“Now for some more fun, while I continue to enjoy drilling your ass.  I like it when you twitch and turn in pain, since it adds to the pressure on my cock and that feels great, so let’s see how you react to a cattle prod.  Zap!  Wasn’t that fun?  I can tell you felt it on your right nipple, and I enjoyed your scream.  Now for the left one.  Zap!  Excellent.  Now the balls.  There’s no limit to the amount of pain we enjoy inflicting there.  Zap!  Zap!  Oh, even better.  Obviously, the cock is next, and we’re going to hold the prod there for a while so the muscle gets a full dose of electricity   It’ll wilt for a bit after that but I’m willing to bet it will get hard again (such as it is) fairly soon.  This is the kind of pain you crave.  Zappppp!  Zappppp!  Wow.  That was fantastic!  Sam is really talented.  It might take a little longer for you to recover from all this so the Chief can use you, but I’m sure you’d agree it’s worth it.  It is for us and that’s all that matters.

“Time for a few punches.  Sam’s also really good at attacking a slave’s midsection, so let’s see how you enjoy that.  Oh good, you twisted nicely and put more pressure on my cock.  Want Dave to hit your balls again now?  Of course you do.  The great part of this is none of it will damage your long-term ability to provide even more pleasure after you wake up.  Dave and his team can still play with you at the farm, and they will also be careful sp the Chief will have a nice fresh slab of temporarily alive meat to use for his own fun.  It won’t matter how much your flesh is damaged and your bones are broken when that happens, since he won’t leave you alive like we’re going to do.

“I’m getting close to my own orgasm, and I see your cock is hard again.  I think you might even have one of your own, although it won’t amount to much.  Dave and Sam are going to team up beating you on the chest and belly, but they’ll leave your cock and balls alone just in case you manage to shoot before you pass out.  If your body performs as it should – and fag bodies always do – then you’ll shoot your load as you lose consciousness, and as I shoot mine up your ass.  I’ll enjoy the show and your contortions will put wonderful added pressure on my cock as I shoot, but you’ll be in so much pain you won’t get to enjoy yours.  It’s a perfect happy ending for the evening,  isn’t it?  

“We’ll leave you tied up and piss all over you before we dump you in the back of Dave’s truck.  You might be interested to know we’re  making a video of your punishment that we will show at the bar, so others can enjoy it.  We’ve also identified some people who knew you before you admitted to being a snuffslave, and we’ll be sure they see it too so they can realize what a worthless faggot you were.  We know a lot of them enjoyed abusing and fucking you so I’m sure they’ll enjoy watching it.  We are entitling it “faggotslave Conditioning” in your honor, so they remember your role before becoming an official slave.  We might even show a few of them the video of your eventual snuff scene, and a few of them are members of the Alpha Male Society so they might show up to watch in person.  It will be a very festive reunion, I’m sure.  We make use of faggots as best we can, given your limited utility.  This is the one sort of thing you’re actually good for.”

Bill (to Dave and Sam as they laugh at faggotslave’s unconscious body):  That was a ton of fun and a great fuck.  Let’s dowse him with piss before we toss him into the back of Dave’s truck.  He can clean it up when he wakes up.  Time to go inside for the REAL fun.”

3

Conditioning

(at the farm)

Crack!

Dave:  “Wake up faggotslave,  it’s time to start your existence as an acknowledged and willing  snuffslave and prepare you to be tortured and killed.  You’ve been unconscious for two days after Bill, Sam, and I beat the shit out of you and fucked your ass in the ally by Bill’s bar.  The Chief said not to break anything or do permanent damage, but he didn’t put limits on how much pain we could inflict.  Quite the opposite.  We all wanted to find out what your pain tolerance is, which is always a fun process and important in designing a kill to make sure the slave suffers as much and as long as possible.  We pushed well past it and you eventually passed out from the tortures and the beating.  You’re going to hurt pretty much everywhere for quite a while longer.  Get used to it.  Now get on your knees and suck my cock while I explain the rules here on the Chief’s farm.

“The rules are obvious, and the main rule is that you do exactly what you are told to do, no matter what that is.  You tried to negotiate with the Chief on what would happen to you when you were at the bar, and that is one of the reasons you were punished.  You have no say about anything, and no one gives a fuck what you want or even think.  So you are to shut the fuck up and do as you are told.  Period.  The major part of your training is getting you to realize not only the reality that you are a slave, but also that deep down you are desperate to be a slave and serve an Alpha Male master.  Your purpose and fulfillment is satisfying his every whim and losing your life in the process.  You have accepted the fact you’re a masochist faggot, and that you get sexual pleasure form being degraded and abused.  That’s useful, as it makes your body react nicely when we torture you.  You got massively turned on during your beating, and your body performed wonderfully as you reached orgasm.  As you convulsed your ass tightened hugely around Bill’s cock and he had a fantastic orgasm as he shot his load into you.  Your entire body tensed up as your own cock spewed a giant load of cum all over the place.  And that happened as you lost consciousness.  The more we beat you the more you got turned on, just like a masochist slave should do.  I’m guessing it was the most intense orgasm you ever had, and you are desperate for another one like it.  The Chief was pleased when he saw the video and knows he’ll greatly enjoy snuffing you.  That will happen when we get you into a little better shape and you realize that, as a slave, you will welcome being snuffed not for the pain that will turn you on sexually but from the fact it will please your master.  It’s really quite simple.

“You may only speak when given permission to do so, and if that happens you are to address all Alpha Males, including me, as “sir.”  The Chief is “master.”  And that’s it for rules.  See?  I told you it was simple.  I bet even scum like you can figure it out.

“Now, as for your tasks.  I run the farm for the Chief, and it’s a massive operation with all kinds of crops and both human and non-human farm animals. The human ones plant and tend the crops, and both types provide fresh meat when we are done with them.  We prefer the slave meat, especially when we eat it live. 

“We’re in the main barn at the moment, and that’s where you’ll be stored as you recover and  are conditioned for the Chief’s use and disposal.  To help you understand your status I’ve decided to have you tend to the pigs.  You’ll serve them their slop to eat and keep their pen clean.  That means you’ll be up to your naked ass in pig shit most of the time.  The pigs matter more than you do and are better cared for, so that will be good for your attitude.  Also, your food will consist of any slop that is left over after they eat, although you are not to consume more than one dog dish full of it.  You are to stay lean and hungry.  You may drink from their water trough, which my men and I also use as a urinal.  You are to drink a lot as staying hydrated is important, and because it is disgusting and degrading.  The Chief wants you to get into top physical shape.  So another task is bailing hay for the horses.  That is remarkably good exercise and will tone your muscles considerably as it enhances your cardio and pulmonary endurance.  Those are important to be sure you do not die too early during the snuff.  These chores will occupy your mornings.  It’s the start of the planting season so you’ll join other slaves in the fields after your second and final daily dish of pig slop.  Spending the afternoons naked in the hot sun will further develop your muscles and generate a complete tan, which the Chief prefers for his snuff targets.  You’ll notice your beard, torso, arms, legs, and crotch have been shaved, and your skin was treated with chemicals that will prevent any hair from growing back.  At this point your skin is nice and smooth but utterly devoid of any color or tone.  You will be made much more sexually appealing in a month or two.  I think the Chief is planning to off you during the summer solstice celebration in June, and by then you’re going to be a perfect physical specimen meeting the Chief’s high standards for live faggot meat. 

“It’s a pity you won’t live long enough to be part of the fall harvest.  That’s my favorite time of year.  After the slaves harvest the crops, we harvest the slaves.  It’s a week of snuff orgies with several hundred slaves, some barbecued alive, most tortured and fucked to death by members of the Alpha Male Society.  And about 50 are crucified, their agonizing naked bodies providing a great ambience for the event.  We pick those in advance and condition them so they have maximum arm strength as well as durable pulmonary and cardio systems, so they typically last for days.  I think you’d provide an especially long show given your light build and strong heart and lungs, but you’ll be dead long before that.  Pity. It’s a great show and their agony is astonishing and great fun to watch.  They pretty much always have giant orgasms as they die, and we have fun betting when that will happen.  When it’s over all the farm slaves are butchered and sold for meat.  We get a few new ones to handle the winter chores, and a big shipment in spring for planting and such.  Those just arrived and I will be spending my time indoctrinating them, so you will not get much attention.  You have your instructions, and you are to obey them.

There is, however, one other aspect of your training, which will take place in the evenings.  You will be tortured to increase your pain tolerance.  It’s already good but it could be better, and the Chief does not want you to go into system shock as he gets serious about torturing you.  You won’t get fucked very often, as the Chief wants your ass to remain extremely tight, one of your better features.  His cock will take care of loosening that when the time comes, which will of course be a source of considerable pain in itself since he’ll essentially rip it open.  His cock is amazingly giant, as you will learn. 

“And you will remain horny, especially given your strong masochistic nature, but without any release.  The Vet inserted a computer chip where your brain stem connects to your spine that manages the sexual signals between your brain and your body.  It massively increases your sex drive – in your case your desire for pain – but prevents you from having an orgasm. 

Remember, the reason you are being kept alive isn’t as part of my slave crew to work the farm. We have lots of slaves for that, and they’re a lot bigger and stronger than you are. Providing better quality of meat to sell.  The reason  is to orient you away from considering your own pleasure as a masochist, so you focus solely on the pleasure of the Chief, the Alpha Male sadist who owns you.  You will come to understand how worthless and irrelevant you are, and how important and deserving the Chief is.  You will learn to worship him as he deserves.  To that end it is important that you are subjected to massive pain and humiliation. You do not deserve to achieve sexual release.  That erection you have now will be constant, courtesy of the computer chip and your own natural masochism.  Yet you won’t be able to do anything about it.  The Chief is a creative sadist.  We don’t give a fuck about your pleasure, just about making your life more degrading and awful.  We enjoy depriving you of pleasure while we cause you to seek it even more.  We’re sadists, after all, and that’s reason enough.  What better suffering is there for a masochist faggot than being tortured but not being allowed to get any sexual satisfaction or release?  I’m sure you can see the humor in that.    What better psychological torture can there be than a sadist depriving a masochist of sexual release as part of its suffering?  Now bend over the pig trough over there so I can fuck your ass.  Then you are to clean the pen.”

4

Party Prep

Crack!

Dave (holding the bullwhip he’d used to wake faggotslave before dawn):  Wake up faggotslave.  On your knees and drink my morning piss.  They you can suck my cock while I give you your instructions for today.  You have extra duties after you feed the pigs, clean their trough, and bale the hay for the horses.  Those include showing snuffslave #223 what your morning chores are.  It will take over for you tomorrow since you’ll be dead.  It’s not scheduled to die until after fall harvest and needs to be made useful in the meantime.   As for you, today the Chief is hosting a large group of our Alpha Male Society fellow members to celebrate summer solstice.  You will be part of the entertainment at the start of the cocktail party, which will occur on the South Lawn next the main estate house.  There will be lots of slaves serving the members in every way – as waiters, as sex objects to be tortured and snuffed, as live meat entrées for the barbecues.  You are going to be used as a minor part of the entertainment the Chief is going to provide as the party starts.  He likes to start things off with an especially brutal snuff to show off his body and his skills and to get everyone in the mood for the fun that will follow.  Once he’s done with you, and the guests have had the chance to fuck your dead ass, your body is of almost no further use.  You have been conditioned to endure extreme pain and respond sexually to torture, but that means your meat is too lean to be acceptable for the barbecue.  The snuffslaves used for that have a higher bodyfat ratio that makes their meat flavorful.  Kobe-style slave mat is extremely popular with our Society and the Chief only serves the best. Yours is bland and boring, like every other aspect of your worthless existence.  But even after you’re killed your body will provide a little added fun later in the evening as it gets dark.  What’s left after the Chief kills you will be ripped apart even more, and the meat eaten, by the cayotes who live in the forest next to the farm.  They’re not picky about the quality of meat they get.  Then tomorrow what’s left will become fertilizer. I’ve decided you will be composted to nourish a stretch of grass on the lawn that is not growing well enough.

“Therefore, just as the party starts you will peel back the grass and sod and then dig a trench where one of the other slaves can dump your carcass and then replace the sod and grass.  Our guests enjoy watching fit naked slaves preparing the spot where their dead bodies will be disposed of, and I have done a great job improving your physical strength and appearance.  As you are likely aware, I fertilize the lawn with the bodies of snuffed faggots.  Fags like you make great fertilizer and there are several hundred I’ve used for that over the years.  Sometimes I grind the faggot up into mulch and spread it like manure, and sometimes I bury it freshly killed in spots that aren’t growing as well as I want, adding chemicals that accelerate the composting and make sure nothing is left of the carcass.  And sometimes, just for fun, I bury the fag alive.  While our guests enjoy their cocktails and conversation, they can watch as you dig a suitable hole to dump your left-over body parts in.  It doesn’t have to be all that deep since I want the rotting flesh to work its magic on the soil and feed the earthworms that will make  the soil more porous from their movements. 

“That trench is where the follow-up fun will happen after dinner when we’re all assembled inside in the main dining room.  The cayotes always show up at dusk to check out the area after a big party, and I want the trench shallow enough so the cayotes can enjoy tearing apart and eating freshly killed faggot tonight.  I want them to be able to get to the body easily for their feast.  We all enjoy listening to them yipping loudly as it gets darker to alert their pack that there’s fresh meat to be had.  There’s a night-vision camera and microphone that will be set up for everyone to watch safely as the animals fight over who gets to eat which parts of the carcass.  Pity is, they especially enjoy faggot genitals, and as I look at your puny cock I realize they won’t find much to consume.  But your balls seem about average and they’ll enjoy biting those off.  The real pity, of course, is that you’ll already be dead, so they don’t get as much fun as they’d like by doing the kill themselves.  They’re remarkably vicious when they do and that’s far more fun to watch.  The Chief wants his guests to be able to enjoy seeing their bloodthirsty energy, which we think is inspirational.  So I’m going to also have a live naked faggot tied up for them to enjoy, cutting it so the smell of its fresh blood attracts them. The noise as they kill and eat it is a fabulous mix of the furiously yipping animals celebrating and the terrified faggot screaming in pain.  I’m also doing that because the patch of lawn that needs fertilizing is fairly large.  Your grave-trench needs to be large enough for both bodies.  The other fag will help you dig so our guests can enjoy watching each of you, then it will be tied to a fuck bench to be used sexually   When you are finished digging you are to crawl to the main reception area and kneel before the Chief, who will amuse his guests by torturing and killing you.”

5

Foreplay

Chief (standing naked except for his steel-toed boots, using them to kick faggotslave in the balls as it kneels in front of him, sending it sprawling as the guests watch and laugh):  “Dave has done well, and you appear to be in much better physical shape.  I also understand you are now aware that your sole purpose is to worship my Alpha body and cooperate in providing me sexual pleasure as I torture you and end your worthless life .  As you can see, I am at least a foot taller than you are and massively more muscular.  Your skin is devoid of body hair, and your beard has been shaved off, as befits a pathetic twink fag ready for harvest.  In contrast, my beard  has the dark, thick hair of a true Alpha, as does my chest. Your body is smooth, with limited muscle definition even though you have been conditioned and your muscles are well developed for a twink of your size and build. That’s so you can last longer as I destroy your flesh.  My frame is massive and all muscle, complete with washboard abs.  You are not remotely worthy to offer your pathetic body and useless life for my pleasure.  So you will need to suffer added pain and humiliation to make up for that.  I will enjoy your agony as I inflict it and thereby gain more of the pleasure I deserve.

 “Now kneel down in front of me again.  You are to worship and service my amazing cock.  Its 12 inches of thick muscle will soon tear open your puny ass.  But first you are to use your mouth and tongue to service it, getting it rock hard and ready for its use as a weapon for your pain and a source of my pleasure.  I want to feel it deep in your throat before it goes up your ass.  I will hold your head to make sure you welcome my cock all the way in, even though it is going to cause you to choke, and you’ll be unable to breathe.  Your tongue is to caress it all the way down the shaft to its base.  I am told you have become adept at servicing Dave’s 10-inch cock, but you will be surprised how much harder it is to service one that is 12 inches.  I  don’t care and don’t tolerate gagging.  You will learn that there is no release from your suffering when I decide to use you.  When I am satisfied with thrusting my cock down your throat I will send a torrent of piss down it.  You are to drink all of it.  Then I will remove my cock and you will lick my balls.  You will also lick my ass.  You are to stay focused on serving my body as I torture you.”

Chief (adding to faggotslave’s fear as it eagerly services his cock but also arousing its masochistic desires):  “I plan to cut you open and I like  the feel of hot blood leaking onto my powerful skin.  You will be grateful to see your body’s fluids providing me that satisfaction.  The pain from the cuts will be astonishing and a part of you will want to die, hoping blood loss will cause that to happen.  But you will not be permitted to bleed out  The Vet will monitor and control that. And you know you deeply desire the pain and the destruction of your flesh.  You have the privilege of admiring my dominant, massive, perfect Alpha Male body, and of worshiping it as I take your life and get pleasure from doing so.    I require worship from those I kill, as I deserve, and your own massive sexual arousal will be part of that worship.”

Chief (now fully erect, his massive cock and balls nicely massaged, and his ass licked clean by the adoring faggotslave, who also eagerly drank  the giant load of piss): “Stand up and face me.  As you know, the computer chip implanted in your neck prevents you from having an orgasm, and you have not gotten sexual relief since you arrived at the farm despite the constant use as a sox toy and cum bucket that turns you on.  Do you now wish me to remove it so you can do so?  You have permission to speak.”

Faggotslave (with total sincerity that reflects its successful conditioning):  “I hope you will do whatever gives you the most pleasure, Master.  That is all that matters.  I am grateful that you are using me for your enjoyment.”

Chief:  “Dave has indeed trained you well.  Your act of abject submission is the only acceptable response.  I will do what pleases me the most and don’t, and never did, care what you desire.  I just wanted to confirm your training.

“ At this point I do not plan to fuck your face again.  I’ll use your ass for that.  Sp I see no further use for your tongue to massage my cock and certainly no reason for you to speak.  No one wants to hear from you.  Ever.  Open your mouth so I can use this knife to cut out your useless tongue.  It will be a fitting start to vivisecting you.  You won’t be able to talk but you’ll be able to squeal like a pig. That’s all I want to hear from you.  I enjoy it when fags try to scream after their tongues are cut out.   It’s a high-pitched animal sound that befits your status as meat being butchered.”

Chief (tossing the bleeding tongue to his pet, Felix, who quickly chomps it down as faggotslave watches, in pain but grateful for being better able to provide the Chief with pleasure):  “Time to step up the pain, which starts with some great entertainment.  Stand in front of that wall, facing me, with your arms spread wide, fists open, palms out.  Dave will make sure you’re properly positioned.”

Chief (getting the attention of the guests once Dave has positioned faggotslave):  Welcome AMS members.  It is great to see everyone, and I know we’re all looking forward to a wonderful evening of comradery as we practice the Art of Male Snuff.  To start the fun, I think you’ll enjoy watching me snuff this pathetic twink, which is as eager to die as I am to kill it.  As you all know, I find that particularly satisfying and utterly appropriate. 

“To make it more of a show for all of your, I got some new toys that Dave and I have been practicing with and enjoying a lot.  Frankly, we want to show off a little, as you’d expect from Alpha Males like us – and each of you.  These are top-of-the-line Smith and Wesson throwing knives.  They are of varying length, including two large throwing axes.  Their balance is perfect, and they build momentum as they spin and fly toward the target. It’s amazing how sharp they are and how easily they dig into flesh.   In fact, it’s important to be careful how hard you throw them and where you aim.  When I first got them I tested them on a farm slave and targeted the faggot’s heart.  I thought that would be a good way to start the blood flowing, which is so much fun to watch as the fag becomes completely terrified by the agony and the final realization of its fate.  But the knife went in so fast and deep it exploded the beating muscle and the fucker died right away. 

“I was pretty pissed and called the sales rep to complain that they didn’t have a warning about that with the instructions.  We do a LOT of business with them at the department, so I always get his attention.  He promised he’d make it good.

“The next day he showed up with a sales trainee, a young twink apparently right out of college  He brought me a whole new set and gave Dave and me some especially useful pointers on how to select the right length and calibrate the velocity of the knife, so it only goes in as far as I want it too.  That has proved to be quite useful as you’ll see shortly.  But I told him I already had a dozen knives from the first set I bought and having more knives and some instruction didn’t solve the problem of having a faggot die before I was ready to administer the kill.  The lead salesman had already thought that through, but he turned to the trainee and asked how he would propose to solve the problem.  The trainee understood that customer satisfaction was the top priority, especially a customer as important as I am.  And he had committed himself to the company as they require.  He wasn’t too happy about the obvious solution, but he quickly stripped naked and stood in front of the throwing wall where today’s fag is now positioned.  He eventually turned out to be a good sport about his fate after I explained some of the alternative things I might do to him, and he stood still in front of my throwing wall while I tested the suggestions.  I was able to get all 24 knives into him and no individual throw was fatal. But I was still a little too eager and he died from the cumulative effect before I could stick my big cock into him and get a good fuck while he was still convulsing from all the pain.  I   had to settle for fucking his dead ass.  But that was satisfying, and I placed a big order from the department with the sales rep.   That way everyone was happy, except maybe the sales trainee.  Dave and I have been practicing with more farm slaves and we’ve gotten particularly good at getting lots of knives into the flesh without having the faggot die prematurely.  And we’ve especially gotten good at making sure they stay standing while we have our fun.  Watch.

“See?  Dave and I simultaneously nailed the fag right in the palms of its hands.  These were longer knives that went in all the way to the hilt and judging by the faggot’s scream it hurt a lot.  Now faggotslave’s got both hands thoroughly pinned to the wall and is unable to move. Clever, huh?  Notice how the knives cut through the flesh and cartilage so easily and are well embedded in the wall.  That’s because we put a lot of force into the throws.  These two knives will hold it up as we proceed, which would otherwise be a problem. 

Chief (now addressing faggotslave):  it’s time to turn you into a bleeding pin cushion.  I’m going to start with your chest, aiming for the right nipple.  I’ll ease off a bit on the velocity and force, using a shorter knife that will cause less bleeding and won’t go all the way through you and pin you to the wall.  We’ll need to move you to that nearby sling when we’re done throwing knives,  so I can fuck your ass and play with the knives that will be inserted into you.  We want this next set of knives to cut into your innards, but not go all the way through.   We also don’t want you to die from internal bleeding.  That’s not dramatic enough.  Balancing all these factors is  a lot of what we learned from practicing on the sales trainee and a few more farm slaves.  And we have to be careful not to have a knife go into your heart.  So we won’t aim for the right nipple.  I’ve learned that lesson!  You don’t need both lungs, so Dave is going to throw the next knife near where mine hit, to be sure the right lung collapses.  It’s fun to watch fags struggle to breathe once that happens. 

“Great throw Dave!  The fag squealed nice and loud and it’s obvious having trouble breathing. 

Chief (laughing form the joy of the kill, to faggotslave, whose agony is intense but whose arousal is evidenced by a solid erection):  Hey fag, how about if I aim for your liver, then Dave and I can each take out a kidney?  Does that sound like a good sequence, or would you rather have a knife thrust into you somewhere else first?  This is a lot of fun and I’m willing to be accommodating.  My main goal is to get at least one in the liver and each kidney, and several in the guts and stomach.  But we’ll take our time. Your look of terror is amusing, and you actually don’t yet know how increasingly painful this is going to be.” 

Chief (to the Vet):  “Keep an eye out in case you need to slow down the bleeding.  We don’t want it to bleed out.”

Chief (to faggotslave):  Having fun?  I’m enjoying the shrill noises you’re making as the knives cut into you.  You really do sound like a stuck pig.  Dave and I are going to do a lightning round next.  We’ve each selected five knives that are shorter, so they can land anywhere without doing anything fatal.  We’re going to aim for your arms, legs, and belly.  Let us know when you’d like us to start.

“Oh, I forgot.  You don’t talk anymore.   So we’ll just start on the count of three.  One, two, three!

“That was awesome.  I think Dave and I have become supremely talented at our new sport.  Don’t you agree?

“But this was just the foreplay.  Now it’s time for me to make the tortures up close and personal.  That way you can fully appreciate just how phenomenal my body is.  You will also appreciate how my 12-inch cock can rip apart a faggot’s asshole.  I’ve used the knife throwing to get myself aroused as only true Alpha Males can do.  My bloodlust is surging, and you are its target.

“I’m going to have you moved to the sling and then my giant cock goes into your doomed ass.  I’m going to make that fuck and your final destruction last as long as possible.  But all the damage to your innards from the knives makes your death inevitable.  If we did nothing further you’d die from internal bleeding fairly soon.  But we’re going to do a LOT more.”

6

Climax

Chief (while faggotslave is still pinned to the wall): “Time to release our fag target, Dave.  Do you want to take the left side or the right side?  Your choice.”

“I’ll take the left side.  Shall we throw on the count of three again?”

“Sure.  I’ll count slow so it can try to figure out what’s about to happen.  One,…two,…three!”

Chief (ecstatic) :  Those were perfect!  The axes severed each shoulder simultaneously, and the body promptly fell face first onto the cement.  I’m fairly sure it broke its nose since it didn’t have any arms to stop the fall.”

Dave (laughing, and equally pleased):  It sure was.  And the dismembered arms are still pinned to the wall by the knives we used at the start.  The fag is still breathing but seems to have passed out.  That’s OK.  I’m sure the Vet can wake it up once we move it to the sling for the finale’.  This is turning out to be our best effort yet.

Vet:  “Yeah, that was pretty impressive.  And no worries, I’ll slow down the bleeding and bring it back to consciousness.  Might as well do that while it’s on the cement, so it can feel the pain as it’s moved to the sling.”

Chief (having thrust his throbbing, erect cock into faggotslave’s hole as soon as the fag was in the sling and fully accessible,, causing more inhuman sounds from the faggot): “Feel that, faggot?  Your ass is nicely lubricated from all your internal bleeding, and it is going to tighten even more onto my cock as I continue to torture you.  That’s going to drive me wild with sadistic passion as you receive more and more and more pain.  You’ll think it can’t get worse, but it will. 

“And look.  Your puny little cock is rock hard.  I might enjoy watching it shoot a last load as you die, but I haven’t decided about that yet.  I wonder if there would be much cum.  After all, you’ve been storing it inside you for months now.  II bet your balls did a good job filing up with whatever was inside you.  This could be an added aspect of the entertainment.

“But here’s the great part.  It was obvious from your gyrations and sequels that those knives hurt a lot when they went into you.  And they’re  still there and still causing pain – except for the ones you left behind when you lost your arms.  Pity about that.  But the REAL pain is when the knives are twisted.  For example, let’s start with this one that’s probably stuck in your liver.  See, I’m turning it now and you’re almost passing out again from the increased agony.  But don’t worry.  The Vet will bring you back around if you do, so you won’t miss anything.  Oh, and I’ve observed that kidneys can transmit astonishing levels of pain.  That’s why kidney stones are so awful.  Here, let me demonstrate.  I’ll twist both knives at the same time.

“Wow.  That was quite a jerk of your body.  Did it hurt?  Oh, I keep forgetting.  My cat’s got your tongue.

Dave (laughing):  Cute.  Felix looked up when you said that.  Maybe he thinks he’ll get another faggot snack.”

“Chief (now overwhelmed with lust and passion, his cock throbbing as it thrusts in and out  while the faggot’s body twists and tuns, providing intense pressure and pleasure):  He will, but not until it’s dead.  I think that’s going to be fairly soon. 

Chief (sensing that faggotslave is starting to fade more rapidly):  “Hey faggot, are you close to death?  I’ve been playing with the knives stuck in you for nearly an hour.  I’ve wanted to be sure you get all the pain you deserve by twisting and removing the rest of these knives, then inserting them all over again.  I’m doing it slowly so you can experience the full impact of the torture.  When you get really close to death I have a special treat for you, so hang in there!”

“Yeah, I think it’s time.  OK, Dave, hand me that really long knife.”

Dave (massaging his own erect cock):  “Yup, I think it’s time.”

Chief (expertly slicing into faggotslave’s throat): “Die faggot.  My knife is extremely sharp and  is easily cutting your throat . But I’m going to go as slow as possible.  You can feel my cock erupting inside you as I cut.  And my knife has dislodged the computer chip, so Your own cock is also exploding with cum – lots and lots of cum – going everywhere.  It’s a great show.  You finally got something right.  I can’t believe how much pleasure I feel as I fill you with my man-juice.  I can’t believe how satisfying it is to feel your death throes pressure my cock.  You are finally the bleeding, pain-filled piece of cut-up meat you deserved to be.  My knife is now most of the way through your neck and your head will be totally cut off any second now.  You only have a few seconds to live, with all that pain mixed with a massive orgasm.  I took your life and it meant nothing because you meant nothing.  It just provided me with pleasure, but my pleasure was intense.”

Chief (removing his spent cock form the dead body, holding the head in his hands after he had completely severed it with the electric knife): “The body’s still warm, Dave.”

Dave (inserting his erect cock into faggotslave’s cum-and-blood-filled ass as the body still gyrates): “This feels great.  The ass is overly lubricated but still wonderfully tight.  And it’s so satisfying to fuck a faggot as it’s just finished dying, still convulsing a bit as the muscles give out but not so much that there’s not wonderful pressure on my cock.  This is what faggots are good for.  And the celebration is just beginning!”

The Alpha Prerogative By Gay Slavemeat Gsmeat2@gmail.com

A reader who goes by ”faggot slave” requested a story about being snuffed that is written in the second person – the Alpha talking to the snuff victim and others, describing what the Alpha is doing as he tortures and kills it.  That’s a bit of a challenge to write, it turns out,  and I leave it to readers to decide if my effort turned out OK. But there is no doubt every masochist faggot like faggotslave (or me) warrants a prolonged and extremely painful death at the hands of a sadistic Alpha Male, so, as to writing a second person story about that, why not?  An Alpha would likely enjoy adding to our terror by enslaving us as we’re prepared to be snuffed and then describing how we are being killed and some of what is coming next (perhaps holding back a few fun surprises).  He could show us the instruments of torture he’s going to use on us up close before he plunges them into our flesh.  His derisive laughter would add to our humiliation, helping us realize how pathetic we truly are.  He could point out our physical flaws to his buddies as they all watch and laugh, adding to their justified sense of superiority.   The more I thought about it the more right it seemed for faggotslave not to have a speaking role.  The Alpha killer is the hero of the story, and us fags should be grateful for the chance to provide him pleasure as our worthless body is brutally ripped apart.  Other than begging for that to happen, and expressing gratitude when it does, who the fuck gives a shit what the faggot meat has to say? 

I used the Art of Male Snuff setting I’ve used in a few other stories posted here.  But unlike “Career Choice” recently posted here, which reflected the complex desires of another snuff-seeking faggot reader, faggotslave is just live meat anxious to be tortured and killed. So I let myself be inspired by the great stories M3Mayhem has written on how that should happen.  As always, feedback is welcome, good or bad.

1

Into the Alpha Lair

Chief (entering the Alpha Male Society bar and greeting Bill, the bartender and owner): “Hi Bill.  It looks like you’ve got a good crowd tonight.  I see lots of our fellow AMS members.   Better yet, a bunch of them brought slaves, so maybe we’ll get some proper action tonight.  We haven’t had a snuff scene all week.  I’m horny as hell and my bloodlust requires a satisfying kill.

“But it sounds like we’re set even if none of these snuffslaves get off’d.  I got a text from Dave, who is also horny and frustrated.  He headed into town form my farm to get some action.  He does such a great job running that, but it isn’t practical to kill too many of the farm slaves.  And they’re just farm animals, not great sex objects.  Besides, there’s a lot of work for them to do, especially now that the spring weather has arrived.  So, to be sure we get some action tonight he snatched a cute young punk off the street.  I saw Dave’s truck in the alley, so I assume he’s here already, and the punk is now tied up in the back playroom naked and ready to get snuffed.  His text also said the punk’s straight, so I’m sure Dave and a lot of the guys have been enjoying fucking and torturing him.  Did I get that right?”

Bill nods as he hands a drink to the Chief.  The Chief thanks him and continues. “It’s always fun when the twink knows it’s going to die and gets all worked up trying to dodge its fate.  I look forward to enjoying the terror in his eyes as he realizes there’s no such option and starts to comprehend how long and horrible the kill is going to be for him.  After everyone takes turns fucking and beating him, I think Dave plans to slowly butcher him alive.  He’ll take some of the meat back to the farm for us to enjoy, but he’ll

 leave most of it with you to use as fresh slave meat to grill.  As you know, Dave’s a gifted butcher and can keep the meat alive for hours as he cuts it up.  He’s got a ton of experience from managing my farm.  The farm slaves do provide pretty much all our meat needs.

“One part of the punk’s capture was pretty funny.  He screamed at Dave that the police would rescue him and then arrest and punish him.  When Dave told him the chief of police would be here later to help with the kill  I guess the twink totally freaked out.  That’s why I showed up still  in uniform.  I can scare the shit out of him and send him into total despair.  I love fucking the psyche of our snuff slaves as well as their butts. 

“But first I need to interrogate the faggot at the end of the bar.  You can charge my drink to him.  In fact, have him pay for everyone’s drinks tonight.  He’s a volunteer candidate Doc Johnson sent my way for me to snuff.  He sent a video of him ejaculating as another guy was fucking him and Doc Johnson was whipping him.  The faggot seemed to be really into it, which is promising.  He’s clearly a masochist fag and in the video he’s begging them to slit his throat and finish him off.  But I’m not sure he deserves my attention.  From the Doc’s report it seems he may have attitude issues.  He apparently has the absurd concept that the snuff is to fulfill his sexual needs, as if those mattered.  And he thinks he gets a say in how it’s done.  Worse yet, as you can see he had the audacity to show up wearing clothes despite Doc Johnson’s instructions.  As you know, since this is your bar and your rule, clothing is not tolerated here for slaves or snuffslave candidates.  But at least the fucker actually showed up.   That’s a start.“

Chief (sitting down next to a slightly built but fit 30-something who is nervously looking at the large screen TV above the bar): “So, faggotslave, I’ll make this simple.  You showed up on time but did not present yourself as instructed.  You were supposed to strip totally naked once you arrived at the bar, and give your possessions to Bill – clothes, wallet, phone, keys, everything you had with you.  You already turned over all the rest of your property to Doc Johnson as a donation to the Alpha Male Society. You agreed to become one of our snuffslaves, a voluntary one.  But you obviously have some residual reluctance that will need to be beaten out of you.  Only then do you get to be snuffed as you desire and deserve.  You need to learn that the snuff is for the sadistic pleasure of an Alpha Male and has nothing to do with your irrelevant desires.  Doc Johnson warned me you probably weren’t properly aligned or fully committed, but he says you’re a natural and severe fag masochist that could be properly conditioned for my pleasure.  It’s way too late to change your mind about that.  He also reported you have a high pain tolerance so the snuff could be lots of fun for the Alpha Male once you become a properly oriented volunteer.  You also have a strong cardio system so you could last a long time before your actual death.

“I’m not going to spend much time explaining what happens to you now, since your arrogance at wearing clothing disgusts me and it’s really none of your business.  You showed up here and therefore you are now a slave.  My slave, for me to do with as I wish.  Besides, even if I did interact with scum like you there’s no point making idle bar talk with you, like about the game you’re staring at on the TV.  You’re not watching it – you’re checking out Bill, the bartender.  And you’re also looking in the mirror to admire the other awesome Alpha Males in the room, probably jealous of the naked snuffslaves serving them.    But you’re still too ashamed to admit you’re nothing more than a snuffslave yourself.  You don’t understand that there is no way to overcome that shame and your only option is to admit it and donate your worthless body to the service of an Alpha Male for destruction and disposal.

“By the way, I wouldn’t recommend pissing off Bill if I were you.  I know he’s an incredibly impressive Alpha Male, almost as dominant and powerful looking as I am, and I know your aim is to get yourself snuffed.  But if you piss him off he’ll take you out back and just  beat you to death.  A wimpy faggot like you wouldn’t have a chance even if you did resist.  But you wouldn’t.  You’d like it and that would ruin Bill’s fun.  He likes faggots who resist, even fight back.  Not only that, but he’s not highly creative.  Your snuff would be far too quick and boring.  Faggots like you provide greater value when you suffer prolonged and extremely painful deaths, and you secretly want that.  Worse still for you, Bill likes to emasculate slaves early in the process of breaking your bones and beating you to death.  He’d slowly cut off your dick and then your balls.  You’d probably like watching him enjoy eating your balls, and you might even like eating your own cock, which he’ll force you to do.  But  then you wouldn’t be able to shoot a final load of cum as you die.  He doesn’t think fags ever deserve to cum, let alone a death orgasm, and he obviously has a point.  You don’t.  When we cause you to have a final orgasm as you die it is for the pleasure of the Alpha Male, just like the rest of the snuff.  Bijl would deny you that last thrill during your death throes as you feel his giant, hard cock up your ass, ripping you open and filling your hole with his cum while your death spasms make it tighter and more pleasurable for him.  Bill only keeps his snuff fags alive long enough for him to reach orgasm, so the whole thing is usually only about 10-15 minutes – even including the part where you lose your status as a male.  When the snuffslave is voluntary Bill loses interest and just does his civic duty by eliminating another pathetic fag.  What turns you on, to the point you want to be snuffed, is a huge Alpha cock up your ass, fucking and ripping your insides for a long time, as you are slowly tortured until you shoot a final death-load,.  Your aim is to feel his load explode inside you as your own load erupts and your meaningless life ends.  It’s what you want.  Right, faggotslave?

Chief (continuing after a shocked faggotslave meekly acknowledges the Chief’s comments):  “There’s a reason you go by faggotslave when you’re after sex, and you showed up here tonight in hopes I’d snuff you to fulfill your masochistic desires..  But you fucked up like you fags always do. 

“It’s not that you won’t wind up being tortured and killed.  That’s reality for any faggot who enters Bill’s bar.  And you can’t hide your status as a fag even if you are having second thoughts.  Fuck, even if I didn’t know all about you, as you now realize I do, your scrawny body and whole demeanor scream out “faggot!.”  You can’t keep your eyes off the Alpha Males who frequent this bar.  Even your drink betrays you.  A rum and Coke is a pussy drink.  You probably also drink white wine.  Alpha Males drink beer and whiskey.  So we know you are a faggot and therefore one of us will kill you when we feel like doing so.  But you don’t get to be snuffed tonight the way you want to be.  The first reason is because you were disrespectful and did not present yourself as the snuffslave you are.  The slaves we tolerate in Bill’s bar are required to strip naked and stay that way so we can use them sexually before we torture and kill them.  We often allow them to wear a dog collar to further remind them of their status and a cock ring to keep themselves hard for our enjoyment, but nothing else.  They are snuff slaves, serving us in whatever way we want and then dying horrible deaths that satisfy our sadistic bloodlust.  They know that’s all they are good for, and they are grateful to us for allowing them to provide some minimal value as we  kill them.  They know our pleasure is all that matters.  Their desires are irrelevant. 

“You showed up trying to conceal the fact you’re one of them.  I suppose the button-down shirt is meant to make you look like just another nerd instead of a flaming fag, but most nerds are fags at heart and deserve the same fate.  Your stupid little beard confirms your sexual insecurity, and the designer jeans are way too tight for a straight guy.  It looks like you’re trying to advertise that you’re getting an erection as all of us Alpha Males turn you on, although it’s not much of one if that’s what’s happening.  From the video clips Doc Johnson sent me I can see you’re one of those fags who doesn’t have much of a cock.  I also know it functions best when you’re being tortured and humiliated, although for my purposes that is actually useful.  Your one hope comes from the fact I greatly enjoy watching a snuffslave’s cock explode when I reach my own orgasm as the slave dies.”

Chief (turning toward Bill as faggotslave, as its new reality starts to sink in, continues to listen): “I’ll take another drink when I’m done dealing with this piece of shit fag.  I  want to join in the fun with the twink in the back, so you can bring it there.  As for faggotslave, it accepted its status and fate by entering your bar, but for tonight just beating him up should be enough.  He showed up as instructed seeking a snuff scene, which is a start, and Doc Johnson says he can become an acceptable volunteer.  It needs an attitude adjustment before it meets my standards. I suggest you punish it accordingly as you throw it out.  I know you’ll enjoy that.  Then you can leave it in the back of Dave’s truck so Dave can take it to my farm for further conditioning.”

Chief (turning back to faggotslave): “Like I said, I’ll make this quick.  It’s pretty straightforward.  Even faggots like you can understand if I talk slow and keep it simple.  You’re already trembling in fear, which you should be.  If you are having second thoughts about volunteering to get snuffed, it’s too late.  In due course you’ll be tortured to death and disposed of like a used cum rag.    Or maybe it’s sexual excitement that has you shaking so much.  Maybe you’re getting turned on because You know that’s what you want.  And you know it’s all you’re good for.

“Your shrink, Dr. Johnson, had you surrender all your possessions and then sent you to New York so you could finally accept what needs to happen to your pathetic life.  It needs to end.  He’s tired of you being too stupid to get the point and too cowardly to get on with it.  Asshole faggots disgust him, as you do all Alpha Males.  I know from his report that you’re ready to get snuffed and ready to welcome it.  I might be willing to consider you for one of my scenes if you show the right level of appreciation and enthusiasm  for the event, realizing it’s not about your needs but about my sadistic pleasure.  It’s my prerogative to torture and kill you whenever and however I decide to do it.  The fact you haven’t accepted that yet is the other reason you don’t get off’d tonight.  You are a worthless piece-of-shit homo whose only real use is to die at the hands of an Alpha Male for his pleasure, especially the pleasure of fucking you as you’re brutally tortured to death.  You’re not much physically but you might provide me a little fun for a few hours, including a satisfying fuck.  Fags your size tend to have tight little bubble butt assholes that my giant cock can rip open. I enjoy that.  And you want that.  And, of course, New York is a great city to disappear in.  No one will notice, not that they would anyway  As Chief of Police I have the power to assure that.

“And let me be clear.  There’s no negotiation, no conditions.  When an Alpha Male decides to kill you, you have no say about how he does it.  You die how he wants you to die, entirely for his enjoyment.  It’s none of your business.  You’re just there to receive unbelievable levels of pain and, if you’re lucky, to have a final orgasm as you die that the Alpha can enjoy feeling your body produce as it also tightens around his pulsating cock.  It’s for his sexual fulfillment, not yours, watching and laughing, ideally as he has his own orgasm inside your near-dead ass.  Oh, and you’ll be in such pain and so close to death you probably won’t get any actual pleasure.  Dead faggots don’t report how it felt, after all.

“The only issue since you walked into this bar has been if you add a little extra value during the snuff for an Alpha Male like me who enjoys killing willing faggots, or if you don’t volunteer and get killed by an Alpha Male like Bill who likes fags that resist.  Some of us get more pleasure when the meat is willing.  Other Alpha Males like it better when the meat is not willing, and even tries to fight back.  It’s a matter of taste but the constant factor is the kill.  I like fags who volunteer and who worship me as I deserve.  They should express their gratitude for the honor of pleasing me by cooperating as I torture and kill them.  You have that potential and that’s why Dr. Johnson sent you to me.  But you need further conditioning.”

“Now get the fuck out of our bar, faggotslave.  Strip naked and leave your clothes and all your other possessions with Bill, like you should have done when you entered.  You are a snuffslave and will present yourself as such.  You  no longer have possessions.  You do not own property.  You ARE property.  My property.  Crawl out of the bar on your hands and knees, then kneel in the alley outside next to Dave’s truck and wait for Bill to arrive and administer your initial punishment for your arrogance.  You will be punished often, with or without a reason, because we Alpha Males enjoy inflicting pain on our slaves.”

Chief  (to Bill as faggotslave quickly does as instructed, exposing his small but rock-hard cock in the process): “Have fun.  But don’t kill him or break anything yet.  You can dump him in the back of Dave’s truck when you’re done with him.  I assume he’ll be unconscious for quite a while and he can spend the night there.

“He’s both terrified and massively turned on by our little chat, as you and everyone else can see.  Now that he’s naked I can confirm I like his body type and the appearance of his meat.  He’s not very big but he’s pretty fit.  Time as a slave at the farm will make him even more fit.  The cock is unimpressive, but he’s got a decent set of balls and I’m guessing the tiny cock is matched by a super-tight hole for me to destroy.  He’s not all that bad looking and as you know I enjoy sniffing guys with his sort of build.  They’re fun to break apart.  I think he’ll be a fun kill for me, volunteering entirely for the purpose of satisfying my sadistic bloodlust once he’s properly oriented.  That’s why Doc Johnson sent him my way.   Tonight I don’t get to snuff a volunteer, but we can all enjoy the twink you have in the back, killing it while it protests and resists.  That’s still lots of fun and appeals to our sadistic natures.  But for me  there aren’t near enough of these snuffslaves who admit what they are and deserve.  Like the ones in the bar now, they make great slaves for a while.  So faggotslave will become a farm slave until it is ready to be harvested as an enthusiastic snuffslave.”

2

Conditioning

(in the alley)

Bill:  “Well, faggotslave, you didn’t run away.  That’s a start, although tracking you down and punishing you for that would have been more fun.  I’m sure the Chief would have let us kill  you instead of just beating you unconscious.  But we’ll still have lots of fun doing that as punishment for your arrogance in the bar, as the Chief encouraged us to do.

“To start, my buddies and I are going to piss down your throat, then you are to use your tongue to get our cocks hard.  Dave and Sam are going to fuck you first, then we’re going to torture you while I fuck your ass.  They’ll fuck you at the same time, with both their cocks up your puny ass.  That’s more fun for them and a lot more painful for you.  Puny guys like you tend to have tight assholes.”

Bill (after his buddies finish double-dicking faggotslave, who obviously enjoyed the pain and eagerly sucked Bill’s dick as they did so):  “Wow.  is that all there is to your cock?  You truly are the nerdy masochist faggot Doc Johnson described.  But I thought he was exaggerating when he said you didn’t have much of a dick.  I bet it’s not more than 4 inches.  If you had the balls to fuck another guy in the ass I doubt he’d even notice.  But I’m guessing you haven’t done that.  You’re the kind of faggot who just sucks cock and gets fucked.  And judging by what a good job you did drinking our piss I figure you’re an experienced urinal too.  So you are good at sucking cock and drinking piss, two skills that are useful, plus a nice tight ass to plug.  We’ll take advantage of that.  But next we need to tie you up so I can take my turn fucking your ass and we can all have fun hurting you.  This electrical pole should do nicely.  We’ll tie your wrists above your head so I can fuck your ass while Dave and Sam torture the rest of you.  There are so many fun places to administer pain!

Bill (ramming his huge cock up faggotslave’s ass after faggotslave is secured to a crossbeam extending form the electrical pole):  “Well, you do have a nice tight ass like everyone reports  The Chief will enjoy ripping it open when the time comes.  His cock is a lot bigger than mine, as he’s fond of pointing out.  But mine’s big enough to get your attention.  It’s nicely lubricated too, so I think Dave and Sam did a decent job filling it with cum.  It’s obvious you enjoy being fucked, but we’ll add a lot more pain so you don’t enjoy it too much.  Of course, we also realize you enjoy the pain.  We’ll see how much you enjoy it when It’s at the levels we’re going to inflict.

“Feel very free to scream, by the way.  We enjoy listening to that, and it’s late enough that there is no one nearby to hear you.  Even if there were, remember that the cops work for the Chief. He owns you now and he’s the one who asked us to beat you.  This will be way more than you’re used to, but comparatively tame compared to what he’ll do, so you can start imagining the kinds of things that are going to be done to you before you get to die.  You’ll be begging for that.  But for now I’m going to fuck your ass while Dave and Sam enjoy themselves administering pain to your body.  As I cum they’ll finish beating you unconscious.  You are going to be bruised and in pain for days, but we  won’t kill you.  Fuck, if you’re lucky you might even have an orgasm as you pass out.  Your erection is throbbing already and there’s a little pre-cum dripping from it..  That’s always highly amusing to see.  The best part is having your body tighten around my cock while you pass out and shoot your load.  That feels great.”

Bill (as faggotslave screams loudly):  “Yeah, I bet that hurt.  Dave has a strong arm, and he was holding brass knuckles when he wailed on your balls.  You’re lucky he moved away before you threw up, or you would have really mad him mad.  If some of it got on him he might have lost his temper.  Your balls are going to be swollen for a long time, especially since he’s not done hitting them.  You’re probably all out of puke so he can move in close. 

“Now for some more fun, while I continue to enjoy drilling your ass.  I like it when you twitch and turn in pain, since it adds to the pressure on my cock and that feels great, so let’s see how you react to a cattle prod.  Zap!  Wasn’t that fun?  I can tell you felt it on your right nipple, and I enjoyed your scream.  Now for the left one.  Zap!  Excellent.  Now the balls.  There’s no limit to the amount of pain we enjoy inflicting there.  Zap!  Zap!  Oh, even better.  Obviously, the cock is next, and we’re going to hold the prod there for a while so the muscle gets a full dose of electricity   It’ll wilt for a bit after that but I’m willing to bet it will get hard again (such as it is) fairly soon.  This is the kind of pain you crave.  Zappppp!  Zappppp!  Wow.  That was fantastic!  Sam is really talented.  It might take a little longer for you to recover from all this so the Chief can use you, but I’m sure you’d agree it’s worth it.  It is for us and that’s all that matters.

“Time for a few punches.  Sam’s also really good at attacking a slave’s midsection, so let’s see how you enjoy that.  Oh good, you twisted nicely and put more pressure on my cock.  Want Dave to hit your balls again now?  Of course you do.  The great part of this is none of it will damage your long-term ability to provide even more pleasure after you wake up.  Dave and his team can still play with you at the farm, and they will also be careful sp the Chief will have a nice fresh slab of temporarily alive meat to use for his own fun.  It won’t matter how much your flesh is damaged and your bones are broken when that happens, since he won’t leave you alive like we’re going to do.

“I’m getting close to my own orgasm, and I see your cock is hard again.  I think you might even have one of your own, although it won’t amount to much.  Dave and Sam are going to team up beating you on the chest and belly, but they’ll leave your cock and balls alone just in case you manage to shoot before you pass out.  If your body performs as it should – and fag bodies always do – then you’ll shoot your load as you lose consciousness, and as I shoot mine up your ass.  I’ll enjoy the show and your contortions will put wonderful added pressure on my cock as I shoot, but you’ll be in so much pain you won’t get to enjoy yours.  It’s a perfect happy ending for the evening,  isn’t it?  

“We’ll leave you tied up and piss all over you before we dump you in the back of Dave’s truck.  You might be interested to know we’re  making a video of your punishment that we will show at the bar, so others can enjoy it.  We’ve also identified some people who knew you before you admitted to being a snuffslave, and we’ll be sure they see it too so they can realize what a worthless faggot you were.  We know a lot of them enjoyed abusing and fucking you so I’m sure they’ll enjoy watching it.  We are entitling it “faggotslave Conditioning” in your honor, so they remember your role before becoming an official slave.  We might even show a few of them the video of your eventual snuff scene, and a few of them are members of the Alpha Male Society so they might show up to watch in person.  It will be a very festive reunion, I’m sure.  We make use of faggots as best we can, given your limited utility.  This is the one sort of thing you’re actually good for.”

Bill (to Dave and Sam as they laugh at faggotslave’s unconscious body):  That was a ton of fun and a great fuck.  Let’s dowse him with piss before we toss him into the back of Dave’s truck.  He can clean it up when he wakes up.  Time to go inside for the REAL fun.”

3

Conditioning

(at the farm)

Crack!

Dave:  “Wake up faggotslave,  it’s time to start your existence as an acknowledged and willing  snuffslave and prepare you to be tortured and killed.  You’ve been unconscious for two days after Bill, Sam, and I beat the shit out of you and fucked your ass in the ally by Bill’s bar.  The Chief said not to break anything or do permanent damage, but he didn’t put limits on how much pain we could inflict.  Quite the opposite.  We all wanted to find out what your pain tolerance is, which is always a fun process and important in designing a kill to make sure the slave suffers as much and as long as possible.  We pushed well past it and you eventually passed out from the tortures and the beating.  You’re going to hurt pretty much everywhere for quite a while longer.  Get used to it.  Now get on your knees and suck my cock while I explain the rules here on the Chief’s farm.

“The rules are obvious, and the main rule is that you do exactly what you are told to do, no matter what that is.  You tried to negotiate with the Chief on what would happen to you when you were at the bar, and that is one of the reasons you were punished.  You have no say about anything, and no one gives a fuck what you want or even think.  So you are to shut the fuck up and do as you are told.  Period.  The major part of your training is getting you to realize not only the reality that you are a slave, but also that deep down you are desperate to be a slave and serve an Alpha Male master.  Your purpose and fulfillment is satisfying his every whim and losing your life in the process.  You have accepted the fact you’re a masochist faggot, and that you get sexual pleasure form being degraded and abused.  That’s useful, as it makes your body react nicely when we torture you.  You got massively turned on during your beating, and your body performed wonderfully as you reached orgasm.  As you convulsed your ass tightened hugely around Bill’s cock and he had a fantastic orgasm as he shot his load into you.  Your entire body tensed up as your own cock spewed a giant load of cum all over the place.  And that happened as you lost consciousness.  The more we beat you the more you got turned on, just like a masochist slave should do.  I’m guessing it was the most intense orgasm you ever had, and you are desperate for another one like it.  The Chief was pleased when he saw the video and knows he’ll greatly enjoy snuffing you.  That will happen when we get you into a little better shape and you realize that, as a slave, you will welcome being snuffed not for the pain that will turn you on sexually but from the fact it will please your master.  It’s really quite simple.

“You may only speak when given permission to do so, and if that happens you are to address all Alpha Males, including me, as “sir.”  The Chief is “master.”  And that’s it for rules.  See?  I told you it was simple.  I bet even scum like you can figure it out.

“Now, as for your tasks.  I run the farm for the Chief, and it’s a massive operation with all kinds of crops and both human and non-human farm animals. The human ones plant and tend the crops, and both types provide fresh meat when we are done with them.  We prefer the slave meat, especially when we eat it live. 

“We’re in the main barn at the moment, and that’s where you’ll be stored as you recover and  are conditioned for the Chief’s use and disposal.  To help you understand your status I’ve decided to have you tend to the pigs.  You’ll serve them their slop to eat and keep their pen clean.  That means you’ll be up to your naked ass in pig shit most of the time.  The pigs matter more than you do and are better cared for, so that will be good for your attitude.  Also, your food will consist of any slop that is left over after they eat, although you are not to consume more than one dog dish full of it.  You are to stay lean and hungry.  You may drink from their water trough, which my men and I also use as a urinal.  You are to drink a lot as staying hydrated is important, and because it is disgusting and degrading.  The Chief wants you to get into top physical shape.  So another task is bailing hay for the horses.  That is remarkably good exercise and will tone your muscles considerably as it enhances your cardio and pulmonary endurance.  Those are important to be sure you do not die too early during the snuff.  These chores will occupy your mornings.  It’s the start of the planting season so you’ll join other slaves in the fields after your second and final daily dish of pig slop.  Spending the afternoons naked in the hot sun will further develop your muscles and generate a complete tan, which the Chief prefers for his snuff targets.  You’ll notice your beard, torso, arms, legs, and crotch have been shaved, and your skin was treated with chemicals that will prevent any hair from growing back.  At this point your skin is nice and smooth but utterly devoid of any color or tone.  You will be made much more sexually appealing in a month or two.  I think the Chief is planning to off you during the summer solstice celebration in June, and by then you’re going to be a perfect physical specimen meeting the Chief’s high standards for live faggot meat. 

“It’s a pity you won’t live long enough to be part of the fall harvest.  That’s my favorite time of year.  After the slaves harvest the crops, we harvest the slaves.  It’s a week of snuff orgies with several hundred slaves, some barbecued alive, most tortured and fucked to death by members of the Alpha Male Society.  And about 50 are crucified, their agonizing naked bodies providing a great ambience for the event.  We pick those in advance and condition them so they have maximum arm strength as well as durable pulmonary and cardio systems, so they typically last for days.  I think you’d provide an especially long show given your light build and strong heart and lungs, but you’ll be dead long before that.  Pity. It’s a great show and their agony is astonishing and great fun to watch.  They pretty much always have giant orgasms as they die, and we have fun betting when that will happen.  When it’s over all the farm slaves are butchered and sold for meat.  We get a few new ones to handle the winter chores, and a big shipment in spring for planting and such.  Those just arrived and I will be spending my time indoctrinating them, so you will not get much attention.  You have your instructions, and you are to obey them.

There is, however, one other aspect of your training, which will take place in the evenings.  You will be tortured to increase your pain tolerance.  It’s already good but it could be better, and the Chief does not want you to go into system shock as he gets serious about torturing you.  You won’t get fucked very often, as the Chief wants your ass to remain extremely tight, one of your better features.  His cock will take care of loosening that when the time comes, which will of course be a source of considerable pain in itself since he’ll essentially rip it open.  His cock is amazingly giant, as you will learn. 

“And you will remain horny, especially given your strong masochistic nature, but without any release.  The Vet inserted a computer chip where your brain stem connects to your spine that manages the sexual signals between your brain and your body.  It massively increases your sex drive – in your case your desire for pain – but prevents you from having an orgasm. 

Remember, the reason you are being kept alive isn’t as part of my slave crew to work the farm. We have lots of slaves for that, and they’re a lot bigger and stronger than you are. Providing better quality of meat to sell.  The reason  is to orient you away from considering your own pleasure as a masochist, so you focus solely on the pleasure of the Chief, the Alpha Male sadist who owns you.  You will come to understand how worthless and irrelevant you are, and how important and deserving the Chief is.  You will learn to worship him as he deserves.  To that end it is important that you are subjected to massive pain and humiliation. You do not deserve to achieve sexual release.  That erection you have now will be constant, courtesy of the computer chip and your own natural masochism.  Yet you won’t be able to do anything about it.  The Chief is a creative sadist.  We don’t give a fuck about your pleasure, just about making your life more degrading and awful.  We enjoy depriving you of pleasure while we cause you to seek it even more.  We’re sadists, after all, and that’s reason enough.  What better suffering is there for a masochist faggot than being tortured but not being allowed to get any sexual satisfaction or release?  I’m sure you can see the humor in that.    What better psychological torture can there be than a sadist depriving a masochist of sexual release as part of its suffering?  Now bend over the pig trough over there so I can fuck your ass.  Then you are to clean the pen.”

4

Party Prep

Crack!

Dave (holding the bullwhip he’d used to wake faggotslave before dawn):  Wake up faggotslave.  On your knees and drink my morning piss.  They you can suck my cock while I give you your instructions for today.  You have extra duties after you feed the pigs, clean their trough, and bale the hay for the horses.  Those include showing snuffslave #223 what your morning chores are.  It will take over for you tomorrow since you’ll be dead.  It’s not scheduled to die until after fall harvest and needs to be made useful in the meantime.   As for you, today the Chief is hosting a large group of our Alpha Male Society fellow members to celebrate summer solstice.  You will be part of the entertainment at the start of the cocktail party, which will occur on the South Lawn next the main estate house.  There will be lots of slaves serving the members in every way – as waiters, as sex objects to be tortured and snuffed, as live meat entrées for the barbecues.  You are going to be used as a minor part of the entertainment the Chief is going to provide as the party starts.  He likes to start things off with an especially brutal snuff to show off his body and his skills and to get everyone in the mood for the fun that will follow.  Once he’s done with you, and the guests have had the chance to fuck your dead ass, your body is of almost no further use.  You have been conditioned to endure extreme pain and respond sexually to torture, but that means your meat is too lean to be acceptable for the barbecue.  The snuffslaves used for that have a higher bodyfat ratio that makes their meat flavorful.  Kobe-style slave mat is extremely popular with our Society and the Chief only serves the best. Yours is bland and boring, like every other aspect of your worthless existence.  But even after you’re killed your body will provide a little added fun later in the evening as it gets dark.  What’s left after the Chief kills you will be ripped apart even more, and the meat eaten, by the cayotes who live in the forest next to the farm.  They’re not picky about the quality of meat they get.  Then tomorrow what’s left will become fertilizer. I’ve decided you will be composted to nourish a stretch of grass on the lawn that is not growing well enough.

“Therefore, just as the party starts you will peel back the grass and sod and then dig a trench where one of the other slaves can dump your carcass and then replace the sod and grass.  Our guests enjoy watching fit naked slaves preparing the spot where their dead bodies will be disposed of, and I have done a great job improving your physical strength and appearance.  As you are likely aware, I fertilize the lawn with the bodies of snuffed faggots.  Fags like you make great fertilizer and there are several hundred I’ve used for that over the years.  Sometimes I grind the faggot up into mulch and spread it like manure, and sometimes I bury it freshly killed in spots that aren’t growing as well as I want, adding chemicals that accelerate the composting and make sure nothing is left of the carcass.  And sometimes, just for fun, I bury the fag alive.  While our guests enjoy their cocktails and conversation, they can watch as you dig a suitable hole to dump your left-over body parts in.  It doesn’t have to be all that deep since I want the rotting flesh to work its magic on the soil and feed the earthworms that will make  the soil more porous from their movements. 

“That trench is where the follow-up fun will happen after dinner when we’re all assembled inside in the main dining room.  The cayotes always show up at dusk to check out the area after a big party, and I want the trench shallow enough so the cayotes can enjoy tearing apart and eating freshly killed faggot tonight.  I want them to be able to get to the body easily for their feast.  We all enjoy listening to them yipping loudly as it gets darker to alert their pack that there’s fresh meat to be had.  There’s a night-vision camera and microphone that will be set up for everyone to watch safely as the animals fight over who gets to eat which parts of the carcass.  Pity is, they especially enjoy faggot genitals, and as I look at your puny cock I realize they won’t find much to consume.  But your balls seem about average and they’ll enjoy biting those off.  The real pity, of course, is that you’ll already be dead, so they don’t get as much fun as they’d like by doing the kill themselves.  They’re remarkably vicious when they do and that’s far more fun to watch.  The Chief wants his guests to be able to enjoy seeing their bloodthirsty energy, which we think is inspirational.  So I’m going to also have a live naked faggot tied up for them to enjoy, cutting it so the smell of its fresh blood attracts them. The noise as they kill and eat it is a fabulous mix of the furiously yipping animals celebrating and the terrified faggot screaming in pain.  I’m also doing that because the patch of lawn that needs fertilizing is fairly large.  Your grave-trench needs to be large enough for both bodies.  The other fag will help you dig so our guests can enjoy watching each of you, then it will be tied to a fuck bench to be used sexually   When you are finished digging you are to crawl to the main reception area and kneel before the Chief, who will amuse his guests by torturing and killing you.”

5

Foreplay

Chief (standing naked except for his steel-toed boots, using them to kick faggotslave in the balls as it kneels in front of him, sending it sprawling as the guests watch and laugh):  “Dave has done well, and you appear to be in much better physical shape.  I also understand you are now aware that your sole purpose is to worship my Alpha body and cooperate in providing me sexual pleasure as I torture you and end your worthless life .  As you can see, I am at least a foot taller than you are and massively more muscular.  Your skin is devoid of body hair, and your beard has been shaved off, as befits a pathetic twink fag ready for harvest.  In contrast, my beard  has the dark, thick hair of a true Alpha, as does my chest. Your body is smooth, with limited muscle definition even though you have been conditioned and your muscles are well developed for a twink of your size and build. That’s so you can last longer as I destroy your flesh.  My frame is massive and all muscle, complete with washboard abs.  You are not remotely worthy to offer your pathetic body and useless life for my pleasure.  So you will need to suffer added pain and humiliation to make up for that.  I will enjoy your agony as I inflict it and thereby gain more of the pleasure I deserve.

 “Now kneel down in front of me again.  You are to worship and service my amazing cock.  Its 12 inches of thick muscle will soon tear open your puny ass.  But first you are to use your mouth and tongue to service it, getting it rock hard and ready for its use as a weapon for your pain and a source of my pleasure.  I want to feel it deep in your throat before it goes up your ass.  I will hold your head to make sure you welcome my cock all the way in, even though it is going to cause you to choke, and you’ll be unable to breathe.  Your tongue is to caress it all the way down the shaft to its base.  I am told you have become adept at servicing Dave’s 10-inch cock, but you will be surprised how much harder it is to service one that is 12 inches.  I  don’t care and don’t tolerate gagging.  You will learn that there is no release from your suffering when I decide to use you.  When I am satisfied with thrusting my cock down your throat I will send a torrent of piss down it.  You are to drink all of it.  Then I will remove my cock and you will lick my balls.  You will also lick my ass.  You are to stay focused on serving my body as I torture you.”

Chief (adding to faggotslave’s fear as it eagerly services his cock but also arousing its masochistic desires):  “I plan to cut you open and I like  the feel of hot blood leaking onto my powerful skin.  You will be grateful to see your body’s fluids providing me that satisfaction.  The pain from the cuts will be astonishing and a part of you will want to die, hoping blood loss will cause that to happen.  But you will not be permitted to bleed out  The Vet will monitor and control that. And you know you deeply desire the pain and the destruction of your flesh.  You have the privilege of admiring my dominant, massive, perfect Alpha Male body, and of worshiping it as I take your life and get pleasure from doing so.    I require worship from those I kill, as I deserve, and your own massive sexual arousal will be part of that worship.”

Chief (now fully erect, his massive cock and balls nicely massaged, and his ass licked clean by the adoring faggotslave, who also eagerly drank  the giant load of piss): “Stand up and face me.  As you know, the computer chip implanted in your neck prevents you from having an orgasm, and you have not gotten sexual relief since you arrived at the farm despite the constant use as a sox toy and cum bucket that turns you on.  Do you now wish me to remove it so you can do so?  You have permission to speak.”

Faggotslave (with total sincerity that reflects its successful conditioning):  “I hope you will do whatever gives you the most pleasure, Master.  That is all that matters.  I am grateful that you are using me for your enjoyment.”

Chief:  “Dave has indeed trained you well.  Your act of abject submission is the only acceptable response.  I will do what pleases me the most and don’t, and never did, care what you desire.  I just wanted to confirm your training.

“ At this point I do not plan to fuck your face again.  I’ll use your ass for that.  Sp I see no further use for your tongue to massage my cock and certainly no reason for you to speak.  No one wants to hear from you.  Ever.  Open your mouth so I can use this knife to cut out your useless tongue.  It will be a fitting start to vivisecting you.  You won’t be able to talk but you’ll be able to squeal like a pig. That’s all I want to hear from you.  I enjoy it when fags try to scream after their tongues are cut out.   It’s a high-pitched animal sound that befits your status as meat being butchered.”

Chief (tossing the bleeding tongue to his pet, Felix, who quickly chomps it down as faggotslave watches, in pain but grateful for being better able to provide the Chief with pleasure):  “Time to step up the pain, which starts with some great entertainment.  Stand in front of that wall, facing me, with your arms spread wide, fists open, palms out.  Dave will make sure you’re properly positioned.”

Chief (getting the attention of the guests once Dave has positioned faggotslave):  Welcome AMS members.  It is great to see everyone, and I know we’re all looking forward to a wonderful evening of comradery as we practice the Art of Male Snuff.  To start the fun, I think you’ll enjoy watching me snuff this pathetic twink, which is as eager to die as I am to kill it.  As you all know, I find that particularly satisfying and utterly appropriate. 

“To make it more of a show for all of your, I got some new toys that Dave and I have been practicing with and enjoying a lot.  Frankly, we want to show off a little, as you’d expect from Alpha Males like us – and each of you.  These are top-of-the-line Smith and Wesson throwing knives.  They are of varying length, including two large throwing axes.  Their balance is perfect, and they build momentum as they spin and fly toward the target. It’s amazing how sharp they are and how easily they dig into flesh.   In fact, it’s important to be careful how hard you throw them and where you aim.  When I first got them I tested them on a farm slave and targeted the faggot’s heart.  I thought that would be a good way to start the blood flowing, which is so much fun to watch as the fag becomes completely terrified by the agony and the final realization of its fate.  But the knife went in so fast and deep it exploded the beating muscle and the fucker died right away. 

“I was pretty pissed and called the sales rep to complain that they didn’t have a warning about that with the instructions.  We do a LOT of business with them at the department, so I always get his attention.  He promised he’d make it good.

“The next day he showed up with a sales trainee, a young twink apparently right out of college  He brought me a whole new set and gave Dave and me some especially useful pointers on how to select the right length and calibrate the velocity of the knife, so it only goes in as far as I want it too.  That has proved to be quite useful as you’ll see shortly.  But I told him I already had a dozen knives from the first set I bought and having more knives and some instruction didn’t solve the problem of having a faggot die before I was ready to administer the kill.  The lead salesman had already thought that through, but he turned to the trainee and asked how he would propose to solve the problem.  The trainee understood that customer satisfaction was the top priority, especially a customer as important as I am.  And he had committed himself to the company as they require.  He wasn’t too happy about the obvious solution, but he quickly stripped naked and stood in front of the throwing wall where today’s fag is now positioned.  He eventually turned out to be a good sport about his fate after I explained some of the alternative things I might do to him, and he stood still in front of my throwing wall while I tested the suggestions.  I was able to get all 24 knives into him and no individual throw was fatal. But I was still a little too eager and he died from the cumulative effect before I could stick my big cock into him and get a good fuck while he was still convulsing from all the pain.  I   had to settle for fucking his dead ass.  But that was satisfying, and I placed a big order from the department with the sales rep.   That way everyone was happy, except maybe the sales trainee.  Dave and I have been practicing with more farm slaves and we’ve gotten particularly good at getting lots of knives into the flesh without having the faggot die prematurely.  And we’ve especially gotten good at making sure they stay standing while we have our fun.  Watch.

“See?  Dave and I simultaneously nailed the fag right in the palms of its hands.  These were longer knives that went in all the way to the hilt and judging by the faggot’s scream it hurt a lot.  Now faggotslave’s got both hands thoroughly pinned to the wall and is unable to move. Clever, huh?  Notice how the knives cut through the flesh and cartilage so easily and are well embedded in the wall.  That’s because we put a lot of force into the throws.  These two knives will hold it up as we proceed, which would otherwise be a problem. 

Chief (now addressing faggotslave):  it’s time to turn you into a bleeding pin cushion.  I’m going to start with your chest, aiming for the right nipple.  I’ll ease off a bit on the velocity and force, using a shorter knife that will cause less bleeding and won’t go all the way through you and pin you to the wall.  We’ll need to move you to that nearby sling when we’re done throwing knives,  so I can fuck your ass and play with the knives that will be inserted into you.  We want this next set of knives to cut into your innards, but not go all the way through.   We also don’t want you to die from internal bleeding.  That’s not dramatic enough.  Balancing all these factors is  a lot of what we learned from practicing on the sales trainee and a few more farm slaves.  And we have to be careful not to have a knife go into your heart.  So we won’t aim for the right nipple.  I’ve learned that lesson!  You don’t need both lungs, so Dave is going to throw the next knife near where mine hit, to be sure the right lung collapses.  It’s fun to watch fags struggle to breathe once that happens. 

“Great throw Dave!  The fag squealed nice and loud and it’s obvious having trouble breathing. 

Chief (laughing form the joy of the kill, to faggotslave, whose agony is intense but whose arousal is evidenced by a solid erection):  Hey fag, how about if I aim for your liver, then Dave and I can each take out a kidney?  Does that sound like a good sequence, or would you rather have a knife thrust into you somewhere else first?  This is a lot of fun and I’m willing to be accommodating.  My main goal is to get at least one in the liver and each kidney, and several in the guts and stomach.  But we’ll take our time. Your look of terror is amusing, and you actually don’t yet know how increasingly painful this is going to be.” 

Chief (to the Vet):  “Keep an eye out in case you need to slow down the bleeding.  We don’t want it to bleed out.”

Chief (to faggotslave):  Having fun?  I’m enjoying the shrill noises you’re making as the knives cut into you.  You really do sound like a stuck pig.  Dave and I are going to do a lightning round next.  We’ve each selected five knives that are shorter, so they can land anywhere without doing anything fatal.  We’re going to aim for your arms, legs, and belly.  Let us know when you’d like us to start.

“Oh, I forgot.  You don’t talk anymore.   So we’ll just start on the count of three.  One, two, three!

“That was awesome.  I think Dave and I have become supremely talented at our new sport.  Don’t you agree?

“But this was just the foreplay.  Now it’s time for me to make the tortures up close and personal.  That way you can fully appreciate just how phenomenal my body is.  You will also appreciate how my 12-inch cock can rip apart a faggot’s asshole.  I’ve used the knife throwing to get myself aroused as only true Alpha Males can do.  My bloodlust is surging, and you are its target.

“I’m going to have you moved to the sling and then my giant cock goes into your doomed ass.  I’m going to make that fuck and your final destruction last as long as possible.  But all the damage to your innards from the knives makes your death inevitable.  If we did nothing further you’d die from internal bleeding fairly soon.  But we’re going to do a LOT more.”

6

Climax

Chief (while faggotslave is still pinned to the wall): “Time to release our fag target, Dave.  Do you want to take the left side or the right side?  Your choice.”

“I’ll take the left side.  Shall we throw on the count of three again?”

“Sure.  I’ll count slow so it can try to figure out what’s about to happen.  One,…two,…three!”

Chief (ecstatic) :  Those were perfect!  The axes severed each shoulder simultaneously, and the body promptly fell face first onto the cement.  I’m fairly sure it broke its nose since it didn’t have any arms to stop the fall.”

Dave (laughing, and equally pleased):  It sure was.  And the dismembered arms are still pinned to the wall by the knives we used at the start.  The fag is still breathing but seems to have passed out.  That’s OK.  I’m sure the Vet can wake it up once we move it to the sling for the finale’.  This is turning out to be our best effort yet.

Vet:  “Yeah, that was pretty impressive.  And no worries, I’ll slow down the bleeding and bring it back to consciousness.  Might as well do that while it’s on the cement, so it can feel the pain as it’s moved to the sling.”

Chief (having thrust his throbbing, erect cock into faggotslave’s hole as soon as the fag was in the sling and fully accessible,, causing more inhuman sounds from the faggot): “Feel that, faggot?  Your ass is nicely lubricated from all your internal bleeding, and it is going to tighten even more onto my cock as I continue to torture you.  That’s going to drive me wild with sadistic passion as you receive more and more and more pain.  You’ll think it can’t get worse, but it will. 

“And look.  Your puny little cock is rock hard.  I might enjoy watching it shoot a last load as you die, but I haven’t decided about that yet.  I wonder if there would be much cum.  After all, you’ve been storing it inside you for months now.  II bet your balls did a good job filing up with whatever was inside you.  This could be an added aspect of the entertainment.

“But here’s the great part.  It was obvious from your gyrations and sequels that those knives hurt a lot when they went into you.  And they’re  still there and still causing pain – except for the ones you left behind when you lost your arms.  Pity about that.  But the REAL pain is when the knives are twisted.  For example, let’s start with this one that’s probably stuck in your liver.  See, I’m turning it now and you’re almost passing out again from the increased agony.  But don’t worry.  The Vet will bring you back around if you do, so you won’t miss anything.  Oh, and I’ve observed that kidneys can transmit astonishing levels of pain.  That’s why kidney stones are so awful.  Here, let me demonstrate.  I’ll twist both knives at the same time.

“Wow.  That was quite a jerk of your body.  Did it hurt?  Oh, I keep forgetting.  My cat’s got your tongue.

Dave (laughing):  Cute.  Felix looked up when you said that.  Maybe he thinks he’ll get another faggot snack.”

“Chief (now overwhelmed with lust and passion, his cock throbbing as it thrusts in and out  while the faggot’s body twists and tuns, providing intense pressure and pleasure):  He will, but not until it’s dead.  I think that’s going to be fairly soon. 

Chief (sensing that faggotslave is starting to fade more rapidly):  “Hey faggot, are you close to death?  I’ve been playing with the knives stuck in you for nearly an hour.  I’ve wanted to be sure you get all the pain you deserve by twisting and removing the rest of these knives, then inserting them all over again.  I’m doing it slowly so you can experience the full impact of the torture.  When you get really close to death I have a special treat for you, so hang in there!”

“Yeah, I think it’s time.  OK, Dave, hand me that really long knife.”

Dave (massaging his own erect cock):  “Yup, I think it’s time.”

Chief (expertly slicing into faggotslave’s throat): “Die faggot.  My knife is extremely sharp and  is easily cutting your throat . But I’m going to go as slow as possible.  You can feel my cock erupting inside you as I cut.  And my knife has dislodged the computer chip, so Your own cock is also exploding with cum – lots and lots of cum – going everywhere.  It’s a great show.  You finally got something right.  I can’t believe how much pleasure I feel as I fill you with my man-juice.  I can’t believe how satisfying it is to feel your death throes pressure my cock.  You are finally the bleeding, pain-filled piece of cut-up meat you deserved to be.  My knife is now most of the way through your neck and your head will be totally cut off any second now.  You only have a few seconds to live, with all that pain mixed with a massive orgasm.  I took your life and it meant nothing because you meant nothing.  It just provided me with pleasure, but my pleasure was intense.”

Chief (removing his spent cock form the dead body, holding the head in his hands after he had completely severed it with the electric knife): “The body’s still warm, Dave.”

Dave (inserting his erect cock into faggotslave’s cum-and-blood-filled ass as the body still gyrates): “This feels great.  The ass is overly lubricated but still wonderfully tight.  And it’s so satisfying to fuck a faggot as it’s just finished dying, still convulsing a bit as the muscles give out but not so much that there’s not wonderful pressure on my cock.  This is what faggots are good for.  And the celebration is just beginning!”

Career Choice By Gay Slavemeat

Gsmeat2@gmail.com

1

Intervention

When Norman sat down at the counter of the bar he was greeted by Bill, the owner and bartender, who brought him his usual draught beer.  Norman was shivering from the cold outside, but the bar was warm, and he knew he’d be comfortable soon.  It was winter in New York City and that meant cold.  At least it wasn’t raining or snowing, he thought., but it looked like it might start soon. 

Norman had jogged from his apartment, which was nearby in the Hell’s Kitchen section of New York City, an area popular with gay men.  He liked to show off his body so, as always, he ran shiftless, wearing only tight shorts, running shoes, and a small backpack.  It didn’t matter how cold it was.  He was an exhibitionist who enjoyed being stared at and enjoyed it even more when people made rude comments.  Then he could flip them off.

There was no sign outside the bar, only a discrete door that led to a large basement area under a tall condo complex that catered to wealthy residents.  Norman was always a little surprised at its upscale mid-town location, since the bar itself catered to gays into serious S&M.  Moreover, to encourage their patronage Bill permitted patrons to wear whatever they wanted or nothing at all.  Norman wasn’t sure that was strictly legal for establishments with a liquor license.  Being a lawyer he’d checked, verifying that nudity in a bar violated city ordinances.  But that didn’t seem to be a problem for Bill.  There was never a hassle from police or anyone else. 

Norman was glad he’d learned about the place.  He was a gay guy quite interested in S&M action.  Most guys were shirtless or naked, with the alpha males usually dressed in leather with fetish gear that showed off their masculinity, and submissives totally naked, waring at most a slave collar or a colored scarf that advertised their particular fetish.  Norman was submissive, but cautious and reluctant to expose himself totally despite his exhibitionist nature.  Being shirtless got him in the mood for his submissive role, and he had slipped on a slave collar he kept in the backpack to advertise his orientation.  The tight shorts outlined his hard cock but left him a little dignity to start the evening. 

The bar was large and designed to enhance the S&M motif Norman liked to be part of.  There were the usual furnishings of a bar, including a long counter, wooden tables and chairs, booths, two pool tables, darts, and large-screen TVs.  The TVs near the counter played ESPN or other sports, but the TVs in the rear played S&M porn that was intense.  Those TVs were in an area with vastly different furnishings.  Guys engaged in S&M sex had access to slings, fuck benches, a rack, several St. Andrews X crosses, and shackles hanging from the ceiling to which submissives could be attached for whipping and other S&M action.  Those were especially popular since ta winch enabled he victim to be raised slightly off the floor and lashed on his back and chest as his body rotated freely from the blows.  Alternatively, shackles on the floor could be used to keep him solidly in place.  Either way he could be used by several alphas at once.  Norman was particularly turned on by that and lately he spent time strung up after a few bears gave him the courage to strip totally naked and make himself available. 

Norman was in his late twenties and while no movie star he was good looking.  He was just under 6’ tall with short-cropped dark hair.  He kept his body otherwise hairless, including his crotch, at Bill’s suggestion.  Bill felt submissives should have short haircuts but otherwise be free of body hair, so they appeared more vulnerable.  Alphas could use their fetish gear to highlight their dominant features like thick chest hair to tattoos, but in Bill’s expert view that was not appropriate for submissives.  Initially Norman had just trusted Bill’s judgment, but over time he saw the wisdom of it.  That was usually true about Bill’s advice.  Bill advised Norman a lot, which Norman appreciated greatly.

Norman had a nice firm butt that was nice and tight and was a reliable 8’’ when erect, his cock smooth and slightly curved.  His sex drive was massive, and he never had trouble getting and keeping an erection, so long as he was playing his submissive role.  He had a lot of trouble doing so otherwise and had sought out a sex therapy shrink to help him.  His build was a balance between muscular and twink, leaning a bit toward the muscular side.  He was focused on fitness at the suggestion of the shrink and had shed about 10 pounds to achieve his ideal weight.  He was young and fit enough to attract the attention and use of the alphas in the bar.  That was an important goal.

The S&M area also had treadmills, exercise machines, and free-weights so guys could also use it as a gym, which they did throughout the day.  Most did so naked, even the alphas, which earned them a free drink at the bar.  Bill knew nudity was good for business and strongly encouraged it.  Naked guys who were sexually turned on and a little drunk spent freely, and the bar was highly profitable.  Besides, guys like showing off their bodies and checking out other guys.  Most of the patrons were worth checking out, whether alpha or submissive, including Norman.

The bar was where Norman worked out and hung out.  He’d typically Uber there during his lunch hour, then strip and go through his exercise routines.  He was one of a group of regulars, and since pretty much everyone was naked, he overcame his inhibitions, although it had taken some coaching from Bill.  For some regulars, the status of alphas and submissives applied to the workouts during the day as well as the sex that dominated the evening action.  Norman especially envied a long-term slave who worked out with his master., The master got a cardio session by whipping his slave as he was suspended by the shackles. The slave did pull-ups between lashes, getting a hard on as other guys watched.  But while Norman was open about being gay, he was reluctant to reveal his S&M desires given that many of the workout regulars during the noon hour     were just there for the chance to join other gay guys in a nude workout.  His caution meant he didn’t join in S&M activities during his workouts even though they turned him on a lot. However, after workouts, the group showers often included blow jobs.  Norman did participate in those, providing services that were very popular.  The chance to suck other guys’ cocks was just too much to pass up, cautious or not.  The regulars would then have lunch at the bar, whose food was surprisingly good for pub grub.  Keeping the S&M theme there were selections like “Alpha roast” (strong coffee), “flogged eggs” (scrambled), and “slaveburgers” (with or without cheese).  The most popular salad dressing was cum flavored. 

Norman’s routine took about two hours, but since he always arrived at work early he didn’t get much flack about that.  But he also didn’t develop relationships with his co-workers or clients.  He didn’t have any clients of his own anyway, so his work consisted of research in the library to assist other lawyers, which could be done at any time of day.  It was boring, miserable work, but it paid the bills.  He regretted having gone to law school and knew he wasn’t a particularly good lawyer.  Bill’s bar was the center of Norman’s world, such as it was.  Fuck, he often thought.  It was all he had.   This is where he could satisfy his fantasy as a sex slave and that was his fixation.

Norman struggled a lot with his cautious nature, and with getting off during traditional gay sex dates.  Being naked in front of dominant guys, alpha males, is what turned him on, and it turned him on a lot.   Once he started going to Bill’s bar he gradually got more comfortable doing so.  He also realized he liked having them fuck him with guys watching, and maybe whip his ass.  Over time he had opened up considerably to increased use as a submissive sex target by the alphas in the bar.  But he set limits on what alphas could do with him and did not feel ready to try more serious S&M action.  Indeed, he wasn’t sure what he was ready for.  Norman was confused and frustrated.  That’s why he had been seeing the shrink for a little over two years.  Dr. Johnson was a psychiatrist who worked with guys to figure out their sexual desires and help them live with whatever those turned out to be.  The sessions largely consisted of Norman lying naked on a couch and playing with himself as he described his sexual desires.  In the first session Dr. Johnson got Norman to reveal that he was turned on by S&M scenes.  He tried to pretend he wanted to be dominant, but when he watched some fairly tame S&M porn Dr. Johnson could tell he was focused on the submissive as he masturbated.  An embarrassed Norman admitted that was the role he sought, ashamed of the revelation.  Dr. Johnson told him this was obvious from the start, and it was also perfectly OK.  It was also OK that he needed this role to get hard and jerk off.  Getting Norman to become more and more comfortable with accepting and performing his desired role was the goal of the sessions from then on.   It was slow going due to Norman’s reluctance to accept Dr. Johnson’s admonitions to let himself go, but there was progress.  The sessions would include a report by Norman of what he’d done sexually during the past week.  Progress improved once Dr. Johnson told him about Bill’s bar and Norman began to hang out there.  As Norman became more comfortable revealing himself at the bar, Dr. Johnson increased the intensity of the S&M porn that Norman watched as a key part of each therapy session.  Norman soon discovered that the more intense the porn, the more intense the orgasm he had during the session.  Again, Dr. Johnson’s theme was that this was not a problem.  It was just part of who Norman was.   The therapy helped a lot in getting Norman to open up at the bar to new sexual experiences once Dr. Johnson started having Norman submit to serious S&M as part of his therapy, but in some ways, it added to his confusion.  He just couldn’t accept that what he desired was in any sense normal or acceptable.  He felt he was some kind of abnormal sex freak.  More recently, to get Norman to realize he was not unique in his desires, Dr. Johnson showed him very intense S&M videos – more severe than even what Bill played at the bar – and he found himself fixating on them well beyond the sessions.  The point Dr. Johnson was trying to get Norman to understand was that being a sex slave was part of his core nature.  It was what Norman wanted.  Most important, he stressed there was no reason not to seek it out.  It wasn’t a matter of right or wrong.  It was his reality.

However, Norman still had trouble accepting the advice, even after realizing from his experiences at the bar and during therapy that he was far from unique in his desires.  He grew more frustrated.  Of late, he got so depressed he talked with Dr. Johnson about whether he should kill himself.  Dr. Johnson assured him it wasn’t the right path.  “You just have to deal with the fact you have major fantasies about being a sex slave and you get turned on sexually thinking about what your master might do with you.  There’s nothing wrong with that, and as I’ve said many times, you’d be surprised how many other guys have the same desires, as you’ve seen at the bar and in the videos I’ve shown you.  What would really surprise you is that sex slaves live very satisfying and purposeful lives if they embrace and fulfill who they really are.  But you are extremely cautious and reluctant in real life.  You don’t seem to be able to let go, but you need to find your place so your reality and fantasies can co-exist.  For you that means a positive relationship with a highly dominant and sadistic male.  Suppressing your desires isn’t working.  If you keep doing it, you probably will wind up committing suicide.  That would be a waste of a life that could be fulfilling through useful service that would bring pleasure to another male, an alpha.”   The therapy gradually evolved to getting Norman to focus not on himself but on the dominant male he could serve. It made Norman think in a different direction but so far it had not relieved his stress.  He was still highly depressed.

Bill, on the other hand, was completely comfortable with his own totally dominant role.  He wore leather pants with snaps at the crotch that could be opened to reveal and release his large cock.  Ideally, they would be opened by the teeth of a naked slave kneeling in front of him, a prelude to a blow job, a butt fuck, the slave being used as a urinal, or (typically) all three.  He also wore steel-toed leather boots useful for kicking submissives in the balls, and a leather harness that showed off his chest hair and massive build. Bill’s impressive image as an alpha master fit in with the pictures on the walls, which completed the bar’s S&M motif.  They all depicted extreme S&M action and were exceptionally realistic.  Bill had them made specially for his bar, with himself pictured as the lead sadist in each.   Handsome naked slaves were depicted enduring all manner of tortures – fucked with cocks, dildos, and fists; beaten, cut, whipped, electrocuted, and emasculated.  Some were depicted already dead with Bill fucking the body, cutting it up for its meat, or pissing all over it.  They were a huge turn-on for Norman and the other patrons, both alphas ad submissives, but for Norman the realism was a source of fear as much as of sexual arousal.  But when he stared at them while masturbating for the amusement of an alpha who was using him, his sexual arousal was much stronger.  That was another source of Norman’s confusion.

Norman fantasized about Bill and liked giving Bill a blow job or having Bill fuck his ass.  Noman acquiesced when Bill required him to strip totally when he did so.  With Bill in charge, Norman’s hesitancy largely evaporated, and he could get into his fantasy role by imagining the fuck or the blow job was the first part of one of the scenes so realistically portrayed, often one of the more extreme scenes.  But even then, Norman stopped short of being willing to drink Bill’s piss, as other submissives in the bar did.  (Bill never used a regular urinal.) But he did let Bill spray the hot putrid liquid all over his chest and face, which turned him on despite the smell and taste, and was usually followed by Norman’s own orgasm.  Norman was confused but massively drawn to the experience and even the humiliation.  He was like a moth to a flame, and Bill burned bright.

Another reason Bill turned Norman on so much was that Bill was an actual slave owner.  He owned a slave who served as a waiter at the bar, always naked except for a slave collar and a metal cock ring.  He didn’t have a name anymore, just answering to “Slavemeat,” which Bill had branded on his chest.  Bill had owned Slavemeat for a little over five years, buying him from a pimp when Slavemeat had just turned 18.  Slavemeat had a classic and attractive twink build, devoid of body hair except a short crewcut, as Bill preferred for slaves.  After all, he was Bill’s property.

Slavemeat’s enthusiastic availability to customers for their sexual use was yet another reason the bar had lots of regular customers.  That was especially true on Wednesday nights, which was Gangbang Night.  Slavemeat and any other submissive so inclined was tied to a fuck bench and made available to customers.  Norman now frequently allowed himself to be used next to Slavemeat and got massively turned on as guy after guy after guy fucked his ass.  If a customer started his turn by whipping Norman’s ass and back so much the better.  But it required a fair number of beers for Norman to work up the courage to participate and he again insisted on limits.  (This made Slavemeat more popular since Bill did not impose any and customers could do whatever they wanted to him.)

Both the collar and the cock ring Slavemeat wore were electrified with computer chips inserted into them.  How Bill used them was a further turn-on for Norman, imagining himself in Slavemeat’s role.  Bill had an app on his cell phone that enabled him to send Slavemeat an electrical jolt to his neck and his cock when Bill wanted Slavemeat’s attention, or (often) just for the fun of it.  For example, that’s how he alerted Slavemeat that it was time to come lick up Bill’s piss and Norman’s cum from the floor after Norman was doused with piss as he masturbated.  Doing so caused Slavemeat to get an erection – a reaction Bill required, and Norman envied.

“Looking for love in all the wrong places as unseal?” Bill teased Norman as he brought him a second beer.  “Or just planning to get drunk, auctioned, and fucked?”

“All of the above,” responded Norman.  “But especially the latter.  It’s been a tough day and I need sex.”

“Fuck, every guy always needs sex.  But let me guess.  You fucked up again at work.  You know, if you keep fucking up, you’re going to get fired.”

“Yeah, I know.  And I know because I fucked up again and I did get my ass fired.  Worse yet, my fuck-up was discovered by Mark, that asshole lawyer I work with I’ve told you about.  He knows I’m gay and makes fun of me all the time for that, calling me “fuck-up-fag.”  It’s caught on with the rest of the office, even Ed, the boss.  Mark’s the boss’s favorite so he can get away with it even though it’s illegal discrimination.  He could have covered for me, but he turned me in to Ed, who fired me on the spot and said he was glad to get rid of such a stupid fag.  He and Mark clearly enjoyed me being summarily terminated in front of the other lawyers in the library, and Ed loudly told me to get my shit and leave.  I don’t even get any severance and he made it clear he’d see to it no one else hired me.  Mark said he doubted I’d be trainable even at Starbucks, which made everyone laugh.  It was humiliating and I could hear them laughing as I got my personal stuff out of my desk and walked out. 

“I hated that job and I guess I’m glad it’s over.  Being out of there frees me up and lets me concentrate on dealing with my sex issues.  In fact, when I got back to my apartment I jerked off and shot a big load all over my suit.  It doesn’t matter since I’m not going to need a suit anymore.  I am going to focus on finding a full-time relationship that includes kinky S&M sex, like my shrink tells me I should.  There must be lots of guys who would want me.  I’m in great physical shape and I’ve got a lot to offer as a sex partner, especially for an alpha like you.  Within limits I like being whipped and fucked, as you well know.  I can now make finding that guy my full-time activity, at least until I run out of money.  That’s what makes me so horny.  It’s auction night and there will be some guy who wants to use me to work off sexual aggression.  Maybe he’ll take me home and keep me.  I’m going to be more flexible about what I let him do to me, like my shrink also tells me I should do.  Dr. Johnson tells me I’ll get off more if I take more risks and the guy fucking me gets more pleasure at my expense.  He says I need to focus on the alpha’s pleasure, not mine.  Supposedly I’d be happiest if I were some guy’s sex slave.  That turns me on but I’m just not sure what I’m OK with having happen to me.  From what I’ve read some of those relationships don’t end well for the submissive.  Guys like me can wind up dead.”

“It’s about time you got focused, asshole.” Bill lectured Norman.  This time he was a lot blunter and specific, letting his own frustration with Norman’s reluctance come out.  “I know full well what you are and have known it for a long time.  You’re a natural slave but you resist because you’re also a coward.  I’ve seen how you get off when some guy seriously abuses you as well as fucks you, especially if he pushes your stupid “limits.”  For worthless shit slaves like you having a full-time owner/master is essential.  It’s your only purpose.  So far, you’ve completely wasted your pathetic life by denying the only use you’re good for.” 

Bill was worked up and knew this was the time to be completely candid.  “Do you know who the happiest person in this bar is?  It’s Slavemeat.  When he was a whore, he had to make decisions and had no stability or purpose in his life.  Not now.  When I bought him, I told him to strip naked, which he did eagerly.  The pimp took his clothes and the few possessions he’d owned.  I had not bought his stuff, just his body and his life.  He’s never worn a stich of clothing since then, and he never will.  He’s also never been outside the building except when he washes himself off each morning and evening with the hose in the alley.  I know we have nice showers, but I make him do that so he’s uncomfortable and humiliated.  That totally turns him on.  I let him sleep in a cage here at the bar after he cleans up the place and turns off the lights and heat.  He gets table scraps the cook scrapes into q dog dish Slavemeat shares with Lucifer, my Pitbull.  He gets what Lucifer leaves uneaten, which means he’s always hungry.  But the chef sees to it he has enough to keep him from starving.  Lucifer leaves him some food because he’s Lucifer’s bitch as well as the bar bitch.  I’ve trained Lucifer that, if he lets Slavemeat have some of what’s in the dog dish, Lucifer gets to fuck him.  They’ve got the routine down well enough these days that I’m going to add it to our weekly events calendar.  Lucifer is amazingly aggressive and Slavemeat reaches orgasm at the same time Lucifer fills his pathetic ass with dog cum.  It’s fun to watch.  I think being fucked by a dog is the most humiliating way to abuse a slave.  That means Slavemeat’s all for it, of course, and grateful for his orgasm – not that it matters what he thinks. 

“Slavemeat works out every day to stay fit so he can handle the abuse and remain sexually appealing.  He’s also popular – I bet he gets fucked at least 20 times per day, and that usually comes with some serious pain like being whipped or beaten.  He thrives on pain and craves even more, which I encourage my customers to provide.  I’m not sure he could shoot his load without it.  Fuck, he even gets all the beer he can drink, albeit second hand.  Cum and beer-flavored piss are by far his favorite drinks.

“Most important, Slavemeat knows his purpose. It’s to serve me – totally – and satisfy my sadistic pleasures.  If I told him to cut off his balls and serve them to us on a plate he’d be thrilled to do so.  And he’d be more thrilled if I cut off his cock and had him eat it while I watch.  Sometimes I let him come up to my penthouse on the top floor of this building so I can enjoy private torture sessions with him or use him to entertain dinner guests.  If I told him to jump off the balcony so we could watch him fall, he’d do it willingly, his only regret being how quickly he’d die.  He’d be disappointed because he wouldn’t provide all that much entertainment..” 

Norman had heard most of this before, but never in so much detail. Then Bill got into uncharted territory, revealing things Norman had not even guessed.  “The only desire he has that he hasn’t gotten yet is the thrill of having me fuck and torture him to death, but he knows that will happen someday and he knows the timing and method are my decisions, not his.  No decisions are his. But I know he hopes it will be prolonged, painful, and public.  He wants me to enjoy using him to put on a show so lots of guys can participate in him getting snuffed.  That’s what I plan, but for my satisfaction, not his.  I like showing off how talented I am at snuffing slaves.  He also knows I’ll butcher him after I kill him, or maybe while I do so.  That will be his greatest honor and he and I have talked about recipe’s I might use and best cuts of his meat I will enjoy.  I’ll probably do all those things to him, but, again, it’s my choice and not his. 

“And I’m the second happiest person in the bar because I own him and can do whatever I want with him.  In fact, I’m going to replace him soon because I’m anxious for the thrill of snuffing him.  It’s been over five years, which is about the useful life of a true sex slave.  He’s getting a little boring and his asshole isn’t as tight as I like any more.  Too many fists and dildos.  Letting guys cram beer bottles up his ass hasn’t helped either, but it’s a lot of fun for customers so I encourage it.  I’ve finished negotiating with a group I belong to and bought a set of 19-year-old masochistic identical twins.  They are fresh, gorgeous, and eager to serve.  They know that service will eventually mean being snuffed and that is their goal.  I’ll be starting their training tonight at the auction and probably will have them ready to take over Slavemeat’s duties within the next month or so.  It will be a great snuff orgy to start the New Year and both Slavemeat and I are looking forward to it.  Meanwhile he’ll do a lot of the training, anxious to make sure they serve me well once he’s dead.

“So don’t give me this fucking bullshit about things sometimes not working out well for slaves because they literally wind up as dead meat.  Slaves should be grateful for the chance.  It gives us alpha males intense pleasure, which is their only purpose.  And it also causes amazing final orgasms for the snuff slaves if we allow it.  We usually do because that adds to our pleasure as we watch.  A snuff scene with everyone having orgasms means things worked out great for the slave.” 

Norman was stunned. He had read about slaves who wanted to be tortured and killed, and of masters who did so, but never considered the possibility that Bill’s dominance and Slavemeat’s submissiveness went this far.  But Bill’s point on Slavemeat’s fulfillment through his role as a snuff slave made sense.  Slavemeat was obviously happy and highly content, and Bill was saying part of that was the fact Slavemeat was going to be tortured to death for Bill’s sexual pleasure.  He was saying that’s what Slavemeat wants and it would be the climax of his sexual pleasure.  Despite Norman’s shock, he was getting turned on by all this, and a source of his arousal included learning Bill was going to snuff Slavemeat.  He had thought it was all just for show.

“I had no idea this was for real.  But don’t you run a risk with the law?  What if someone finds out?  I can’t believe you just told me all this.”

Bill laughed.   “You really are as stupid as you look.  Guys like me don’t get arrested for snuffing a slave.  It’s what the slave wants and there’s no one to object.  But we also snuff guys who don’t volunteer, which is also a huge amount of sexual fun, and we get away with that too – no problem.  It’s the same system that lets me run a bar with a lot of naked males in it even though that isn’t legal either.  Some of us don’t have to worry about all that legal shit.

“You’re too dumb to figure out that all those pictures on the wall are realistic looking because they’re real.  I belong to a society that satisfies the needs of sadistic alpha males like me.  We buy and sell males like Slavemeat who seek being tortured and snuffed.  We also keep the streets safe for worthy residents by snuffing current and likely perpetrators of crimes – young perps who pose a threat or commit a crime.  They are the dregs of society who need to be permanently removed.  If we get to have fun doing it, that’s a fair tradeoff for the service we provide.  The Chief of Police is one of our senior leaders, and he selects appropriate victims from the young losers that populate the streets.   The pictures are all taken at my penthouse, one of our meeting places.  That’s where I’ll off Slavemeat when I decide to do it.  It will be a great orgy for our group followed by a dinner party with Slavemeat as the main course.  Publicly we refer to ourselves as the Alpha Male Society and we are an elite and powerful worldwide fraternity.  But the AMS really stands for the “Art of Male Snuff” and we do indeed make it an art form.  Slavemeat is fortunate to serve me, and he knows it.  I might add a picture of his snuff, which I know he’d like me to do.  He’s been a good slave, and I’m not adverse to rewarding him so long as the reward involves hum being humiliated, tortured, or killed.  By the way, you comment how much you like our burgers.  They’re called “slaveburgers” because that’s the source of the meat.  AMS sells the butchered meat of slaves and I’m a big purchaser of ground slave meat.  We make full use of the guys we snuff.”

Norman was getting drawn into the flame of Bill’s dominance and ventured a tentative query.  “I’d never really thought of being a slave that way, or understood what it might mean, although my shrink has been encouraging me to explore this kind of option.  Would you ever consider trying me out as your slave?  I’m not sure on the snuff scene, but I think I’d be OK with the bar aspects of being a slave.  And maybe the snuff scene wouldn’t be out of the question.  I’ve been thinking of suicide, after all, and having someone kill me would probably be a better option.  My death would at least have some purpose.  I have to admit I’ve gotten off at times thinking of that happening while guys in the bar watch and laugh at my fate.”

“No way.  You’re still too tentative and you have a bad attitude.  I am only interested in slaves who make a total commitment.  What you refer to as the “snuff scene” is central to being a true slave.  A slave is property, nothing more.  A master has the right to snuff it whenever and however he wants.  You’re just play acting at being a slave.  I have no interest in play acting and clearly it isn’t working for you.  That’s why you’re an emotional mess. You haven’t admitted what you are and submitted to your true nature.  You bragged about having a “lot to offer as a sex partner.”  That’s crap.  A slave is not a sex partner, it’s a sex object.  And here you are at a gay S&M bar where you’re supposed to be submissive.  Yet you’re wearing shorts and shoes.  You don’t strip completely until you’ve had a lot of beers to bolster your courage.  That shows unacceptable disrespect for us alpha males.  Slaves need to be naked – and naked means totally naked, not just teasing someone with a little show of skin.  Your cock and ass must always be displayed and available.  And no shoes either.  Being barefoot is an accepted sign of being a slave.  Your real problem is that you’re a self-centered coward.  You think you’re entitled to be in control and set limits on what happens to you.  You’re not.” 

“By the way, I don’t care if you’re miserable.  What pisses me off is that you are depriving some master of the satisfaction of owning you, having you serve his sexual desires totally, and then snuffing you – even though that’s what you want and deserve.  Your selfishness, your pride, and your cowardice are offensive.  Ironically, if you ever worked up the courage to become a true slave you’d probably be as content and fulfilled as Slavemeat.”

Norman had no response.  He was silent and considered what Bill had said.  He realized there was a lot of truth to it.  He paused and left the rest of his beer on the counter.  He was not going to rely on that for his “courage.”  He stood and stripped off his shorts and shoes, putting them in his backpack.  To his surprise, his cock had gotten hard and was now sticking out in front of him.  Several of the alphas dressed in leather gear stared at him, and he realized he liked that.  He liked the thought of being a slave, a true slave.

Norman thought about the fact it was Auction Night.  There always was god action at the Friday slave auction the bar sponsored.  He was more anxious than usual to get on stage so the bidders could look him over.  He left his beer and backpack and climbed onto the stage, his cock hard.  Several bidders were already there as were some of the slaves being auctioned.  It was a chance for the bidders to examine the meat, and Norman liked being poked and prodded, now realizing he liked it even more in the context of possibly being a real slave.  He willingly opened his mouth so a bidder could inspect his teeth, as the bidder explained to his buddy that he’d learned to do this in buying horses and he did the same with slaves.  Then Norman bent over so the guy could finger his ass and verify its tightness.  The bidder asked Norman if he had any limits on his use.  Norman’s submissive nature was in control now and his cock was rock hard as he gave a different answer from what he had said to bidders in the past.  “No, sir.  None.  You can do whatever you want with me.”  He got no answer but heard the bidder chat with his buddy about an upcoming AMS meeting.  Norman now knew what that meant, and while it made him fearful it also excited him.

As the bidders inspected him and made rude comments about his body, Norman surveyed the assembled crowd.  He saw lots of the regulars and a few newcomers.  No one was all that impressive physically, but he knew these were guys interested in buying and fucking a slave for 24 hours.  What they would want beyond that he didn’t know, but he was starting to realize that wasn’t any of his business.  He was not in control this time.  He was just confident he’d get lots of use and anxious to encourage much harder and longer-term use than he’d tolerated before.  He finally understood he was there to please the buyer, not himself. 

Norman was now massively turned on.  He had always liked being bought and sold like cattle.  Moreover, what better way to get himself aroused and advertise his body and its availability at the same time?  Norman was no longer focused on what the purchaser did with him.  This wasn’t just because of Bill’s lecture but also because he didn’t have to get up in the morning to go to work, which he used to have to do even on Saturdays.  If he had a broken limb or two it was no big deal.  He wondered if it was a big deal if he didn’t get up at all.  He was still confused, but far less frustrated.  He concluded it didn’t matter.  No one would care one way or another.

Norman stood alongside five other naked slaves being auctioned.    He knew there of them, all of whom had full-time owners.  One was the slave he saw work out with his master during the noon hour.  It amused the masters to sell their slaves for the evening and watch as they were fucked and abused, usually joining in the fun.  The other two slaves being auctioned were new to Norman and clearly were the identical twins Bill had purchased to replace Slavemeat.  They were as fresh and gorgeous as Bill had claimed.  He was concerned that they would attract the best bids and most desirable masters, but there was nothing he could do about that.  As he thought further he again realized how much he needed to work on his pride.  Bill was right.

Neither Bill nor the masters whose slaves were being auctioned put limits on what could be done to slaves, so the bids were often high because the sex/torture sessions were usually intense and brutal.  As his mind wandered Noman wondered if the bids for him would be higher now that he was in the “no limits” category.

Bill encouraged the S&M fun that followed the auction to start at the bar so all the patrons could enjoy watching even if they weren’t themselves inflicting the pain.  Public humiliation was a key attraction for all participants, including the slaves.  And while alcohol consumed by the masters made the S&M more dangerous for the slaves, it also made it more fun for the alphas and more profitable for Bill, which were what mattered.  The winning bidder usually took the slave to his home at some point and what happened there was private and often even more intense.  In theory the slave was to be returned the following afternoon, which meant it was really a “rental” more than a sale.  But that only mattered if it was a limit put on a slave by the owner who was selling it.  Otherwise it didn’t matter.  There were occasions when a slave did not show up again, especially one that had not had a master.  Norman now understood what had probably happened to the slave, but that thought didn’t turn him off.  Maybe it’s what the slave wanted.  Maybe it’s what Norman would want.  And the sadistic winning bidder probably had a huge amount of pleasure from the kill.  Norman was adjusting to the new reality he had finally faced.

Bill came on stage to start the auction.  It was another aspect of his bar that was quite profitable since Bill took a 15% cut of the bids.  The rest went to the owner of the slave. If there was one.    If there was not an owner, as in Norman’s case, Bill took 100%.  Norman had always been OK with that.  He had never cared about money, which was one reason he didn’t have much.  Besides, how could he possibly accept money as a slave?  That had been his view even when Norman was play-acting, but even more so as he contemplated being a slave for real.

Bill got everyone’s attention and welcomed them to the event.  He started by stressing the bar’s and the slaveowners’ lack of limits on the use of the slaves, adding (at Norman’s request) that this applied to all the slaves, and previous limitations that had been placed on the use of some of the slaves were no longer applicable.  The slaves were the property of the winning bidder to do with as he wished for the next 24 hours.  Winning bidders who used the slaves at the bar at least until midnight would be rewarded with free drinks.

Bill next presented the six slaves.  He had each slave step forward and stand at attention so the bidders who hadn’t inspected the merchandise prior to the auction could get a good look at it.  If the slave’s cock was not already hard, he was instructed to get hard, but all six were already erect, aroused at the reality of being sold.  Then the slave was instructed to turn around, bend over, and use his hands to spread his butt cheeks.  That way the bidders got a good look at the butt and ass the winner would soon rape.  Bill described the sexual performance and skills of each candidate; since he had fucked them all and knew their bodies well.  He especially focused on the young twins.

“I’m especially pleased to introduce two slaves who will be sold as a package tonight.  I have just purchased them to add to my slave holdings and they will serve here at the bar alongside Slavemeat.  I see no point in slaves having names, so in honor of Dr. Seuss’s Cat in the Hat, for now I’m just calling them Thing 1 and Thing 2.  I’ll decide on final labeling later, which you’ll be able to tell since I’ll brand them as I did Slavemeat.  They’ll replace Slavemeat in a month or so, since as you probably noticed he’s starting to show the scars from five years of being whipped, and his ass isn’t all that tight, which isn’t a surprise given all the things we’ve rammed up it.  But don’t worry.  he’ll be around for the holidays and you can still use him however you feel like.  And he’s training Thing 1 and Thing 2, so they’ll know what to do to please you.  If you are interested in tickets to his “send-off” party let me know.”  There was a knowing laugh from some of the alphas.  Slavemeat, who was not being auctioned this particular night since he needed to play bartender when Bill left for another event, looked pleased.

After displaying his ass for the bidders Norman turned around again to face the audience as he waited to be sold.  He still didn’t see much in the way of interesting buyers. 

Then Norman saw an impressive alpha master enter the room.  The master was about 6’5”, dressed in dark leather.  He was amazingly thick and muscular with John Wayne-style movie star looks.  Norman had never seen him at the bar before.  He had dark, sharp features and a look of complete authority.  His demeanor was even more dominant than Bill’s.  The master appeared to be alone but, somehow, he was nonetheless in charge.  Norman got more erect on stage just looking at the master, dripping a little pre-cum, and the master noticed both the intense stare and the resulting added arousal.  When the master sat at a table Bill started the event by inviting bids for Norman.  The master put in the opening bid at $1.  As other bidders laughed and started to enter the process, assuming the bid was a joke of some sort, the master stared at them intently and they backed off.  Bill chuckled, even though the low bid for Norman was costing him money.  Bill seemed to know the master and didn’t interfere.  The master had somehow taken over control of the entire situation by force of personality without saying a word.  There was only one bid, and he acquired Norman for $1.  Bill addressed Norman and explained: “That’s all you are worth, slave.  Fuck, it’s a little high for a worthless piece of shit like you.  Don’t fuck it up by being your typical dumb shit asshole self.”  Norman was even more turned on, determined to do as Bill said.

Once he was declared sold, Norman scrambled down from the stage to the table where the master sat, alone, nursing a single malt Scotch Slavemeat had delivered without the need for him to place an order or pay for it.  Norman knelt and bowed low, keeping his eyes to the ground as befit his status.  He had played this part many times and knew it was not his place to speak.  He always enjoyed this part of the ritual.

 “It is raining outside and there is mud on my boots.  Use your tongue to clean it off.”

Norman was caught by surprise.  This was not a command he had encountered before, and it was not something that turned him on.  He hesitated briefly but quickly remembered his resolve and degraded himself by licking the master’s boots and swallowing the mud.  He made sure to also use his tongue to restore the shine.  But he had not acted quickly enough to please the master, who then told Norman to get on his knees and look at him, after which he kicked Norman hard in the balls.

“You are not to hesitate.  You are to obey me immediately.  This bar is inadequate for evaluating your worthiness to be my slave, which seems unlikely.  Meet me at this restaurant in exactly one hour.”  The master spat in Norman’s face and dropped a card on the floor next to Norman, successfully aiming it to land in a little puddle of piss from an earlier sex session that Slavemeat had not yet licked up.   He downed his cocktail and walked out of the bar without saying anything else or waiting for Norman’s response, although he did kick Norman in the balls again, this time much harder.  The exchange had been direct and the instructions precise, so nothing further was needed. 

Norman doubled over from the pain in his balls, but he was sexually excited, and his cock quickly got hard again.  He picked up the piss-soaked card, not knowing that Slavemeat had been instructed to leave the pool of urine for the master’s purposes in degrading Norman.  The card had the name and address of a restaurant that sounded familiar.  Norman got his cell phone out of his backpack and checked it out.  It was one of the fanciest restaurants in Manhattan, with a dress code requiring a suit and tie.  Norman left some money for Bill, more than usual in thanks for the instruction.  He grabbed his backpack, and, still naked, ran back to his apartment – his cock hard and bouncing in front of him.  In his sexual arousal he didn’t even feel the rain or the cold.  It was about a mile to his apartment and fortunately no one hassled him, although a lot of people stared and swore at the naked guy with a hard on running through the streets.  Norman liked that.  He got nervous when he saw a cop but was relieved when the cop just started laughing.  His submissive side was now surging in his psyche.  He made it to his apartment in just over 6 minutes despite the crowded sidewalks, and after finding his key in the backpack he entered his apartment.  He was out of breath but didn’t slow down.  He knew he needed to be on time and wasn’t sure how long it would take to get to the restaurant.  He quickly showered, put on a suit just returned from the cleaners and called an Uber.   The Uber came right away, and he was relieved to see that he had gotten to the restaurant early.  But he did not enter until the exact time the master had stated.  He had a feeling precise obedience even as to timing would be required.  The master seemed as precise as he was dominant. 

When Norman entered, he saw the master sitting alone at a small table for two in the restaurant’s bar area next to a window. The master was now dressed in an obviously expensive suit and drinking a glass of champaign.  The bottle was open and staying chilled in a bucket of ice next to the table.  The master looked at his watch, verified the time, and signaled to Norman that he could walk over to the table and sit across from him.

“You are on time, which is required.”  The master did not offer him a drink, but just sipped his own as he surveyed Norman much as a dairy farmer might view a cow he was thinking of buying.  Norman sensed what was happening and kept his head bowed. He desperately hoped he was passing muster.  The silence was not awkward for Norman pr the master.  He was examining the merchandise he’d just purchased and taking his time doing so.  Norman was comfortable being that merchandise.

“You hang out in that gay S&M bar and have put yourself up for auction many times.  You have no successful personal or sexual relationships, just one-night stands.  You are a natural masochist but have largely suppressed the logical implications of that.  You are now exploring those implications and seek a permanent owner and master, but you’re also a vain coward and afraid to act.  You often contemplate suicide as a way out, but your cowardice has prevented you from doing that. You are afraid to act.  And as of today you are unemployed with no prospects of getting another job.  You’re broke and won’t be able to pay your bills.  So you’ve decided to act.  Correct?”

Norman was amazed.  How did this person know so much about him?    Everything he said was true.  What was this amazing alpha going to require?  Could this turn out as well as he hoped?  In his excitement he forgot proper protocol and just answered “Correct.”

“You are to address me as Master.’

“Sorry, Master.  Correct, Master.”

“Despite your pathetic existence, or maybe because of it, you are of possible use to me.  You’re nothing special physically, but you will react especially well sexually to pian and humiliation as your masochistic nature runs unusually deep.  In short, you have the potential to be a willing snuff slave, like Bill’s property, Slavemeat.  Resisting that true nature is why you are miserable and considering killing yourself.  Your fulfillment can come only if you embrace that true nature and provide total service as a slave until such time as your owner decides to end your service by torturing and killing you.  Unlike Slavemeat, you are only coming to this realization now and you have developed unacceptable traits in the meantime.  The issue I wish to determine is whether your attitude is sufficiently curable to make you worth the trouble of owning you.  That will require eliminating your pride and vanity and causing you to understand you are indeed just a worthless piece of slave shit whose only purpose is service to a dominant owner like me.  Based on the reports of Bill and Dr. Johnson I am willing to allow you to prove yourself acceptable to meet my requirements.”  Master ended his comments and waited for Norman to consider and digest them.

Norman was nervous and afraid, but also excited.  Clearly here was a master who totally dominated and knew everything about him.  He realized Bill and Dr. Johnson had been working together on behalf of Master and molding him for this moment.  He was not upset by that, but grateful.  They had convinced him this was his only positive option in life.  Realizing that they were correct, Norman was getting more and more aroused, and he could tell his cock was hard.  After just the few minutes he had spent in Master’s presence, Norman realized this could be the chance at service and fulfillment he’d always dreamed about but was afraid to seek for real.  But, even now, was he ready to go all the way?  That ran counter to his nature and he was struggling.

Sensing Norman’s thoughts, Master continued.  “To maximize my pleasure, which would be your only purpose in life and death, your decision must be totally voluntary and in no way forced.  Nor can it relate to my current ownership of you based on the auction at the bar.  That’s a pretend and temporary ownership.  I want far more than just an evening or two.  I am considering letting you become my property permanently and doing whatever I want with you once that is established.  To that end my offer is simple.  I am prepared to allow you to serve as my full-time slave starting immediately.  If you perform to my satisfaction, and I become confident your service is indeed voluntary and total, you will stay in my service until I decide to entertain myself by snuffing you.  This means you must abandon your pride.  If you accept this offer, it will be the last decision you will ever make.

“Today is an inflection point in your worthless life.  Because of your potential depth of masochistic service, you are being given a chance to serve, and to therefore have a purpose.  Your purpose will be to provide me with pleasure, especially sexual pleasure.  Understand that I derive sexual pleasure from extreme sadistic use of masochistic males.  You will obey me absolutely and there will be no limits on your obedience or how I may choose to use you.  You are not yet fully aware that total ownership and service are what you desire, but you will come to recognize that soon.”

Norman glanced around the room as he considered Master’s words.  He was startled to see Dr. Johnson, his shrink, having drinks at a nearby table, and more startled when he realized the other people at the table were Bill, owner of the S&M bar, Mark, who had made his life at work miserable and had humiliated him when he was fired, and Ed, his former boss who had fired him.  They were laughing and watching his interview with Master.  Norman wondered how deep the conspiracy to mold his psyche had been, and he was suddenly extremely self-conscious.  All four were staring at him and laughing among themselves.  Norman had little doubt who they were laughing at.

“I see you have noticed my dinner guests.  Good.  All five of us are members of the AMS organization Bill described to you earlier today.  Tonight is an intervention.  If you were an alcoholic, which you are becoming, the formula is for those closest to the person to create a situation where the person is threatened with having all contact with his closest companions cut off but given an option to go into treatment instead.  Your situation is similar.  If you accept my offer you leave with me as my property, and you spend your life in my service until I choose to end it.  If you don’t accept, you walk out of the restaurant and you will not see us again.  You are already terminated from your job, and you will find you are unemployable.  We’ll see to that.  You are of no further interest to Dr. Johnson and you couldn’t afford him anyway.  He treated you solely for the purpose of verifying the depth of your masochistic nature and getting you to understand it, molding you so you could become my slave.  He doesn’t give a fuck about you at all.  As a member of AMS he seeks out candidates for use as voluntary snuff slaves on behalf of fellow members like me.  And you will no longer be welcome at Bill’s bar.  He’s disgusted with your indecision and he wouldn’t want a reminder of what a worthless fuck you are.  But if you decline, we will provide you one final service.  My driver will drop you off at the city morgue and provide you with a handgun loaded with a single bullet.  That way, when you shoot yourself, the body will be convenient for the city to collect and burn.  And have no doubt about it.  We know your nature, and we have triggered enough of it so this time you will kill yourself.  Your life will end a total waste, as it has been so far.

“So, as I said, this has been an intervention.  But don’t get the idea it’s about you.  It’s not.  It’s about me and my enjoyment owning slaves who fundamentally need to serve the way a slave should serve – totally.  It’s not just your shrink.  NO ONE gives a fuck about you whatsoever.

“Now you must decide, one more thing you are not good at.  What is your decision?”

Norman was beyond stunned.  He didn’t know what to think or how to react.  Yet he found he was even more aroused.  He didn’t have any purpose in his life that was meaningful or satisfying, especially sexually.  The idea of serving someone as arousing and obviously powerful as Master was downright thrilling.  It would add a purpose he knew he could embrace.  He also knew his other choice was the ride to the morgue, at which point he will have made no contribution whatsoever with his life.  Suicide would be his only option and that turned him off.  The idea of being a slave destined to be snuffed now excited him, especially sexually.  He remembered the contented slave who worked out at noon and he remembered Bill’s description of Slavemeat.  He realized at long last that being a slave was what Norman wanted too.  He now realized being snuffed would be the logical culmination of his service.  How could he truly be a slave if he didn’t submit to being tortured and killed when his master found it convenient to end his service?  So to his own surprise (but not to Master’s) Norman paused only briefly and responded.  “Yes, Master.  I accept your generous offer.  Thank you, Master.”

Master handed Norman a piece of paper, and Norman noticed a pen in front of him.  He started to read it but stopped.  What difference did it make what the paper said?  He was now a slave and if Master wanted him to sign something, he singed it.  So he signed and handed it back to Master. 

“Good.  If you had read it I would have rejected you.  You are no longer permitted to make decisions.  You are simply to obey.”  As Master put the paper into a folder by his plate, Norman saw Master’s guests high five each other and raise a glass to toast their success.  They knew what signing the paper meant.  Norman knew they were not toasting him, as he no longer mattered.  Fuck, he realized.  He never had mattered.  Why had he not understood that?

Master looked directly at Norman and officially took charge.  “You are now my slave and your service starts immediately.  You have singed over to me all your property, including your body.  Strip naked and put your clothes and other possessions, neatly folded, in the bag next to your chair.  You will spend the rest of your life naked.  I assume you are erect, but if not get hard.  Stand up facing me with your cock sticking out in front of you.  Put on the cock ring and the slave collar you’ll find in the leather pouch next to your plate.  Attach the leash to the collar and hand me the other end.”

Norman was shocked.  “Strip?  Here?  In front of the window and all these diners?  In front of people I know?  This is an extremely fancy place.  Won’t that be a problem?  I could get arrested!”  The stress of the day and his decision had swelled up and Norman had lost it.  He was almost sputtering.

Master reached over the small table and slapped Norman in the face.  Hard.  Then even harder using his other hand, “Learn your place slave.  You are to do as I say no matter what.  Whether you get arrested is not your concern, and no one cares if you’re humiliated.  You deserve to be.  If I tell you to strip, you strip.  If I tell you to cut off your balls and feed them to me, you cut off your balls and feed them to me.  You are to obey me and serve me.  I will allow you this transgression since you are new to your status.  But never question my orders again.  Is that clear?” 

Norman got control of himself.  He gulped in surprise but recovered quickly.  “Yes Master.  I’m sorry Master and I will always obey you.”   Then Norman quickly stripped as instructed.  As Master predicted he didn’t need to get an erection, and it got a little harder as he slipped on the cock ring, fastened the slave collar, attached the leash, and handed control of the leash and his life to Master.  He stood naked and erect for the whole bar and anyone walking by on the sidewalk to see.  It was utterly humiliating.

The loud slaps had gotten the attention of the other customers in the bar, and Master’s companions were now staring at Norman with glee at his embarrassment.  For the first time in years Norman was self-conscious as he realized everyone was watching him. He was accustomed to being naked when he assumed a submissive role, and he liked that feeling.  But that was at Bill’s S&M bar.  This was different.  It was far more intense a feeling of being on display. As he continued to submit and gain control over his reactions, he realized this was not simply different.  It was better.  He realized the other patrons, especially Master’s friends, were laughing and pointing at his hard cock, which was now fully erect and pointing upward from the pressure of his sexual excitement.  It was extremely embarrassing to stand naked and erect in a fancy restaurant.  But it was Master’s decision and he belonged to Master.  He totally bought into the reality that decisions were for Master, not for him.  Norman could even understand how this would help him cure his stupid pride and better understand just how worthless he was other than as a source of Master’s pleasure.  He deserved this humiliation, and much worse.  He was grateful to the AMS alphas who had guided him to reality.

“Now you are to masturbate, with your cum spraying into the partially filled glass in front of you.  I had the waiter fill it halfway with piss.  Once you add your cum you are to drink the entire combination in one swallow.  Alcohol impedes sexual performance, so you are never to drink that again.  You are embracing your status and you won’t need it anymore as an escape.  Piss and cum will replace it and in due course you will crave them and become aroused if you are permitted to consume those liquids.  You will consume them a lot, especially piss, as I plan to use you as a human urinal and let others do so as well.  After your initial shock you did well getting naked and erect.  When you obey perfectly you may earn permission to have an orgasm, which you may now achieve for my amusement and that of my friends.  And these total strangers.  After all, you’re just a sex object.  Part of our enjoyment will be your humiliation.”

Norman had masturbated for the amusement of the patrons at the S&M bar many times, so this was not new.  But this too was better, as it was far more degrading.  As he stroked himself, he got added pleasure realizing the diners were enjoying watching him, the laughter growing much louder. Best of all, Master seemed pleased, which was now Norman’s only goal.  It did not take him long to reach climax, and he was surprised how intense and satisfying it was.  He sprayed a huge load of thick cum into the glass.  The noise in the bar turned into a cheer and there was even a little applause.  Master’s friends toasted themselves and again drank to their success. 

Norman had swallowed a lot of cum over the years, which he loved, but not much piss.  He didn’t hesitate, however, and drank the piss and cum mixture now in front of him.  Being a natural exhibitionist whose tendencies in that area were finally released, and to add to the entertainment, he used a spoon to mix them and licked the spoon after he drank all the liquid.

“I did not give you permission to stir the liquids.  You acted as if you were a person instead of a slave, and you made a decision.  Therefore you will be punished.  If you disobey me again like this, you will be deemed useless and killed.  Your pride is excessive, and you have much to learn.”  Master took his cell phone out of his pocket.  He opened the same app Bill used for Slavemeat and turned it to full power.  Norman felt a severe shock hit his neck and his cock.  He gasped in pain but did not speak or cry out.  When Master finished punishing him, after five more jolts that added to the laughter as Norman could not help convulsing from the pain, Norman apologized for his error and thanked Master for the lesson.

“You must understand your status and role.  Remember that you have no decisions to make and my tolerance is essentially zero. 

“I am going to join my friends for dinner in the dining room.  You are to go to the restroom and kneel in front of the space where one of the urinals has been removed.  The waiter will tie you to some restraints.  Open your mouth and, if anyone wants to use you as a urinal, you are to service them and thank them for the honor.  The same is true if anyone wants a blow job.  These will be among the tasks you will learn to perform well to serve me, and the experience will help you abandon your pride.  It’s hard to be very vain when you’re tied up in a bathroom and used as a urinal with piss pouring down your throat.  The waiter will collect your clothing and other belongings, which are no longer yours.  Mark will arrange for a death certificate to be filed showing you as a suicide, which means you’ll no longer exist as a person.  What little you owned will be given away.”

As he knelt in the restroom, Norman was permitted to serve quite a few of the patrons, usually both as a urinal and by sucking them off.  A few of the guys took their belts and used them to beat Norman, lashing his chest.  He found the experience exciting and wonderful, but mostly he contemplated how fitting this use of him was.  He had indeed wasted his life until now.  This was the kind of service slaves like him should be used for.

Master’s companions were especially aggressive and so confident about their upcoming success they had brought whips for flogging Norman when they left the dining room to take a leak.  They wanted the pain to be more intense.  Norman realized his former colleagues Mark and Ed were gay, dominant alphas.  In addition to the blow job and piss, Mark, who was about Norman’s age and quite strong, added to the flogging with blows to Norman’s cock and balls, his dress shoes administering much more pain than Norman was accustomed to.  Then he proceeded to gut punch Norman multiple times with a set of brass knuckles he had brought for that purpose..  He added verbal abuse pointing out how worthless Norman was, what a fuck-up he’d been at work, and how much he was looking forward to joining in snuffing Norman when the time came.  The pain and humiliation were intense, but Norman willingly accepted it as his due and thanked him for the abuse.  Mark responded with another round of gut punches, this time causing Norman to double over in pain and vomit all over himself.  But he knew enough to thank his tormentors again for degrading him and delivering the pain he deserved.  The appreciation was genuine.  They laughed at the dripping filth that covered his body.  But he still had a hard cock, which bounced for their entertainment as Bill administered electric shocks using the cell phone app.  They all spat in his face as they left to return to the dining room.  It was a lot of fun for them and a good indoctrination for Norman in his new role.  Norman was totally tuned on sexually and emotionally.  He was freed of any need to understand what was happening.  His only need was to strictly obey Master, and he was determined to do so.

In due course the waiter returned, untied Norman, and instructed him to lick up the piss and puke that lay in a pool in front of him.  After Norman did so, gagging a bit, he was led outside through a back entrance to where Master’s limo was waiting.  Master arrived after a while, accompanied by three of his dinner companions.  Bill had returned to his bar to enjoy the S&M action that was no doubt in full swing by now.  The rain had intensified, and Master’s chauffer held up a large umbrella for Master and his guests as he opened the limo’s rear passenger door.  Norman stood naked in the rain covered with piss and vomit.  (He’d swallowed most of the piss and cum, but many of the guys sprayed his body and face as well as sending some down his throat.)  He could see that there was a naked young male tied up inside the limo, his mouth taped shut, who looked terrified.

The chauffer, who was also naked except for a traditional chauffer’s cap, explained to Master.  “This is a perp who will be used for tomorrow’s dinner meeting, and the Chief thought you might enjoy a little fun with him as you head back to your estate.  It’s a thank you for hosting the event.”

“Thanks James.  This is one more case of how great it is to have the Chief of Police as one of our senior members.  It’s always fun to get these worthless losers ready for the meetings.  This one looks very promising.  Meanwhile, this slave stinks, so put him in the trunk.  But take a blood sample first for the physical he’ll get tomorrow.  I want you to handle his initiation.  You know the drill.”

2

Training

Master’s estate was immense, including a beach that was several miles long in an isolated rural part of Long Island.  Few people had any idea such a large estate existed so close to the city.  But Friday night traffic was heavy, and the drive took well over two hours..  As it progressed Norman could hear lots of talking and laughing from the interior of the limo, where he assumed Master and his friends were enjoying the young stud provided to them.  The noises soon included screaming, followed by more laughter.    That pattern lasted for quite a while, although Norman had no idea how much time had passed.  Then the limo stopped suddenly with brakes screeching.  Norman was tossed around in the trunk like a bag of fertilizer. There was another, more intense scream that was followed by loud cursing.  Norman heard nothing further until the limo stopped and he heard the sound of a door opening and more angry talking.  He couldn’t tell what had happened or what anyone was saying.  The door was closed and the limo started up again.  He heard a garage door opening, and then closing. There was no further conversation.  He heard someone, presumably James, unloading something from inside the car.  Norman had no idea what had happened, but it was not his concern and in due course, since James did not open the trunk, he fell asleep.  As he drifted off he was surprised how contented he felt.  His body was beat up from the events of the evening, and he smelled terrible, but that did not prevent him from a peaceful night.  It was his first in a long time.

Norman was awakened the next morning by the sound of James entering the garage and eventually opening the trunk where Norman had been stored for the night.  James left the trunk open and cursed at Norman for the stench that escaped when the lid was raised.  He ordered Norman to climb out and kneel in front of James, which he did promptly.  Then he was doused by a huge load of James’ piss and treated to the sound of his derisive laughter.  Norman stank even worse and James ordered him to clean himself off using a shower in the corner of the large garage, cold water only.  He was also given permission to use the toilet next to it, for which Norman was quite grateful.  As Norman approached that area, he noticed a curtain that he instinctively started to grab to close around the facilities. As he reached up, he felt the electric shock in his neck and cock that he had become familiar with the prior evening and again heard James’ derision.

“You are a fucking piece of  shit, more worthless than a monkey in a zoo.  What makes you think you’re entitled to privacy?  You’re a sex object for the pleasure of the Boss and his friends.  Part of that pleasure is your constant humiliation.   The curtain stays open and you do your business in full view of me and anyone who happens to wander in.  The Boss said you had a lot of vanity that needed to be beaten out of you, and he was obviously right.  I’ve been assigned to orient you to being one of the Boss’s slaves, which I plan to enjoy.  I got the assignment because the Boss knows I’m an experienced sadist and good at it.  Clearly, I’ll have a lot of work to do, and I will make it as degrading for you as possible.  I’ll enjoy that.”  Norman apologized, realizing James was right and vowing to himself to do better.  The experience at the restaurant had done a lot to cure his poor attitude.

After Norman completed his morning piss and dump with James watching and laughing at him, he cleaned himself with the ice-cold water and was permitted to shave and brush his teeth.  He was grateful for these normal aspects of starting the day, even if it was a bit embarrassing with James supervising and making degrading comments.  He wondered what James had in mind for his training but quickly recognized that was none of his business.  He asked no questions.  His sole duty was to obey.  Master would mold him into whatever Master wanted him to become.  He acknowledged to himself that having the day start by being pissed on and humiliated would no doubt help him develop his appreciation for piss and overcome his wrongful pride.  He had no decisions to make and he was surprised how much he liked that.  For the first time in years Norman was in a good mood.

Once Norman was clean, James had him lean over the hood of the limo so James could whip his ass and back and then fuck him.  James was strong and the flogging was severe.  It was punishment for thinking he was entitled to privacy as if he were still a person, but James made it clear no reason was needed for Norman to be punished.

 James was naked, as he had been the prior evening, but Norman had quickly realized James was not a slave. He was a young alpha male who worked for Master.  After he shot his load up Norman’s butt, he whipped him again, this time on his chest and belly, then shoved his cock into Norman’s mouth for Norman to lick clean.  Norman thanked him for the lesson.  James was really good looking and dominant, with a large hard cock, and it had been a great fuck.  Norman could not hide the fact he was turned on sexually.  James laughed and made fun of Norman’s erect cock,, kneeing him in the balls as he reminded him he was not permitted to have an orgasm even though he obviously wanted one.  Norman just stood at attention, ready for whatever was next, with his own hard cock sticking out in front of him.  Well, he thought, it wasn’t really his anymore.  He already knew he needed permission for an orgasm, but he was massively horny and focused on controlling himself.

Having satisfied his lust for a while, James assigned Norman the task of cleaning the limo, starting with the trunk.  Norman immediately began, anxious to please anyone in Master’s household even if it wasn’t Master himself.  Besides, cleaning up piss and vomit that had soiled the trunk from Norman’s body seemed a good first task for a slave, as James pointed out rather coldly.   James made his contempt for the salve and his own arrogance quite clear.  Norman was starting to adjust to that and complied without comment other than thanking James for the lessons and promising to do better.

As Norman scrubbed out the trunk and cleaned its contents, James described the household and how things worked.

“The Boss has both slaves and employees.  It takes a lot of people to run an estate of this size, as well as the Boss’s many business interests.  He mostly works from here although he has other residences and offices all over the world.  The slaves are all worthless scumbags like you, who eventually get tortured and eventually snuffed as you deserve.  The Boss enjoys using you for all kinds of purposes in addition to sex, including being lab rats for medical research.  You will serve the Boss or perform other duties at all times, with no time off.  All of us on staff will enjoy making your life as demeaning and miserable as possible to maximize your humiliation.  The Boss will subject you to continuous sexual abuse and torture that culminates in some sort of entertaining snuff scene when he gets tired of you or you don’t do your tasks well enough.  You don’t get to fuck up and you certainly don’t get to exhibit vanity or pride.  I suspect you’ll not last long from what I’ve seen and heard.  That will make your death more horrible and therefore more fun to watch.  Master gets angry easily and if that leads to him snuffing a slave it’s amazingly painful.  I hope I get to help torture you.  You’re more pathetic than even the other slaves but you’ve got a sexy body that would be fun to destroy.”  As he explained things, he also illustrated them by zapping Norman numerous times in the neck and cock.  He informed Norman he was to thank him each time, which Norman did.  Getting accustomed to ongoing sexually oriented pain was obviously an important part of Norman’s training.  It was designed to generate sexual arousal that would not be fulfilled since no orgasm was permitted. 

“By contrast, employees like me are well treated and valued.  We are free to come and go as we wish, although most of us choose to live together in dorms on the estate.  Our quarters are quite elegant.  We are all attractive gay males, most in our 20s or early 30s, so the sex in the dorms is awesome and constant.  There are also some older males, long-term employees whom the Boss especially values and rewards.  They have even more elegant cottages scattered around the estate near the many gardens or overlooking the beach.  He takes great care of all of us, including generous salaries we can just put in the bank since we don’t have any expenses while we live on the estate. 

“But there are rules for us too.  The Boss requires us to always be naked, as he likes to observe our bodies and use us sexually.  I don’t like that because I’d rather have a leather outfit that reflects my alpha nature.  But in one sense it’s a fringe benefit since we get to enjoy looking at each other’s great bodies and having sex with him and with each other and there are lots of great spots on the estate for that.  As I said, the sex is constant, and I do like the fact everyone is in great shape.  We joke that we don’t take coffee breaks, we take sex breaks.  But the joke is true. We’re free to do whatever we like sexually, which works well since we’re a mix of alphas and submissives.  For submissive employees it must be something they agree to, which is a shame.  Some of them would make great snuff targets but we’d have to get their permission and the Boss’s before we did that.  He has an astonishing and totally sadistic sexual capacity and especially enjoys watching us torture each other with his direction and participation.  There is an extensive camera system throughout the estate so anyone can watch or join a session if he’s got the time.  We’ve always got the urge.  I have worked for the Boss now for three years, starting just after college. I understand you learned about AMS yesterday.  I’ve applied to join since becoming a member is my main ambition.  I know I’m one of the top candidates despite being so young.  The Boss has clearly been impressed with my skills at inflicting pain on scum like you and on other employees who are submissive.  He’s also starting to realize I have lots of skills besides being his chauffer.  That’s why I get the fun of initiating you.  

“AMS is having a meeting here today followed by dinner tonight.  The organization is run by a group of four leaders, and the Boss has recently become the Supreme Leader.  So he wears a “1” on his lapel to signify his status.  It means he has complete authority over all AMS members, of which there are several thousand worldwide.  There are three Regional Leaders who rule the Americas, Asia, and Europe.  The Chief is #2 as leader of the Americas and he and the Boss are close friends and frequent lovers.  The regional leaders are in charge of procuring young worthless males as slaves, who are either tortured and killed right away or are put into some sort of service after being conditioned to accept their fate.  Not many are volunteers like you, which in my view makes you even more pathetic.   But the Boss likes your type for his pleasure, and he usually keeps voluntary slaves for a longer period of time to get full value.”

James returned to his favorite topic, himself.  “I think I’m going to be offered an AMS membership at the dinner tonight.  The Boss has strongly hinted at that, especially when I dropped him off last night at his private entrance to the estate’s main building before parking the limo in the garage.  I’m the most talented sadist of his employees as well as one of the best looking.  I plan to be one of the senior AMS leaders by the time I turn 30.  I might have to create an opening but snuffing another AMS member to get ahead is OK so long as you don’t get caught.  I think some of the senior guys have gotten complacent.”  James zapped Norman several times to emphasize the point about his sadistic talents, then flogged his ass again as he leaned into the trunk to put back the contents he’d finished cleaning.  “No point wasting a chance to flog an available slave ass.”  Norman thanked him, of course, but also realized he was getting consistently turned on by the beatings.  He was grateful to be used as a sex object.  He was making progress.

James continued, explaining the day’s big event.  “Tonight is one of the AMS major celebrations – it’s winter solstice and celebrating winter and spring solstice are their main ceremonial events when they do their planning and admit new members.  There will be about 25 members present, all very senior, including all four members of the “Quartet” as they’re called.  In fact, the group tonight comprises all the senior leaders, so the Boss wants everything to go well.  I’ve been involved with a lot of the planning, and while we had some challenges it’s finally all set.  AMS is a very select group and amazingly powerful and wealthy.  They focus on the “art of Male Snuff”- what AMS really stands for – and perform that wonderfully well.  Slaves like you should be honored to contribute your worthless lives to enhance their pleasure. 

“There will be an orgy where a bunch of slaves will be snuffed at the celebration tonight, which is the main activity tied to the dinner.  These are typically losers who are being culled from the population because they are perpetrators of crimes – “perps” – or are likely to become so.  It’s a public service to eliminate them, like the guy in the limo last night.  He’ll be the cooked meat, and they’ll select another loser who will be eaten alive by those who prefer their meat fresh and raw.   It’s an amazingly painful way to die – in my view the worst possible option given the extreme level of pain and the utter humiliation – but lots of fun for the diners.  That’s partially because of the challenge of keeping the victim alive as you eat him.  AMS has developed lots of ways to do that, and the meat is frequently still alive even after dinner, allowing it to be finished off the next morning after spending the night in horrible agony.  I can’t imagine a worse snuff, so I hope that is how you die.  Or maybe you will be part of the research AMS conducts on how to make the event last longer.

“I’m not sure yet what use the Boss has in mind for you.  I don’t think he plans to snuff you yet, hoping to get some longer-term service if you can be trained well enough, but that’s obviously an option.  My guess is that he’ll just torture and fuck you as part of the lower-key entertainment.  Other slaves will provide the real fun and the protein.”  James laughed at the cleverness of his explanation.

 Norman had thoroughly cleaned the trunk and its contents and now moved to the inside of the limo, as instructed.  Upon opening the door he saw a considerable amount of dried blood on the leather interior.  His look of surprise caught James’ attention.

“Oh, I forgot about that.  You’ll need to use the solvent on that shelf over there to clean the blood and gore off the leather.  It’s an AMS product they created since we have a lot of use for it, and it’s quite effective.  Don’t forget the carpet.  That asshole perp made a mess as he died.  Knowing how to clean that up will be useful for you to learn.”

James was enjoying himself as he watched Norman work.  His cock was hard, and Norman was impressed by its size.  No wonder the fuck had hurt so wonderfully!

“The perp in the back of the limo last night was scheduled to be eaten alive at the diner.  Having him die on the ride here was an accident.  The idea was to scare the shit out of him about what was going to happen, which is a lot of fun.  He screamed when they made a sport of burning him with cattle prods.  They described what it’s like to be eaten alive and he knew his upcoming death was for real and going to be unbelievably painful.  He was terrified and there was a lot of laughter as they continued to play with him.  Hearing him beg for his worthless life was especially entertaining.  But he begged even more, and screamed the loudest, when they fucked his ass.  He was apparently straight, hadn’t been fucked before, and was highly homophobic.  So that was hugely entertaining.  After everyone fucked his virgin ass your former lawyer buddy Mark was showing him the knife that would be used to emasculate him, holding it up to his face so he could kiss it, then drawing it across his cock and balls so he could feel how sharp it is.  They were having a whole lot of fun with him.

“I was keeping an eye on the fun in the rear-view mirror.  Then some fucking asshole tried to pull in front of me and I had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting him.  That caught everyone off guard, and since they were busy playing with their new sex toy they didn’t have seatbelts on.  Mark fell on top of the perp and wound up sticking the knife deep in the guy’s gut.  The wound was fatal, and he bled a lot as you can see.  The Boss was seriously pissed, and everyone got yelled at.  The blood got all over their clothes, which really pissed off the Boss.  I wonder if it will harm Mark’s chances at advancement.  He’s older than me and already a member of AMS, but I know he has ambitions too.  In fact, I think he’s my main long-term rival for leadership.   He has the backing of Ed, your former boss, whom he works for.  Ed is the top lawyer for AMS and negotiates all the deals with various governments to arrange for AMS to acquire young perps who should be disposed of.  He and the Boss are also close, and he attends meetings of the Quartet to advise them.  But the Boss obviously outranks Ed as AMS #1.  My odds of eventually outranking Mark are good but having him get in trouble would help.”

Norman just listened and continued working.  When he finally finished the interior, he knew he had done a good job, and even James did not find cause to complain.  Of course, he also did not compliment Norman on his efforts. 

“Since you didn’t fuck up too badly cleaning the trunk and the interior, you will be fed.  You are to eat doggie style from this dish.  You can also drink water from the toilet.”

With that James filled a dish with dog food and placed it on the floor next to the toilet. With a smirk that again illustrated his contempt for Norman, he unleashed a load of piss into the dish, thoroughly soaking the food.  The rest of his load went into the toilet.  “You can flush the toilet after you drink from it.”  James watched the humiliating scene as Norman quickly ate his meal and drank from the piss-flavored water in the toilet.  Once Norman had expressed his gratitude for the meal and the lesson, James informed him he was to wash the outside of the limo while James took a break for his own breakfast.

“I don’t want all the dirty water from washing the limo messing up the garage.  It’s not raining now, so I’m going to back it into the driveway, and you can wash it there.  Use the hose that’s outside and don’t fuck up.  It’s cold, but I don’t think the water will freeze before you’re done.

James opened the garage door and backed out the limo, pointing to the hose Norman was to use and handing him a bucket with soap and a sponge in it.   Then he re-entered the garage and closed the door, leaving Norman to his task.

Norman had long since finished washing the limo when James returned and drove the limo back inside the garage.  Norman had been waiting, naked and freezing, recognizing that this was another aspect of his training.   He had no objection and remained in the driveway until James gave him permission to enter the garage.

James made no comment on how Norman had performed his task, which Norman assumed meant he had done well.  James simply informed him of the next task.  “The body of the perp from last night is in the meat locker adjoining this garage. It needs to be drained and delivered to the chef for preparation as an entrée’ for tonight’s dinner meeting.  Follow me.”

James led Norman to a large meat locker where he saw several naked males hanging by their ankles.  Most, but not all, appeared to be dead.  The room was very cold, but the meat was not frozen since it would be butchered and sold to the members attending the dinner.  The slabs that were alive would be sold to members who enjoyed doing their own butchering.  James put on one of the fur coats hanging near the door to stay warm, but of course did not offer one to Norman.  James then used the automated ceiling track to reposition one of the slabs of meat, which Norman recognized as the body of the young male he’d seen in the limo the prior evening.  James centered it over a large drain and handed Norman a hack saw. 

“The chef will impale him, inserting the stake into his ass and having it come out through the neck.  Then he’s going to be barbecued and carved table-side at dinner.  So the head needs to come off.  It will be opened on top so the brains – Sweetmeats to the sophisticated diners – can be spooned out.  The tongue and liver will be removed and used to make a pate’, and the other internal organs will also be removed so the inside cavity can be filled with fruit-flavored stuffing.  It’s an extremely popular presentation of the meat. 

“Saw off the head and hold the body so the gusher of blood and gore that will come out all go down the drain.  Don’t you dare get any of it on me.”

Norman had never seen a young naked dead male before other than in S&M pictures like the ones Bill had in the bar.  To his surprise, it turned him on.  He could imagine himself hanging in the locker after being snuffed, ready for final service as meat.  Or maybe he would just be stored there like some of the other males who were still alive pending their sale.  James explained that, in addition to the slaves being sold live for butchering by the buyers, a few of the live slaves needed an adjustment of their attitude before being snuffed.  “They need to understand that they will become meat for us to enjoy once we torture them to death or maybe as we do so.  Hanging upside down in a meat locker helps that.” 

Despite the gash in the guy’s gut he looked sexy.  And despite the cold Norman was getting aroused staring at him.  James noticed Norman’s reaction and laughed.  “Don’t worry.  You’ll be a slab of meat too, probably fairly soon.”  Norman lifted the shoulders slightly and used his knee to prop them up.  That gave him easy access to the neck.  He could still sense the look of terror in the beautiful young face.  As he sawed, the fluids started to run out, and by the time he had severed the neck it was a gusher of blood and gore.  He managed to direct all of it into the drain as ordered, and then held up the wrists so fluids in the arms would also be emptied.  Norman himself was covered with gore, but once the body was emptied of fluids James released a shower of cold water from the ceiling, washing off both the body and Norman, which also flowed into the drain after cleaning the two slaves.  He then lowered the perp and had Norman release the ankle shackles and carry it on his shoulder.  James put the head in a bag and carried that.

It wasn’t a long walk to the kitchen area, and as Norman followed James he realized he had an erection again.  It was from the feel of the perp’s body and imagining himself in the meat locker ready to be processed.

After delivering the meat, and to finish the orientation, James took Norman on a tour of the main building of the estate.  He especially stressed the array of “playrooms” located throughout the mansion, each containing a full complement of S&M implements of torture and each containing workout equipment.  They were all set up like the equipment in Bill’s bar, including large screen TVs.  Many of the playrooms were in use, with workouts and sex scenes.  The sex scenes were rough, but none were extreme.  James explained that these were sessions among employees so there wasn’t permanent damage to the victims even if one was a slave.  That would require permission from the Boss, who almost always joined in when that was part of the plan.

James also pointed out the regular workout equipment.  “The Boss insists that everybody stay fit, very fit.  So he makes it easy for us by having lots of options.  There are also swimming pools and jogging trails.  We can use whatever we want so long as we do it naked.  Slaves are no exception, and at least an hour of every day will consist of you performing a rigorous exercise routine.  It will be supervised, at least at the start since you’re obviously not nearly fit enough to meet standards.  Your bodyfat ratio will be brought down to 3.5% and your muscle tone will be increased dramatically.  The Boss likes his sex objects in perfect physical condition.  If he decides to convert you to just a meat slave, your bodyfat will be increased so there is more flavor in your meat.  While you will eat dogfood as you did today, it is a special AMS blend that is extremely healthy.  It will always be drenched in piss, which will also be in the water you drink.  Your fluid intake will be strictly cum, piss, and piss-flavored water.  You will eat doggie style from a dish placed next to a toilet as you did today.  On some special occasions, if the Boss is in a good mood, you may get table scraps.  You are to catch those with your teeth and position yourself on your knees like a dog would.  But don’t get delusions.  In this household a dog has much higher status and will get the better choices.”

James had finished Norman’s indoctrination, and led him to a room labeled “veterinary clinic.”   Under the sign was a picture of a very handsome young male on all fours, wearing a dog collar, with a tail that extended from a dildo stuck in his ass.  Next to that was a picture of the same male dismembered, its arms, legs, head, and genitals spread out and displayed on a dining room table. There was a distinguished looking but somewhat older male standing over it, smiling broadly, and holding a butcher knife.  Under the pictures was a caption reading: “Supporting AMS with cutting edge preparation and research.”  That same male walked out and invited Norman to enter.  He informed Norman he was going to have a comprehensive physical to assess his level of health and sexual utility.  He then explained his role.  “I’m the lead research doctor and I’ve worked for the Master for over three decades.  In addition to medical research on how to increase sexually oriented pain, I manage the physical and psychological condition of the slaves, especially wiling submissives like you.  As a result I’m called “the Vet,” a nickname I like.  I especially enjoyed vivisecting the slave in the picture to illustrate the cutting-edge joke, but he wasn’t a voluntary slave, and I don’t think he quite understood how amusing it was while I dismembered him.  I’m also a sadistic alpha and having no limits on what I do to slaves as I try new methods of inflicting pain is a big turn-on.  I’ve got the best job of all in the Master’s organization.  I enjoy it a lot.”  The Vet had a kindly, almost fatherly tone, devoid of the arrogance Norman had witnessed with James.  The Vet had learned that his approach eased tensions and developed trust from the slaves, which he could build on to improve their cooperation and performance.  After all, as he explained, true submissives want to suffer and developing new methodologies often become a mutual endeavor with willing slaves making insightful and helpful suggestions. This made sense to Norman.

But this was a medical visit.  “The Master wants to be sure none of his slaves have any contagious diseases when he acquires them, and to know the state of their health and pain tolerance.  With that information I help him design the most effective torture and sex sessions.  The beauty of the symbiosis between the Master’s sadistic desire to degrade and inflict pain and your masochistic desire to endure pain and humiliation is a powerful tool I use to enable fulfillment of both sets of needs.  I think slaves perform an important function and my research makes it more so.  But understand clearly:  it is not your needs that matter.  You are just property owned and used by the Master like furniture.  The fact you understand and accept that makes you a vastly greater source of his pleasure and therefore more useful.  That’s what matters.

“On a more practical level I’ll start by checking to make sure your asshole is tight enough to provide him pleasure when you’re fucked, and to repair it if it’s not.  Given how slaves are used, you will require repair from time to time even if you’re adequately tight now.  The surgery is fun for me since it’s quite painful and I don’t provide anesthetic.  Other doctors focus on reducing a patient’s pain.  I focus on maximizing it.  It’s quite satisfying.

“Lie down on this table on your belly and let’s start with your hole.  It’s your most useful feature.”

Norman did as instructed but was curious.  “May I ask a question to help me better conduct myself?”

“For that purpose, yes.  Otherwise no.”  The doctor was kindly but firm.

“I notice you refer to “the Master” while James referred to “the Boss.”  I assume I am to call him Master if permitted to speak, since he owns me, and I am to obey him completely.  But is there another protocol I should be aware of?  For example, how should I address regular employees, which I assume you are?”

“That is an acceptable question.  First, you are to call the Master by that name and never anything else.  Second, you are to address others, including both employees and the Master’s friends, as “sir.”  As a slave you are never to call a person by his actual name.  If you address another slave you may use its name if it has one but preceded by “slave” to confirm its status. 

“I am a very long-term employee and refer to my employer as the Master because of my immense respect for him and my gratitude for all these years of being allowed to serve him.  I have dedicated my career and my life to his service.  While I am an employee and not a slave, if he wanted to snuff me I would willingly cooperate.  Those of us who have been here a long time feel the same way.  He is a wonderful, extraordinary person and his work makes the world a far better and safer place.  But he has never made that request of us and treats us extremely well.  James is new and arrogant.  He views himself as the Master’s favorite and focuses on his own ambitions.  He is not, in my view, adequately respectful.  Perhaps he will learn over time.  I trust the Master to train him.”

“Thank you, sir.” 

The Vet did a careful examination, including a prostate check, and seemed a little surprised.  “Your ass is very tight for a submissive.  Have you been fisted or fucked with dildos much?”

“No, sir.  I have only been fucked with cocks.”

“That’s excellent!   This will give the Master added pleasure as he adds to your experience and your level of pain.”

The Vet then had Norman lie on his back.  Norman had gotten aroused from the Vet’s description of his role and from the examination of his ass.  The Vet stroked Norman’s cock to get him fully erect.  He then removed the cock ring Norman had received the night before.

“You will wear a slave collar most of the time as Master chooses.  But I have invented a better device for your genital pain, which is also a source of humiliation.  It’s based on the cock play called ‘sounding.’” Norman had never experienced “sounding” but he had seen it in sessions at Bill’s bar. A metal rod would be inserted into the piss slit of an erect cock and used to stimulate the penis from inside.  It generated intense levels of masturbation and was one of the many things Norman had been afraid to try.   

The Vet inserted an extremely thin metal needle into Norman’s piss slit, careful to let gravity cause it to go further in rather than pushing it.  He did not want to cut the inside of the stiff muscle, When the rod reached the scrotum, the Vet cut into Norman’s ball sack and inserted a tiny piece of metal into which he inserted the bottom end of the needle.  He closed the wound and admired his work, playing with the end of the needle that now stuck out about an inch beyond the tip of Norman’s cock.  The cut had hurt but Norman found the stimulation arousing.

Next, the Vet activated an app on his cell phone and Norman felt an astonishing level of pain from the rod.  He had great difficulty suppressing a scream, but also felt himself getting even more aroused.  The metal chip was not just causing a flow of electricity, it was causing the needle to vibrate, masturbating Norman from inside his penis.  As the pain and pleasure both continued to increase he lost control and let out a loud yelp of pain as his cock exploded with an eruption of cum.  The needle was thin enough for the cum to shoot out his cock, and the liquid added to the intensity of the electricity flowing into his genitals.  He knew he was not permitted to cum without permission and apologized once the pain level was reduced.

“You responded to stimulation of your cock accompanied by an exceedingly high level of pian by having an orgasm.  This confirms the depth of your masochistic nature as your psychiatrist, Dr. Johnson, concluded from your therapy sessions.  He is one of my best protégé’s and we have been working together to release your true nature.  The orgasm was outside your control and the Master can use this toy to generate one whenever he wants.  Or he can use the phone app to just send an electric jolt without the vibrations.  That just generates pain without the pleasure.  It is one more example of the fact you have no decisions to make.  That includes if and when you are permitted to cum and how much pain you receive when you do.  At some level of pain, combined with the stimulation to the inside of the cock, a true masochist slave has no choice but to cum.  That’s a great power trip for the Master, highlighting the fact you’re just a sex toy.  The pleasure the slave feels from the orgasm is entertaining and trains the slave to seek greater and greater levels of pain to achieve the orgasm.  I think the Master will have lots of fun with your ability to endure a high pain level and reach orgasm as the pain increases.  Over time you will be conditioned to require pain in order to shoot your load.  Again, understand:  As with everything else in your life, you are no longer the decision maker.  Master is.”  The Vet alerted Norman that the rod would cause him to experience pain when he pissed.  This was of course another advantage of the device.  The more he felt pain from routine actions, the better.  And finally, while the rod would be replaced from time to time there would now always be one inserted into Norman’s cock and it would cause the cock to remain erect at all times.  A slave should be erect in the presence of its master, and in this case it would also be a further humiliation for Norman in public, with the metal end of the rod sticking out of his hard cock for others to laugh at. 

Norman said nothing but felt this was the best orgasm he’d ever had.  His belly and chest were covered with cum from the strength of it.  He even liked the idea of being an object of reticule.  Had he been permitted to speak he would have thanked the Vet for installing this awesome source of pain, humiliation, and pleasure.  As he contemplated all this, the Vet provided a final point of explanation for Norman. He illustrated another use of the metal rod, taking a lighter and holding the flame under the end of the rod, which became extremely hot. “I encourage alphas to be careful with this use, since it cooks the cock form the inside.  The pain is fabulous, but the result can impede the cock’s functions.  So it’s best used when it’s time for the cock to be removed.”  He applied some ice to cool the metal before there was damage., Norman didn’t focus or even hear what the Vet had said.  He was loudly screaming, and passed out, from the unbelievable pain.  The Vet laughed, pleased with the session so far.

When Norman awoke he saw that the Vet had summoned a medical assistant to help with the rest of the exam.   The assistant appeared much younger than Norman and looked familiar.  He had a beautiful twink body highlighted by an unusually large cock that was fully erect.   It had one of the sounding rods sticking out from the end of the cock.  “This is snuffslave Vincent, another willing submissive like yourself.  The Master gave him to me as a present, and I use him for some of my experiments in addition to sex sessions.  I also trained him to assist in my research and help me manage the slaves, since he majored in biology in college and did well.  Like Bill’s Slavemeat, and unlike you, Vincent realized his true nature early on, in his case during college.  Once he walked off the stage at graduation he tossed the diploma into a garbage can, stripped off his gown (revealing he was wearing nothing under it), signed the agreement selling himself and his possessions to the Master, and walked to one of Master’s trucks wearing just a slave collar with a leash provided by one of Master’s naked employees.  His cock was rock hard.  Everyone stared in shock and pointed, with lots of rude comments ridiculing him, but he smiled broadly as he climbed into the rear cargo area alongside some manure.  Both he and the manure were destined for Master’s gardens, although he would provide service and entertainment first.  He has been a snuffslave ever since.   He’s proved useful as well as enthusiastic about being an object of extreme pain and abuse.  He will be a good role model for you and give you some added instruction.”  AS the Vet was speaking Norman realized he’d indeed seen Vincent before – in the waiting room of Dr. Johnson’s office.  The two “graduates” of that training nodded to each other but being slaves they did not speak, but Norman could tell Vincent was content in his role.  He also was impressed at how Vincent was able to serve even beyond being a sex object.  Norman was coming to realize that snuff slaves could perform important tasks while awaiting their termination.  Over time, he found Vincent a great example and they became true friends.  They couldn’t be lovers, of course, since they didn’t have permission.  But they did get to compare what they’d each learned from Dr. Johnson and made suggestions to the Master and the Vet on original ideas for torturing and using them.

At the Vet’s instruction Vincent started the next phase of the exam by licking up Norman’s cum, which he obviously enjoyed.  Then, as the Vet undertook other aspects of the exam, Vincent continued the explanation of how Norman would be used.  “Master enjoys thrusting his cock all the way down the throat of a slave, so your tongue can massage it at its base.  Since his cock is remarkably large, this produces a gag reflex.  I will administer a procedure that will disable that.  My Master did it on me, and I find it satisfying to do such a much better job servicing his cock, or any other alpha, when I’m permitted to do so.  As an added plus it gives the alpha I’m serving the option of using his cock to choke me to death, which is the ultimate breath play and a power trip they enjoy.  So far it’s just been to cause me to pass out, but whether they withdraw their cock so wake up is the alpha’s choice.”  Norman understood and appreciated the utility of the procedure, doing his best to cooperate despite the fact that, without any anesthetic, it was fairly painful.  Breath play was another thing he’d been afraid to try.

The rest of the exam was more routine, including EKG and EEG tests, reflexes, weight and bodyfat levels, and so forth.  It was quite comprehensive, but the Vet and Vincent were efficient, so it went quickly..  The Vet informed Norman he was in excellent health, including the results of the blood draw James had taken the night before prior to loading Norman in the trunk of the limo.

“There is no need to address any issues and you are ready for immediate service.  You have strong cardio and pulmonary systems and can endure a lot of physical stress and pain.  Pain causes you sexual arousal, so the Master will enjoy using you, and when he decides to harvest you it can be an especially pleasurable event for him given your sex drive and pain tolerance.  Dr. Johnson has already measured that and it is one of the reasons for your selection.  Slaves with your need to serve and your ability to perform sexually as you are tortured are somewhat rare.  I’m extremely pleased, knowing how much the Master will enjoy your body and service.”

After the physical one of the personal trainers was summoned and led Norman to one of the playrooms, where he guided Norman through the most rigorous exercise routine he’d ever experienced.  If the trainer didn’t feel Norman was performing well enough, he administered a shock through the collar and sounding rod, or simply flogged Norman, usually on the genitals. Norman was totally drained afterwards but grateful for the instruction.  He liked working out bit had not experienced combining it with being punished, as he had seen the master and slave perform at Bill’s bar.. Not for the last time, Norman wondered why he had resisted his true nature until now.  If this were part of the daily routine that would be wonderful.

After permitting Norman to take a cold shower the trainer escorted Norman to the Master’s suite.  Norman was nervous and excited.  Would he be accepted as Master’s slave?  His eagerness serve Master was total.

3

In Master’s Presence

As Norman entered the room he saw Master enjoying a session with another slave, who was kneeling in front of Master and swallowing a stream of Master’s piss.  For the first time Norman beheld Master’s naked body and Norman was overwhelmed.  Master was far beyond handsome and dominant.  To Norman he was god-like, his bronzed skin glistening with sweat from whatever use he had made of the slave.  Every inch of his muscular body and every aspect of his demeanor showed the power he possessed, both physical and psychological.  Snuffslave Vincent had described Master’s cock as large, but massive would have been more accurate.  Norman immediately contemplated how wonderfully painful it would be if Master used his amazing tool to fuck Norman’s unworthy ass.  Instinctively, Norman knelt before Master, awaiting instructions.

While Master was aware of Norman’s presence he said nothing, continuing to fill the slave’s throat with urine.  When he had done so Norman’s attention turned to the slave and he realized it no longer had a cock or balls and was bleeding from where they had been.   Its skin was severely lacerated and also bleeding.  Master instructed the slave to stand and then lie on its back on a nearby fuck bench, which it did.  There was obvious pain as its shredded skin touched the bench, but the slave did not speak.  Then Master thrust his giant cock into the slave’s hole and began fucking it.  Once he got his rhythm fully engaged, he took a knife and inserted it deep into the slave’s gut, cutting upward well beyond the belly.  The slave was in fatal agony but was still able to express its thanks to Master for having been allowed to serve him and his shame that the service had not been performed to Master’s standards.  Master felt the thrill of ultimate dominance as the slave died, its asshole tightening around Master’s cock as life was drained from its body.  Master achieved orgasm as the body entered its death spasms, filling the hole with a major load of cum.  He withdrew his cock and looked at Noman.  “My cock needs cleaning, slave.”

Norman instantly crawled to Master and used his mouth to lovingly clean the gorgeous muscle.  He was grateful that Snuffslave Vincent had removed his gag reflex, as Master drove the male weapon deep into Norman’s eager throat.  Norman had trouble breathing but was sexually thrilled.  If Master chose to choke him to death that was fine with Norman.  But that was not Master’s current plan and he allowed Norman to breathe.  He next addressed the trainer, whose cock demonstrated how much he’d enjoyed watching the snuff scene.

“This slave did not perform its duties well for quite some time and I frankly got tired of it.  This was a satisfying way to release my frustration and at least it had the right attitude as it died.  Would you like to fuck it?  The ass is tight and the body is still warm.  It looks like you might need a little release yourself judging by that hard on you’ve got.  I’ve lubricated it rather thoroughly for you.”  Master chuckled, looking at the dead slave and admiring his handiwork.  Norman felt the cock in his mouth harden a bit.

This was the first of many examples Norman would observe showing Master’s generosity to his employees.  The trainer was grateful and quickly inserted his own cock, energetically fucking the warm slab of slavemeat.  It was not long before he also had a satisfying orgasm, and Master directed Norman to now service the trainer by cleaning his cock.  Norman did so at once, completely aroused by the uses to which he was being put.  The snuff scene had been a turn-on, and he vowed to himself that he would perform well for Master so that when Master snuffed him it would not be because Norman had failed in his duties.  He wanted the snuff to be because Master wanted a little fun, not because Norman needed to be punished.

“Take the slave to the main hall and string him up for others to observe.  Be sure employees know he’s fair game to fuck.  I want all the slaves to be reminded what happens if they disappoint me.”  The trainer thanked Master for the chance to fuck the slave, then easily picked up the body and put it into a bag so it wouldn’t bleed on the carpets as he caried it.  Quite a lot of blood had flowed out, some onto Master. 

Master turned to Norman.  “I wish to shower before using you.  You may have the honor of assisting me.”  Norman followed Master into an adjoining bathroom where he was instructed on how Master required slaves to serve him as he showered and dried.  Norman paid close attention and did exactly as instructed.  After a long and refreshing shower they returned to the main suite.  To Norman’s surprise the suite was now completely cleaned, the bloodstains and other remnants of the slave having been carefully removed and all the equipment returned to its proper location for Master’s future use.  Then Norman remembered how easily the solvent he’d used cleaned the blood-stained interior of the limo, realizing that an army of slaves had no doubt scrubbed the area while Master showered.  Master ran an orderly and precise empire with no detail ignored.

“I have heard promising reports on your indoctrination.  The Vet in particular is optimistic you could serve my purposes and saw no reason to postpone that service.  He was even optimistic about your progress in abandoning your disrespectful pride and embracing your true status and purpose.  Is he correct?”

“Yes, Master,” Norman replied, almost eagerly.  “I now realize being your slave is the best use of me and I am anxious to serve you totally.  Please use me or dispose of me however you wish to.  You can count on my cooperation and gratitude no matter what you choose to do.  I realize all decisions are yours to make.”

“Good.  Dr. Johnson predicted you would quickly adjust once you embraced your nature and purpose.  The Vet also says you have a tight ass, and he believes your claim that you have never been fisted or had large dildos thrust into it.  Is he correct?”

“Yes, Master.  I have been fucked many times but only with cocks.  It was part of my absurd resistance to releasing myself to fulfill my true nature.”

Master smiled.  He was already in a good mood after his luncheon meeting with fellow AMS leaders.  They had efficiently handled the business issues they needed to address, including a personnel challenge, and the rest of the day could now turn to enjoying well-deserved sadistic sexual pleasure like snuffing the slave who had not performed well.  It was a lot of fun and he was looking forward to his first use of Norman.  He directed him to lean over the fuck bench he used for the snuff, which Norman immediately did.  His ass now nicely positioned for Master’s use.  He hoped Master would enjoy whatever he was about to do to it.

Master started by securing Norman’s wrists and ankles to the bench.  It wasn’t that he had any worries of Norman resisting, but it helped stress Master’s total control. Then Master thrust his cock into Norman’s man hole, verifying its tightness and giving himself pleasure as he thrust in and out, creating a rhythm to the fucking.  As he did so he explained Norman’s use beyond being a sex object.

“I am a person of great wealth and power, and I require the total service of sex slaves even beyond sexual roles and snuff scenes.  One part of that is what I call a “body slave.”  The role is patterned after the “body men” who serve the President of the United States and other world leaders.  They are always present, and they carry things and perform tasks that are helpful for the leader they serve.  That includes everything from energy bars to cell phones.  They handle errands and deliver messages as needed.  They position the chair for the leader to sit as the meeting starts.  It is a role of total personal service that is quite useful for the leaders.  It also enhances our sense of power knowing we have a person at our disposal whose only role is to meet our slightest needs and desires.

“You will henceforth be one of my body slaves.  You are better educated, more mature, and more submissive than my typical slaves so you may have the honor of becoming my main body slave, another prediction of Dr. Johnson, which the Vet shares.  The role is obviously different from a body man in some ways, since you are property, which means there are no limits on how I use you.  And you will be naked, as you will for the remainder of your life. You will carry things in a sling bag over your shoulder.  I require slaves to be erect in my presence, which the sounding rod sticking out from your piss slit will assure.  That’s especially important as I want to have you constantly humiliated.  Being naked and erect around important people assures that, especially as they make degrading remarks about you and enjoy comments about the part of the needle that sticks out from your cock.  It’s part of demonstrating my power and dominance, and also theirs.  The bag will contain the usual stuff a body man has, but it also will have some of my favorite S&M toys so I can torture you whenever I feel like it.  That might be private or public.  For example, one of the tools will be a lighter to heat up the needle so it burns the inside of your cock.  Another will be a knife I can have you hand me if I decide to cut off your cock and balls and offer them as a present to one of my guests or gut you if you fail to perform as instructed.  My cell phone has the app for causing the chip in your balls to send electric current and cause the needle to vibrate so you are masturbated for everyone’s amusement.  And finally, as you would expect you will be used as a human urinal by everyone present with an expectation that you also suck their cocks..

“Vincent has served this role for a few months since I got bored with my prior body slave and snuffed him.  He had served me well for some years, but his ass was so loose even the Vet couldn’t repair it and his body was showing increasingly visible signs of the abuse he received.  He completely agreed it was time, not that his opinion mattered, and cooperated fully with the snuff.  I secured him on a rack and used it and a small axe to rip his body into pieces.  He had watched that happen to another slave and had a major orgasm imagining it happening to him.  When I picked that as the method I’d use to kill him he expressed his gratitude for the choice and the chance to serve.  As he died he again had a massive orgasm while I was cutting off his cock and balls.  You will be shown a video of the event, so you have a role model to follow when I torture you to death.  And if you serve me well, in due course I may take your desires on how you are snuffed into account.  It adds to my pleasure to know my slaves are eager for their death at my hands and it’s a suitable reward for their service.  But the decision is, of course, entirely mine.

“Vincent will fill you in on details of your tasks.  He has done it well, but I noticed how much his young body and great attitude sexually turned on the Vet.  I gave him Vincent as a birthday present and a reward for his great work.”  Master did not ask if Norman had any questions, but just kept thrusting in and out as he spoke.  Norman felt pain from the size of Master’s cock and was overcome with joy and arousal from that and the prospect of this fantastic chance to serve.  Even if asked he would not have had any questions.

Master did not reach orgasm.  He had shot a load into the slave he snuffed and wanted to save himself of the evening fun.  Instead, he withdrew and then examined Norman’s hole more closely.  “Time to introduce you to new uses.  You will find this extremely painful.  And you will experience it frequently.”

Master inserted several fingers into the hole, then added more as he proceeded.  Norman had not felt this level of pain up his butt before but was determined to cooperate.  As the collection of fingers was replaced by Master’s fist, Norman felt not only a huge increase in the level of pain but also a welcome pressure on his prostate.  It was a mixture of torture and arousal he was learning to respond to, and he was now focused on making sure he did not have an unauthorized orgasm.  Master now had his fist inserted fully and stopped as his wrist drew even with the start of the hole.

“You are indeed a virgin as to fisting,” he said.   “Or at least you were.”  Master next withdrew his fist and took a whip to the ass, then released Norman and had him roll over on his back.  He flogged the chest and belly after again securing Norman to the bench.  The session ended with a focus on Norman’s cock and balls.

“Both the Vet and Dr. Johnson report that you respond unusually well to cock and ball torture.  Let’s find out how well.  I expect you to cum for my satisfaction.”

Master positioned Norman to give himself easy access to the genitals.  Norman’s cock was still quite hard – maybe more so – and both cock and balls were fully exposed and vulnerable.  Master then took the whip and began lashing the cock and balls.  Norman, knowing he had permission, did not hold back his arousal.  After about two dozen strokes he felt intense sexual pleasure that overtook the torment.  His cock erupted with a stream of thick cum shooting into the air. 

“Well, Dr. Johnson was correct as usual.  Fuck, if I get bored with you I could sell you to a circus as part of a sex freak show.  You are truly a pathetic piece of masochistic slave shit.”

Master was quite pleased, and Norman was amazed to realize this orgasm had been even stronger than the one generated by the Vet’s sounding device earlier that afternoon.  He remembered when Dr. Johnson had experimented with him during the psychiatric sessions and was grateful to have been trained to reach orgasm while his genitals were whipped.  But none of those orgasms was anything like this one.  This was a level of intensity he had not imagined possible.  This was an orgasm for Master’s enjoyment and that made it awesome.

Norman could not believe his good fortune, angry with himself that he had waited so long.  This was the perfect relationship.  If Master decided to snuff him as early as that evening it would still have been worth it.

4

An AMS Dinner Party

After Master finished his fun with Norman he allowed Norman to assist him as he prepared for the dinner party.  He started with a hot shower and Norman had the honor of washing his body again and then toweling it off.    Norman fetched the outfit Master would wear, learning where various items of Master’s clothing were kept.  It was essentially the same outfit Master had worn at Bill’s bar, but this leather jacket had “AMS” on the left breast with “1” underneath it, signifying Master’s status.  As Norman used his tongue to spit-shine Master’s boots he thought about how important and powerful Master was and what an honor it was to serve him. 

When he was ready Master attached a leash to Norman’s collar, and he followed Master, crawling on all fours like a dog, as Master headed to the estate’s main ballroom.  As they exited Master’s suite Norman saw Vincent, also on all fours and wearing a collar with a leash.  He held the end of the leash between his teeth, like a stick retrieved by a dog that was ready for the owner to take.  As Master took hold of the leash Vincent quietly explained to Norman that he was there to assure Norman learned his tasks and nothing went awry.  Norman was very grateful and very impressed.  Clearly Master thought of everything.

The ballroom was large and divided into several sections.  There was a stage that overlooked everything, and a separate area set up for formal dining.  Another area was designed to host the cocktail function prior to the ceremonies and dinner, which included an assembly of S&M equipment for AMS members to use as they partied.  Norman saw about 25 alphas dressed much like Master, and he correctly assumed these were the AMS members.  They were accompanied by their own slaves, naked except for collars and leashes like Norman and Vincent.  Some of Master’s employees served as waiters and provided outstanding appetizers and whatever the alphas wanted by way of drinks.  They were also naked but had black bow ties to signify their status.  Norman noticed James was among the waiters and wondered if that meant he had not gotten an invitation to join AMS.  James had described his role as managing the event, not being part of the wait staff.

Some of the AMS guests were admiring the preparation of the perp Norman had carried to the kitchen earlier in the day. The body had been placed on a rotisserie with a long metal spike driven into its ass that protruded from its neck.  The spike was long enough so the arms and legs could also be attached, and the meat was slowly turning over hot coals at it roasted.  There was a wonderful aroma as it was cooked to perfection.  The head was displayed with the top removed and a spoon inserted to scoop helpings of sweetmeats into elegant cups made from the scrotums of other slaves.  That table also included a wide variety of side dishes, including fresh steamed testicles with toothpicks to use in dipping sauces.  Like the scrotums, these were harvested from slaves deemed unworthy for sexual use.  Many were agricultural slaves assigned to work the fields, who were emasculated to make them more docile.

As they socialized and enjoyed the appetizers most of the AMS members were using the S&M equipment to have fun with their own slaves plus others provided for their amusement and some of Master’s submissive employees who had requested this use..  The slaves would be auctioned off later so this was a chance to inspect them, especially the tightness of their asses and their pain tolerance.  The employees were just there to satisfy their masochistic nature while entertaining the AMS guests.  It was typical of Master’s thoughtfulness.  The focus, however, was on the AMS members catching up.  This was a group of close friends who enjoyed each other’s company and their shared hobby.

As it came time for the program prior to dinner Master took the stage and got everyone’s attention.  Norman and Vincent were led onto the stage, still on hands and knees, and positioned at the side in case Master wanted some service from them.  Two especially attractive young males were suspended upside down and naked on the stage.  They were straight and had been fucked multiple times by AMS members during the cocktail hour.  The group had enjoyed their pitiful protests and pleas for to be released.

“Welcome AMS members!  It is great to see so many of my closest friends and fellow leaders together.  I hope everyone has had fun using and examining the slaves being auctioned tonight.  I would remind you that your waiters and some of the submissives available to torment are my employees, not slaves, so I’d appreciate it, as would they, if you refrain from killing them during our sex play later.  We’ll provide plenty of snuff slaves for that.  But they are certainly available to be fucked and otherwise used, whether submissives or fellow alphas.  All of us want to be sure everyone feels welcome and has lots of sexual fun.  If my alphas get fucked and humbled a bit it might do them some good,. So that can be extra fun. I have personally tested each of them to be sure he’s a good fuck.”  Everyone laughed and cheered. 

“But enough preliminaries.  We have traditions before we enjoy our feast.  One is enjoying some snuff fun that will get us in the mood for our evening fun – not that we’re ever NOT in the mood.  As always, I want to thank the Chief for finding such outstanding snuff candidates.  These two are particularly worthless with great bodies for our use.  He and I are going to start the fun.”

At that point, the Chief, AMS #2, joined Master on stage and they each approached one of the terrified young males.  What followed was a demonstration of exceptional sadistic talent as the two mega-alphas brutally destroyed the victims.  The Chief focused on flogging his target with a metal tipped whip that cut into the skin such that little chunks of flesh were cut off.  He was particularly effective with the cock and balls.  The cock was unusually long and had been kept hard with a tight cock ring.  It hung down well past the belly button – an inviting target.  He managed to shred both cock and balls, leaving the victim completely emasculated. 
After a long session of whipping the slave was near death, and the Chief switched to a gutting knife to open up the belly, causing the exposed innards to fall out.  As the perp died the screaming was replaced with load cheering from the guests.

Master took a different approach, using a sharp knife to expertly skin his target.  He was designing a new outfit and wanted fresh leather.  He successfully tore off the skin covering the animal’s torso in one large sheet, a skill he enjoyed showing off frequently.  He finished by emasculating the pathetic perp as it died.  He held up the cock after he cut it off and then tossed it toward Norman.  Norman, clued into what was expected by Vincent, was already on his haunches doggie-stye and caught it with his teeth.  At Master’s signal he chewed and swallowed the shriveled man-muscle, mimicking a puppy grateful for table scraps from its master.  The members enjoyed the gag and laughed at Norman’s humiliation as blood dripped down his chin.  Then Master cut open the scrotum and offered the Chief one of the fresh testicles as he ate the other.  Again, as the screaming ended it was replaced by loud applause.

“Now that we’ve officially started our ceremony it’s time for announcements, promotions, and introduction of new members.  Under announcements, I want to put on display a new slave I’ve acquired, As I just illustrated he is a remarkably pathetic masochist whom I’m planning to use as my main body slave – for a while.”  The members laughed at the obvious implications of the phrase “for a while,” knowing what that meant for Norman’s future.  So did Norman. 

Norman was directed to stand in front of the group, his hard cock evidencing his acceptance of his new role.  Several of the members pointed at the sounding rod protruding from his piss slit.  This was a new device they had heard about and there was a lot of interest in getting them for their own slaves.  The Vet had demonstrated it during the cocktail hour using Vincent and it was a big hit when Vincent’s cock erupted with its orgasm.  This would be very profitable for Master to sell and he would share the proceeds with the Vet.

At this point Master also introduced James.  “Let me also introduce James, one of my employees who is an alpha and has applied to join AMS.  He handled the slave’s indoctrination today and is going to help me with the final stage of that process.”

James climbed on stage and tied Norman to an X cross next to one of the now-dead perps.  To illustrate how masochistic Norman was Master then took a nearby whip and began lashing Norman’s rigid cock and balls, demonstrating the trick he’d enjoyed when Norman was in his suite.  Norman again got aroused by the pain, and the fact he was being used in front of a group of alpha males, to the point he shot another load of cum.  (One of Norman’s amusing talents was his ability to shoot a load a long distance.  Some of it landed on James, who was not pleased.)  Master’s AMS colleagues were effusive in their cheering and praise of his efforts.  Norman, in turn, was thrilled to be an object of ridicule in a way that pleased Master.  He was learning just how much he liked being a sex object and nothing more.

“Our good friend Dr. Johnson trained the slave to perform this trick while he was molding his psyche, and I tested it this afternoon.  I knew you would all enjoy it.  His submissive psyche and overwhelming sex drive should make him a lot of fun to use.  I want to thank Dr. Johnson for finding and conditioning him.”  Dr. Johnson was present and took a well-deserved bow.

Master then made Norman’s status official.  James wheeled over a barbecue filled with hot coals that contained a branding iron.  Master slowly lifted it by the handle and showed it to Norman, who was both terrified and thrilled.  There was a searing and almost a sizzle as he applied it to Norman’s left breast, which now read “Snuffslave Norman.”  Norman managed not to scream, but the pain was overwhelming, and he almost passed out.  Norman knew what he was, and this would let everyone else know too.  That seemed right to him as his cock hardened yet again.  James released him from the X cross and Norman returned to the side of the stage by Vincent.  James stood nearby, not sure what he was supposed to do next.

“Now for recognition of a well-deserved promotion.   As many of you know, Mark has served for several years not only as a member of AMS but as Ed’s understudy.  He has done an outstanding job and will be promoted to the position of senior adviser, reporting to me.  I have invited him to join me here at the estate.  He has accepted and is moving into one of the suites this weekend.

” As you know, we provide a great service worldwide by eliminating worthless and troublesome young males.  Some we use for our own purposes as slaves of AMS members and features at our snuff parties.  Most, of course, wind up as slaves to be bought and sold in the markets we manage.  There is a growing need for this service, and under Ed’s leadership Mark has negotiated a series of major expansions in the societies where we provide our service.  We will now have a much larger supply of slaves to use or sell.  While Mark and others of us use the title “Alpha Male Society” to identify ourselves externally, we all know the real purpose and meaning of AMS – the Art of Male Snuff..  He is committed to that and has shown remarkable competence and dedication to AMS that reflects our values.”

 Mark came onto the stage and shook hands with Master and then with Ed, who had also joined the group.  Master handed him a new leather jacket, with the number 9 under the letters AMS, signifying Mark’s new rank. Being one of the top 10 leaders of AMS was a really big deal.

“What most of you don’t know is that Snuffslave Norman used to work for Ed and was a colleague of Mark’s, albeit a total fuck-up.  I thought it would be fun for them to have a reunion on stage.”

At this point James was struggling to conceal his jealousy.  Not only was James functioning as a mere helper on stage, naked in his status as one of the Boss’s employees and required to stay erect in front of everyone, but Mark was obviously far ahead of him in rank even if he was allowed to join AMS this evening.  Not having heard anything from Master on that he was doubly worried. If he didn’t get an offer he decided he would quit.

Nonetheless, he controlled himself and at Master’s direction he wheeled the branding equipment to the back of the stage and wheeled a large bed to the front.  Cameras above and alongside it gave the audience great views of the action about to take place.  Then he positioned Norman on the mattress.  By that point Ed and Mark had stripped off their leather outfits and approached Norman with their cocks stiff and ready.  Everyone admired their awesome naked bodies, especially Norman.  He had lusted after each of them throughout his time in Ed’s firm, especially imagining Ed’s thick cock and tight balls and Mark’s giant cock.  His imagination was confirmed.  Mark positioned himself on his back with Norman on top of him, then thrust his cock upward into Norman’s ass.  Ed lined up and added his cock to the hole, at which point the two colleagues vigorously double-fucked Norman.  They were putting him to the kind of use he was meant for, and he knew it.  The fucking was savage, and they took a long time, but as they did so the audience laughed and cheered them on.  Most had their own cocks out, nice and hard in the mouths of their slaves.  When Ed and Mark finally shot their loads up Norman’s ass he was quite sincere in his thanks for being used and eagerly used his tongue to clean their cocks..  Fuck, this had been one of his fantasies.  Everyone agreed it was a great way to celebrate Mark’s promotion and Norman’s enslavement, and a few of the AMS members let loose their own orgasms.

“I am always so pleased to see worthy AMS members like Mark get the recognition they deserve.  He has a very bright future with AMS.  And speaking of bright futures, it’s now time to announce new members.  We have six candidates we voted in this afternoon.  As I call your names, please join me on stage.”

Master called out all six, and James was relieved to hear his name among them, albeit the last one.  But he was pissed that the others had obviously gotten advance notice and were dressed in alpha male leather outfits.  His nakedness stood out as the group formed on stage.  Being naked at work was a requirement James resented.  He knew he was superior to the other employees but felt his membership in AMS would finally give him the status he deserved. 

The group stood at attention as Master administered the AMS oath, which included requirements of honor, obedience, and devotion to AMS members and AMS values.  After the oath, Master added some comments before awarding them their official AMS leather jackets.

“As you all know I hold my employees to a high standard and require them to stay naked while working.  James here is one of those employees and has been serving you tonight and helping me on stage.  In those roles he is required to be on display like his fellow employees, and stay erect, for my enjoyment and that of all my AMS colleagues, and for that of his fellow employees.  My staff have awesome bodies and I want everyone to enjoy them.  So do they and I know my requirement is also their desire.  But there is another reason I’ve had him stay naked, even as his fellow new members were permitted to wear alpha gear and will now receive their AMS leather jackets.  Our tradition is to enjoy live meat, and the perp we had planned to use for that is now dead, cooking nicely but unable to fulfill our custom.  Since James is the one who caused his death, and since James also is an arrogant asshole who does not really reflect AMS values of loyalty and honor, he is going to replace the perp.  I wouldn’t snuff an employee without his consent, but AMS members must meet higher standards and as members we all agree to be snuffed if we fail to do so.  James just swore allegiance to those rules, and since he doesn’t meet our values he’ll fulfill our custom for live meat at our dinner.  We accepted his application with that use in mind, also being aware he hates being required to be naked and being eaten alive is the form of snuff that most terrifies him.” 

The crowd again cheered, looking forward to enjoying James’ delicious-looking flesh.  The loudest cheers were from Master’s other staff, who were delighted to see James get the horribly painful punishment his arrogance deserved.  Norman listened and was again impressed with Master’s abilities as a leader and his high values.

James was horrified and terrified, and he started to protest.

 As he pleaded and yelled obscenities his fellow inductees joyfully carried him to a trolley next to where the dead perp was cooking and tied him so everyone could enjoy selecting and helping themselves to their favorite cuts.  The Vet, who especially disliked James, stood nearby to advise which cuts would be most painful yet least deadly.  He started the fun by cutting off James’ cock and making him eat it.  Then James’ former fellow employees gleefully handed knives to the AMS members, offering additional suggestions on especially painful ways to cut the live meat.  With the benefit of their advice and the Vet’s overall guidance, James remained alive not only for the entire evening but also for a special employee breakfast the next morning.

The dinner, the slave auction, and the orgy that followed were great successes.  Each of the AMS members enjoyed snuffing at least one slave, thanking Mark for the negotiations that had greatly increased their supply.  And many showed considerable creativity in practicing their art.

After the celebration ended, Norman accompanied Master and Master’s lover, the Chief, back to Master’s suite.  Norman was permitted to help them strip off their fine leather attire, carefully hanging them in a closet as instructed.  As they showered together he was even allowed to soap their powerful bodies and dry them off afterwards.  They were mostly spent from the long, wonderful evening, but they still had energy for sex, sharing their deep feelings for each other.  Norman was a sex toy for them to fuck as they did so.  As they drifted off to sleep he was stored nearby, crawling into a cage for later use.  Norman drifted off to sleep as well, more content and fulfilled than he had ever been.

5

Serving Master

Norman was not Master’s only slave.  A steady stream of young males arrived each week to provide Master and his friends with the sexual fulfillment of snuffing them, inflicting the painful and degrading deaths they deserved.  These would last just a few days.  There were other slaves working at the estate in a wide variety of tasks.  They were deemed to be of some value, and were easy to identify as they were all, like Norman, branded.  Their brands just read “slave” as they were not volunteers so their primary purpose was the service they provided.  But they would die when they were no longer of use or if they failed to obey totally.  These involuntary slaves were resigned to their fate, often after psychological “treatment” from the Vet.  They did not embrace being property.  They did come to understand that they were worthless losers who were being given a chance to do something worthwhile by serving Master.  They especially understood there were a variety of options for how they would die and what use they would be put to until then.  They were told it was in their interest to be obedient and respectful, in return for which they could earn a fairly quick death.  In reality their conduct had little if anything to do with how they died, which mostly depended on Master’s mood as he snuffed them. 

Since they didn’t observe snuff scenes until it was their turn to die they were unaware of that.

Norman was one of the few slaves that had sought out and embraced its status.  He learned that voluntary slaves like himself were comparatively rare and filled a special role within Master’s dominant sadistic needs.  Torturing to death a terrified, screaming young male was always fun, but Master got his greatest sexual and psychological satisfaction from snuffing slaves who cooperated, understanding their purpose was not just to serve some function in his daily routine but to suffer and die for his sexual pleasure.  He was always on the hunt for these slaves.  Finding and “coaching” them was Dr. Jonson’s main focus.  There were about five of them in use at any given time.  When he got a new one he would enjoy torturing to death one he already owned. 

Master’s relationship with these voluntary snuffslaves was different from other slaves or employees and was quite positive.  They attended the snuff sessions and often helped out.   Master would have conversations with them about his ideas on how best to enjoy their deaths, soliciting their ideas on ways to make it more degrading and painful for them and therefore more entertaining for him.  When it came time for one of them to die he often assembled them for snuff orgies where they would draw straws to see who would have the honor of being snuffed.  Then everyone, including the “winner,” would discuss the best way for that slave to die.  Master would pick the best ideas and invite the other slaves to join him, along with selected AMS members and employees, to watch the fun as he administered the tortures and the eventual kill.  He was always the one doing the ultimate kill (after all, he was Master) but he was generous in sharing his pleasures, like fucking the dead slave while the body was still warm.  This generosity was a key part of his nature and everyone around him appreciated it.  The events were a kind off celebration that was community building, although there was one fewer member of the community when it was done. 

As he adjusted to Master’s world, Norman found he was also turned on by these sessions, looking forward to when it would be his turn.  As he awaited that objective, Norman enjoyed the uses Master had assigned him, especially given the amazing people with whom he interacted.  He had indeed become Master’s primary body slave and Norman spent most of his time at Master’s side – usually literally.  He would provide Master with whatever he needed during events and meetings, and he accepted as his due the ridicule and humiliation Master and everyone else heaped on him.  He was thrilled to drink the piss and suck the cocks of some of the most powerful and famous people in the world, realizing Master’s prestige and power meant no one objected at all on the presence of a naked slave, branded to advertise its fate, who served Master.  He would just be Photoshopped out of the group pictures for public consumption, as if he didn’t exist.  After all, in terms of actual people present, he didn’t.

Mark was a frequent attendee at Master’s meetings, since he now lived at the estate, and he was particularly cruel.  He would almost always take time to beat and fuck Norman, which amused Master.  He would always drink lots of coffee before meetings, so he’d have giant loads of piss for Norman to swallow as others looked on, laughing.  When they had worked in the same office Norman had hated Mark, but now that their relationship was properly aligned he was grateful for the attention and abuse.  He understood Mark’s contempt for him came from Norman pretending he was a person instead of an object.  The fault was Norman’s and he attempted to make up for his absurd delusions of humanity.  The whole series of events turned Norman on big time, which made it even funnier for the participants to watch and join in.  Best of all for Norman, the favorite way to degrade him was using the sounding needle that stuck out from his cock.  All Master’s regulars had the app to activate it on their cell phones, and Norman entertained them with the combo of pain and pleasure that resulted in him having a giant orgasm.  (Mark, however, only activated the feature that inflicted pain, not he vibrations that generated the orgasm, often raising it to a level that caused Norman to pass out from the pain without the reward of sexual release.  But he was content as he heard Master laughing as he lost consciousness.  And he also was anxious to please Mark since that also pleased Master.)

In addition to attending Master’s meetings and events, Norman was also typically included during Master’s sex sessions.  Master found Norman’s body sexually attractive, and especially enjoyed fisting him.  Norman, in turn, found this the greatest turn-on of any of the uses he experienced.  Master thrust his fist far up Norman’s ass and the pain put Norman into sexual rapture.  Those orgasms, along with the ones that followed Master flogging his cock and balls or using the sounding needle app,, were the most intense he had ever experienced.  Masturbating after getting fucked was still good, but without the accompanying pain it was far from intense.  To his delight orgasms accompanied by serious pian were quite frequent, usually several times per day.  Indeed, over time he had trouble achieving orgasm without some form of painful torture, as the Vet had predicted.

Master worked out daily with a personal trainer who was as large as Master and expert in assuring his clients were in ideal physical condition.  Master was, and he wanted to keep it that way.  So the daily workout was rigorous, with Master and the trainer naked to show off their bodies.  Norman was often assigned to assist them, one more chance to see and admire Master’s impressive masculinity.  To Norman’s further delight, Master had decided Norman and the other voluntary slaves also needed to be in ideal shape, so they were more appealing to Master.  He assigned the trainer to put them through their paces after the workout with Master.  The trainer was also an alpha sadist, so part of the ritual was training Norman and his fellow slaves on how to endure ever more pain and satisfy Master sexually while they were being tortured.  Characteristic of Master’s generosity to his employees, Master invited the trainer to torture and fuck them whenever he felt like it during the sessions.  Norman loved the feel of yet another giant cock up his ass.

Best of all, Master often joined the slave workout sessions.  He liked to add routines, such as having the slaves do deep squats standing with legs spread and feet positioned on two sets of steps.  Master would attach heavy metal chains to the balls and let them swing loose as the slave did his squats, getting whipped on his back and butt as he did so.  The chains swinging free created a lot of pain, but there was even more when Master would cup the chains in his hands, lift them up, and then drop them so their full lengths swing below the slave’s elevated feet.  The drop sometimes tore the scrotum, but so far it had not completely severed a slave’s balls.  For Norman, it made his cock just a little harder from all the pain inflicted on his manhood.  Squats had become his favorite exercise, and the Vet was expert at repairing torn scrotums as needed.

As time passed, Master introduced more forms of sexual use for Norman and his other slaves.  Master noticed that Norman reacted especially well to breath play, cutting off Norman’s supply of oxygen until he passed out, using either a plastic bag over his head or Master’s cock thrust down his throat.  Norman would masturbate as that happened, learning to time his orgasm to match when he lost consciousness.  Norman soon also craved that activity.  When he and the other slaves talked about the most intense snuff they could suffer this was always his choice.  The difference would be that the oxygen wouldn’t be restored in time for him to wake up again.  That would add a lot to Master’s pleasure, knowing this time it would be fatal, and Norman’s death would fulfill his purpose by providing intense pleasure to Master.  That’s what he was meant for.  The problem was that it wasn’t really painful enough, and the group enjoyed adding ideas to fill that critical gap.  Norman was the most eager to find a solution that would please Master.  It illustrated how the problem of Norman’s pride that had arisen as he was added to Master’s collection of slaves had never materialized.  Norman fully accepted the reality that he deserved humiliation as well as pain as part of his service.  If he ever had doubts, Mark was usually around to viciously remind him of his status and purpose.

As the weeks of service turned to months and years, Master found Norman especially useful and satisfying.  Norman’s obvious joy at being Master’s property and sex toy appealed strongly to Master’s desire for dominance and for sexual pleasure through sadistic use of a willing object.  The symbiosis between them grew into a positive, almost loving relationship.  There was never any change in their status, of course.  Norman was a slave, mere property.  Master could (and would) do whatever he wanted with him.  They both knew Norman would be snuffed, his life fulfilled by adding to Master’s need for the ultimate dominance.  Norman totally embraced that result.  But that did not mean Norman could not be a trusted confidant of Master, a disposable resource with whom Master could share his thoughts.  It was an honor Norman had never imagined possible.

In particular Master would sometimes open up to Norman about his thoughts on owning slaves and how he had developed them. 

“I remember my first slave..  I was in my late 20s, and he was a few years younger, so we were both fixated on sex.  Until then I had no idea how deep sadistic and masochistic tendencies can be.  I knew I was a sadistic alpha, and I knew I wanted greater levels of dominance over the guys I fucked.  But I was also busy building my empire so I would be a multi-billionaire by the time I was 30 (which I was).  I didn’t even know about AMS then.  I didn’t encounter AMS or delved into serious S&M until I started buying and selling slaves as one of my businesses. 

I got this guy through a so-called “escort” service, and they represented that he was unusually submissive.    That turned out to be an understatement.  The first time I rented him he brought a bullwhip and handcuffs, encouraging me to tie him up and flog him on the back and chest until he was bleeding.  I took him up on the offer and was amazed how aroused we both became.  It was the best sex I’d ever had, and it wasn’t long before I had him move into my condo so I could use him all the time.  Within a week he suggested he become my full-time slave.  I accepted and had fun drafting a document that transferred ownership of everything he had, including his body, to me for my use and disposal.  It’s the same one you signed.  Like you he didn’t have much at all, but the ceremony and symbolism were remarkably satisfying.  That’s why I still use it.  I have a file with all the voluntary slave agreements that I keep as memorabilia.  He was naked when he signed it and that’s when I realized I liked having him stay naked all the time, even in public.  I was rich by then and people tolerate a lot when you’re rich, so it wasn’t a problem.  I also discovered he loved being on display.  As I think k about it, the two of you had a lot in common.  I’ve often thought masochists are natural exhibitionists.

“Even after all these years I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a naturally extreme masochist.  He didn’t need any coaching.  The guy just craved pain and humiliation.  No matter what I did to him he wanted more.  After a while he admitted that what he really wanted was for me to snuff him, and to do it in a way that was prolonged and extremely painful.  Then he hoped I’d fuck and eat his corpse, which he thought was the most humiliating possible use for a slave.  I had always been intrigued by snuffing another guy, but I had never considered the possibility the guy would cooperate, let alone encourage fucking his dead body and using it for meat.  It turned me on to think about it and we started talking about ways to carry it off.  That turned us both on even more.  I was part of AMS by then and they provided helpful ideas.

“I started bringing other submissives in for my use.  One reason II bought this estate is so I didn’t have to worry about neighbors complaining about the screaming when I tortured somebody, He wasn’t the only guy I rented for torture, but at that point he was the only one encouraging me to snuff him.  The estate also solved the problem of what to do with whatever was left of the body.  As you know from snuff sessions you’ve participated in, there’s a chipper on the property, and it isn’t primarily for wood and yard debris.  I bought it after watching that great scene in the movie Fargo where a guy gets dumped into a chipper and ground up.  I still use it and now it’s got sentimental value to me.

I kept the slave for a little over a year and then finally agreed to snuff him.  Through AMS I had gotten a replacement who was also a voluntary snuff slave.  But that first young dude was still one of the best snuff sessions I’ve ever had.” 

Master paused in his story, enjoying his fond memories, but Norman was turned on and curious.  “Master, may I ask how you did it,?”

“You may.  I like to think back on it.  He and I concluded that flogging him to death would be the best approach.  It was the first form of torture I had used on him, and it still turned us both on a lot.  Plus, I could do it over a series of days, which is an approach popular with my business partners in Saudi Arabia.  It’s one of the biggest markets and sources for slaves.    They talk publicly about a weekly series of 50 lashes for prisoners.  In theory that’s not fatal.  In reality, they do a lot more and the sessions are more frequent, so the victims wind up dead after a week or two of torment.  I wanted my slave to suffer for at least a few days, and I wanted him to die as I whipped him, not in between sessions.  I used the bullwhip he brought for our first session, which I still have and use, as you’re well aware.  I tend to be a bit nostalgic.  The first session was 100 lashes. Then I fucked him and let him masturbate for me.  We both had great orgasms.  He was in bad shape from the flogging, but he was massively aroused.  The next day I did another set of 100 and fucked him again.  I had a great orgasm, but he was too far gone to be able to cum.  I’d gotten a little carried away lashing his genitals and was afraid he’d die before session three.  That inspired me to cut off his cock and balls, since they weren’t of any use anymore.  I tried eating one of the testicles and discovered how tasty they are.  I enjoyed the other one too, while he watched, and then fed him his cock.  It didn’t look tasty.  He was delirious with pain by this time, but he not only ate the cock – he thanked me for letting him watch as I ate his balls, and for letting him eat his cock.  He was so into it and I was so aroused at this point that I resumed the lashings and finished him off.  He died at stroke 269, so he didn’t get the full third series and the session only lasted two days.  I’ve gotten better at it since then and can do prolonged whipping snuffs over a period of many days if my schedule permits. 

“The biggest surprise was how much sexual pleasure I got from fucking his dead ass.  I’d had an orgasm just an hour or so before that when I was emasculating him, so I was worried if I’d have much left.  It turned out this was one of the best orgasms I’d ever had.  The ultimate feeling of power over a snuff victim I’d just killed, plus the warm tightness of an asshole as the slave finishes dying, are an amazing combo.  When I snuff you, I’ll use your body that way too.  It’s a big thrill.  I also decided to butcher him, and I enjoyed cooking and eating his meat as he’d suggested.  The rest of the body I pushed into the chipper and watched it come out as fertilizer.  I spread that in the garden.  He was fully used up, and I realized this was something I wanted to do again and again.  But I also realized that what made it work so well is the fact he wanted it as much as I did.  When the slave isn’t willing or better yet eager, it’s a different kind of fun – a pure alpha power trip and great sex but no more.  Exercising power of life and death over someone who recognizes and accepts it that is a far greater thrill for me.”

Norman considered what Master had said.  The story turned him on not just sexually but also emotionally.  How could he not be eager for Master to get such a thrill?  Anything else would be selfish.

6

Disposal

Despite the cold Norman was utterly turned on as he watched the sun rise on the last day of his life. Master, with Mark’s help, had attached his wrists and ankles to a vertical rack next to a beautiful spacious garden.  The garden was next to the main building of the estate and Master’s suite overlooked it, one of several reasons this garden was special.  Another was because it was nourished by fertilizer that was the ultimate product of Master’s slaves when they came out of the chipper afar being snuffed and butchered.  Norman wondered which part of the garden he would wind up fertilizing.  But he was not able to survey the garden itself, as he was suspended such that his view was of the chipper.  Master wanted him to focus on his pending disposal even though (unfortunately) he would not be alive as his body was mulched by the large blades.  He needed to be dead for Master’s final fuck of his slave ass.  Besides, it was now the middle of winter and he knew the gardeners wouldn’t get to spread the fertilizer he would become until spring.  The temperature was in the teens, made colder by a breeze from the ocean that also cleared away any clouds and assured a gorgeous cold winter day. 

Norman was naked as always and every inch of his body was exposed and shivering in the cold.  Blood and sweat had dripped down his back and chest where he had been severely whipped the prior evening, which had frozen to his body.  After the flogging Master and Mark tightened the rack to the point Norman’s arms popped out of their sockets at his shoulders, tearing his skin a little and leaving him in continuous pain.  He was a little disappointed when they told him he would never need to use his arms again, even in a final act of masturbation.    But he knew that was their decision and was only worried that he might die of the exposure to the cold, depriving Master of the pleasure of the upcoming snuff.  He remembered the Vet had observed his strong cardio and pulmonary systems when he was first examined, commenting that this would allow Master to inflict especially stressful tortures.  He figured the Vet would have considered that and made sure he’d still be alive in the morning, which he was.  The pain kept him awake all night, but it was balanced against his excitement about what was going to happen to him that day.  Mark’s parting taunt was not to worry about losing sleep.  “You can catch up on your sleep tomorrow night when you’re dead.”

As daylight began to seep into the garden area, Norman reflected on how fulfilling his life had become since Master acquired him 6 years ago.  That was the start of amazing fulfillment as Norman learned how best to serve and provide pleasure for Master.  Master enjoyed watching Norman’s orgasms, all of which were generated by the remarkable levels of pain he could endure and had learned to crave.  His orgasms were amazingly and wonderfully intense and entertaining.  Norman thrived on the pain, the humiliation, and even the diet of piss-soaked dog food combined with loads of piss and cum.  He was totally committed to Master, but he had come to understand that Master wanted him to please Mark as well.  Master and Mark had become lovers and it was clear Mark achieved a special level pf satisfaction from tormenting and degrading Norman.  Much as Norman hated Mark when they worked together, he had always lusted after Mark’s body and now he found it arousing and fulfilling when Mark did so.  Not that Norman’s feelings or desires mattered, as Mark enjoyed pointing out.  Now that their relationship was properly structured, Norman had some to appreciate how much he deserved the humiliation and degrading use Mark inflicted on him.  Nark clearly enjoyed it and adding to the pleasure of a master was all that mattered to Norman.

Master had informed Norman the Vet concluded Norman’s asshole was beyond repair.  All the fisting and other uses had made it simply too loose to satisfy Master’s desires.  The same was true of the welts that reflected all the beatings and flogging of Norman’s once-smooth skin. 

Besides, Mark had procured for Master’s birthday a terrific young and fresh voluntary slave.  Master had decided to snuff Norman as part of his birthday orgy.  Thus was an exciting new body Master was anxious to train and enjoy.  Norman, of course, heartily agreed – again, realizing his opinion was irrelevant, as Master had made clear.  He knew that a big part of Master’s enjoyment of the snuff would depend on Norman being eager and cooperative, and he was determined to fulfill that part of his role.  Master’s pleasure was always the only metric.  To that end Norman had spent much of the prior week training the new voluntary slaves to take over duties as Master’s primary body slave, and it had gone well.

It had been Mark’s idea to severely whip Norman and have him spend the night in the cold on the vertical rack.  Mark was disappointed Norman was not going to suffer as prolonged a death as Mark felt he deserved, and convinced Master that this would partially fill that gap.  Master agreed and was especially pleased to be able to use the bullwhip that had been the main tool for his very first snuff.  Norman remembered the story and was honored to see Master’s sentimental view of how Norman’s snuff should begin.  It reminded him of the nostalgic conversations he and Master had had on occasions during the 6 years.  He had reflected on those as he suffered through the darkness, cold, and pain and he felt content. 

As the sun rose, the Vet sent his slave, Vincent, to release Norman and bring him to the Vet for final preparations.  It was a thoughtful gesture as Norman was able to bid Vincent farewell and offer his wish that Vincent would suffer the prolonged death he yearned for.  They had become friends – the only true friend Norman had ever had – with a shared passion for serving the alphas who owned them. 

Master had meetings that morning and the new body slave would serve on his own for the first time.  Norman was confident it would go well.  He doubted he’d still be alive when the slave was branded at the party that evening.  It would have been satisfying to watch the ceremony.

As he entered the Vet’s clinic Norman was excited and even eager.  He was glad it appeared Vincent would be helping with the snuff.

“The Master has decided to snuff you later this afternoon once his meetings are over, and you will be honored to know he will than have you butchered and served as the meat entrée’ at dinner tonight, starting his birthday celebration.  Mark and I will be there, of course, and he’s also invited your old boss, Ed, to join, along with the Chief, your bartender buddy Bill, and Dr. Johnson.  It will be kind of a reunion and we’re all looking forward to watching you die and enjoying eating your meat.  I need to replace the Sounding Chip inserted in your balls in prep for the fun, and then Vincent will lead you to the meat locker where you’ll be hung upside down like the slab of meat you will soon become.  It will help you focus on that fact.  Lite down on the table on your back.”

  Norman did as instructed, remembering how turned on he had been his first day when he saw the dead perp that James had him behead and carry to the kitchen to be prepared for being roasted at the AMS dinner.  He hoped Vincent would enjoy a similar reaction, anticipating his own use someday as Norman had done.  The Vet quickly cut into his scrotum and replaced the computer chip, then closed the wound and released Norman.  When he and Vincent reached the meat locker they found Mark there, ready with a whip to flog Norman one last time.  He used his steel-toed boots to kick Norman in the balls before signaling to Vincent to attach Norman’s ankles to the winch and lift him into position.  Mark smiled in satisfaction as he watched Norman swing freely like the other slabs of meat hung near him.  Once Mark finished the flogging Norman thanked him for the beating.  He was sincere in doing so.

The snuff itself went extremely well.  In preparation Norman and Mark had both made suggestions on how it could proceed, all of which Master enthusiastically accepted.  The actual snuff would be via breath play, as Norman had hoped, with a clear and somewhat larger than usual plastic bag over Norman’s head.  That way the deprivation of oxygen would be slower than usual, prolonging the phase of Norman gasping for air.  That would allow Master to have more time to enjoy watching the desperation grow as the amount of oxygen declined.

However, the gasping would be balanced by the sexual euphoria that was an integral element of breath play, and Mark had not wanted Norman to feel that pleasure devoid of further pain.  So he suggested increasing the voltage of the chip in Norman’s balls so the pain level would be just below fatal.  That’s what required a new chip with greater voltage options.

As the audience gathered for the show, Master placed the bag over Norman’s head, tightening it at the neck and commenting to his new voluntary slaves that Norman was fulfilling his purpose with the right attitude.  Norman was immensely grateful for the complement, feeling this was the highest praise he could get and contrasting it to the concerns Master had when Master acquired Norman.  Mark held his cell phone and started the Sounding App, slowly increasing the level of current to cause Norman to feel the pain building in his balls as he began breathing into the bag, tunning the oxygen into deadly carbon dioxide.  His mind began to wander as the oxygen faded and the pain gradually increased.  Then, to his surprise, he felt the vibrations inside his cock, which were also more intense than usual.  Mark had told Norman the app would not be used to generate the vibrations that would also produce an orgasm.   He said Master did not think Norman was worthy of that reward.  Norman now realized this was just one more act of torment and he was going to be able to provide Master with the added satisfaction of watching him cum.  He now understood why he would not need use of his ruined arms or hands. The needle inside his cock would do the job for him.  He also realized why Norman had been denied any sexual release for the prior week.  It wasn’t a punishment as Mark had said.  It was to assure a plentiful supply of cum would be shot from his cock as he died.  Master especially enjoyed seeing that.  Norman knew his purpose would indeed be totally fulfilled.

The combination of the euphoria from the limited oxygen, the vigorous massaging of the inside of his cock, and the intense pain in his balls was spectacular.   As the last of the oxygen was consumed all of his senses exploded at once, causing the most intense orgasm of his life as he gasped for his last breath, struggling as death overcame him and shooting a massive stream of think cum that covered his belly and chest.  Master and Mark had moved quickly before the stream of man-juice started, inserting their cocks into Norman’s ass for a double-fuck as the body’s death throws provided warmth and pressure even though the ass was too loose to please a single cock. They achieved their orgasms just after Norman had his, filling his ass with their cum as his cock erupted with his.  That added one more sexual stimulation to Norman as he died.  His “death rattle,” in turn, put added pressure on their cocks, adding to the intensity of their pleasure.  The session was a great success, and Norman’s replacement was indoctrinated through a worthy example of a slave completing its duties.  He and Vincent were permitted to lick up the cum that covered Norman’s belly and chest as well as the cum dripping from Norman’s ass..

At dinner there was praise for Norman’s lean, freshly butchered meat.  As he helped himself to another slice of Norman’s delicious breast meat, Mark reflected that Norman had chosen the right career for himself.  “I thought the jerk was totally worthless, just a sack of slave shit who screwed up all the time.  But I have to admit he provided a lot of major orgasms for me and II had a lot of fun making his life as painful and degrading as I could.  Today’s snuff was one of the best I’ve enjoyed.  So I guess he wasn’t totally worthless.  Fuck, he’ll probably even make decent manure for the garden.” Everyone laughed, and agreed.

The Faggot at the Gym by fagxave@gmail.com

My name is Andrew, I’m 28 years old and I live with my boyfriend Joe. We’ve been together for 5 years, and even though I love him very much, lately the sex hasn’t been great or often. He is 35, 6 feet tall, a little overweight, with a 4-inch dick that just doesn’t satisfy on the rare occasions we actually fuck, as he’s a bottom-vers and I’m a total bottom. Lately, I can’t stop looking at alpha male porn where guys fuck the shit out of bottoms their huge dicks, as well as staring at any muscled alphas on the street or at the gym.

I’m shorter than Joe at about 5 foot 6, I have dark hair, a beard and am fairly muscular, though I can’t quite seem to bulk up as much as the straight guys at the gym. I’ve always been attracted to masculine men, and while I’m fairly masculine-presenting, I’ve always known deep down that I’m on a lower level than the alphas I see at the gym, and have gotten off on guys calling me names, treating me rough and hurting me. No one knows I think like this, not even Joe.

The other night after a particularly bland lovemaking session (I ended up giving him a handjob to finish it off as soon as possible, I don’t think I got harder than a semi the whole time, and I definitely didn’t cum), I let Joe fall asleep while I got up and opened up some porn in the lounge room.

The video was of a strong alpha fucking a boy mercilessly, sweat dripping down from his face onto his chiseled abs. His cock had to be longer than 9 inches, and the boy was moaning in pleasure. Every now and again the top would say things like “you like that, faggot?” and “you’re my fucking bitch” which would make the bottom moan louder. I’d seen this video before, where between poundings of his dick, the top would push over, kick, slap and punch the bottom hard, and the bottom would thank the top for each one. I’m pretty sure they weren’t faking it, too, because the bottom’s face swelled up. It’s one of my favourites, even though it cuts out right as the top says “time for the load of your life, faggot”.

I was getting pretty hard, but didn’t want to wake Joe, so I decided to pack up my laptop and head to the gym to vent my frustrations. I put on a tight black tank top, a pink jockstrap and my favourite tiny gym shorts. The shorts are made of white mesh so you could see my pink jockstrap underneath and so short that they barely cover the bottom of my bubble butt, and the jockstrap waistband stays well above the waist of the shorts, leaving a gap between them. I always feel so slutty in this outfit, and I wear it whenever I’m getting ready for the gym without Joe seeing, and it took a little effort for my dick to soften before I headed out.

It was just after midnight when I left for the gym, I had the day off the next day and Joe had work, so I didn’t have to worry about how much time I took. I live near the edge of the city, basically a suburb but with industrial buildings taking up most of the 15 minute walk to the gym. The streets are usually abandoned that late at night, except maybe some homeless guys sleeping in some of the dark, unlit alleys on the way, and tonight I didn’t see a soul on my walk.

I got to the gym without incident, and beeped myself in with my tag. After putting my bag on a hook (I didn’t have much in there aside from my phone and drink bottle, and even though I always carry cash in my wallet, I wasn’t worried about it being stolen), I cast my eyes over the gym.

At the resistance machines, two guys were chatting to each other as they did some leg extensions, one guy was stretching in the back, and around the corner I could hear someone grunting using the free weights. It was about as quiet as I thought it would be. It’s not a gay gym, so the guys are normally straight, and I checked out the three I could see on my way over to the treadmill. The two guys were pretty hot, definitely stronger than I am, one taller than the other, and the stretching guy wasn’t too bad either, although he finished up his stretching and left not long after I walked by.

As I stepped up to the treadmill to start my run, I’m pretty sure I heard one of the two guys say, “what the fuck is he wearing?”, with a scoff.

“Haha, that’s fucking hilarious, man” said the other guy.

I ignored them and tried to concentrate on running. I built up quite a sweat after a few minutes, building up around my forehead, armpits and crotch. The sweat soaked into my shorts, revealing the pink jockstrap even
more and my exposed ass.

When I was done on the treadmill I decided to head over to the free weights, and on my way the two guys were heading out past me to leave the gym.

“Nice panties, bro” said the shorter guy, and laughed with his friend as they quickly left the building. My cheeks flushed and I felt my cock stir a little against the fabric of the very jockstrap they were teasing me for.

As I turned the corner towards the free weights, I got a look at the source of the earlier grunting. Holy shit, this guy was a beast! He had huge, bulging muscles, glistening with sweat, easily over 6 feet tall with cropped, dark hair and a clean-shaven face. His face was contorted into a frown as he curled a heavy dumbell that I couldn’t hope to even take off the rack, let alone pump them as he did (I’d tried, and they didn’t budge). His biceps and back rippled with the effort of his workout, and just as I realised I was staring he looked up at me. I immediately broke his gaze, hoping he didn’t notice and I went to the dumbell rack, and picked a heavy set, though several times lighter than the other guy’s.

I snuck another look at this godly figure as I leaned over, but he was looking back at himself in the mirror. He wasn’t checking me out, but I did notice his frown had deepened slightly. I sat down on the nearest bench, with the weight rack on my right, and two benches separating him and me on my left. I started curling the weights, noticing my biceps had grown slightly, but I felt practically skinny next to the muscled hunk across from me.

I kept stealing furtive glances over at this guy, and he noticed every time, either straight away or because if he didn’t notice I couldn’t help but stare. His deep grunts as he lifted his weights reverberated through my head, reminding me of the video from before. He was so hot, I could feel the power emanating from him, and before long I couldn’t look away at all, my own weights forgotten on the floor next to my bench. He caught my eye and looked frustrated, dropping his weight with a clatter to the ground.

“Are you right, mate?” He said, clearly annoyed.

“Ah,” I stammered, “sorry, I couldn’t help but admire your build, man”, trying to play it cool.

“Haha, yeah,” he said as he took me in, “I get it, but could you quit it? It’s a little distracting.”

“Sorry Sir” (Sir? I didn’t expect to say that), “I’ll let you get back to it” I said, wondering what Joe would think if he saw me like this.

“Hm, just keep your eyes to yourself”, he said dismissively, and went back to it, though I think he noticed something in the way I called him Sir.

I finished my biceps and got up to change the bench position. As I bent over I heard him snigger, he clearly saw my jockstrap. It didn’t really surprise me, but hearing him laugh at me got my dick working again, and I sat down to do my next exersize, trying and failing to stop checking him out.

When he caught my eye yet again, he said “Are you checking me out? What are you gay or some shit?”.

I was shocked by his reaction, “uh yeah, sorry man” I said, nervously.

“I knew it, look, I’m not interested mate, keep your fucking eyes off me”, he said angrily.

“Of course, sorry Sir”, I said, surprising myself by calling him that, I felt so submissive right then.

“Fucking faggots,” he muttered under his breath, which made my semi form into a full on hard-on.

I kept my eyes to myself, but my boner wouldn’t go down. He got up to put his weight away, and must have seen, because I hear him away “what the fuck?” I looked over at him and he’d definitely seen. “Jesus christ, you really are a fuckin’ faggot.”

I couldn’t believe he was calling me faggot again, which only made my cock go fully rock hard. Repulsed, the alpha took a step back. I’d clearly gotten in trouble here, so I apologised and put my weights away, wiped up my bench, grabbed my bag and headed out the door without a backwards glance. I knew I was going to fap hard to this when I got home.

I’d turned two corners when I realised there was someone behind me, so I quickened my pace a little. I heard their footsteps quicken, so as I turned a third corner into the next street I sped up and hid in one of the dark, industrial alleyways. The main street only had one light, which barely reached this alleyway, and the alley itself had no lights at all, so I thought it would be a good place to hide. I looked down the end to see it blocked off with a brick wall. *Fuck, dead end* I thought, and tried the only door. Locked.

The steps got louder and I saw a big shadow appear, when the figure reached the opening I saw it was the guy from the gym! I gasped and then cursed my mistake as his head whipped around, looking me dead in the eye.

“There you are, faggot.” He said with a smirk, “Do you think you can fuck up my workout and then get away? Fuck you.”

I was scared, not knowing what was going to happen, but his words made me hard all over again, pushing my jockstrap and clearly tenting my shorts. I was cold in the night air with my tight clothes and exposed legs, but I don’t think that’s why I was shivering.

“Holy shit, you actually like being called a faggot, don’t you?” He said aggressively, slowly walking up to me “I should have known, you’re dressed like a stupid queer, no one would even give a fuck if you wound up dead in that outfit, they’d figure you had it comin'”

He had backed me almost up to the brick wall, and I could feel his breath coming towards me. He looked me up and down and then shoved me hard into the wall, forcing the wind out of my lungs.

“Haha, you fucking weak fag, you couldn’t take me on, so don’t fucking try” I knew he was right, so I said nothing, he was shaking with fury.

“You know your kind aren’t fucking welcome at the gym, queer, so why do you show up in your stupid gear and check me out? I’m going to show you your mistake, and make sure you can never come back and piss me off again.”

He held my face with one hand, hurting my jaw with his strong grip, and hitme hard in the gut with his other powerful fist, and I only stayed on my feet because of his hold of my face.

“Now what do you say?” He sneered into my face.

“Th- thank you”, I stammered through his hand, barely able to move my mouth.

He spat in my face.

“Thank you, WHAT?” He glared

“Thank you, Sir”, I said, a tear rolling down my cheek.

He laughed and then slugged me once more in the gut before noticing my erection.

“Wow, you’re really getting off on this, aren’t you faggot?”

I nodded weakly, stiff at attention.

“Well clearly the lesson isn’t sinking in”, and he punched me as hard as he could in the face, knocking me to the floor. Blood flew from my face and I heard a couple of teeth bounce across the hard ground.

“You. Are. Fucking. Scum.” He kicked me as hard as he could with each word” Faggots like you deserve pain, you deserve this for being a fucking queer”

I thanked him over and over, blood still dripping from my face and new wounds. He stepped onto my ankle, putting all his weight on it until it broke.

I was in fucking agony, but I loved it. Why did I feel this way? This alpha male was giving me attention, and even though it was negative attention, I got off on the idea that he was putting me in my place. My ankle burned as I saw him lean over and grab the wallet my bag.

“This cash is mine, faggot. Your fee for the beating, I don’t do that shit for free, and you clearly love it.” He spat in my face again, and kicked me hard in the face while I was still lying on the ground, I felt my nose break. He grabbed his crotch, “I’ll bet you wanna suck my dick now, hey fag boy? Well too bad, this cock is for women, no faggot will ever get a taste of this pole.”

“Yes Sir, fair enough Sir, I’m sorry”. My words sounded garbled and stupid through my injuries as I sat up, trying to stand. “I won’t bother you again, Sir, I’ve learned my lesson.”

“I don’t think you realise what’s happening here, faggot” the Alpha spat, a darkness coming over his face, “I’m going to make sure you don’t bother *anyone* ever again.”

A chill ran through my spine, “Please Sir-”

“No, you shut the fuck up”, he spat, “you fucking faggots need to be exterminated, I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to *end* you, you’ve already said your final words.”

He pulled a knife from his bag, holding it in front of my face. It looked sharp. And was serrated near the tip. My hard dick did not soften, as I realised there was no way out. This man was going to take my life.

“I think you know you deserve this, don’t you?” He sneered.

I simply nodded. I knew I was a faggot and a piece of shit, I hated myself and knew my place.

“You know you loved your bones being broken, and not because you enjoyed being hurt, because you knew it brought me pleasure.”

I nodded again, he was right.

“Your entire life has been devoted to pleasing men, especially men like me far better than you could ever hope. So it’s fitting that I’ll be ending your fucking pathetic life tonight, no one will even care that you’re gone.”

My thoughts flashed to Joe, but I didn’t care.

“I’m sick of fucking looking at you, faggot, good riddance.”

Sudden pain as he began to saw the knife roughly through my throat, I felt the warmth of my own blood flowing freely and quickly down my body. As the knife sawed through the pipes, my vision blurred and my cock began to throb, painfully.

“Filthy fucking faggot, fuck you” was the last thing I heard before my cock started unloading, and I faded, my last sensation orgasm and pure, horrible agony.


A Volunteer By Gay Slavemeat Gsmeat2@gmail.com

What if there were a genius who created all kinds of fantastic inventions and cures that massively improved the world?  No more pandemics, no more cancer, no more global warming, etc.  Wouldn’t you want to accommodate and reward him if he had a few simple requests for his own pleasure that required some trivial sacrifices?

 

Paul stood at rigorous attention, his body taught and his hands respectfully clasped behind his back.  He was entirely focused on the Intake Officer seated behind a glass-topped desk in front of him.  They were the only two people in the room, and Paul knew that his fate rested in the hands of this official.  If Paul fucked up, he would be rejected, and he was determined not to let that happen.  This was his life’s ambition that was at stake.

 

“Are you nervous?  You appear to be sweating a little,” the official commented.

 

“Yes, sir.  Being accepted as a volunteer is my only goal in life, and I am anxious to pass inspection.”

 

“That’s appropriate, so don’t worry about that aspect.  If you get too nervous, it will affect your erection, which I do care about, so feel free to stroke yourself to stay hard if that’s needed.”

 

“Thank you, sir.  But that won’t be necessary.  This interview is a huge turn-on, so I’ll be OK.  Focusing on your body also helps.”  It had been a test question, and Paul had sensed that and answered correctly.  Being sexually turned on by the chance to volunteer was a key requirement.  And that was a requirement Paul fully met, as his hard cock demonstrated.

 

Both men were completely naked, and each had a throbbing hard-on.  The glass desk enabled Paul to see how the Officer’s cock stood quite hard and quite large, and of course Paul was completely exposed to the Officer, even his backside being easily viewed via mirrors in the room.  Each was a fantastic example of young male perfection, turning each other on sexually.   They even had similar body types – swimmers builds with exceptionally well developed muscles that reflected intense exercise regimens.  Paul was younger, just 18, and the Officer was in his mid-30s, almost a somewhat older version of Paul.  Both were devoid of body hair, but with conservative haircuts.  Indeed, everyone who worked or volunteered at the Institute bore these characteristics, including being sexually aroused by the chance to be there.  Everyone had a great body, enhanced by rigorous workouts, and stayed naked and hard to exhibit it.  One never knew when sexual performance would be required.

 

“Have you signed the paperwork?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Did you understand it?”

 

“I believe so, sir.”

 

“Good, but we have to be sure.  There are restrictions on accepting volunteers that were imposed when this program was established, given how many hundreds apply to volunteer every day, so we have to be certain you understand the nature of the transaction.  Therefore, please explain to me what you understand is about to happen if you are accepted.”

 

“I believe it is very simple, sir.  I am about to willingly and enthusiastically donate my body for use and disposal by the Inventor.  If I am accepted, I will have no further rights as a person, and will be one more piece of property the Inventor owns to do with entirely as He pleases.”

 

“So you’d become a slave?”

 

“Oh no, sir.  Much less than that.  A slave is a person owned by another person.  I would no longer be a person – just live meat deserving of humiliation, torture, and use as a sex toy prior to being snuffed however the Inventor feels like killing me.”

 

“Exactly.  And are you in agreement with that, knowing that you’ll endure huge amounts of pain being used as a sex toy and ultimately likely as meat being eaten alive?  This will include being an object of ridicule as others laugh at your stupidity for volunteering.  The Inventor likes to torture and snuff sex toys with lots of people staff like me participating.  He is a very generous employer and we enjoy watching the volunteers get what they deserve and helping Him torture and destroy them.  It’s a lot of fun, the more humiliating for the volunteer the better.  Joining Him in eating a live volunteer’s meat is a great bonding experience for us.  For you it would be a combo of pain and humiliation.”

 

“Absolutely, sir.  It’s what I seek.  Given all that the Inventor ahs done for society, it is the least I can do to add to His pleasures in whatever small, irrelevant way I can do so.”

 

“Excellent.  Then I have good news for you.  You have passed the physical with flying colors, and your very strong gay orientation means we won’t have to reorient you sexually.  Your body is exceptional both in looks and physical fitness, just the kind He enjoys, and I think if this interview goes well you can expect to begin your service as early as this afternoon.  The Inventor has gotten bored with one of His current urinals and will torture it to death this afternoon, which leaves an opening that would allow you to serve very directly as a repository for his urine.  Are you good at drinking piss?  It would not do to spill any on the fine carpets of the Institute or the Inventor’s homes.”

 

“Yes, sir.  In preparation for my application I worked as a student urinal at my high school.  I have not spilled any urine in over a year, including sessions when my mouth was the target of multiple streams as students rushed from class to class.”

 

“Good.  The recommendation from your high school principal was very positive.  And what’s your experience at sucking cock and swallowing sperm?”

 

“I also performed that service, sir, and I received highly favorable reviews from guys of all different cock sizes.  I am able to suck to the base of most any cock without chocking.  The principal has an unusually long and thick cock and was thoughtful enough to train me regularly.  The same is true for a number of the seniors on the football and basketball teams, and I provided service to the teams both with blow jobs and as the team urinal during my own senior year.  This meant kneeling naked on the field and the gym, which also helped me learn to appreciate how appropriate it is for me to be jeered and laughed at.”

 

“Your principal said you were one of the best cocksuckers he ever used, and was complementary on that point as well.  Do those activities turn you on so that you get an erection?”

 

“Yes, sir.  Always.  That’s one of the things people liked to laugh at during games.  They’d point at my hard dick, make rude comments, then laugh at me.  And that made me get even harder.”

 

“And beatings?”

 

Yes, sir.  Our team wasn’t very good, and both the team and the fans took out their frustrations by kicking and hitting me.  Since that was fun for them, they also did so if we won.  But the coach made sure I wasn’t damaged, to preserve my value as a potential volunteer.  The same was true when the team took turns whipping me, which was part of their aerobic exercise routine.  Those kinds of activities also caused me to get sexually turned on.”

 

“Very good.  Do you understand that you will not be permitted to provide yourself any sexual relief except as ordered by the Inventor?  Once you become His property, your pleasures are of course irrelevant, and He keeps His live meat as horny as possible so the meat animals perform better.  Unless He decides He wants to watch you shoot a load – which He might form time to time given your fine physique – you have likely already had your last orgasm before you’re killed.   He does tend to enjoy watching the meat reach orgasm during the snuff process, typically as he cuts off the cock, so you also might luck out then too.   If you jerk off without permission, you’ll be thrown out in disgrace.”

 

“I understand, sir.  It is a small price to pay for the honor of service, and I fully understand I am only of value as a source of pleasure for the Inventor.  I am again grateful to my principal, who trained me not to cum without his permission, and usually just had a session once a month where the seniors would get together, I’d give everyone a blow job, drink their piss as they drank tons of beer, and then get beaten up and laughed as I jerked off for their amusement.  These were the only orgasms I’ve been permitted to have this past year or so and I have never disobeyed.”

 

“OK, so far so good.  Have you ever been butt-fucked?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

“Why not?  You’re obviously gay and sexually very active.  Are you reluctant to have another cock up your ass?”

 

“Oh, no, sir.  I would welcome that.  But I read that the Inventor enjoys fucking virgin assholes, and I have therefore refused to let anyone use me.  Losing my virginity to Him as He ploughs His penis up my ass would be the culmination of all my dreams, second only to having Him snuff me.  But I do not presume to think He’d be interested.  I will be content and honored with whatever use He makes of me, and drinking His piss would be a fully sufficient use of my body to fulfill my ambitions.”

 

“I think your odds are good.  He really likes to fuck good looking young guys, and you fit the bill.  And you’re right, it’s quite an honor.  He actually was the first one to fuck my ass, and I still consider that my greatest contribution.  By the way, He’s got a really good sized cock and He’s good at fucking.  With a virgin butt, you should anticipate it will hurt a lot.”

 

“Wow.  That would be even better, sir.  I have read how much He enjoys inflicting pain, and so I would look forward to enduring as much as possible.”

 

“That is one thing you can count on.  Torture sessions are regular events and I think you’ll be surprised just how good He is at is.

 

“One final question before I accept your application, and keep in mind this is in many ways the most important.  Why do you want to volunteer?”

 

“That’s easy, sir.  I learned early on that I am gay, and I am a natural and fairly extreme masochist with a body dominant guys like to use.  As I attended school, I continued to read about the astonishing things the Inventor has discovered and given to society.  I can’t imagine the contribution of a pill that cures cancer of all types, as well as diabetes and even AIDS, or of other procedure that reverses the bad effects of aging.  Everyone’s lives are now so much better as a result.  And His research on global warming led to reusable fuels that freed society from fossil fuels, halting and reversing global warming.  He even saved the economies of the middle east countries by figuring out how to turn their deserts into lush forests and farmlands that replaced the revenue from oil.  I’m sure I’m forgetting lots of other things, but I quickly realized He is the greatest person ever.

 

“When I read about His desire for young males to donate our comparatively irrelevant lives in order to service His pleasures, and the initial resistance of many countries to supplying young males for His use and disposal, I was horrified at their reaction to such a modest request.  What a lack of gratitude!  Then I read about the compromise program where guys like me could volunteer to donate our bodies for His pleasure when we turned 18, and I became determined to do so.  I want to do something worthwhile with my pathetic life, and know that it has to be in the form of some kind of sexual service involving me enduring huge amounts of pain to arouse or amuse another male.  The thought that this could be for the benefit of such a deserving hero as the Inventor is overwhelming, and I’ve tried to live my life so that I will be considered.  That’s why I’ve learned helpful skills like drinking piss and sucking cock, and why I have very carefully monitored my diet and focused on rigorous exercise so my body does not have any excess fat and is in fantastic shape.  I understand he likes his meat lean, at 3.5% BMI, and I have maintained exactly that.  I realize very few of the volunteers have the honor of being eaten alive by the Inventor, given how many get snuffed each day, but all my efforts would be worthwhile if He even took the time to cut off my balls and use them as a snack.  My incentive for all the exercises to sculpt my body to His taste, especially getting my glutes into the bubble-butt he likes, would be fulfilled if He used me as part of a meal as well as for a fuck target.  Providing nourishment to Him as well as sexual amusement is an almost incomprehensible source of potential fulfillment for me.”

 

The intake officer was quite pleased with the answer, and made a note that this volunteer showed special promise.  The marketing they were spreading in the schools was clearly paying off.  He was pretty sure his employer would enjoy fucking and eating this animal alive, especially since there was every prospect of an engaging conversation with it on which parts would be most tasty, and how it could cooperate in the process.  But that would come later, after it was used as a urinal.

 

“That was very well said, one of the best responses ever,” the officer stated.  “So you’re officially accepted.  From this moment on, you are the property of the Inventor.  As you know there is no turning back.”

 

“Thank you, sir.  Of course not.”  The new volunteer was so excited the officer could see some pre-cum dripping from his throbbing cock.

 

“A couple of pointers.  When in the presence of the Inventor, you are to kneel on His left side, slightly behind Him.  That’s where His urinal is always placed.  You are always to maintain an erection, but you may not cum unless ordered to do so.  When your owner wants to use you, He will simply say “drink” and you are to then kneel in front of Him with your mouth open to receive His piss.  If He wants a blow job, He’ll say “suck.”  If you are fortunate enough to get butt fucked, He’ll simply point to where He wants you to bend over.  He usually prefers to fuck guys doggie-style rather than having them lie on their backs, but that can vary.  Pay attention to His directions.  You are never to speak unless asked a direct question, and then answer briefly and respectfully.  He sometimes gets frustrated and releases tension by torturing to death a volunteer on its first day.  So have no expectations of long service.  No one lasts very long.  He usually averages about ten kills a day, which is not a problem as He has hundreds of active volunteers at any given time and thousands of applicants.  It’s important you understand just how little your life matters.  If He decides to keep you alive long enough to need to have you fed, a handler will inform you what to do.  He likes to let volunteers know that their own food, if any,  consists of the entrails of another volunteer that are soaked in piss before serving.  You are to eat doggie style from a dog dish if you are fed.  Given that you are on the high end of sexual attraction with a body type He particularly enjoys, you might be lucky enough to be a prime target in one of His torture/snuff sessions.  If He decides to snuff you in a sex/torture session, it is considered good manners to thank Him as He begins the actual kill.  If you have the exceptional good fortune to be eaten alive, then you are to answer His questions and again express your gratitude as you watch Him cut off and eat parts of your body.  He usually prefers breast meat and thighs along with testicles, but you’ll be pleased to know He also likes to roast the buttocks and occasionally lets the animal live long enough to watch Him consume them.  Your cock and balls will be gone by then, of course, but given your looks and how you’ve taken care of yourself I suspect you have a chance of that result.  He doesn’t like eating the penis – it’s a muscle, after all, and kind of tough – so you might be permitted to eat yours after He cuts it off, just because He likes to watch guys eat their own cocks.  And you don’t have to worry about your body being wasted.  Whatever’s left over will be recycled and used for things like bone meal, leather, and slave or pet food.  The inventor is a strict environmentalist.  Is all that understood?”

 

“Perfectly, sir.”

 

“Good.  You have done well.  Now you can walk through that door and someone will take you to where you can begin your service.  I think you will do very well and provide considerable pleasure to the Inventor through your trivial sacrifice.”

Epilog

 

Paul served exceptionally well.  His first two weeks were indeed as the Inventor’s favorite urinal, and he was proud of the yellow slave collar he wore to signify his use.  (After all, the Inventor could hardly be bothered to remember which slaves were trained for which functions.  The identifying collar meant He wouldn’t accidentally snuff His urinal.  The volunteers scheduled for that day’s snuff sessions wore red slave collars.)  The Intake Officer had alerted his employer to Paul’s virgin status and had suggested the Inventor consider Paul as a possible fuck target and  live entrée.  After several delightful weeks of service drinking piss and sucking cock not only for the Inventor but for the employees and others the Inventor  held meetings with – including the Intake Officer, who deposited a particularly large load of both piss and cum down Paul’s eager throat – the Inventor informed Paul that he had not chosen to damage his body during the torture sessions that were part of every volunteer’s daily routine because he didn’t want to scar Paul’s wonderful skin or bruise his meat.  Instead, Paul learned that he was to be simultaneously buck-fucked and eaten that very evening.  Paul’s yellow slave collar was transferred to the new urinal and Paul now wore a green collar signaling his imamate use as food.  Paul was so excited at this prospect that he almost shot his load, but with great self-control he managed to just leak a little more than his usual pre-cum.  The Inventor was amused by the reaction of Paul’s cock.  As He talked with Paul He was amusing Himself by applying the final, fatal lashes to another volunteer strung up in front of Him, whole belly and chest were bleeding profusely from the metal-tipped whip and whose cock and balls had been expertly destroyed by the same instrument.  The volunteer let out one final scream before the torture session was over and the dead body was removed for disposal after the staff enjoyed themselves fucking the nice warm butt-hole.  It was one more illustration of the Inventor’s generosity with his employees.  The Inventor, meanwhile, was covered in sweat from the great combo of a workout and torture session.  He released His sexual tension by selecting a red-collared young volunteer to fuck and choke to death as volunteers tended to Him in a large shower.

 

The Inventor casually explained his decision process to Paul as he showered, and fucked and choked his latest victim..  “ I decided to fuck you and eat you alive.  That’s why I haven’t tortured or whipped you to the extent it would scar you, despite how tempting that has been given your wonderful smooth skin.  The meat not only needs to be alive but also smooth and undamaged.  It was a tough choice, as I also considered skinning you alive and making your skin into a leather jacket.  That won’t work once you’re dead since I’ll be cutting into your skin as my friends and I eat you.  I only like leather made from skin I’ve removed in large smooth sections while the volunteer is alive.   But these are the tough choices I need to make.  I think in your case I’d prefer dining on your body while you watch.  Besides, I want to use that virgin ass of yours.”  The Inventor enjoyed talking with His victims about how they would die, which added to His sexual turn-on from the kills.  The volunteers understood that this was a part of how they could add to His pleasure, and were fully responsive and cooperative, always expressing their gratitude.  Paul was no exception, and complemented the Inventor on His analysis.  Paul also let Him know that this death was Paul’s lifelong dream, which pleased the Inventor.  He liked having a volunteer understand how much of an honor it was for Him to take the time to personally fuck, eat, and kill it.  After all, they were utterly worthless and deserved as painful and humiliating death as possible.

 

Paul was carefully washed, his asshole was cleaned out with a thorough enema,  and what little body hair he had was removed  – all in preparation for the Inventor’s evening meal.  When Paul was ready he was laid on his back on a specially constructed dining table.  Paul’s legs were spread and an opening at that end of the table allowed the Inventor to walk between them and easily access Paul’s virgin ass.  Paul was excited and his rock-hard cock reflected his enthusiasm.

 

The Inventor entered with a group of guests, and they enjoyed cocktails and snacks (including the testicles of that day’s snuffed volunteers)  while they examined Paul and commented on various options on how best to fuck and eat  him.  After a conversation that included Paul, who expressed his gratitude once again and offered the thought how the Inventor could simultaneously fuck and eat Paul. Cutting into Paul’s  chest meat while fucking his ass seemed like the most convenient way to enjoy both in Paul’s mind.  To his delight, the Inventor decided to go with that approach, with only a little variation from Paul’s excellent suggestion.  Paul was secretly a little disappointed the Inventor wasn’t going to roast his glutes, which he’d worked so hard to get into shape, but realized that would mean the butt-fuck wouldn’t be satisfying for the Inventor, and that was the only thing that mattered.  However, one of the guests suggested carving them after everyone finished fucking the volunteer, and Paul was thrilled to hear the Inventor agree.  It just wasn’t clear if Paul would still e alive at that point, although it quickly became clear he would not be.  Oh well, no big deal.

 

One of the most thoughtful aspects of the Inventor’s personality was his interaction with the volunteers.  He got great satisfaction form their suffering and death, but he also enjoyed the fact they were so willing, and he enjoyed chatting with them on how to make their suffering and his pleasure more intense.   “I always enjoy the ideas of my volunteers, and you seems particularly eager to please.  As a reward I think it would be fun to watch you start to cum while I’m fucking you.  So, Paul, you can stroke your cock and you have permission to cum when I tell you to do so.  However, just so you know, when you start to cum I’ll cut off your cock.  The medical types will keep you from passing out, and I want you to eat the cock while I watch.  Then I’ll remove your balls and eat those – unlike the cock, they’re tasty.  As I get closer to shooting my own load – which will take a while, as I plan to enjoy this – I’ll be cutting into your chest and removing some of that wonderful breast meat that is a real favorite of mine.  You’ll be tied down, so you won’t be able to writhe and thrash as much as I’d like, but it’s necessary to keep you from moving so much my cock wouldn’t stay inside you.  We’ll leave one arm free so you can masturbate, however.  Do you prefer to jerk off using your right hand or your left?”  Paul was impressed with the courtesy of that question, and let Him know he tended to use his right hand.

 

“Fine.  I  want to feel you die, which will increase the intensity of my orgasm as I shoot into your virgin hole.  That will happen while I’m fucking and eating you even though cuts into your breast aren’t necessarily fatal, because everyone else will also be helping themselves to your meat, cutting off the parts they want to eat.  We’ll cook your butt once you’re dead and everyone has had a chance to fuck your carcass, but we want to enjoy your raw meat as you die.  Oh, and feel free to scream.  That makes it more fun for us.  How does that sound?”

 

“I am deeply honored, sir.  I will do my best to please you, such as by eating my cock once you cut it off.  You might consider smearing my cum on my breast meat to add a little more flavor as you cut into me.”

 

“Great idea.  It’s been a long time since you’ve been permitted to cum, so I suspect there will be a lot of it.  I’ll wat a little as you shoot to get as much out as possible.  Like I said, my volunteers often have great ideas on how to add to my pleasure, which is, after all, their sole purpose.”

 

Paul was overwhelmed and deeply grateful for this final exchange.  He continued to express his thanks as the Inventor’s giant cock entered his virgin asshole, causing great pain that showed on Paul’s face and pleased his master.  While the fucking started, Paul reached to his own cock and began masturbating for the amusement of the group.  His training paid off as he was able to hold back until the Inventor signaled for him to shoot his last load.  As planned the moment Paul’s throbbing cock finished spewing cum his master lifted a knife from a silver platter being held nearby by another volunteer, and slowly cut off the penis at its base.  Paul’s pleasure turned instantly to extraordinary pain, and he screamed as he had never done before.  Now it was the Inventor’s turn to hold back, as the sight of the severed cock and the sound of the inhuman screams nearly caused Him to shoot His own load.  But He also had remarkable self-control, and reached over to put the cock into Paul’s hand – the same one that had previously been stroking it.  Paul understood, and transferred the drained cock to his moth, where he slowly chewed and eventually swallowed it, as the medics applied treatments to keep him awake and functioning for a little while longer.  They had a particular challenge as the master now used the knife to cut into Paul’s scrotum and remove his testicles, which the master enjoyed immensely while Paul watched another of his dreams come true.  The other dinner guests cheered as the Inventor swallowed the remainder of Paul’s manhood. 

 

It was remarkable how long Paul stayed alive as the Inventor  continued to pump his sass and He and His guests cut off Paul’s prime meat from Paul’s once-beautiful body.  After carefully slicing into his skin and pulling it aside, the Inventor smeared cum on the meat as Paul had suggested and even had a view of Paul’s still-beating heart as he removed choice pieces of the lean young breast meat.  The diners had nearly had their fill of the lean choice meat before the efforts of the medics were no longer of any avail and Paul began his final death-throws.  That’s when the Inventor shot his own load, shooting a huge amount of cum as he felt Paul die, putting added pressure on the Inventor’s cock and adding to His pleasure.  The Inventor was so thrilled He continued His thrusts and soon shot a second load into the dead body, only then removing His cock so others could do the same.  The life and painful death of a volunteer was such a trivial thing compared to achieving this level of sexual climax.

 

Paul had done well, and his body provided not only nourishment and entertainment, but it set a tone for what turned out to be a wonderful evening for the Inventor and His friends, filled with sex, torture, and the deaths of five other volunteers.  None of them had the honor Paul did, however, of providing living meat for the worthy Inventor.  Paul’s dreams had been utterly fulfilled.

Replacing Norman An AMS Celebration By Gay Slavemeat Gsmeat2@gmail.com

I am indebted to one of my readers for the core idea of the AMS organization, which I turned into a story (with his help) called THE AMS NETWORK.  The premise is an inspiring organization of Sadistic Alpha Males called The Art of Male Snuff, which takes great and deserved pride in how they artfully snuff fellow males for fun and profit, especially sexual fun.

 

In that story there was a slave named Norman, who is patterned after another reader.  But Norman is still alive at the end of the last story, although destined to be snuffed.  This is a description of a thoughtful, fun party where he gets snuffed, as all male slaves should be.  It contrasts the views of William – Alpha 1 and all-powerful leader of AMS, and his buddy the Chief of Police, who is Alpha 2 and in charge of the Americas.  In emails with the real Norman, I learned he and I share our view of us as snuffslaves who should be used and disposed of by our owners, but differ on how long and in what kind of situation a slave should be permitted to exist and serve, and  how we think the snuff is best done. I think Norman views himself almost like a favored pet, serving his master and put down when no longer able to serve as well as the master deserves.  In my view I am only property, of lower status than a favored chair because an owner can develop a level of affection for a chair and regret having to cut it up for firewood and replace it.  My role Is to get fucked, to suffer extreme  torture and humiliation, and to obey absolutely, especially while I’m being snuffed.  So I serve as a human urinal and sex object for the pleasure of an alpha male and his friends.  I am grateful for that use because it is what I deserve.  When and how I am snuffed is not only not my choice but none of my business. Should a chair get to comment on whether it’s chopped up for kindling or sold to another owner?  But in the end we both agree it’s the alphas who rule.   And another reader pointed out to me the satisfaction of snuffing unworthy males even if they resist.  Killing an unwilling inferior male can be very satisfying for an alpha, confirming his absolute power and superiority.

 

I welcome ideas and requested themes, along with any feedback – positive or negative – from readers.

 

Prologue

 

Stevie tried hard in high school but hadn’t done very well.  He we held back for a year, but had hoped his last year would be better.  It wasn’t, and despite a lot of effort on his part he flunked two of his courses.  That meant he couldn’t be on the wrestling or swim teams, sports where he was in fact very talented.  And he liked the fact those sports showed off his amazingly fit and sexy body – now  20years old as of today.  He was extremely  handsome and totally gay.  But being gay had meant he was thrown out by his foster parents and forced to live in a homeless shelter.  He was on his own and his situation was one reason he struggled so much in school.  But he somehow knew this was what he served, as everyone around him made clear.

 

It was early evening on a warm spring day and Stevie was walking to the shelter from school.  He was shirtless, wearing only a tight Speedo swimsuit and flip-flop sandals.  Pretty much everything he owned was in his backpack.  He was in a good mood and enjoying the weather, having just finished swimming practice.  He had cut a deal with the coach so that he could at least still practice with the team, which he enjoyed immensely.  And he liked the conditions the coach (who was openly gay and hugely attracted by Stevie’s great looks) placed on him:  he had to swim nude and after the practices he had to give the coach a blow job.  Stevie was totally OK with those, and since the coach tended to recruit gay swimmers it wasn’t long before most of the team worked out naked both in the pool and in the gym.  After workouts Stevie knelt in the corner of the shower room and provided blow jobs, followed by him jerking off with everyone watching and pissing on him.  Given Stevie’s status it didn’t seem appropriate for any of them to suck him off, which was fine with Stevie.  He liked having lots of good-looking naked guys watch him cum and he shot giant loads all over his chest for their amusement. He also discovered he liked drinking another guys’ piss.  Getting lots of gay sex was the one thing that was going well for Stevie, and his exceptional good looks and willing submissive attitude contributed a lot to his popularity.  He got off big time when other guys dominated and used him, and even more so if they did it with others watching, laughing at him and enjoying the show.  Sometimes guys would amuse themselves by beating him up, to which Stevie did not object and which actually caused him to get more sexually aroused.  The coach instructed the team on how to cause the greatest amount of pain without doing permanent damage.  The beatings soon expanded to including whipping and CBT, and on this particular evening the coach had demonstrated the most effective use of a cattle prod on Stevie’s nipples and balls.  Of course, all the team members practiced on him and the session lasted much longer than usual.  Stevie was sore from the tortures, but glad he could provide them with so much pleasure.  He had shot a truly massive load at the end to everyone’s satisfaction.  The only condition the coach placed is that no one fucked his ass, despite Stevie’s willingness to let them do it.  But the coach was adamant and Stevie was obedient, so he was still a virgin as to being butt-fucked.

 

As he paused at a light, stroking his hardened cock inside his Speedo, Stevie became utterly confused.  He was suddenly arrested by two NYC policemen who got out of a nearby van parked behind him.  They led him to the back of the police van and as one cop, named Jack, opened the rear door the other, Jeremy, commanded Stevie to strip, taking and opening his backpack.  Stevie objected but the cops made it clear there was no choice.  They were bigger than Stevie and very heavily muscled, although not that much older.  As Stevie took off the Speedo and sandals, revealing his erect cock, Jack examined his backpack, taking out the cell phone and small amount of cash and telling Jeremy there was nothing else worth keeping inside it.  Jack then grabbed the swimsuit and sandals, laughing and stroking the erect penis as he tossed the backpack, swimsuit, and sandals  into a nearby trash can.  Stevie protested even more, telling them that all his clothes and his ID were in the backpack, along with his schoolbooks.  “You just threw away everything I own,” he shouted at them.

 

“Shut up.  Sex slaves don’t wear clothes or need IDs.  You’ll be assigned a number instead of a name.  A chip will be implanted in you that will provide identification.  And school is over for you other than training on how best to serve your owner.” explained Jeremy mater-of-factly.  As he did so Jack handcuffed Stevie’s wrists behind his back.  Mat was frightened as Jack then slammed him against the back of the van and started feeling out his butt, stroking his cock again (which was still hard, or maybe even harder as Jack stroked Stevie’s naked flesh) and unzipping his own pants.    Jack had moved closer and Stevie could feel the large cock that he assumed would be inserted into his boy-hole as the passers-by stopped to watch.  He was embarrassed but got even more erect.   He was now about to get fucked in the ass for the first time.  And the coach couldn’t object since it was a cop doing the fucking.

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Jack” Jeremy warned.  “This fag isn’t for us.  It’s for the Chief.”

 

“So I get in a little trouble,” responded Jack, sounding irritated as he pulled out his eager cock.  “I’m horny and this is an ass that begs to be fucked.  Fuck, I think the fag even wants it and the report on him says he’s never been butt-fucked before.  I’m in charge of this precinct and I get to do what I want..”

 

Stevie didn’t understand what happened next, but suddenly Jack collapsed and was writhing on the ground. He had been tazzed by Jeremy.  Stevie turned to watch as Jeremy cuffed Jack’s wrists and then his ankles, and then pushed Jack into the van.  “not any more you aren’t,” Stevie heard Jeremy announce.  Stevie could see that there were already three other young males in the back, each of whom appeared to be handcuffed, naked, and quite attractive.  Before Stevie could comprehend what was going on he, too, had been tazzed, full power to his balls, and pushed into the van.  As the pain subsided his cock rubbed against the thigh of one of the naked young men, and Stevie ejaculated.  He was embarrassed and justifiably afraid as the young male screamed obscenities and threats at him, but nonetheless his cock burst with ribbons of think cum all over the other youth, despite having jerked off a short time before.  Stevie was confused, but also surprised at how wonderfully intense the orgasm felt.  As Jeremy closed the door, Stevie heard the cop yell to the onlookers.  “OK folks, show’s over.  Move on.”

 

 

1

William’s Morning

 

William was lounging naked in the warm sun by his pool, having finished a vigorous swim and an exercise routine focused on strength building.  He was in q quirky mood and felt like having some fun.  As he relaxed and admired his amazing body he had of course also gotten horny, so he summoned a slave that was kneeling nearby, naked and erect, ready to serve William as instructed.  The animal was a beautiful 22-year-old youth in perfect shape, whom William enjoyed using as a urinal, sex toy, and torture object.  He liked the grateful and enthusiastic manner the slave displayed when it was used, and how far its dick could shoot a load of cum when permitted to reach orgasm.

 

“I’m bored and I want you to entertain me by killing yourself.  First, jerk off and shoot your load as far as you can.  After that I want you to lick up the cum and then slowly cut off your cock while it’s still hard and eat it.  Next, you are to cut open your scrotum and remove your balls, wash them, and serve them to me on the silver platter next to me.  While I eat them you are to eat the scrotum and then gut yourself, cutting upward as far as you can.  Then I’m going to fuck you while you finish dying.  The vet will stop the bleeding as you cut off your genitals so it’s not too messy, but I want to see your inwards spill out form the gutting.  Got it?”

 

“Yes, master, it will be an honor and I hope you enjoy my pain and death” acknowledged the slave as it began stroking its hard dick. The slave was excited at its good fortune.  William – Alpha 1 of the AMS Society – always finished killing slaves once he started emasculating them, and this slave was well aware its only path to freedom was death.  Given how slaves usually died in William’s household, emasculating and gutting himself was a quick snuff.  The slave felt sorry for the other slaves, one in particular, whose deaths likely would be far worse, but at least it would no longer be a sex toy used for torture and humiliation, which Alpha 1 had turned the young male into.  It did exactly as instructed, grateful that it was able to produce a decent load of cum despite having been masturbated earlier in the day as part of William’s morning sex and torture session that he combined with his workout.  The sperm shot across William’s chest and landed on the patio on the other side of his lounge chair.  The slave knew this would please William and crawled to where the cum landed, careful to appear eager and grateful as it licked up the cum on its hands and knees – as William admired the beautiful ass that he would soon fuck and destroy.    The slave was careful to cut slowly as it returned to its original position and sliced off its manhood.  The house veterinarian had been summoned by then, and quickly cauterized the wound as the slave chewed slowly and eventually swallowed its own meat.  Alpha 1’s preferences were well known and the slave did not want to fail. This could get a whole lot worse in a big hurry if it did.

 

It was hard to concentrate given the pain from cutting into itself, but the slave also did a credible job peeling off the scrotum, removing the balls that were then exposed, washing them, and presenting them to their real owner on the platter.

 

William’s own cock was now rock hard, enjoying the show and the man-seed snacks.  It was a great show with the slave obeying every command, now having also had the wound from its balls cauterized to keep things tidy.  The show included the slave’s ongoing expressions of gratitude that William expected.  He was pleased how well the slave had been trained, remembering how defiant it had originally been when he purchased it at an auction.

 

“Now take the knife and slowly gut yourself, cutting upward as deep and far as you can,” William reminded the doomed youth.  “Cut sideways as well so your guts spill out and I can laugh at how wonderfully your body is being destroyed.  I’m going to fuck your ass while you die.  So as I fuck you keep trying to cut further.  It’s fun to watch.  And feel free to scream and to express your appreciation for this honor.”

 

The slave again did as instructed, starting with thanking Alpha 1, but it was now barely able to function due to the pain and loss of fluids.  Yet, it was extremely close to freedom and determined to achieve it.  “Fuck this asshole.  I can do this and I’ll escape this demon forever,” the dying slave told himself.  Unfortunately for the slave, it mouthed its thoughts as it started gutting itself, and William was watching.

 

“No one escapes me, especially when they fail to appreciate my generosity in their form of death,” snarled William angrily, summoning the vet.  The slave realized what it had done and reacted in horror.

 

“Please master, I am sorry.  I didn’t mean any disrespect, but the pain was nearly more than I could handle.  I was just trying to force myself to do your will.  I am truly sorry.  Please have mercy on me.”

 

Alpha 1 laughed.  “I don’t believe in mercy for slaves.  That’s downright stupid and just makes it worse”.

William turned to the vet, who was himself an AMS alpha.  “Peter, repair this piece of shit and turn it over to the torture research center.  I want it kept at maximum pain for 3 months before it is permitted to die.

 

“And didn’t this meat have a lover?  I remember a particularly amusing and arousing 69 session with two of them while some friends and I whipped their writhing bodies.”

 

“Yes, sir.  They are identical twins who are extremely close lovers and do everything they can to support each other.  By letting them fuck each other we got great results in sex and torture sessions like the one you mentioned.”

 

“Good,” smiled Alpha 1. Send that one to the torture center as well with the same fate, making sure it knows why.  Let them watch each other suffer, and mess with their psyches so they learn to hate each other.  Love creates hope, which can sustain even a slave’s mental state as it is killed.  Slaves deserve despair.

 

“Also, they only have one cock and balls set between them now, so have them share it.  Cut off the lover’s genitals and attach them to this one.  Since they’re twins that should work fine.  Then after a while remove them and reattach to their original animal.  And so forth.  Oh, and set up a web cam so the AMS viewers can enjoy the fun.”

 

The doomed slave was now utterly devastated, its concern for its brother and lover overshadowing even its growing pain and despair.

 

“Please sir, I’m the one who fucked up.  Just punish me.  I deserve it.  Leave my lover to a regular death and extend my punishment to six months before I’m permitted to die as further punishment for me.”

 

“How utterly sweet,” Alpha 1 observed sarcastically.  “That’s quite a gesture given how intense and constant your pain will be.  I’m touched.  So I’ll grant part of your request.  You will now suffer for six months.  But so will your lover.  He’ll hate you even more when he learns how stupid you’ve been.”

 

William waved away the slave and the vet, and the animal was dragged to a veterinary center for repairs prior to starting its horrid (but entertaining) fate, the sense of guilt almost equal to the pain and despair.  William, meanwhile, was amused and pleased with himself as he signaled for another slave to be brought over for his morning fuck and kill.  He was hornier than ever, but now he had awakened his blood lust.  This slave would not be offered a quick, easy snuff like the last one.  William was going to have a LOT of fun with it and rearranged his schedule so he could take his time with it.  He also made a mental note to alert his buddy Alpha 2 that there was still work to be done on the drugs and methods used to train their slaves.

 

2

The Chief’s Morning

 

The scene as the Chief finished his morning workout had a different tone than at Alpha 1’s estate, but his morning would also include slave snuffing.  That’s how senior AMS leaders started their day!  After a morning workout that included fucking and whipping to death one of his “used up” slaves (a great cardio workout, over 45 minutes of vigorous lashing that left the slave not only dead but missing the skin on its torso and all of its genitals), he cleaned up and dressed in the leather garb that was almost a uniform for the top Alpha members of AMS.  He was joined by his two naked “butler” slaves, Norman and Anthony, who had helped with hi morning routines.  When the Chief had finished the preliminaries and was ready to officially start the day Norman knelt in front of his master with his mouth open while Anthony positioned himself over a leather fuck bench, making his ass conveniently available for his master’s use.  The Chief, in turn, walked over to Norman, who used his teeth to open the leather pouch covering his master’s genitals, followed by licking his balls and taking his hardening cock into his mouth.  The Chief unleashed a large load of piss down Norman’s throat, which Norman obediently drank, then kept his cock in the slave’s mouth so that Norman could use his tongue to get it fully hard.  But the Chief did not want a blow job, and once the cock was at full staff he moved over to Anthony and thrust it into that slave’s tight slave-hole.  There was no lube or hesitation, since he wanted Anthony to feel pain.  Anthony had only recently become a slave, and he had a tight, near-virgin ass that hurt like hell when fucked by a giant cock like the Chief’s.  Indeed, it had been the Chief who had ended Anthony’s virginity shortly after purchasing him at an AMS slave auction. As the Chief began fucking Anthony he signaled that they could report on their morning tasks and the day’s schedule.  Norman, who was by far the senior slave, spoke first.

 

“Thank you master.  The latest indoctrination session for the herd when extremely well.  All preliminaries are taken care of in preparation for you reviewing the slaves acquired for the party.  It is a particularly good collection of young males.  There are 60 of them, so there will be the 50 needed unless you decide to cull more than 10 between now and then.  I have alerted the collection team in case you do, of course.”

 

“So the school administrators and police precincts came through?”

 

“Yes, master.  Perhaps even better than in the past.  Your generosity for the last shipment clearly paid off, along with very clear instructions as to the body types, looks, and cock sizes you require.   They are all in the age range of 18-23, at their sexual peak, and they are all gorgeous specimens.  We have stored them in the cages for a little over a month, so there has been plenty of time to remove tattoos and body hair, figure out their sexual orientation and desires, test their endurance for pain, and get them used to being publicly naked and treated like the cattle they are.  They are confused and scared, having no idea why they’re here or what’s going to happen.  We have also spotted a clear leader among the group for your initial focus this morning.  Nearly all of them are clearly deserving of being snuffed, although a few were included just because our contacts know your preferences for the event and are motivated to please you.  They  thought you’d enjoy these particular animals and I think they are correct.  I believe one of those merits consideration for ongoing use after the party, perhaps as a gift.  It’s gay and so naturally masochistic it does not need conditioning to gratefully function as a sex slave. And the youth is an amazingly handsome specimen.  The rest are a good mix of gay and straight, dominant and submissive, and so forth.  Your guests should find a nice variety to play with.  We will of course have enough butchers on hand so they can have the carcasses carved to their preferences to take home with them for their meat lockers.  I also took the liberty of arranging for a taxidermist so guests can take a cock and balls set, or a head, as a souvenir or trophy.  Some of the animals have very large cocks, and most are handsome enough to merit being kept in the trophy cases many of your guests keep celebrating their snuff sessions.”

 

The Chief smiled.  His arrangement with various schools and police was such a win-win approach.  The schools and neighborhood precincts would identify students who were troublemakers, not likely to graduate, or just causing problems.  The Chief and his AMS buddies would gather them up and use them for their entertainment.  The schools would then function better, the streets would be safer, no one would miss these losers, and society would not have to deal with them as criminals or other drags on the communities.  The AMS members could enjoy fucking, torturing, snuffing, and eating great young flesh.  If a few innocent males got tortured and snuffed in the process, that was hardly an issue given the contribution to society the Chief was making.  And the Chief even had AMS reimburse the cops and administrators for their efforts – very generously.  A few of the administrators even used some of the money to help out the schools, although most of it went for their own pleasures.

 

The Chief also smiled as he looked at his two slaves.  He had owned Norman for 10 years, and the slave was amazingly obedient and efficient.  The Chief had no doubt every detail would be handled perfectly, including some he hadn’t considered, such as arranging for guests to have slave parts as souvenirs of the evening.   But Norman had aged, and his service as a sex slave had taken its toll on his body.  Not only was his ass no longer very tight, (a function of being fucked so often -literally thousands of times – not just with cocks but with dildos and especially with fists), but all the electricity applied to his genitals had reduced the slave’s sperm production, albeit not by much.  Norman was still amazingly fit and still made a great and exceptionally reliable sex toy, but the trends were not favorable.

 

The Chief liked fisting slaves, and Norman had been his favorite target.  He’d considered having the vet do some repairs, but concluded it was just time for Norman to be snuffed.  To that end he had branded Norman on the chest a few months back as a “snuffslave” to remind him of his status and ultimate use.  Norman had of course cooperated and thanked the Chief for the clarification.  They even had quite pleasant and informative conversations on how the Chief could get the most pleasure from killing him and what use to make of the body.  The Chief was especially pleased with Norman’s idea of using him as fertilizer, since his meat was not young enough to be of the highest quality.  They had reviewed the Chief’s floral garden to identify the plants that would benefit from Norman’s ground-up remains, and Anthony had made notes for future use by the gardening slaves.

 

The Chief had purchased Anthony as a replacement, consulting with Norman to assure the new slave would have the right characteristics and attitude, which Anthony clearly did.  Though new to slavery, he had been carefully trained and conditioned using the methods the Chief had developed to transform candidates into willing slaves.  Anthony was both gay and naturally highly masochistic, so it had worked especially well.  The Chief got his maximum sexual pleasure from young males like the one he’d destroyed this morning with his whip, but he also liked “grown-up” slaves who were mature, fit, handsome, obedient, and accepting of their purpose and fate.  Anthony was in his late 30s and fit all those characterizes, being every bit as obedient and eager to serve as Norman.  He knew the Chief would snuff him when he felt like it, and that was perfectly OK.  Fuck, it was the way things should be for slaves like him and Norman.  They were property, to be disposed of when their usefulness faded.  Further, Anthony had one advantage over Norman.  Norman endured pain, knowing it was his master’s right to inflict it and desiring to provide every possible pleasure for his master.  But Anthony was more of a masochist and enthusiastically welcomed pain and humiliation, getting even more hard as he was whipped and beaten while others watched and got off sexually as he suffered.  His obvious gratitude for the pain and humiliation made the sex/torture sessions even more pleasurable for the Chief and his fellow AMS members, which, of course, is the only thing that matted.

 

“How well did Anthony handle the gutting this morning?” the Chief asked Norman.

 

“Extremely well, master.  There were two fat pigs that had also been collected with the herd, and he took a full hour each for the vivisections, remaining fully erect and doing a nice job fucking each pig once it was dead.  I was able to watch the other slaves carefully to confirm our conclusions as to aggression and attitude.  I am confident he is ready to assume full responsibilities whenever you decide to dispose of me.”

 

The “gutting” of the fat teens was a part of the indoctrination process that the Chief left to other slaves.  In addition to the miscreant students the districts and precincts would also send a few candidates teens who were very fat.  Obesity was a big turn-off for the Chief (who was as fit as he was large), so Norman always processed those animals.  As the other slaves watched form their cages, the fat pigs would be led to tables where each was instructed to lay on his back and masturbate for everyone to watch.  It was not uncommon, as had happened this morning, for the animal to be unable to do so given their terror at what was happening.  This would generate jeers and laughter from the other slaves, including name calling.  Anthony then announced that the animals obviously had no use for their balls, and after telling the youth to squeal like the fat pig he was, he very slowly removed the scrotum and then each of the testicles, cleaning them off and placing them in a silver bowl for the Alpha males to enjoy later.  At this point the reaction of the other slaves was mixed.  Most kept up the jeering, intensifying the name calling to reference their neutered status and cheering on Anthony.  Others became scared, realizing the implications for themselves.  This was the first real damage they had seen to a member of the herd.  Norman took note of these reactions, which would help with sorting the slaves into different snuff groups for the party. The Chief was going to host an important party in a week and wanted to demonstrate a variety of snuff methods as part of the fun.  He also wanted a variety of reactions from the victims to enhance the variety in the entertainment.

 

Next, Anthony said the squeals had not been loud enough, so he was going to generate more from each pig.  That’s when the actual gutting began.  But it was more than gutting.  As he inserted the knife just above the cocks he cut open the bellies and reached in to remove layers of fat.  These he tossed into a vat near the tables.  He had soon removed all the layers of fat in the torsos, and then did the same in the thighs, legs, and buttocks.  The fat pigs no longer had any fat, and their squeals were inhuman-sounding screams.  Anthony performed the terminal lipofections with great skill and care, managing to avoid cuts that would generate immediate death, and using drugs to keep the animals alive and awake so they would feel all the pain.  As he cut, one of the watching slaves, whom Norman had identified as the natural leader of the group, started a chant of “gut the pigs” that was taken up by most of the rest of them.  There was no sympathy from this group of troublemakers, although Norman observed that several of them were silent, and a couple became ill watching the slaughter.

 

Once all the fat was removed, Anthony turned to his next task.  Using the penises as a sort of handle, and again cutting carefully, he removed the intestines.  No amount of drugs could keep the animals alive at this point, and as Anthony pulled out the last of its innards each of the fat pigs died.  Anthony hardly noticed, as he took the bloody heap and tossed it into the food troth from which other slaves doled out daily food rations into dog dishes placed in the cages where the slaves were kept.  The caged slaves were permitted to kneel and eat their daily portion of cheap dog food drenched in piss.  Anthony used a hoe to mix the innards into the rest of the food, adding his own load of piss to the mixture as he did.    Anthony announced that they would now have a higher protein content, for which they should be grateful, laughing at their shock and horror.  He explained that this demonstration was so they would understand their status and the kinds of things that were going to happen to them.  They would all wind up dead, he announced to the shocked audience, and should be honored that their worthless lives were going to be used to entertain deserving Alpha males.  He explained that he and Norman were also snuff slaves, but ones who knew and accepted their destiny.  This was how the real world functioned.  It was all about the Alpha males, who ruled absolutely.

 

Anthony also gave them an incentive.  There were many options on how they would die.  Their attitude and cooperation would be a factor in those decisions.  Some lucky ones might just be hanged or beheaded, very quick deaths with minimal pain; others would be eaten alive; others would suffer amazingly painful deaths like these pigs, but far worse and longer lasting.  Their bodies would be used as food, the best cuts of their meat being served to the deserving Alpha males who would be administering their deaths, the other parts being added to the dog food eaten by other slaves, as happened with the pigs.  Or perhaps other uses.  In the case of the pigs, all that fat would be used to make soap, a special brand the Alpha males enjoyed, knowing its origins.  As Anthony was explaining all this to the horrified future victims, he had inserted his own cock into what was left of one of the pig’s asshole and pumped the dead body until he reached a very satisfying orgasm.  He then did the same with the other carcass.

 

As Norman watched, proud of how well Anthony had done and feeling a special pride as to the effectiveness of the training Norman had provided, he saw the different reactions of the other slaves.  Some were still defiant, others began to beg and plead.  And a fair number had thrown up, physically manifesting the horror they felt.   Norman noted each reaction, and he and Anthony left the slaves to wallow in the sight and stench of the remains of the pigs.  It was a highly successful demonstration.

 

After Norman finished his report to the Chief there was a pause as the Chief considered his next steps, still enjoying a relaxing fuck of Anthony’ ass.

 

“Was there a lot of fat?”

 

This time Anthony answered.  “Yes, master.  The animals were extremely obese and also very large.  This will help as we were starting to run low for our soap production.  The “boy soap” line is very popular, as you know.”

 

“Yes,” the Chief mused.  “We do clean up on that one.”  Both slaves laughed obediently at the bad pun.  The Chief liked to make puns and they knew a good appreciation of them pleased him, which they genuinely wanted to do.

 

“The party is now exactly a week away, and we need to get busy testing some of the equipment Norman has identified and acquired.  I suspect this will require using up more than the 10 bodies Norman referenced, so we should get some more right away so we can use those to test and not waste the ones who are already conditioned to at least some extent.  Those won’t have to be of any special quality, so long as they are in good enough shape to be test animals for the torture equipment.  Meanwhile, I do want to inspect the herd.  I assume the cage area has been cleaned out by now?”

 

“Yes, master.”  Anthony was again the one who answered, having taken over the lead.  “All the slaves have been thoroughly doused with ice cold water from fire hoses and the pigs’ bodies have been removed and processed.  I have taken Norman’s notes and created a spreadsheet for your consideration as to the best uses of each of the slaves.”

 

“Excellent.  I think Norman is correct, and you are indeed ready to take over.  So the timing should work well for me to snuff Norman at the party.”

 

The Chief turned his attention to Norman.  “As we have discussed, I have decided to dispose of you, and the party makes an ideal public setting for your death.  While you will be only one more incremental kill, of no more importance than any of the other snuffslaves being killed, I think that adds to the appropriateness of the setting.  You are just property that has outlived your usefulness.  But because I enjoy watching slaves cum as I choke them into unconsciousness, as I’ve done many times with you, I currently plan to do the snuff myself, this time making sure you’re dead by the time you finish your final orgasm and your ass gets filled with my cum.  My guests have all enjoyed fucking and fisting you over the years and I think they’ll be amused by this scene.  Some of them might even want to fuck your carcass, although I’ll warn them about your ass being rather loose from all the fisting.

 

“But there is an issue. Frankly, over the past several months, as you’ve trained Anthony and gotten things ready for the party, you have shown signs of pride.  That is unacceptable.  I am aware you have done a nearly perfect job in the preparations and the training, and I have always enjoyed the fact you are an utterly reliable urinal with an ability to cum whenever it amuses me for you to do so.  But you seem to forget your status as mere property, privileged to be of use for whatever I choose until you are killed for my amusement.”

 

“I am deeply sorry Master,” responded Norman, who realized his Master was correct and hung his head in shame.  He already knew full well it was time for him to get dead, and the Chief had discussed with him the method and timing even though it was none of his business.  That was the reason for purchasing Anthony.  And it had actually been Norman who suggested it would be the most fun for the Chief if Norman was killed at the upcoming party, since the Chief’s best friends, including William, Alpha 1, would be there to watch.  After all, the party was in honor of William’s 50th birthday, and it would amuse William for that also to be Norman’s death day.  While there would be 50 slaves killed at the party, like 50 candles snuffed on a cake, Norman was one the guests knew, having served the Chief all those years, and it would be entertaining for them to watch as the Chief fucked him and choked him to death.  Much of Norman’s gratitude was for the likelihood he would die by the Chief’s hands, quite literally since the Chief was so fond of strangling slaves.  The Chief loved the feeling of life literally flowing out of their bodies as their ability to breathe was cut off.  The Chief was expert at timing his own climax to occur as the slave also had its final orgasm simultaneous with its death.

 

As Norman remained silent, his head still bowed in shame, the Chief continued.  “I have decided on an appropriate punishment.  You will have only one more orgasm, which will be as you die.  I had considered cutting off your cock and eating your balls to accomplish that, but then I’d be deprived of watching and feeling you cum as I choke you to death.  Instead, you will provide an example of obedience and self-control for Anthony.  If you fail, you will not live to participate in the party and your death will be extraordinarily slow and painful.  The needle is on the table next to me, and you are to inject yourself.  You can guess what’s in the syringe.”

 

Norman nodded, stood up, and moved to the table.  It had a syringe on it with a very large needle.  He bowed to the Chief, and when he received a nod in return he took the instrument and plunged the needle deep into his balls.  He then pressed the plunger and pushed a large quantity of liquid into his scrotum.  It hurt a lot, but he endured it.  He deserved the punishment, but even if he had not it was his duty to obey.  This was his owner’s wish, and he knew that is all that mattered.

 

The Chief smiled and bragged to Anthony:  “This is one of the best poisons I’ve ever developed.  It’s almost a miracle drug.  You see, it will have no impact on Norman beyond making him exceptionally horny and his cock consistently erect until he has his next orgasm.  It will be very difficult for him to resist masturbating.  But when that happens, it will be fatal.  And unless I relieve the pain by chocking him to death, which will only happen if he can hold off until the party, he will die a massively painful and very slow death.  The drug activates all the nerves in the body and causes them to emit extreme pain signals to the brain.  It takes several days before the body dies since there is no actual damage.  The slave is in total, utter pain but its actual death is from dehydration.  Better still, the version Norman just injected is a newer one that is designed so the body can receive fluids as it suffers, extending the agony to nearly a week in the latest tests.  It is literally death by pain.  The mind is still aware but unable to stop the pain.  So Norman will die whenever he shoots his next load.  He is used up so it’s time for him to die.  But he also has become too familiar and confident, which is not acceptable for a slave.  For that he needs to be punished, and he will be deprived of any sexual release during his last week.  He needs to hope nothing causes that fatal orgasm doesn’t happen too soon.  That will be difficult for an animal that jerks off at least several times a day like he does.  It doesn’t really matter to me, though, since watching a slave die like this is wonderfully entertaining. It’s a “no lose” scenario for me and a “no win” scenario for Norman, as it should be.”

 

“Thank you, master.” Norman responded.  “I am truly sorry for my transgression and know I deserve to be punished.  I accept your wishes as my duty and am grateful you have taken steps to correct me.”  Anthony said nothing but marveled at how brilliant their master was, vowing to use this lesson to remind him of his status as a disposable object.

 

3

Inspecting the Herd

 

“Attention Slaves!  You are about to be presented to your Master for inspection.  Knell before Him!”

 

Norman finished his announcement as the Chief entered the slave storage arena, then knelt himself with his head bowed (and his dick hard).  Anthony did the same.  The 60 slaves were held in cages not large enough to permit standing or lying straight, in two rows of 30 cages each that were stacked one row on  top of the other.  The room had been darkened but as the Chief entered bright spotlights illuminated the rows of vulnerable, naked male flesh.

 

Some of the slaves knelt as instructed, but most did not.  Despite the demonstration with the two slaves who were used to make soap, there was still a great deal of defiance.  This was as the Chief expected, and wanted, and he was looking forward to managing it.  At his nod, Anthony touched a screen on a special remote-control unit, and Norman made a second announcement as the slaves began to convulse and scream.

 

“Scum!  You have failed to obey and honor your Master.  You will suffer as a result, with electricity flowing through the cages.  The voltage will increase until ALL scum slaves are kneeling.  Those who take the longest to kneel will suffer further pain to teach you to obey.”

 

As the electricity intensified, so did the screams.  And within a very brief time all but one of the slaves were kneeling.  As Norman had anticipated, it was the one who appeared to be their natural leader.  But as the voltage increased even more, this slave too succumbed and knelt.  The inspection was starting out exactly as anticipated.

 

Anthony and Norman stood and walked to the cage holding the rebellious leader, which was one on the second level.  The more dominant slaves were stored at that level, so that when they pissed it would drench the more submissive slaves kept on the bottom layer.  Norman and Anthony had observed how, shortly after the slaves had been put in storage, the dominant ones made it a game to see how much piss they could direct at their cellmates underneath them.  Some of the submissive ones even were intimidated into letting them use their mouths for target practice or, better yet, to provide a blow job as the dominant slave lay on the floor of his cage with his hard cock sticking downward into the cage below where the submissive slave could reach it with his mouth and suck off the dominant cell-mate.  Even the dominants who viewed themselves as straight took advantage of this service quite frequently.

 

The leader, who called himself Bjorn, resisted when the cage door was opened, but Norman and Anthony easily subdued him and dragged him out of the cage in front of the Chief.  Bjorn was a beautiful Nordic specimen with long blond hair trailing down his back and thickly covering his chest and crotch.  He was tall and muscular, with thick biceps suggesting strength that was quite real.  He was a wonderful example of Aryan perfection, and Norman had considered recommending him to the Chief for a special torture session at the party.  But he knew the Chief’s rules, and the leader of a herd like this had to be taken down.

 

Once again, Bjorn refused to kneel.  But this time they dealt with him more directly.  Despite his strength and athletic ability he was no match for Norman and Anthony combined.  They pushed him against a wall and quickly nailed his hands and feet to the wall, so that he was displayed spread-eagled for the Chief’s inspection.  At a nod from the Chief Anthony took a nearby sledgehammer and used it to crush each of Bjorn’s kneecaps.  Then Norman slipped a wire noose around his neck that was also attached to the wall and ripped his hands free of the nails that were now needed to hold him up.  Now unable to stand, Bjorn collapsed onto his ruined knees, the wire noose keeping him from falling forward but cutting deeply into his neck.  Despite the pain Bjorn did not scream and said nothing.  The Chief admired the toughness.  This animal might have made a great AMS member, but it was too late for that and an example was required for the rest of the herd.

 

The Chief approached Bjorn, his leather garb towering over the defiant victim.  “You are to remove the leather fasteners and then suck my cock.”

 

“Fuck you, faggot.  I’m no mother-fucking cocksucker.  If you stick your dick in my mouth I’ll bite it off.”  Bjorn then spit at the Chief.

 

The Chief’s response was one of amusement.  “You continue to show very poor judgment,” he said with no hint of anger.  The Chief had actually hoped for this sort of response and nodded at his two slaves.  Norman inserted a dental appliance that forced Stevie’s mouth open.  He then took a nearby set of pliers and slowly removed Bjorn’s teeth.  The cocky gang leader was taken off guard, now horrified by what was happening to him and astonished at the level of pain being inflicted.  His will was starting to crack.  When Norman was finished Bjorn’s mouth was bleeding profusely and his pain level was extreme.  The Chief repeated his command, adding that he expected Bjorn to use his tongue to massage the cock and lick off the blood.  But Bjorn still had a level of defiance remaining and  refused again, this time barely able to utter the stream of profanity due to the pain and the bleeding.

 

“I will not tolerate this kind of language in my presence.  If this scum is unwilling to use its tongue to give me pleasure, it has no purpose.  Remove it.”

 

Norman quickly used a scissors to cut out Bjorn’s tongue, holding it up in front of the gang leader and also the other slaves, then tossing it into the herd’s food vat.

 

“Fortunately, you have another hole where you can service my cock.”  And as the Chief made that comment Anthony and Norman lifted Bjorn onto a sling, lying on his back with his broken legs in the air – all set to be butt-fucked.  When he was positioned, Norman knelt in front of his Master and used his own teeth to remove the clasps that covered his master’s giant cock.  He then took that in his mouth and lovingly massaged it to a full erection, which did not take long given the Chief’s level of arousal.  He was totally turned on and thoroughly enjoying himself.  Bjorn fit his ideal sex object and the Chief loved it when the slave showed résistance.   Anthony took a nearby syringe and injected the same poison injected into Norman deep into Bjorn’s exposed balls.  At that point the Chief walked over to the one-time tough guy and rammed his hard cock into the virgin asshole.  Bjorn’s combination of pain, humiliation, pride and homophobia finally broke his spirit and he screamed in.  Then, to his further horror and shame, his cock grew erect as he was being fucked.  A camera was projecting the events onto a large screen in front of the rest of the herd, so everyone could see Bjorn’s reaction.  Most of them jeered and cheered, calling Bjorn a fag who liked getting fucked and deserved it.  They of course had no idea the erection was triggered by the poison just injected into the doomed slave, who was more horrified by this reaction than even the pain he was enduring.  Of course, no one explained the real reason for the erection to him.  The humiliation of this gorgeous homophobe was just too much fun to enjoy.

 

The Chief took his time and enjoyed a quite satisfying orgasm.  As Norman and Anthony picked up Bjorn he totally broke down, starting to cry and begging for mercy.  They ignored that (although both they and the Chief were delighted with their triumph) and strung up Stevie upside down by his ankles so his broken body was swinging freely like the piece of meat it was becoming.  The Chief added to the pain and humiliation by brutally whipping Bjorn both front and back, causing deep welts in his young flesh, especially the exposed cock and balls.  Once Bjorn was bleeding freely from a massive set of welts all over his body, but with his cock still hard, the Chief addressed the herd.

 

“You are all slaves, and you will all be snuffed as you deserve.  Your deaths and bodies will be the entertainment and meat course at an important party I’m hosting, which will celebrate the birthday of William, Alpha 1 of AMS, the Art of Male Snuff.  Since it’s his 50th birthday, we are going to snuff 50 of you at the party.  Some of you will die reasonably quickly – the lucky ones.  Others will be much slower, such as those who will be skinned and eaten alive.  And some will suffer excruciating, extreme pain, like this piece of scum I just fucked and whipped.  It’s going to be a great party and a lot of fun, although of course not for you.  No one knows or cares what happens to you, and the world is better off with you being dead.  Having your bodies butchered for meat, soap, and fertilizer is a much better purpose for you and you should be honored to make the contribution of your worthless lives and bodies to celebrate such a great Alpha Male.  You have been drags on society and you deserve your fate. Oh, I know this confuses a few of you who have not broken the rules, but you have the good fortune of having bodies that turn on me and my fellow members.  So you just get to make a contribution that you should be honored to make given your low status and our role as superior Alpha Males.  The sacrifice will be a bit greater because we will take our time torturing you in particular, in amazingly painful and humiliating ways, since your suffering will give us the greatest pleasure.  That is clearly the best use for your wonderfully sexy bodies.

 

“We really don’t care if you cooperate, but it might be better for you if you do.  To illustrate that, one of my slaves is going to suck off this animal.  That will trigger a reaction from the poison injected into his balls, which will cause him to suffer extraordinary pain – every nerve in his body will send pain signals to his brain – such that he’ll die in agony.  But it will take about a week for that to happen, with no relief from the pain.  The drug even stops him from passing out so he’ll be awake the entire time.  The party is in a week, so he’ll finally die just as the party starts.  We’re going to leave him here for you to observe.  If you fail to obey, we’ll likely do the same to you.  Or worse.

 

“By the way, my slave who is sucking the cock will also die at the party, or maybe sooner.  But he has been trained to understand his role and accepts his fate with gratitude for the honor of serving an Alpha Male.  You could learn from him.”

 

As the Chief finished, Norman stood in front of Bjorn and sucked his still-hard cock, which erupted quickly in light of both the physical fitness of the victim and the impact of the drugs.  As the cock emitted its final load of cum, Bjorn began to feel the pain and his body started to gyrate.  He was soon screaming loudly, begging for mercy, and overwhelmed by the unbelievable amount of agony.  It was a great show and a useful object lesson.  The herd would now understand it must obey its owner.

 

 

4

A Well-deserved Promotion, with a Worthwhile Future

 

Later that afternoon the Chief attended an upbeat celebration at one of the many police stations he supervised.  He was very devoted to the men who worked for him, and it was mutual.  So when one of them was promoted he always made it a point to attend.  But this time he was especially pleased, since the promotion was based on demonstrated loyalty to the Chief and to AMS.

 

As he entered the Chief saw that everything had been well prepared.  This was also reassuring, as this event had been arranged by Anthony – his first task all on his own.  The Chief was totally confident Anthony was ready to take over for Norman, and wondered if it would be more fun to have Anthony give Norman a blow job that would trigger the torture drugs or to wait until the party and snuff him then.  Tough choices, but fun either way.

 

The first part of the ceremony was to be a gang rape and orgy, and the Chief saw that everything was in place, including the target, and all the officers were already naked, erect, and ready to party.  The object of the rape was suspended from the ceiling  and had already serviced the horny crew over the past several days.  This was an ongoing party.  The target knew what was likely to happen next and bore a justified look of considerable fear.  But he also knew things would be far worse if he didn’t cooperate.  His only relief would be his death, and he hoped that would happen soon.

 

The Chief, decked out in his AMS leather, was handed a drink and proposed a toast:

 

“I am so proud of all of you, and especially of our new precinct captain, whose promotion we are celebrating today.  Jeremy is the kind of officer I want all of you to use as a role model.  As you can see now that he’s naked, he keeps himself totally fit and has a great cock and a nice ass.  I can especially attest to the latter, as I can with most all of you and will with those I haven’t tested yet.  I’m guessing you’ll all soon get a chance to learn how well his cock functions, up close and personal.”  There were chuckles in the room.  The Chief enjoyed fucking his staff, as was his right, and they all respected him for it and admired his stamina and giant cock.  Being fucked with a cock that size was painful, but giving the Chief pleasure was more than worth the pain.  They knew Jeremy would do the same, and he had been a great role model when the Chief would visit the precinct to inspect, which would include Jeremy stripping naked along with a few other guys and the Chief fucking all of them as the rest of the precinct watched in admiration and jerked off for the Chief’s further amusement.  The staff, in turn, had free reign of those below them in rank, and of course everyone used the prisoners however they wanted.  There were no limits there unless the Chief had designated a prisoner for his own use or an AMS event..

 

The Chief continued.  “As you all know, Jeremy was the most successful cop at cleaning up our streets by removing the scum that pollute our city. And he is also astute about the opportunity to provide extra quality for senior Alpha Males of AMS, as you can see from the sex slave kneeling in the corner and serving as our official urinal today.  That slave, formerly known as Stevie, is of exceptional quality and it would be a waste to include it in the regular herd.  I am keeping its ass virgin until my party next week, and if it weren’t for Jeremy that would not have been possible.  So let’s toast his success and give him a huge cheer.”

 

Everyone raised their glass and cheered loudly as Jeremy beamed with gratitude.

 

“I am also pleased to announce that Jeremy will not only be the captain in charge of this precinct, but he approached me with a request to apply for a position as one of my “butler” slaves, ready to take over when I decide to snuff Anthony.  I have agreed, and since he’s just in his early 20s this will likely be a smooth transition in about a decade, as it is with Norman getting snuffed next week and replaced by Anthony.  He and Anthony did a great job working together on this transition and planning my party next week, and I am confident that partnership will continue between Jeremy and Anthony once I snuff Norman. And like our urinal, Jeremy is utterly obedient by his nature and I don’t anticipate needing to do any conditioning.  He is a great Alpha Male and will lead you well in that role, including applying appropriate discipline and enjoying your bodies and those of other males of lower rank than he is.  But he ultimately was born to be a slave, knows it, and is now able to look forward to someday functioning in his highest and best use, serving a very senior AMS leader.  As a future slave he will always remain naked, even here in the precinct, but don’t misunderstand.  That is the only concession to his future role.  He’s  in charge and for now, and for years to come,  I am the only one with permission to fuck him.

 

“And that brings us to Jack, who disgraced himself and will be leaving us in due course – literally turned into a piece of shit after we enjoy eating his meat.  Of course, that won’t happen until we’re all done fucking his ass and torturing his body.  He will serve as a lesson for all of you on what happens when someone breaks the rules.  There is no forgiveness and those who disobey die horrible deaths.  I understand all of you have been having tons of fun with him over the past few days, and I can see the evidence of cuts  and welts on his body.  These look like more than the usual whipping aftermath.  It also looks like you turned his balls into pin cushions and I don’t see much left of his nipples.  I also see he’s now devoid of body hair, which is quite a change from his usual thick mat on his chest, crotch, and back.  I just hope his ass is still nice and tight, like I remember it, so I can enjoy fucking it as he dies.  It looks to me like you guys have done a great job teaching him the first part of his lessons.  So, with that, let’s enjoy a fun orgy and make sure Jack gets the death he deserves.”

 

Jeremy spoke next as the crew started to move Jack onto a nearby fuck bench so everyone could humiliate him one more time.

 

“Good observations, Chief.   It turns out Jack wasn’t very popular.  So we started by cutting off his body hair.  We used a straight razor so it would cut him if he resisted, which I’m pleased to say he did a lot.  Those are the larger cuts you see added to the welts from when we whipped him.  We made sure there was not only no body hair left, but no part of him that wasn’t solidly lacerated.  The balls were particular fun.  We had a game of “pin the tail on the donkey” but with a few changes in the rules.  Everyone had large needles, and no one was blindfolded.  So we could put the needles where we wanted, and we all chose his balls.  In the second round we added his cock and nipples, and a couple of guys nailed his tongue.  That shut up the string of profanity we were getting tired of.  The nipples are gone because we thought it would be fun to rip them out, which it was.  Oh, and his ass is full of cum and his belly is full of piss, so we’ve made good use of his mouth and butt.”

 

“Wow.  Sorry I missed the fun.  Should I assume the cock doesn’t work anymore?  It looks pretty shriveled.”

 

“No.  We decided he didn’t deserve a final orgasm so we’ve been highly aggressive in having fun with his cock and balls.”

The Chief nodded and walked over to where a couple of the crew were holding Jack.  “Before you lay him on his belly on the fuck table, we might as well finish off that part of your fun.”  The Chief then took out a pocketknife he always carried, opened the largest blade, and reached down to Jack’s genitals.  He had one of the guys take out all the pins, and then he slowly cut off Jack’s shriveled cock.  “This is certainly worthless,” the Chief scoffed, as the crew all laughed.  Then he tossed the muscle, once Jack’s primary source of pride, to where the slave once called Stevie was obediential kneeling.  At the Chief’s signal Stevie bent down, picked up the cock with his mouth and ate it.  A little blood dripped down his chin, but one of the crew quickly washed that off with piss, emptying the rest of his load down Stevie’s willing throat.

 

“Well, laughed the Chief.  Our urinal slave even got a chaser with his snack.”  As the crew laughed even louder, and Jack looked on in horror, the Chief next cut off the scrotum, separating the two testicles and offering one to Jeremy as the Chief swallowed the other.  But they used the expensive champagne being served at the party as their chaser.

 

The Chief encouraged everyone to do their last fuck of Jack’s ass, to continue whipping and applying a cattle prod to his body, and to cut off a small meat snack to eat in front of Jack as he was forced to watch.  “We’ll enjoy the main course after he’s dead and we butcher him, but I want him to get a feel for being eaten alive so he knows how lucky he is that we’re going to fuck him to death,” the Chief instructed.

 

Once the gang rape was done and everyone had enjoyed a snack, the Chief positioned himself behind Jack’s bleeding butt and inserted his giant cock into the much-used hole.  It was nicely lubricated with a massive amount of sperm, and the Chief regretted that this reduced the pain for Jack.  But there were compromised that had to be made to get the thrill the Chief was after.  The Chief loved the feel of achieving his climax as the guy he was fucking was painfully snuffed, dying simultaneous with the Chief’s orgasm.  Meanwhile, Jeremy had forced an O ring into Jack’s mouth that prevented him from closing it, and inserted his own hard cock down Jack’s throat.  Jack wasn’t used to giving blow jobs, and gagged at the size of Jeremy’s cock.  Jeremy went in and out for a bit so Jack could get used to the experience, but then he inserted his cock all the way down Jack’s throat, thrusting it vigorously as the Chief did the same up Jack’s ass.  The two colleagues leaned forward and the Chief inserted his tongue deeply into Jeremy’s throat, further increasing the pleasure for both men.  Then, as Jack realized he could not resist Jeremy’s cock, he also realized he was effectively being strangled.  He tried breathing through his nose, but the cock fully occupied his throat and windpipes.  Jack slowly faded as the pain of no oxygen increased, and the two experts perfectly timed their thrusts and orgasms so that they each shot their loads into Jack exactly as Jack painfully died.  There was loud cheering form the crew, many of whom also shot a load as they watched this amazing show.

 

Several of the crew now moved Jack’s body to a carving table and expertly cut his meat for everyone to enjoy.  Accompaniments were brought out and the party continued with lots of great conversation and comradery.  As they celebrated the Chief fucked Jeremy in the ass, which was familiar and highly pleasurable territory for both of them, one that would be repeated more often when Anthony was snuffed and  Jeremy changed roles.  Jeremy liked being fucked in public, and he was totally comfortable with his new status – both as the Alpha Male head of the precinct and as a future slave belonging to the Chief for whatever use the Chief choose.

 

As the celebration concluded, the eager young urinal watched in wonder.  It knew it was not worthy to perform actual tasks like Jeremy or Anthony.  It knew its use was just for sex and to suffer as much pain and humiliation as was possible.  It wondered why it had not been fucked yet, or seriously tortured or whipped, but knew its owners would do so when the Chief was ready.  What was done with it was none of its concern.   it was just grateful beyond measure to be the property of such an outstanding owner.  If it’s role was just that of a urinal for now, so be it.  He would do that job well, as instructed.

 

5

The Birthday Party

 

The day of the party had finally arrived, and the guests assembled in the early afternoon to start the celebration.  As they entered the huge dungeon their first sight was of 50 young oriental males standing on a stage, naked and erect with their hands tied behind their backs and nooses around their necks.  The specimens were amazingly beautiful, their young skin smooth and fit, glistening with oil that made their bodies reflect the light. Their faces bore broad smiles of welcome.  When everyone had arrived, AMS Director Fong walked onto the stage and stood in front of them.  He was a large alpha male attired in the same leather garb as William and the Chief, and his leather vest identified him as “Alpha 3.”  He looked out over a sea of eager AMS members, of all ages and body types.  Many wore the same AMS leather attire that he did, while most others were totally naked.  And there was every variation in-between.  AMS valued its diversity, which was reflected not merely in attire (or lack thereof) but in race and ethnicity.  What united them all, and was not negotiable, was a core commitment to the Art of Male Snuff.  And for that purpose there was an even greater number of naked slaves ready to be snuffed.  Many understood and accepted their purpose and fate, but many would resist.  Both would provide pleasure, especially sexual pleasure, for their deserving owners.  It would be a wonderful party.

 

“On behalf of the Chief and myself, welcome to this great celebration.  As you know, as Alpha 3 of AMS I have responsibility for Asia, which I’ve run now for over 25 years.  Knowing that this event would come to pass, I arranged a major breeding event 20 years ago.  I contributed a considerable amount of sperm that was used to breed over 75 males.  Those were raised as slaves and taught that their purpose was to someday provide brief entertainment for Alpha 1 when he turned 50.  You will note that they look alike – even for Chinese, who of course all look alike to you Caucasians (everyone laughed) – but in this case it’s also because they are half-siblings and the surrogates were also selected to look as much alike as possible.  The 50 best specimens are assembled behind me.  We bred extras since we knew some would not be high enough quality, and the extras are also here today for you to snuff however you like.  These beautiful specimens want to offer a traditional song in celebration of Alpha 1’s 50th birthday, which will be followed by a dance in his honor and then a candle-lighting ceremony.”

 

At this point Alpha 3 stepped off stage, and all 50 slaves bowed deeply in deference and respect.  The purpose for their existence was about to be fulfilled.  (The ropes around their necks were loosened from above to permit the bow, then tightened again.)  As they finished their bow and stood with every aspect of their bodies erect (especially their throbbing cocks, which pointed upward from their sexual arousal and dripped pre-cum), they began to sing:

 

“Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday dear Alpha 1, Happy birthday to you.”

 

Everyone laughed and joined in.  The idea of all these Chinese slaves singing the traditional English song went over very well with the crowd.  But there was a second verse:

 

“We’ll die now for you;

It’s what we were bred to do;

our deaths are your birthday gift;

as our cocks shoot on cue.”

 

At that point the platform under their feet quietly slid open and all 50 beautiful males dropped.  The platform had been designed to be totally silent so the crowd could hear the sound as 50necks were broken and the slaves did that cute little death-dance that is so entertaining when slaves are hanged.  The dance didn’t last long, but it was great fun to watch as the bodies slowed and the heads drooped at unnatural angles, eyes open and smiles still in place.  Best of all, each of the 50 eager slaves had a giant orgasm, its cock erupting with cum that shot out on each other and the watching (and cheering) crowd.  Then, after the quests had a chance to enjoy the smiles turning to expressions of pain as the dancers  finished dying, the lights were dimmed and flames shot up from under the platform, setting on fire the oil with which the young meat, especially their cocks and balls, had been soaked.  The presentation was now of 50 slave candles – lit lanterns wonderfully lighting the room with burning flesh and torch-like flaming cocks, all in tribute to Alpha 1.  Their lives and bodies had been put to an appropriate use for slaves.  When the torches faded the lights came back on and Alpha 3 returned to the stage to the sound of enthusiastic clapping and cheering as the guests continued to enjoy the sight and also the aromatic smell of cooking slave meat.  His gesture had been well received.  He bowed to Alpha 1.  “William, my friend and leader, I wish you the best birthday ever and hope this will prove a good start to the afternoon.”

 

William joined him on stage and graciously expressed his appreciation, complimenting Alpha 3 on a great show and also thanking him for his outstanding leadership running the Asia division of AMS.  “This display is just one example of your great organization and creativity, and of how you always plan for the future.”

 

The Chief joined his colleagues and the three leaders embraced.  The friendship and respect among them were obvious, a great example for the other guests.  The Chief spoke next.

 

“Let me add my welcome to all of you, and my congratulations to Alpha 3 on a great show.  What a wonderful use for these animals, and we’ll all share in generous cuts of meat as they are butchered for our dining pleasure.  But we’ll leave them hanging here for a while so we can all enjoy the scene.  Fifty freshly hanged slaves with their cocks nicely burned off is a great sight.   And don’t worry, we’ll put the bodies onto fuck benches before we butcher them for those of you who would like to fuck them.

 

“Most of all my welcome goes to my friend and leader, William, Alpha 1, with great good wishes for this birthday.  I hope this celebration is worthy of him and this occasion.

 

“As you know, William has recently appointed me to run the European division as well as the Americas, pending replacement of Alpha 4.  His performance had not met our standards, so William, Director Fong, and I snuffed him a few weeks ago.  To his credit, he understood and cooperated, providing a worthy death and an excellent meal.  Alpha 1 will announce a successor in due course, but in the meantime I have responsibility for that area.  So, since I also know how much William is interested in European history, I thought it would be fun to make that, especially British history, our theme for the afternoon and evening.  You will note that the dungeon has been filled with numerous devices used over the years in torture and executions by our European forebearers, and we have assembled a group of 50 more slaves who will be used to demonstrate them, a number chosen, of course, in honor of our beloved Alpha 1.  I hope everyone has a great time and enjoys the fun as we snuff all 50 of these slaves, and an ample supply of others, for your amusement and in honor of the occasion.”  The crowd clapped in appreciation, and at this point other slaves brought drinks and appetizers for them to enjoy, including a generous supply of fresh testicles and other slavemeat treats.  (The 100 testicles being served had once been attached to 50 young males held in a detention center, part of an experiment to see if they would reform better if turned into eunuchs.  It was an AMS research project that was one more example of their community service.)

 

The slaves being snuffed were, of course, the truant teens and street scum rounded up earlier and conditioned in the Chief’s slave cages.  Some had been trained as slaves under the methods developed by the Chief, so they would be appropriately obedient.  Others had not, so the guests could enjoy inflicting pain and watching them die horrible deaths on the torture machines despite their efforts to resist.  The Chief started the fun by pushing one of those into the heated Iron Bull placed near the stage.  This was an old Roman idea, consisting of a bull made of iron which had a flame under it that made it red hot.  A naked slave would be pushed inside, and reeds on the bull’s mouth would emit the sounds of the slave creaming as he burned to death.  The fun part was that the reeds made it sound like an actual bull, a source of amusement that always pleased the Roman onlookers. The Chief, at Norman’s suggestion, made it more fun by making the bull out of tempered glass, so the guests could watch the slave’s agony as it was burned horribly no matter where its naked flesh touched the inside of the bull.  The teen he selected had been particularly uncooperative so it was even more fun than usual to watch and listen as the desperate animal suffered in despair.  A careful balance of temperature assured constant burning but also meant the slave would remain alive for at least an hour to prolong the agony.  A new slave would replace it when it finally died.

 

“By the way, Chief,” William asked as the three senior AMS leaders left the stage to enjoy the party.  “Whatever happened to that slave you had for such a long time?  I think its name was Norman.  I thought you were going to finally get around to snuffing him.”

 

“I am, and he will die tonight,” answered the Chief.  “He’s a great organizer and I wanted to use him to help on the party.  He located and designed a lot of the torture equipment, and he did a great job as you’ll see.  I also had him train a successor, who is one of the urinals.”  The Chief pointed at Anthony, who was kneeling near the two Alpha males, ready to receive any piss they might need to get rid of, or to be fucked if they felt like doing that.  Or snuffed.  Anthony bowed to the ground in respect for his master and William.  As he returned to kneeling, William signaled to him that he was to use his teeth to unclasp the leather covering William’s cock, after which William took advantage of the new slave and unloaded a giant gusher of piss down its throat.  “Well, the slave does seem well trained as a urinal,” observed William.  “Does it also have a tight ass?  As I recall Norman became pathetically loose.”

 

“It does,” answered the Chief.  “And I encourage you to check for yourself, although I don’t plan to kill Anthony for a while since he’s very useful, and there are lots of young twinks for you to fuck and snuff that are probably more to your taste.  You can fuck Anthony any time you feel like it since he’ll probably be around.  But if you decide to snuff him that’s obviously your right and perfectly OK with me, and with him.  I’ve already picked his successor, although that male is probably not quite ready to take over yet.”

 

“Do you intend to keep this one  for years like you did Norman,” asked the Chief.  He had never really approved of keeping a slave for many years, since he viewed them as mere meat useful for sex and the pleasure of torturing them as they died for his amusement.  He hired staff to perform the sorts of duties the Chief assigned to Norman and Anthony.

 

“Probably not as long, but I do find slaves useful as staff.  I know you disagree, but I think they can serve useful purposes as sort of “man servants” who get to know what I want done and take care of it with total obedience.  I don’t think your staff is as reliable, although the fact you torture them to death if they fuck up does help motivate them.”  The two friends laughed at the exchange, which they had been doing for decades.  It was a friendly disagreement, and William had actually decided to convert some his house staff to longer-term slaves, using the Chief’s conditioning to assure their complete obedience.  It would be fun to dispose of them when they outlived their usefulness, and it would cost less since they would not need salaries, clothing, medical care, or pensions.  Housing could be in bunk rooms and they could eat table scraps, dog food, and the entrails of snuffed slaves.  Of course, his sexual pleasure would still be focused on young twinks whose bodies he thoroughly enjoyed destroying in horribly painful deaths.  A smooth, 20-year-old twink was his favorite sex object by far.

 

“So where’s Norman”” William asked, his curiosity aroused.  The Chief pointed to a scaffold beside them, where Norman was displayed hanging slightly off the ground with his cock erect and a noose around his neck.  William did have to admit (to himself) that the slave, although old for William’s purposes, was still an excellent specimen of male flesh, with a fit and handsome body and a very decent sized cock.  Maybe the Chief had a point.

 

“Are you going to leave him there until he dies from strangulation, or do you have something else in mind?”

 

“I’ll take him down and snuff him personally in a while.  The noose isn’t tight enough to strangle him, just to make him suffer.  I want him displayed and humiliated but I also want the fun of a personal kill.  I want to feel him die as I fuck his ass and choke him.  Afar all, despite the effect of the Hell Drug being injected into him a week ago he’s managed not to cum, which is a remarkable demonstration of obedience and discipline.  I think killing him personally is a good reward.  It’s what he wants.  And I knew he wanted to hang around for most of the party, which I obviously arranged.”

 

That was too much for William. He was used to the Chief’s bad puns, but the thought of rewarding a slave was beyond his comprehension.  He shook his head.  “Sometimes I think you’re getting soft in your old age, my friend,” he admonished.

 

“Hey, I’m not the one dealing with old age,” responded the Chief, which got a groan and a laugh from his friend.  Of course, there was only a year’s difference in their ages, as William was quick to point out.  But the Chief had clearly won the round of jesting.

 

Meanwhile, guests were mingling, enjoying the drinks, meat snacks, and exhibits.  One that was particularly popular was the “wheel,” a medieval British torture that involved tying the victim cock-side up to a large wheel and then turning it over a set of spikes that would tear into the flesh.  It quickly turned into a betting game based on how many times the slaves could survive being punctured by the spikes before they died.  But this wasn’t as popular as the “pit and pendulum” station, based on the delightful Poe story.  Unlike the story, the slave of course was not rescued and, better yet, it was sliced in half lengthwise.  It had taken a lot of practice to get it right, but Norman had designed the device so precisely that it even sliced the cock and balls lengthwise, splitting the scrotum so each half of the slave had a testicle and half its penis.  (The penis was kept erect by drugs and stapled to the belly to keep it in place.)  The best part of this fun station was the growing terror the slave exhibited as the ultra-sharp pendulum swung above it, closer with each pass until the actual cutting began.

 

Other popular demonstrations included the rack, which although well known to the guests was still lots of fun as the slave was literally pulled apart for their enjoyment.  There were lots of whipping posts where the guests could participate, taking turns lashing the young animals front and back until their skin was just a mass of bleeding welts and their cocks were literally cut off by the metal-tipped whips.  To assure that result the animals had been drugged to cause the cocks to remain hard until the whips could cut through them.  Some of the slaves were suspended upside down, so the erect cock was hanging down and more readily available as the whip strokes struck the exposed flesh.

 

For those who wanted to collect slave skin for conversion into leather mementos there were slaves tied down to tables where they could be skinned alive as their flesh collected for that purpose.  All the torture stations had written displays giving the history of the torture, and this one pointed out how Henry VIII not only skinned alive the monks who didn’t follow him but nailed their skin to the door of their abbey as a warning to others.  The Chief knew what a fan of history William was, and all the guests enjoyed the extra detail.

 

Well-endowed slaves were displayed so their huge cock and balls sets could be removed to be turned into an artistic memento of the event.  As Norman had predicted, this was especially popular given the impressive size of some of the young cocks.  Besides the betting on when a slave would die at a particular torture session, there were contests among the guests so they could show off their skill, especially at archery and (even more popular) axe throwing.  The arrows were aimed at the heart and the axes were aimed at the erect  cocks.  But one exceptional archer managed to get an arrow perfectly into the piss slit, generating considerable cheers and collecting on a lot of bets.  After each contest the dead slave was beheaded and its head was presented to the winner as a trophy.

 

Perhaps the most popular of all the exhibits was one commemorating the quant British tradition of having a criminal hanged, drawn, and quartered.  This was reserved for the teens who had been least cooperative and were the best looking.  The Chief wanted to display handsome bodies that were strongly resisting their deserved fate.  As was the tradition in the Middle Ages in England, the slaves were first tied to a wire rack that was dragged from the cage area on a meandering route to the scaffold.  That way the guests could observe the animals and enjoy their struggles and terror, while also spitting, pissing, and whipping the bodies as they were slowly dragged to their doom.  It was very satisfying and the slave was dragged very slowly to maximize the show.

 

Eventually the slave would reach the scaffold and be pulled up to stand under the noose, which was carefully placed around its neck.  The key at this point was not to have the body drop very far, breaking the slave’s neck and killing it much too quickly.  Instead, there was just a short drop sufficient to partially break the neck and trigger the slave’s final orgasm, an essential part of the entertainment.  Then the slave was slowly pulled into the air, its legs dangling for the amusement of the onlookers.  To be sure there was adequate pain and damage to the animal, these nooses had a refinement, which was a thin wire on the inside of the noose that would cut into the slave’s neck as it hung on display, cum and then piss dripping from its spent cock.  The more the slave moved the deeper the cut.  So the hangman would push the body to gain that effect.  The notice by the station pointed out that this wasn’t the way it was actually done in olden days, when there was an effort to have the prisoner hang alive in pain for a period of time, but there would be more of a drop.  But as famous criminals like Guy Fawkes had demonstrated, if there was a material  “drop” a clever victim could actually jump just before the drop and gain enough extra leverage to assure its neck was broken enough to cause a very quick death.  The Chief would not run that risk.  These slaves were to die as slowly and painfully as possible, with maximum humiliation and entertainment.  Pushing the body so it swung while the wire cut into its neck worked great for that purpose.

 

The Chief also enhanced the next steps, which started after the slave was cut down from the noose and placed on its back on a bench.  The executioner would bring the slave back to the point of orgasm and then cut into the genitals as it again started to cum.  The slave’s innards would be “drawn” out of it, starting with the genitals and then slowly reaching the intestines, carefully enough so the slave would not escape into death.  This was where using a fit young male made it possible to have a much better spectacle.  The same was true with quartering, although it was technically “sixing” since the executioner would cut off the cock and intestines, then each arm, each leg, and, finally, as the slave died it would be beheaded.  It was a great show.   For one of the sessions the Chief also threw in a wrinkle to add to the fun.

 

“Every party needs a clown,” the Chief announced.  So I thought we’d have some fun with a clown executioner who’s easily confused.”

 

At that point a young male entered the room, naked and erect with his face painted into a clown mask.  He pretended to read a piece of paper in his hands, then  looked down at his genitals and addressed the guests.  “Let’s see, the instructions say I’m supposed to generally inflate some balloons.”  I think that means my genitals, so I guess the existing ones have to go.”  The guests giggled at his “confusion” over generals v. genitals but enjoyed the scene as the clown proceeded to take a nearby knife and cut of his cock.  Holding it up as it drained, he pretended to look for a peace to throw it away, and upon seeing none he popped it into his mouth and ate it.  His scrotum was next, but this time he found a place to deposit the testicles, offering one to the Chief and the other to William.  Then he ate the leftover skin.  Another slave appeared at this point and cauterized the open wound so the clown wouldn’t bleed to death before the end of the show, and then handed him three balloons, two round and one cock shaped.  With the help of the “assistant” the clown attached them to where his “generals” had once been.  The idea had been to make the clown look as ridiculous as possible, and it was quite effective.  The giggling had now turned to laughter and jeers.

 

“Task 2,” read the clown.  “Hang, draw, and quarter your assistant.”  The assistant pretended to try to escape, but the clown grabbed him and pushed him down onto a nearby torture table.  The clown paused for effect, then quickly secured the victim’s wrists and ankles to the four corners of the table.  “Got it,” he announced triumphantly.  “Quartered, drawn, and hanged it will be!”  As the audience watched and laughed ever louder, the pretend idiot took a clown-style saw and proceeded to saw off each of the victim’s arms and legs, slowly and carefully so the audience could enjoy watching and listening to the infliction of pain and resulting screams.  Some of the humor came from the fact the clown’s genital balloons bounced around and got in the way, with the cock balloon popping at one point. It had been partially filled with cum, which leaked out in front of the absurd-looking clown.  As the laughter grew the balloon was quickly replaced, and soon the two arms and legs were detached and hanging from the four corners of the table as the clown turned to the next part of the process.

 

The victim had been treated with drugs to assure its cock would remain hard during the vivisection, and the clown stroked it as he picked up a knife to begin “drawing” the victim.  That resulted in the cock erupting with a final orgasm as the knife cut into the base of the scrotum and the clown began pulling out the entrails.  He kept pulling until he had a considerable mound of intestines piled up, and then pretended to notice the victim was near death.  “Better hurry!” exclaimed the clown, and he pulled down a noose that hung over the table and placed it around the neck of the dying torso.  As the victim faded, it was pulled by its neck up off the table, and shortly thereafter it died, having been quartered, drawn, and hanged.  It too looked absurd, with its limbs cut off and a very long string of entrails hanging from where its cock had once been.

 

The clown then pretended to reread the instructions and realize its error.  “Oh no,” it exclaimed.  “I fucked up again!  My master will be very unhappy with me.  I better punish myself.”  And with that the clown walked to a nearby guillotine and laid down on its back.  But it was upside down on the table, with its legs and butt positioned under the blade.  The clown used some pins left on the side of the bench to pop all three genital balloons, and announced to the crowd:  “Sorry I fucked up.  But I hope you enjoyed the show.”  It then pressed a nearby button that released the blade.  The audience laughed and cheered as the blade, much wider than the usual type, sliced the slave’s body in half at the waste, which was of course a far longer, more painful, and amusing death than the traditional beheading.  It had been a fun show for everyone, not only providing a little comic relief to add to the variety of the evening but also demonstrating how completely effective the slave indoctrination techniques developed by the Chief were in achieving the absolute obedience appropriate for slaves.

 

After the clown fun it was getting close to time for the actual dinner, which would feature live slaves as entree’s.  The Chief went back on stage, where a torture table had been set up with Norman placed on it on his back.

 

“I hope everyone is enjoying themselves, and please continue to do so.  We have lots more slaves, and there were way more than 50 to choose from.  We deliberately overstocked to be sure everyone can fully enjoy themselves on this great celebration.    So let’s all do our part!”  This got a big cheer.  “But I did want to take a moment for a personal task that I’ve been looking forward to.  As you all know, I’ve kept the slave Norman for ten years, and I have found him very useful.  But he has aged a bit and his usefulness isn’t as great as it was.  So I’ve replaced him with Anthony, and I wanted to share his death with all my friends, since I know I’m going to particularly enjoy snuffing him.  As most of you also know, one of his failings is that his ass isn’t very tight anymore, which might have to do with all the times I’ve (and many of you) enjoyed fisting him as well as fucking him.  But for this occasion I’ve had the vet tighten it up so I can enjoy fucking it one last time.  (Don’t worry, there was no anesthetic .)  And after I’m done we’ll leave the body here for any of you who might want to do so as well, perhaps a nostalgia fuck.  I don’t plan anything elaborate, but it will be satisfying.  Oh, and I realize the meat is not young enough to merit serving it.  So he’ll be turned into fertilizer and spread among some of my favorite plants.  I’m committed to recycling, especially slaves.”

 

With that the Chief approached the table where Norman lay, his cock now more aroused than ever and his face the very image of contentment and gratitude.  The Chief was also erect, having stripped naked to better enjoy the fuck.  He slammed his cock into Norman, as had been his custom since he had purchased Norman all those years ago, and Norman felt a wave of pleasure that far surpassed the pain.  Then, as the Chief began the rhythm of fucking his used-up slave, he also reached over and grasped Norman’s neck with his strong hands.  The fucking and the choking soon became almost the same motion, as the Chief got more sexually aroused by the reaction of Norman trying to breathe but not being able to do more than just gasp as his windpipe was crushed by his master’s enormous strength.  The Chief had used Norman for breath play many times, but the intensity, and goal, was different this time.  There would be no recovery.  Norman knew that as he felt the Chief near orgasm inside him, and Norman began to lose consciousness.  There was considerable pain, but mostly there was joy at having been a good slave, and the overwhelming pleasure as Norman’s cock erupted simultaneously with the Chief’s.  Norman was snuffed as the Chief’s cock emptied inside of him and his own cock emptied on his chest.  The Chief’s orgasm perfectly coincided not only with Norman’s but also with the wonderful feeling as Norman’s ass tightened as he died and then everything went limp.  Both men were wonderfully satisfied.

 

A few guests used Norman’s body for fucking, but not all that many.  There were too many younger males to fuck, and they were sexier.  But with the Chief’s permission Anthony did do so, having been totally turned on by the appropriateness of how the Chief had snuffed his former mentor.  It was a fuck of gratitude and hope that he might someday earn the same treatment.  And, again at the Chief’s order, it was followed by Jeremy fucking Anthony, as he likely would do again when Anthony was snuffed.

 

Norman’s snuff did not slow down the party.  The sound of a bull’s roar that signaled fresh naked flesh being fatally burned was fairly constant, as was the sound of whips tearing into vulnerable skin.  The screams were intermittent, occurring as slaves were ripped apart on the racks, cut in half by the pendulum, stabbed by the spikes under the wheels, or just cut into pieces by guests free forming their tortures.  It was a joyous time for everyone.

 

But now it was time for dinner, and the guests gathered together to enjoy live meat being carved for their nourishment and further entertainment.  As the Chief observed that they were mostly done with their meals, he again stood to address the group.

 

“This is a great party, and I thank you all for joining us.  And it is a great party in part because it is such a great occasion, honoring our beloved leader.

 

“I have thought long and hard about what kind of present I might present to William, and I think I have found the ideal gift.  As you know, I have developed methods to convert any male into a completely obedient slave, grateful for whatever its master does to it. We have all enjoyed snuffing lots of those this afternoon and evening, and we will continue to do so well into the night.  However, on rare occasion there is a male that is already aware of its purpose, anxious to serve and grateful for the pain and humiliation it knows it deserves.  These slaves know they are otherwise  utterly worthless and have no purpose other than to serve, suffer, and die.  They are especially satisfying, but hard to find.

 

“I have come upon one of these, and it is my pleasure to present it as your birthday present.”  At this point the slave formerly named Stevie walked into the room, its excitement demonstrated by its erect cock and the look of anticipation on its face.  It stopped in front of Alpha 1 and knelt, continuing into a full kowtow.   Its young body was resplendent in its sexual prime, ready for whatever use the Alpha 1 chose to make of it.  It was overwhelmed by the honor of being owned and used by one so important, and utterly embraced that opportunity.  The Chief had not had to use any of his techniques and the slave had embraced its fate as soon as that fate was explained to it.  William smiled broadly as the Chief continued.

 

“Obviously, this slave no longer has use for a name, and I am aware that you recently snuffed your most recent acquisition, snuffslave 549.  So we have heated up the branding iron so you can accept this gift as snuffslave 550, reflecting its status as a snuffslave designated for special use, not just a routine animal to be disposed of casually like those we’re snuffing here tonight.  And it has one other characteristic that is exceptionally hard to find in a slave of this type and this stage of sexual development.  It has never been butt-fucked.  It has a virgin ass for you to ravage as you wish.”

 

William was ecstatic.  This was indeed the perfect gift.   A truly willing slave that embraced its purpose and fate.  He ordered the slave to stand, which it did.  William reviewed and stroked the smooth young skin, observing the obvious strength and development of its muscles, thinking how wonderfully they would take the pain he would inflict.  He observed the hard cock that pointed upwards form the strength of its sexual excitement, and the balls that he would someday enjoy removing and consuming after he finished torturing them.  But not too soon, as slaves like this were indeed rare and their destruction should be as slow and careful as it was painful and humiliating.  As the slave stood obediently in front of its new master, head bowed, William reached over to the handle of the branding iron that had been placed near him.  As the Chief held the slave in place, not for fear of resistance but to prevent involuntary movements that might blur the brand, William enjoyed the smell of the searing meat as the red-hot iron burned into the young chest, making clear William’s ownership.  The slave did not scream, or make any movement beyond further bowing its head in obedience.  It had not been necessary for the Chief to have held it in place.  William sensed it wanted to speak but knew it was not permitted to do so without permission, a further sign of its natural instincts.  Curiosity caused him to grant it permission to speak.

 

“Thank you, master.  From now on I exist to bring you pleasure through my pain, humiliation and destruction as you wish.  I am grateful for you accepting me for whatever use you make of me.”  William signaled for the slave to bend over, and as the guests clapped and cheered he savagely raped the young slave, ending its virginity and introducing it to the first part of the agony and public use that lay ahead.

 

“This is the perfect gift, and I am delighted,” William told his host.  “But it does present a dilemma.   I am quite tempted to use it up in due course by ripping it apart as part of its torture and death.  That would be great fun.  But I also have decided to add a new feature to my statue garden.  It is already a place of great beauty, with the perfectly preserved bodies of slaves displayed for my pleasure and that of my guests.  There are slaves hanging from the trees, their heads dangling at odd angles reflecting their broken necks and their cocks preserved with the erections they sported as they died.  There are exhibits showing deceased AMS members who time to die had arrived, whipping or otherwise torturing slaves as they had in life.  And there are lots of slaves positioned over fuck benches with their assholes preserved so that they are still very appealing fuck targets.  I spend a lot of time there, contemplating how wonderfully ordered the world is, with slaves performing the functions they exist to perform.  But I realized recently that I should have a fountain of some sort, and the other possible use of this exceptional specimen would be to have it impaled with its arms outstretched in a joyous pose as its cock spews a constant flow of cum over a bed of bright flowers.  I think that would be a beautiful sight and this snuffslave could fill the role.  I’ll take my time and torture it for quite some time before deciding, of course, but I think I’ll avoid scarring it in case I conclude it’s the right object for my garden.”  And with that, William used a cattle prod to introduce the snuffslave to the pain of electric shock as he proceeded to rape it again.  The Chief looked on and smiled, now also fucking a nearby twink as he slowly cut off its cock and balls.

 

The gift, and the party, was a total success.

 

Spokoynoy Nochi, Soldier Boy by tritui@hotmail.es

 

Alfonso risked a glance over his shoulder to where he knew Ivan was waiting, hidden back at the base of the trees. His comrade’s camouflage was excellent – even though Alfonso knew exactly where to look, he could see no trace of Ivan. Perfect – stealth was essential for their mission. This deep behind enemy lines there was no chance of rescue if things went wrong.

There was no warning at all. One moment Alfonso was belly-crawling another few inches forward, the next he felt the muzzle of a rifle pressing into the back of his neck. The sun-warmed metal quickly grew uncomfortably hot against his skin, but he didn’t dare move. The owner of the rifle barked something at him in Russian, thick consonants sounding like they were being torn from his throat. Alfonso took a guess at what the harsh noises might mean and opened his hands, moving them slowly out to each side of his head. “Nye govoryu po-russki”, he replied, forcing his mouth to shape the ugly syllables of the invaders’ language in one of the few phrases he had memorized.

Booted feet appeared either side of him and his hands were roughly yanked behind his back. Cuffs were applied to ensure they would stay there. Alfonso was lifted to his feet and force-marched the rest of the way across the field, covering in two minutes the same distance that had taken him two hours to crawl earlier that morning.

Entering one of the tents, he was brutally hurled to the floor in front of a small man in a perfectly-pressed uniform. There was more Russian gabble, and then, finally, words Alfonso could understand.

“My men want to execute you right away, you know,” the neatly-dressed man said calmly, without a trace of an accent. “Such rash young things. How fortunate for you that I am the one in charge here and I have decided that you should live a little longer.”

“Now,” the well-dressed man said, kneeling down to stare into Alfonso’s brown eyes with his icy blue ones, “my men inform me that they found two sets of footprints in the woods, but only one footprint-maker. Logic suggests that you have a companion who is still roaming around out there, getting into who knows what trouble. Why don’t you help us save him from making an embarrassing mistake by telling us where we might find him?”

Alfonso stared at him for a moment or so, then quickly, striking like a cobra, spat in the man’s face. The commander backed away, never losing his calm expression, and fished a cloth from his pocket to dab at his face.

One of Vladimir’s two men stepped forward, aiming a booted foot toward Alfonso’s mouth, but Vladimir stopped him with a movement of his hand. He kept quiet for a few moments, continuing to stare into Alfonso’s eyes as he wiped the saliva off his cheek. Then, standing slowly, still moving with calm deliberation, he smiled. He spoke a few words in Russian and the two men disappeared. They returned a minute or so later, carrying a human-sized wooden cross. The sight of the cross made Alfonso’s heard pound in his chest. The men lifted Alfonso, removed the cuffs, and tied him to the frame, stretching his arms so much he thought his shoulders were going to pop apart. Then they left the room.

The boss-man approached and once more stared into Alfonso’s eyes. Slowly, methodically, he took hold of Alfonso’s shirt and tore it in half right down the centerline of the chest, ripping a few inches at a time. “Now, soldier,” he said, fitting the words into the spaces between pulls on the fabric, “my name is Vladimir, and I am looking forward to learning your name, along

with whatever other information you decide to tell me over the course of our conversation.” The shirt was now torn completely in half, the two parts dangling limply beside Alfonso’s ribs. “Do you know what I like about men like you?” he purred, placing his hand on Alfonso’s smooth chest. Alfonso could feel his heart beating like a drum beneath the man’s palm. “You’ve clearly got a tough body. It will be able to take more than most men. Which means… more fun for me.”

Alfonso looked down at his now slightly-sweaty chest and at Vladimir’s hand resting aggressively, intrusively on it, certain that Vladimir could actually hear the frantic beating of his heart, not merely feel it beneath his fingers. The commander dropped his hand and turned away. He walked back to a desk, opened a drawer and pulled out a large number of very long, thick needles. Alfonso swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat.

“Now,” Vladimir said, turning back toward Alfonso’s pinned, helpless body, “this is where the fun begins. For me.” He drew out one of the needles. Calling the implement a “needle” was an understatement, like calling a hawk a “bird” or calling a fighter jet a “plane” – the word did not do the object justice. It was approximately as long as his hand and perhaps half as thick as a pencil. He watched Alfonso’s eyes as the needle emerged to glint in the light – a slight widening, but not a panic reaction. Good to know, although Vladimir could have worked as easily with panic.

Vladimir gazed at the needle in his hand for a bit, then reached out to caress his victim’s side with his other hand, running it from the moderate dusting of chest fur at the front to the smoother parts beneath the armpit. “Why don’t we start with you telling me your name, hmm? I’d like to keep this as civilized as possible, and it seems tactless to keep thinking of you as ‘Victim Number Seventeen’. So dehumanizing. What should I call you instead?”

After a few seconds of silence, Vladimir reached forward with the needle and placed it against his captive’s skin, angling it forward from just behind the side of the pectoral muscle. He pressed and the finely-honed point dug a dimple into the flesh, depressing it briefly until the skin parted with a faint popping sound and the tip slid underneath. Vladimir kept pressing, smoothly applying pressure until the needle began to emerge just under and to the outside of the taut nipple. A tiny mountain raised itself up until finally the second layer of skin parted like the first, though with a much louder “pop”, and the tip of the needle emerged followed by a thin trail of dark red blood.

Alfonso’s breathing was rough and ragged and tiny moans emerged from his mouth as the needle made its transit. Without pausing for a break, Vladimir withdrew a second needle and placed it on the other side as a mirror image of the first.

“I have approximately five hundred of these,” he said casually. “That’s a total of about two and a half kilograms of metal. I can find places for every single one of them over the next few hours. I hope that will inspire you to take a greater role in our conversation than you have done so far, but if it doesn’t, then I’m sure I’ll be able to think of other alternatives afterward.”

“Well, don’t tell me your name if you don’t want, I don’t mind it at all to be honest. Actually, I already know some interesting things about you. Do you want to know?”. Vladimir got closer to Alfonso and whispered to him “I know where you’re from, according to the badge on your uniform. And here is the curious thing, I’m a soldier too, you know? Actually, I am one of the people who specializes in making stubborn enemy soldiers like you talk. It can be a difficult job, but I find it has certain… compensations”

The nineteenth and twentieth needles went through the meat of Alfonso’s thighs, causing the legs to tremble and quiver. Vladimir opened the next box of needles, but when he started to place the next… what was this? The very first two needles he had inserted were no longer oozing blood. How curious – usually the slow drips continued a while longer, but the entry and exit points were already scabbed over. He looked at the others, and found that all forty holes – even the four he had just created – did not look like fresh injuries. The oldest looked like they had been healing for a few days, the newest for a few hours. And yet it had only been minutes. Curious indeed.

He decided to experiment. The next needle went in through Alfonso’s side from front to back, drilling through the muscles of the belly but avoiding any vital organs. The next went in parallel to it and slightly higher, and gradually he built a ladder up his writhing victim’s side, setting needles into a parallel line running from the top of his pelvis to his lowermost rib. Sure enough, by the time he had finished placing the top rung of the ladder, the first one had stopped bleeding.

“You are a fascinating young man, it seems,” he said, looking into his victim’s face. “Were you aware, I wonder, that your body heals itself from wounds much more quickly than other men? Ah, I see you knew that already. I suspect your army knows it too. I wonder… could they be responsible for it? Hmm. Well, this adds an interesting wrinkle to what was already a very enjoyable job.”

Alfonso`s heart skipped a beat. Vladimir continued to drive spikes through the bound man’s skin and muscles, eliciting sharp intakes of breath and a few whimpering moans. By the time he had emptied the fifth box – 100 needles – Alfonso was trying – and occasionally failing – to hold himself unnaturally still because any movement set the needles to dancing uncomfortably in his flesh. “Now,” Vladimir said, “I don’t usually remove any of the ornaments until the end of the session, but this intriguing ability of yours is too fascinating. I need to experiment a bit.” He withdrew the first spike he had inserted and inspected the resulting hole. “Fascinating indeed,” he murmured. “Do you realize this has very nearly healed over? Your little cells have been working overtime, haven’t they? Building new skin, sealing off the injured area… in any other man, this would have taken months, but your body managed it in under an hour. And now as a result, you have a nearly-fully-healed body piercing. How remarkable. A shame I don’t have a ring or barbell of suitable size to insert in the hole… ah, wait, here is something.” He picked up a piece of rough twine from the floor. Using a small piece of clear tape, he attached one end of the twine to the thick end of the needle, then slowly pushed the needle back into the hole it had created. This time he kept pushing until the needle went all the way through and out the other side, drawing the twine after it. When the needle had fully emerged, he removed the tape and was left with a length of twine embedded in his victim’s body. He sawed the twine back and forth a few times, generating a raspy noise that grated on his ears. “Ah. Such an interesting sensation this must be for you. I can only imagine.”

“Wow, you are a tough one. I didn’t think you’d hold out this long”. Vladimir stated, standing back and looking at his work. He smiled at the panting form in front of him. Alfonso´s torso was now full of needles and drenched with sweat, his chest heaving uncontrollably. “We’ve been at this for nearly eight hours. I didn’t expect you to last for half that time, and I do, unfortunately, have other responsibilities that I must attend to. And so, alas, our time together must come to an end.” Said that, Vladimir left the tent.

Hardly being able to keep composed due to the pain inside him, Alfonso realized that at that rate, his torturer would eventually discover the secret behind his body. The truth was, waiting in the side of his neck (and causing an almost unnoticeable shimmer) there were billions of nanorobots which started flowing throught his blood the moment he got injured, healing almost every wound he could get in a short time. He wasn’t immortal, he could die as well, but the nanorobots made it less likely. Not everyone could be like him. The army injected the nanomachines into every recruit it got. In 90 cases out of 100, the enhancement didn’t work and the machines were flushed harmlessly out of the recruit’s body. But in those 10% of people that the machines were compatible with, they established a symbiotic relationship with their host, granting him increased resistance to pain, rapid healing from injury, and immunity to every disease and infection. Indeed, Ivan was one of those people, a normal soldier. Alfonso felt glad thinking that it was going to be him and not his mate who had to face whatever Vladimir had planned for him. He had no idea at all how much he was going to regret it, how sadistic Vladimir would get.

Taking advantage of this short moment of peace, Alfonso thought of his pregnant beloved, the moment they say goodbye and he promised to her he would marry her after that war finished. That happened a year and a half ago. “Could it have been a girl? A boy?”

Few minutes after, he heard the door opening and Alfonso looked to Vladimir, who was carrying a long dagger. Vladimir gave him another of his evil smiles as he noticed his beloved prisoner realizing what were about to happen.

Alfonso’s heart continued to pound erratically as Vladimir approached him, the dagger extended. He place the icy cold tip against Alfonso’s heaving chest, right over his hard-pumping heart muscle. Vladimir looked into Alfonso’s eyes, and shoved the blade deep into his hairy chest, careful not to puncture the heart. Alfonso’s eyes widened and he let out a gasp of pain as the man withdrew the blade and shoved his hand in the hole, right between his muscular tits. His face contorted into a grimace when Vladimir’s hand found the target, gave it a light squeeze, and pulled it from the mighty chest slowly. During the ripping procces, he witnessed with delightment the veins and arteries that were broken being repaired instantly. The torturer stood in front of the tortured, holding the pounding muscle in his blood-covered hand. Vladimir felt the pump kicking hard in his hand, the various veins and arteries connecting itself to Alfonso still attached.

Vladimir took one more needle.

Alfonso’s eyes opened in horror, realizing what was about to happen.

Vladimir smiled as he began to press the needle into Alfonso’s heart until the tough outer membrane broke. Alfonso gasped several times as the man grabbed another needle and pressed it in just as slow in another area of his pumping heart. Alfonso jerked his head back in agony as the needle was lodged into his heaving muscle. Vladimir carried on until 5 needles found themselves invading Alfonso’s heart, making him have no longer the strength to scream Alfonso had never felt such pain, nor had he ever been aware of his heart as a separate muscle until this moment as the needles sat there, prodding painfully into it.

“Look down,” Vladimir commanded. Despite all the agony, Alfonso did. Vladimir was holding what appeared to be a stick in front of his hips. As Alfonso’s eyes focused better, he realized the stick was actually his torturer’s erect cock.

You’re…a sick-…son of a…” Alfonso forced his words out without any air to support them so they failed him.

“And you’re a dead man.” Vladimir hissed, enjoying Alfonso’s lack of fight. Still with Alfonso’s quivering heart in one hand, he licked the bloody edge of the blade before thrusting it into Alfonso’s sternum.

Alfonso let out a pained grunt as his already air-deprived lungs felt like they were constricted. He gasped for air and let out a raspy cry as the blade was pulled out, he felt like it took half of his remaining life out with it.

While he was dying, his life slowly fading away through all the holes in his body, Alfonso thought once again of his beloved, lamenting that he had not been able to fulfill his promise to marry her and see the fruit of their love grow. In spite of all the pain, Alfonso managed to outline a weak smile, thinking that at least the image of her would be his last thought before dy….

His thoughts were interrupted as he felt his chin being elevated and his bloody lips being kissed slowly and carefully. He managed to lift his heavy eyelids and saw his torturer licking the blood from his lips and kissing them. The image disgusted him and closed his mouth tightly, but his punisher moved the fine needles that pierced his heart, which made Alfonso groan in pain, allowing his punisher to invade his mouth with his tongue. “At least it won’t last long,” thought Alfonso, surrendering and closing his eyes to at least not have to face such repulsive vision.

A few seconds later, Vladimir stopped kissing him and moved away from the cross where Alfonso was spending the last agonizing moments of his life. Alfonso took advantage of that momentary peace to recall the image of his beloved again before dying. He had barely managed it when suddenly he felt a hand resting on his aching right shoulder and then his abdomen was stabbed by something serrated in one of the few areas that were not invaded by needles with such fury that the little air left in his lungs escaped. The brutal pain disintegrated the image of his beloved from his mind and left him in shock. Too weak to reopen his eyes, and unable to react, Alfonso could only feel the razor being pulled out of his abdomen with the same fury with which it was embedded, taking small pieces of intestine with it, to be nailed back to it. Vladimir kept plunging the dagger again and again, making Alfonso only being able to focus in the pain, until his dying heart could no longer bear it and the darkness took him away.

Family Pride by Gay Slavemeat gsmeat2@gmail.com

 

I have written a lot of fantasy gay snuff stories, usually with the victim being a willing slave that embraces its fate, since that’s my personal fantasy and what I think I deserve. Sometimes readers request a particular approach or plot.  I like to do that and those have been well received.  I was recently contacted by a fellow slave, who says his name is Bill, and who has shared the events that led him not only to become a willing sex slave but to want to be snuffed.  I think his story may well be mostly true, although of course on the internet one never knows for sure.  In real life I do not approve of anyone getting hurt involuntarily, let alone snuffed.  Human life is precious and should be preserved and nurtured, although for those of us who are masochists I have no problem with willingly being tortured, used sexually, and humiliated naked in public – so long as there is not permanent damage.  I get off big time on that sort of thing with me on the receiving end.  The thought of me being snuffed fills a strong need, and the fantasy keeps me away from seeking the real thing.

 

Bill appears to have reacted to initial involuntary abuse by embracing it totally and wanting more.  I find his story a major turn-on.  He asked me to write it and also to write how it might end.  That is what follows.  The past events and his current state of willing slavery are from what he claims to be real, as are some of the first names such as his original pimp, brothers and high school friends.  But to protect his identity somewhat I’ve used some fake names, like the bar name, which I took from the now-closed Mack’s in San Francisco.  (That was the best S&M club I ever attended, and he did not tell me the name of the Boston S&M club where he’s kept.)  I also included a much younger version of myself as a bit player in the events to advance the plot, as does the setting around a real estate deal.

 

So, here’s his story with one possibility on how it might end, an ending Bill says he would like to have happen.

 

 

Burlington, Vermont

Thanksgiving

 

“I love living in Vermont and it’s amazingly pretty in the winter, but this year is ridiculously cold,” said Mr. Thompson.  He had just finished Thanksgiving dinner, surrounded by his entire family, and the tryptophan in the fresh turkey (along with some excellent red wine) was starting to make him sleepy.  It had been a great day, with lots of turkey, football, family, and wine and beer.  He had been joined by his three sons and their families, and everyone was in a great mood.  He was incredibly close to his boys, and proud of them.

 

“You are right dad,” agreed Mark, who at 30 was the eldest of the three.  “And Kevin, Danny, and I think we all deserve a break from the cold.  We also think it would be great to have some quality family time with just you and the three of us.  We haven’t done that for a long time – a guys’ trip to someplace nice and warm where we can relax.  After all, you’re about to turn 55 and retire, and the three of us can afford to take some time off after the real estate deal we just closed.  We have a lot to celebrate and everything to be proud of.  We think this would be a nice Christmas present for you.  We planned for a trip to the Bahamas for the four of us, and when we mentioned it to Mr. Jordon he said he’d like to host us all, along with Tommy and Ryan, at his personal resort.  He’s really pleased with how the real estate deal turned out for everyone, and said he knows we’ll all make a lot of money when the property is developed.  He also thought Tommy did a great job as our lawyer and Ryan as our accountant, so he wanted to include them.  We’ve all bonded during the deal on a personal level and discovered we have a lot of values in common.  So now we can even do the trip pretty much for free.  How’s that sound?  I thought I’d bring it up before you fall asleep.”

 

Mr. Thompson was surprised and thrilled.  While he winced a bit about being proud of everything, he certainly was proud of the three amazing sons he had shared his holiday with.  They had worked together on a hugely successful deal with a very rich and prominent real estate baron, and he knew their new partner could easily afford the trip.  So he eagerly accepted the offer and they quickly delved into the timing and details.  It made the day even more special and Mr. Thompson drifted off to a well-deserved nap on the couch in due course.  As he did so, Danny, the youngest of the three, looked lovingly at him and commented to his siblings: “We really do need to use this trip to make sure he can be proud of everything.”  His brothers agreed.

 

Boston, Massachusetts

Mack’s S&M Gay Sex Club

 

Dennis and Paul were engaged in a friendly and animated conversation as they enjoyed some beers and watched the action at Paul’s club.  Paul owned the intense underground gay S&M club, which was nicely full that evening even though it was a weekday.  There were about 40 guys, a majority in leather garb that highlighted their macho alpha male status and bodies.  There were also slaves, who were mostly naked or nearly naked, as befit their inferior, subservient status, making their bodies readily available for inspection and use by their alpha owners.  The bartender was busy serving drinks and most of the group had just enjoyed the buffet that was part of Mack’s tradition.  The patrons were also enjoying the bar’s house slave, who was totally naked and busy sucking cocks.  The alphas even made him suck the cocks of other slaves, so he’d be reminded he was not even worth being taken into their households as a personal slave.  He was just a fuck toy at a S&M bar, of no more value than the bar stools or the backroom sling.  However, he was handy for the guys who needed to get rid of some beer, as he also functioned as a mobile human urinal.  Patrons wouldn’t have to leave their seats and could just piss down his throat or up his ass.  He had once been named Bill, but mostly answered to “fag pig” since that was branded on his lower belly just above his exposed (and currently erect) cock.  Guys also followed the instructions branded on his naked butt, which invited them to “fuck the faggot.”  He was popular since everyone was welcome to fuck him or piss into him (throat or ass), and there weren’t any limits on whipping, fisting, or beatings so long as Paul said it was OK.  Paul always approved so long as he got to watch, or to participate if it was an especially fun and humiliating idea.  Paul was solicitous of his customers and used all his property to satisfy them, including his sex slave, the fag pig fka Bill.  And the fag pig knew what it was and always cooperated and accepted whatever use was made of it, thanking the alphas who used it for doing so.  The fag pig was content and grateful, as it should be.

 

Dennis handed Paul a flier he had brought, with the comment “I assume this is yours, and refers to your fag pig?”  The flier read:

 

FOR SALE

Snuff-ready subhuman live meat slave

Vitals:  25-year old Caucasian male slave, 6’1”, 170 lbs.  Brown hair and eyes, moderately good looking and in generally good physical condition.  Cock 7.25” and functional.  Body fat kept at 15%, to assure flavorful meat that is still very lean.

 

Training:  Well trained to suck cock, drink cum and piss, and eat shit.  Current tasks are janitorial, focusing on cleaning urinals and toilets, including doing so by licking clean the urinals and toilet bowls with its tongue, to enhance its training and humiliation and for entertainment of club patrons.  Responds well to being butt-fucked, whipped, and beaten, and especially to dildos and fisting.  Totally submissive and obedient.

 

Reason for sale:  Slave is showing deterioration in skin smoothness because of being whipped and beaten repeatedly, along with some burn marks, and slave’s asshole is damaged and overly loose as a result of large dildos, being double-fucked, and consistent fisting.  Efforts at repair were not sufficiently successful to meet club standards for fuck-toy slaves.  The current owner of the slave plans to have his premises painted and will use the proceeds of the sale to pay for that.  Slave understands and acknowledges its life is far less important than patrons enjoying a freshly painted setting, and will cooperate with whatever torture, snuff, and cannibalism scenes the purchaser determines.

 

Inquire to Paul at Mack’s S&M Club, Boston, Mass.

____________________________________________________________________________

 

Paul laughed as he read the flier.  “Of course it is.  As you well know since you’re the one who sold me the pathetic piece of fag shit in the first place.”

 

“yeah, but you sure didn’t pay much for it.  And I think you’ve made good money as a result of how utterly depraved Bill is.  Not setting any limits for patrons when they use him has obviously paid off.  Plus having nice clean toilets.  But I hope you don’t think you’re going to get much for him.  About all he’s good for is getting snuffed.  I just fucked his ass and you could park a semi in there.”

 

Paul laughed again.  “True enough.  I’ve distributed the flier discretely and have had some promising inquiries.  Given the fact he’s relatively young, his cock still works, and he’s got the right attitude about being a shit-eating subhuman who deserves to be snuffed, I think I can get enough to pay for the paint job and a few new amenities.  And there are other slaves out there that I can train to replace him.  But I don’t have any delusions about his value.  So, do you want to buy him back?  And do you think you have a replacement for him I could get cheap?  I know you’re in the business of pimping and selling young males.”

 

Before answering, Dennis paused and watched as Bill held up a very large glass to his lips.  He had masturbated into it and then added the cum form used condoms of guys who’d fucked him.  Other patrons filled it up with piss and spit.  One alpha wiped his own ass with some toilet paper and added that to the mixture.  Bill thanked them all and slowly drank the entire cum/piss/spit/shit-stained toilet paper contents.  When he finished several other patrons dragged him over to the nearby sling for further amusement.

 

“Both,” answered Dennis.

 

Burlington, Vermont

8 years ago

 

Bill, Ryan, and Tommy were great friends, each dealing with the stress of high school and the accelerating onset of puberty as they had all turned 17 and hit their sexual prime.  For Tommy and Ryan, the opposite sex was now somehow mysterious and made them insecure and shy.  But Bill had a different reaction.  What got him going was the same sex –  other guys.  He realized he was gay, but he was amazingly ignorant about any aspect of being gay since it wasn’t ever discussed at home, and Bill figured it was no big deal.  But when he told Tommy and Ryan he learned he was completely wrong.  It was a huge deal.

 

“You’re a fag?” Tommy asked in horrified shock.  “Fags aren’t human, they’re subhuman.  You’re a thing, nor a person.”

 

“And you are no longer our friend,” added Ryan.  “We want nothing to do with you.”  Bill was horrified and embarrassed and begged them to reconsider.  He wanted to continue to hang out with his friends.  He told them he’d do anything to be able to continue to do so.

 

“Maybe we’ll give you a choice,” Tommy responded.  “We will either completely ignore you, or if you obey us we will allow you to be around us from time to time as a sex toy for us to use. Instead of us just herking off we could fuck your puny little ass.  That’s what straight guys do to fags like you.  But you would have to do whatever we say, no matter what.”

 

Bill was totally devastated.  He had thought these were his best friends and their reaction put him into shock and depression.  But he couldn’t stand not being around them at all, so he agreed to their terms.  “Like I said, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.  You can use me sexually as a fag if you want.   Just let me be with you at least part of the time.  And don’t tell anyone.”

 

“OK, let’s see if you really mean it.  Take off all your clothes and get on your knees.”  As Bill did so, Tommy unzipped his pants and took out his cock, which he proceeded to stroke until it got hard.  Then he shoved it into Bill’s mouth and told him to suck it, which Bill did.  And Bill liked doing so.  When Tommy shot his load, Bill also discovered he liked swallowing the cum.  Tommy told him he needed to be thanked for using Bill, and as Bill did so Ryan took his turn and also shot a load down Bill’s throat.   This soon became a pattern, with the two “friends” taking turns getting blow jobs from Bill.  Since Bill liked being naked in front of his former friends and loved giving them blow jobs and drinking their cum, Bill looked forward to the ritual. And they had promised to keep his status a secret.

 

But blow jobs soon weren’t enough for Tommy and Ryan, and after a few weeks of blow jobs they decided they wanted more.  They told Bill to bend over, naked, and then Tommy once again took the first turn, this time fucking Bill’s tight, virgin ass.  Bill wasn’t prepared for the pain, and his asshole bled as Tommy reached his climax.  It bled again when Ryan took his turn, but there was no sympathy.  They told Bill this is what fags deserved and he better get used to it.  This was all he was good for, and they laughed as he nearly broke into tears form the combination of pain and humiliation.  However, he not only didn’t resist, he begged for more.  Bill learned that day, and confirmed over the following weeks and years, that he liked being butt-fucked even more than he liked sucking cock.  And he accepted that this was indeed all he was good for.

 

What surprised and frustrated Tommy and Ryan was that being faced got Bill hard, and he clearly enjoyed it.  So, after a month or so of regular use of Bill’s butt and mouth for fucking, Tommy went a step further.  This time Tommy told Bill to get naked and lie on his back in the bathroom.  He again dropped his pans, but this time it wasn’t his cock that went into Bill.  He lowered his own butt onto Bill’s face and farted, laughing at Bill as he did so.  Then he took a dump.  The load of shit went into Bill’s mouth, and Bill obediently swallowed it.  Then it was Ryan’s turn, with both boys laughing at Bill as they told him to wash his mouth out, so he could function as toilet paper and clean their asses.  They told him to describe how wonderful their shit tasted, and to thank them for their “gifts.”  Bill did exactly as he was instructed.  Tommy and Ryan had found the ultimate humiliation, and their sessions with Bill now included not just using him as a cum depository, but also for their piss and their shit.  Bill was too embarrassed and ashamed to admit to them that he had soon come to want this too – he was turned on by being used and degraded, no matter how badly.  It frustrated Tommy and Ryan that even this depravity turned him on, and they slapped him around and beat him up to show their displeasure.  But they also kept using him as the fag they always reminded him he was.

 

Tommy had a further idea on how to humiliate Bill, which worked well and sealed Bill’s role as a worthless fag.  When he and Ryan were each fucking him, one in his ass and one in his mouth, Tommy arranged for Bill’s brother Danny to walk in and “discover” him serving two alpha males.  Danny was a year younger, and he was the brother Bill was closest too.  Bill and Danny shared a bedroom, and Bill secretly was massively turned on by Danny’s amazing, masculine body, which Bill often got to enjoy seeing naked.  Tommy had obviously already told Danny Bill was a fag, but Danny feigned shock and reacted just as Tommy and Ryan had done.  He told Bill he was subhuman and could not be his friend or brother any more.  Danny gave him the same choice as had Ryan and Tommy, and Bill was soon being used by Danny just like he was by Tommy and Ryan.  It was easier for Danny given the shared bedroom, so the use was more frequent.  Their nearby bathroom also made it easy for Danny to make shitting into Bill’s mouth a regular source of his entertainment.

 

Danny, despite promising not to do so as had Tommy and Ryan, soon arranged for the two other brothers, Nark and Kevin, to walk in on a fuck session and join in the condemnation.  In fact, the five straight boys began to compare notes on ways to better humiliate the fag.  Bill’s brothers added an evaluation, with the meanness that often happens with family members.

 

“You aren’t ever going to have a decent life.  You’re totally worthless even to other fags, and no guy is ever going to kiss you or hold you.  All you’re fit to do is be a whore, which is what you’ll become someday.  With a little luck, maybe you’ll get AIDS and die soon.  We hope you do that.”  The five alpha males enjoyed a contest to come up with the best way for Bill to die.  They made it quite clear that is what they wanted to happen to him, as soon as possible.  And when their father found out, he piled on to that same sentiment and told Bill he was no longer a son and would need to leave the house once he finished (or dropped out of) high school.

 

Once he was “out” high school was miserable for Bill.  He did find some solace playing baseball., being a good center fielder and a decent hitter, and he enjoyed the game a lot.  It was his only positive activity, and he spent his time mostly on baseball, some attention to schoolwork, and being used by his brothers and his former friends.  But being used was his favorite activity – he liked being a sex object, and he even liked being a human toilet.  Being a fuck-hole and a toilet was his only purpose.  Well, maybe not entirely his only purpose, as he’d also learned that his role included doing tasks for the alphas.  He performed the chores his brothers had been assigned, and even did some of the work for their part-time jobs.  Bill learned (and accepted) that he was a slave, serving his betters (which was most everyone) in however they wanted to make use of him.

 

In due course Bill did manage to graduate form high school and even entered college at the University of Vermont, studying prelaw.  As he entered college his father confirmed he was no longer welcome in his home and he no longer considered him a son.  His father was totally ashamed to ever have had contact with him.  Bill was not to show up, even for family events and holidays.  Making things worse, Danny made sure word got out at college that he was gay, and things started to deteriorate in the dorm and in classes too.  He was shunned and found himself unable to study, finally dropping out early in his second year.  He got a job for a while, but after about six months even that didn’t work out.  Bill was broke, despondent, and desperate.  As his brothers had predicted, there was only one option.  Bill became a street prostitute.

 

Bill was able to make enough to live on, sort of, as a whore.  The reason was that he was very “flexible” in terms of what he’d do, and word of that got around.   One guy, named Dennis, even let him stay the night in return for some rough treatment.  Then Dennis invited some of his friends over and they all shared Bill, introducing him to the world of S&M as well as using him for butt-fucking, piss, and shit.  Dennis had become his pimp and added to his training.  When Bill had asked if there was someone who would be willing to allow him to have a place to live in return for sex, it was Dennis who took Bill to Boston and introduced him to the fantastic world that was Mack’s.  Paul had accepted Bill, even paying Dennis a small fee, and initially letting him whore himself to patrons.  But soon Paul just kept Bill as a naked sex slave and allowed the patrons to do as they wished with him for free.  Bill did janitorial work, focusing especially on cleaning the toilets, and had access to a small storeroom in the back to live in, with a mattress and a few chairs.  He was allowed to shower and to eat leftovers form the club’s buffet (usually from a dog dish).  It was great for Paul’s business, and Bill very quickly realized this was the “life” he both wanted and deserved.

 

There were occasional events that stood out, such as a few times when he was allowed to visit his brothers.  One had sent a card asking if he had contracted AIDS yet, saying he hoped this had happened because it would be better if he died like they said he should.  All three brothers made it clear they would prefer him dead but wouldn’t pay a cent for his funeral if he had one.  When they allowed him to visit them on a couple of occasions, it was in the garage of his eldest brother, Mark.  They said they’d pay him a little money in return for once again fucking him and shitting in his mouth, but after Mark started the fun by administering a combo of cum, piss, and shit into Bill, they informed Bijl he’d have to pay them for the privilege of eating their shit.  So, Bill took what money he had and paid it to the three alpha males, getting the waste from his other two brothers, Kevin and Danny, as they also fucked him and then pissed and shat into his mouth.  He returned to Boston broke and even more humiliated, much to the satisfaction of his three brothers.  But he also returned more turned on than ever by their fantastic alpha bodies, especially Danny’s.  His father refused to see him at all, being completely ashamed of him and no longer considering him as a son, as he had made clear years before.

 

Other occasions related to his life as a slave.  To entertain the patrons Paul had had him branded on two occasions, once with “Fuck the Faggot” on his butt, and once with “Fag Pig” on his belly just above his cock.  Bill clearly understood how appropriate each of these were, and asked Paul to brand him with the term “sex slave” on the forehead so it would always be visible even on the rare occasions when Bill wasn’t naked.  But Paul said no since he did not want to risk damaging his property.  On another memorable occasion Bill was the target of a whipping contest at the club, with 7 guys participating and taking turns, then deciding they’d all whip him at the same time.  Bill was in the emergency room for a while after that, and some of the lacerations didn’t heal.  But it was useful as a reminder of his status and use, so over time his young skin became more scarred.

 

It was the fisting that did the most damage.  Bill really got off on being fisted – it was the perfect combination of pain and humiliation and again it had started with Tommy and Ryan but accelerated with Danny.  The downside was that it extended his asshole, and in time there was even room for two guys to fist him at once.  So, they did, and of course that made it even worse.  In his last visit to his brothers, Danny had gotten into him up to his elbow.  That was an unbelievable turn-on for Bill.

 

Some of the patrons started to complain to Paul that the bar slave had too loose an ass for a nice tight butt-fuck, and Paul was always highly attentive to his customer’s desires.  So, as Bill turned 25, Paul had decided to sell Bill and find a younger replacement.  After all, he’d owned the slave for nearly two years, and it was now damaged property.

 

Mack’s Gay S&M Club

Boston, Mass.

 

Dennis and Paul were once again enjoying drinks and entertainment.  It had been two weeks since Dennis had last been to the bar, and he had made a lot of progress on the terms he’d worked out with Paul for the purchase and replacement of the bar’s live fag meat.  They both had their cocks out and hard, and Bill was kneeling between the two of them servicing Dennis.  Next to him, also kneeling and totally naked, was another slave, somewhat younger, servicing Paul.

 

“I think you will find the new slave quite acceptable and reasonably well trained.  As you can see it is good looking and has a reasonably good-sized cock, a bit shorter than Bill’s, about 6.75 inches, but thicker.  It’s fresh out of high school, only 19, so you should get 3-4 years of service before it is used up like Bill is, obviously depending on how much it gets fisted and whether you repair the asshole as it deteriorates.  It can produce gobs of cum with impressive frequency and even a bit of distance when it shoots.  If you lie it on its back the cum easily reaches the chest and sometimes even the mouth.  The electricity to the balls all the time has likely affected the quantity and quality of Bill’s cum production these days.  The new slave also gives great blow jobs, as I hope you’re finding out.  Most important, it’s a natural masochist and fully understands that it’s a subhuman piece of slave meat.  There will be no issues on obedience.”

 

“Well, the slave’s doing a good job so far,” Paul acknowledged, his breathing starting to get a bit heavier as the slave’s tongue aroused his cock.  “And he’s attractive enough, with skin that doesn’t yet show the effects of being whipped and burned.  But what about willingness to do things like drink piss and cum, and eat shit?  Those turned out to be important in getting value out of my current piece-of-shit slave.”

 

“No issue on the piss and cum.  He seems to crave both, and we can demonstrate that once they finish sucking us off.  But you’ll have to train him to eat shit.  That shouldn’t be hard, given his attitude, and as I said he is totally obedient.  There will be no resistance. He just hasn’t been trained to do so and doesn’t have a natural inclination for it like Bill did.  If you let the guys shit on his food, and he doesn’t get to eat anything that isn’t covered with it, I’m sure he’ll adjust in no time.  And the training will be fun for everyone.  I’ve already talked to him about this and he’s eager to learn.

 

“Incidentally, you’ll also notice he hasn’t been branded yet.  I suggest you do that in a special ceremony, so you can charge guys extra to attend.  I always thought “fag pig” was a bad choice for Bill, by the way.  It’s insulting to pigs.  I think you should brand this one as what it really is – fag slave meat.  Or a phrase that empathizes its use for cum, piss, and shit eating.  Or a combo.  How about “fag slavemeat toilet?”  I’d do it right in the middle of the chest, so it’s more visible, and then require him to go shirtless even when he’s in public and not naked at the bar.  That would be extremely humiliating.  And maybe “fuck the fag” on its ass, like Bill’s, since that has always gotten a lot of laughs. Of course, that’s all up to you since you’ll own it – just be sure I get to join the fun when you do the branding.  I love watching the red-hot metal burn their skin, and I always cum when I smell it cooking and hear them scream.  Also, the slave has been informed it no longer has a real name since it’s not a person, and it has been trained to answer to slavemeat, which is why I think branding it that would be instructional and inform your patrons.

 

“Fair points and good ideas,” responded Paul, who was now very much enjoying the blow job and getting a bit distracted as the pleasure increased and the point of orgasm neared.  “I think I might have even consulted with Bill on the name prior to his branding, and that’s obviously a mistake.  Subhuman objects shouldn’t have any say in that – or anything else.  I plan to be much stricter with the replacement.”  As he considered how much fun that was going to be, Paul reached orgasm and shot his load down slavemeat’s throat.  Dennis did the same with Bill.  But they left their cocks in the slaves’ mouths since they would soon want to piss.

 

Paul changed the optic.  “How did the final negotiations go?  Do we have a deal?”

 

“They went great.  And your deal is a little better than I thought we could get.  You not only get the money for painting the place, you get this new meat for free.  The buyer is covering my fee as well as your renovation costs.”

 

“Wow!  That’s wonderful.  How did you pull that off?”  As they talked Paul released his load of piss down the eager throat of his new human urinal.  No need to interrupt the conversation to take a leak.  Dennis did the same with Bill.

 

“The whole thing is wonderfully fortuitous.  My biggest customer, for whom I procure a whole lot of young male slaves, lives in Burlington and is a really rich real estate developer.  He’s got the kind of money most of us can’t even conceive of and he uses up the slaves very quickly for his amusement.  I’ve joined him for some fantastic snuff scenes followed by great slavemeat meals featuring live meat.  He recently did a deal with some local guys who owned land adjacent to his that, if you put it all together, would make a hugely profitable development.  Things are booming up there, as you know.  He said everyone is going to make a bundle.  The others, I think it was some brothers, were great to deal with and they bonded on a lot of fronts, including their hatred of fags and their views on what should happen to them.  He wanted to give them a present to express his appreciation.  He had gotten to know them and their story very well during all the complex negotiations and realized Bill would be the perfect gift.  I’d had him come down with me that time I visited a few weeks ago and he checked out the merchandise I had available.  He bought a few other slaves too, but the irony is that his interest was only in Bill as the gift.  Even though Bill was obviously not in the best shape, especially for being fucked, he said there was something special about Bill that made him the perfect object to present.  Well, the idea of Bill being special is ludicrous but that gave me a lot of leverage and he hardly even resisted when I told him that would mean he’d have to pay my fee for the new slave as well as cover the cost of you renovating your club.  He also visited the bar and liked it, so getting it refurbished  appealed to him too.  So you get slavemeat for free and you can also upgrade the other furniture and equipment as well as repaint the place.  This is going to be the nicest S&M joint in the country, with new furniture that includes a fresh new slave.”

 

Paul was beyond delighted.  “And any idea what happens to Bill, not that it matters?  Just curious.”

 

“None.  But I’m pretty sure he winds up dead, which is what he deserves since he’s damaged and not as useful.  Fuck, he probably even wants to be snuffed, given how pathetic he is.  I just hope it’s painful and prolonged.”  Dennis kicked Bill in the nuts to get his attention and asked.  “Hey fag pig, are you looking forward to being snuffed after you’re sold?  I’m guessing it’s going to be pretty horrible.”  Bill nodded, not even pausing as he continued swallowing Dennis’ piss.  He had been listening and was in fact turned on by the conversation and the prospect of being snuffed.  He totally accepted Dennis and Paul discussing the two slaves as what they were – mere objects.

As both slaves continued to expertly massage the dicks they were servicing, bringing them back to evections after drinking the piss, in due course Dennis and Paul each reached a second orgasm and shot another load of cum down the throat of the slave serving him.

 

What followed was a wonderful evening, with lots more sex and torture to celebrate the transactions. Dennis had slavemeat demonstrate his lust for cum and piss, drinking the huge ceremonial glass of excrement that Bill often drank to amuse the patrons.  The bar patrons then refilled it and Bill then did the same, starting the mixture by masturbating into the glass.  As he did so Paul announced that Bill was being sold and slavemeat would replace him. Dennis added that this load of cum would be Bill’s last, as his new owner did not think he deserved the pleasure of an orgasm and planned to snuff him fairly soon.  Everyone chimed in on the hope the snuff would be especially prolonged and painful and Dennis assured them it was very likely to last several torture-and0humiliaiton-filled days.  That produced a cheer form the group and a hard-on for Bill.  He knew this was what he deserved.

 

Dennis attached a cock-cage to Bill to assure he could not cum any more unless his new owner changed his mind.  The patrons then had a particularly savage evening raping and fisting Bill, and then doing the same with slavemeat.  It turned out slavemeat had not yet been fisted, so this was a painful new torture for its education.  There were lots of jokes about Bill’s loose but-hole, and about how that would happen to slavemeat over time.  Paul even started slavemeat’s training at eating shit, telling Bill and slavemeat to crawl to the toilets and drink the mixture of water, piss, and dissolved shit left from a patron who had not flushed.  The stench was more than slavemeat could handle at first, and he threw up.  But that worked out well for training, and slavemeat eventually was able to also consume his own vomit along with a further supply of shit.  Paul was quite satisfied with his new slave and decided to follow Dennis’ ideas on the branding.  Slavemeat would always be naked in the bar and would wear only a thin jockstrap that left all three brands exposed if permitted to go elsewhere.  Paul was determined to assure slavemeat suffered even more humiliation and torture than had Bill.  But he would periodically have a vet repair the asshole so it remained tight enough to please his beloved patrons.

 

The next morning Bill left with Dennis, naked with no possessions at all and the cock-cage preventing him from giving himself any pleasure.  Bill crawled into a cage that was then locked, to be delivered to his new owner, and slavemeat started its new duties and continued its training.  Paul scheduled the branding for a time that was convenient for Dennis to return and enjoy it.  After all, Dennis had done a first-rate job that satisfied everyone.  He provided a valuable and appreciated service, assuring pathetic fag slaves received the ridicule, pain, and ultimate snuff fate they deserved.

 

Spanish Cay City, The Bahamas

 

Mark, Kevin, Danny, and their father got off the plane at the Spanish Cay airport, excited to escape the cold Vermont winter and start their vacation.  They had flown non-stop on Mr. Jordon’s private G-7 jet from Burlington to the luxurious Bahamian resort – the first time any of them had ever been on a private plane.  It had been a great flight, with exceptional food and drinks, and they were more excited than ever at what lay ahead.  Even Mr. Thompson, who did not like flying, enjoyed the trip, although he was very tired when it was over.  As Mr. Jordon had suggested, they were joined on the flight (and the vacation) by high school buddies Tommy and Randy.  They had been friends of the three brothers since then, growing closer over the years, and since Tommy had served as the lawyer for the real estate deal and Ryan as their accountant, being part of the celebration made lots of sense.  Mr. Jordon knew of the friendships and admired how they had bonded in high school, and he wanted to express his appreciation to everyone.  This worked well since Mr. Thompson viewed Tommy and Ryan as if they were his own sons, admiring them for all they’d achieved.  Mr. Jordon met them at the airport with a stretch limo, and when they arrived at the resort they were shown to their rooms – again, a level of luxury none of them had ever experienced before.

 

It was early evening by then and the group gathered for cocktails and desert, having had an outstanding meal on the flight.  When everyone was seated, Mr. Jordon stood up to greet his guests.

 

“I want to welcome all of you and thank you for joining me at my resort.  This is a special place where I only invite special friends like yourselves.  It’s not open to the public.  All of you have become friends, and our transaction together has created positive personal relationships that will last for many, many years.  And, now that it’s all closed, you will be able to afford more luxuries and I wanted to introduce you to them.  In fact, I want to partner with you on some other real estate deals very soon.  But we’re not here about that; we’re here to celebrate what we’ve all done already.

 

“There is another aspect to this event as well that I hope will make the vacation even more special.  I learned from conversations with you that we share a mutual distaste.  We are alpha males disgusted by the faggots who pollute our society and pretend to be human.  We know it is our task to punish them and make them go away, permanently.  I learned that my five younger colleagues became friends in part by sharing that task.  Sadly, and I apologize for bringing up what I know is a sad aspect for Mr. Thompson, it involved what had been a member of the family.  And that sadness has continued since the fag has not disappeared as it should have and as its one-time siblings had ordered it to do.  I have acquired the fag and as part of my gift I have arranged for that to happen on this vacation, so you can all finally be done with it.”

 

Mr. Jordon signaled a waiter, and in short order two servants carried in a metal cage containing a naked male.  The servants were young with slender twink bodies that were also naked except for slave collars.  Their cocks were erect, and they each had “fag snuff meat” branded on their left buttock.  Mark, David, and Danny had known Mr. Jordon’s plan, but Tommy, Ryan, and Mr. Thompson were stunned and immensely pleased.  The fag was Bill, who was also stunned to realize who had purchased him.

 

“Like all fags, this one is worthless.  It’s not even fit to serve as meat for our meals, and in any event, we will have my house fags to enjoy for that purpose in due course.  They have been trained to understand their role as targets of alpha males and as meat, and they will join our meals as entrée’ courses.  Their meat is of far higher quality than the fag in the cage.

 

“But as we discussed plans for this wonderful chance to get together Danny had a great idea on how to make the fag useful for the first time ever, and simultaneously restore the Thompson family pride.  Since it was his idea, as the two fag slaves unload the animal I’ll let him take it from here.  By the way, the fag slaves are among many that I maintain for punishing them until they are ready and eager to be disposed of, having realized their place and purpose.  So feel free to use them as you wish.”

 

The cage was opened, and Bill was dragged out, then placed on a nearby table on his back.  Danny got up from the table, drink in hand, and went over to a fire pit nearby, grabbing the handle of a red-hot branding iron.  He invited everyone to stand next to the table and with no greeting to the fag other than spitting in his face he administered the brand to its chest, the burning causing a loud, painful, and almost inhuman scream, along with the delightful aroma of burning fag meat.  As they all realized what had been branded onto Bill’s chest in large letters, they all cheered and doubled over with laughter.  They slapped Danny on the back, toasted him with their drinks, and congratulated him on his cleverness.  Bill could not see what had been burned onto him, but knew he was not permitted to ask, or to speak at all unless spoken to.  His two years as a bar sex slave had been good training.  He fully understood and agreed with their assessment of him.  He was indeed worthless fag meat, now realizing he wasn’t even fit for consumption by the alpha males he worshiped.  But they were saying he’d finally be useful, and he hoped that was true.  The fact he’d be dead didn’t bother him at all.  He was secretly thrilled that his brothers and former friends were going to be somehow involved.  He was grateful and hoped they enjoyed themselves during whatever was going to happen to finally snuff him as he disserved.

 

At that point the vacationers returned to their seats and continued to celebrate, making final plans for the next few days.  Mr. Jordon suggested that they conclude the evening with the alpha males using the fags for their entertainment.  Everyone enthusiastically agreed.  Even though Mr. Thompson declined since he was exhausted from the flight, he encouraged them to do so.  As he left to rest, he did take the time to spit in the face of the fag and tell Bill he was glad Bill’s existence would be ending, and he would not have to be embarrassed by him any longer.  He told Mr. Jordon how much he appreciated this gift, and that he knew this would be the best and most fulfilling vacation he’d ever have.  Mr. Jordon also left, saying he didn’t want to intrude on a family event, but again encouraging them to take full advantage of the amenities he had available for punishing fags, along with the drinks, deserts, and the house fag slaves.  The slaves would obey and there were no limits with what could be done to them either.  Mr. Jordon planned to dispose of them during the week’s fun.  They were well trained, aware and accepting of their purpose and fate, and eager to cooperate.

 

As the two older alphas excused themselves, the slaves opened a sliding door that revealed an extension of the dining area, which was set up for S&M sex of all types.  As the five young alpha males entered this awesome space, they discussed options as they removed their own clothing to make it easier to use the fags as sex objects.

 

“I think we should start by fucking our own fag,” suggested Kevin.  “But I remember that his ass is loose, so that might not be as much fun.”

 

But Mark had a solution, also pointing out it would be fun to get all the fags fucked at the same time.  “How about if Tommy and Ryan each start by fucking one of the house fags, who look like they’re in good shape.  As for our family fag, I suggest Kevin and I double-fuck him, which should make it tight enough to be fun.  At the same time, he can give Danny a blow job.  So, he’ll have all three of our cocks inside him at the same time.  We’ve had a lot to drink, so I’m sure we can all fill the fags with piss after we fill them with cum.”

 

Everyone quickly agreed, but Tommy said he was feeling a little drunk and wanted to work off a bit of the booze affect first so he could enjoy the fucking more. He also was anxious to whip the animals as they so obviously deserved.  As a result, the first activity was to string up each fag by its wrists from chains in the ceiling, so its feet were slightly off the ground and its body was able to be whipped from all sides.  The five alphas selected whips from among the wide collection displayed in the room and enthusiastically beat the backs, asses, chests, bellies, and cocks of their victims.  (They unlocked the cock cage that Bill still wore so his cock and balls would be vulnerable to the blows.  As soon as it was removed his cock got hard, which was a source of humor for the alphas.  Better still, that made it easier to whip.)  The alphas traded off among the animals, but Bill got most of the attention and was bleeding nicely from multiple fresh wounds by the time they were done.  Danny was the most enthusiastic, working up quite a sweat as he wailed on his one-time sibling.

 

“OK fags.  What do you have to say to us?” Ryan mockingly snarled at them.  All three fags immediately expressed their thanks for the beatings, with Bill being the most enthusiastic.  He was totally thrilled and turned on by what had just happened, and what might happen next.  He felt he might finally suffer the snuff he deserved.

 

The fucking session was next, and it too was a lot of fun.  Mark and Kevin commented that Bill’s ass was still too loose even with two cocks in it, adding a dildo to assure it was tight enough and that Bill felt pain as he was fucked. Danny commented that Bill at least knew how to suck cock, allowing Bill to also lick his ass and his balls.  Tommy and Ryan complemented their fags on having tight assholes, noting that this also meant there was a chance for some fun fisting to ruin theirs in anticipation of their disposal.  They all commented on how much better looking than Bill the house fags were, and on the fact their cocks were bigger than Bill’s.  None of that was actually true, but it enabled them to jeer at Bill and further humiliate him.  “Yeah,” Tommy jeered, “cock size is one more area where he underachieved.  Fuck, he managed to fail at absolutely everything – even being a decent sex slave.”

 

The alphas also traded off on the fucking, so the brothers would be able to enjoy the tight asses of the house fags and Tommy and Ryan could once again fuck Bill.  After all, they were the first to have done so.  They even had the house fags double-fuck Bill, adding an even larger dildo to increase the pain, just so he’d understand that he was an even lower sub-human than they were.  And they used Bill, not the house fags, as their urinal for the same reason.  That part of the evening’s entertainment was culminated with each of the fag slaves shitting into Bill’s mouth, as the alphas laughed, pointing out that Bill was fit to eat subhuman slave shit.  Bill, of course, cooperated fully and demonstrated his reaction with a very erect cock and expressions of thanks.

 

After the alphas satisfied their initial desire to fuck the fags, Danny asked the group: “Does anyone think they will still want to fuck Bill’s ass?  I’m personally not interested in fucking something that loose any more.”  The other four agreed, and Danny continued.  “Great.  Because I found something in the attic at home during Thanksgiving that I brought for just this occasion.  At one time it was Bill’s, and I think we should return it to him.”

 

With that, Danny went over to a nearby table and pulled back a cloth.  Under it was a large baseball bat.  It had been given to Bill by the high school coach with an admonition to practice hitting.  While Bill was a good center field player, he wasn’t that great a hitter.  The other team members, especially Tommy and Ryan, had laughed at Bill on the occasion.  “The fag fucker even sucks at hitting,” Tommy had told the rest of the team after the coach left.  It was Bill’s first public humiliation as a known fag.  They all laughed as Tommy recalled the event, reminding them that they’d used the bat to beat Bill and then taken it from him for further use in his beatings.  Danny had wound up owning it.

 

As Danny took the bat and walked over to Bill, he asked Bill if he would want it back.  “Of course, you know where it will go, my dear older brother” added Danny.  Bill said yes and thanked Danny for returning it to him.

 

Bill had been fisted numerous times, and had large dildos inserted into his hole, but this was far larger.  All five alphas laughed and toasted themselves with fresh drinks as first Danny and then each of the others forced the thick end of the bat into Bill’s ruined asshole.  Nor did they stop when they reached the natural end of Bill’s cavity.  They continued to push, using a large mallet to pound the bat further into the fag’s fuck channel – crushing its internal organs and increasing the intensity of its screams.  They no longer even sounded human, which made it a lot more fun for the alphas to hear.  Danny used the mallet to make sure the bat was inserted as far as we possible.

 

“Don’t worry,” Mark assured Bill, laughing as he again spit in his face.  “This is not what is going to kill you, although it would, given the damage to your insides.  What we’ve just done is fatal and you are now officially dying.  Your internal organs are ruined and won’t function, so your system will shut down.  But the bat also acts to stop most internal bleeding, so it will take a few days.  The bat will never come out since you’d then die far too quickly.  It’s now a permanent part of you and will assure you’re in constant, extreme pain until you’re finally disposed of.  Meanwhile, we have something far more appropriate and painful in mind.  It might even be something you could succeed at, but you’ll probably fuck that up too.”

 

“Speaking of that,” added Kevin.  “I’m getting a little hungry.  Anyone up for a snack?  I am, and then I think I might be all in for the night.  I’m also a little drunk so some food might help.  After all, we want to be well rested for more fun tomorrow.”

 

Again, everyone agreed and at this point Danny again took the lead, having spent the most time planning the trip’s fun.

“We know you like to eat shit, and that is what you deserve because you are shit.  But you don’t have any money to pay us for our shit like you should and have done in the past.  We have a solution.  First, you are to jerk off, so we can laugh at you while you cum.  To be sure you’re in the right frame of mind all five of us are going to piss down your throat as you play with your cock.  When you shoot your load, I’m going to cut off your cock as it spews your final cum.  Then I’m going to eat it.  After that Mark and Kevin will each cut off one of your balls and eat them.  That’s not much meat since your cock and balls are so puny, so we’ll find some other parts of you to make it a proper snack and let Tommy and Ryan share in the fun. Understood?”

 

Bill was impressed with how creative Danny’s plan was.  He thanked Danny for the chance to be used as meat even though he was not worthy, and did as instructed, using his right hand (he was right-handed) to start massaging his cock.  It quickly became hard again despite the pain he was in form the beatings and fucking, and now especially from the large bat that impaled him.  Or maybe he quickly got hard because of all that, along with the loads of piss pouring down his throat and his contemplation of the fact he was about to lose his cock and balls in an astonishingly humiliating and painful way.  Plus, it had been several days since the cock cage had been attached so he couldn’t jerk himself off.  His cock responded to acceptance of how much he deserved what was happening, and his body gyrated a little as he approached orgasm and his cock started to spew a thick final load of cum.

 

As Bill oozed man-juice from his throbbing cock Danny took a knife and slowly cut it off.  That instant of pleasure turned into one of unbelievable pain and humiliation.  Danny now had Bill’s manhood in his hand, holding it so Bill could see it and letting the liquids flow into Bill’s piss-filled open mouth.  Then Mark took the knife and cut off the left testicle, followed by Kevin cutting off the right one.  Bill was now totally emasculated, his manhood divided among his three brothers.  He fainted from the pain but was quickly revived.

 

“As Mr. Jordon mentioned, your meat is not fit for human consumption like these other fags’ is.  But we are going to give you the honor of contributing to the meat we will digest and that will become the shit we will make you eat in the morning.  We are going to eat your cock and balls,” Kevin announced.  “But first we want to hear you thank us for doing this.  After all, it was actually your idea, which you told Danny about the last time you were permitted to visit so we could fuck and whip you.  Your fag-meat genitals will become shit that we will return to you.  You will then thank us again for that gift.”

 

Bill responded immediately, despite all the pain, and truthfully.  “Thank you for cutting off my cock and balls and making me a subhuman eunuch as I deserve.  And thank you for doing me the honor of eating my meat and turning it into shit, which is also what I deserve and ultimately what I am.”   Bill was sincere in what he said.  He knew this was more than he deserved.

 

Danny started by putting the drained cock into his mouth, positioned so Bill could watch.  “Fuck, this tastes terrible,” he announced.  “I doubt it will even make decent shit.”  To avoid any further taste, and since it was so puny, he just swallowed the cock whole.  Mark and Kevin went next, actually enjoying the freshly cut testicles.  “This is kind of tasty,” Kevin commented.  “But I don’t think there’s any point eating the scrotum.  It probably tastes as bad as the cock.”  So he tossed the little piece of skin into Bill’s mouth, instructing to eat his own ball sac, which of course Bill did.  As his brothers ate the genitals while Bill watched, Mark elaborated on the process.  “We didn’t eat much today so we can be sure our morning dumps tomorrow will include what had been your cock and balls.  And we’ve taken some diuretics that will cause the meat to move through our systems far more rapidly than usual.  We don’t want any part of you inside us any longer than necessary, even as meat being digested.  That means we’ll shit in your face what had been your own meat, but it won’t be completely digested and will be even more disgusting than usual.  Just to be sure there’s enough, and to let Tommy and Ryan also join in the fun, we’re going to help ourselves to some of the rest of your meat.”

 

Danny picked up the theme as he reached for Bill’s right hand, explaining: “Now that you don’t have a cock to jerk off, you really don’t need your right hand.  That’s the one you used to use for that.  We could eat that, but it’s not very tasty and doesn’t have much meat.  Your fucking cock was disgusting enough.  We’re thinking your arm might have some meat that’s better, but the worthless hand is in the way.   I’m going to cut it off and save it for later use.  But first I’m going to punish it for all that jerking off.”  Danny smashed the useless jerk-off tool with the mallet he’d used to drive the bat into Bill’s ass, crushing the bones and laughing at his own cleverness as he then cut it off and tossed it into a nearby container.  What he was after was the meat on the arm, and he used the knife to slice that off, sharing it among all five alpha males.  They ate it raw, again with Bill watching in agony.  The amount of pain from having flesh cut away from his live body was beyond Bill’s comprehension, and he was horse from screaming and had to be revived several times.  “There, that should assure there’s enough shit made from you to provide what you deserve to eat tomorrow.”  And with that, the alphas left for their luxurious rooms while the house fags cauterized Bill’s bleeding body, so it would remain alive for further use.  Then they, in turn, reported to Mr. Jordon’s room for further punishment.

 

The Angry Reaper

Near the Coast of the Bahamas

The morning after their arrival had been as much fun as the prior evening had been.  It started with the five young alpha males assembling in the S&M torture room where Bill had spent the night in the cage.  They laughed at his ruined body as they awakened him.  The house fags had simply cut off what remained of his right arm and applied a tourniquet to prevent further bleeding, tossing what had remained after the meat was sliced off and eaten the night before into the nearby bucket with the crushed hand.  Ryan joked that they had found the perfect way to prevent a fag from jerking itself off.

 

All five took turns taking their morning dump into Bill’s open and willing mouth, following it with loads of piss.  It was even more fun than they’d anticipated because the effect of the diuretics was not only to make much of the shit unusually runny and disgusting, but also to cause some to contain undigested pieces of the meat.  As Danny took his dump the group noticed one piece of shit that was clearly the remnant of Bill’s cock, which Danny had swallowed without chewing.  The glans at its tip was still recognizable even in the rest of the pile of shit and hey made sure Bill chewed it thoroughly before swallowing his own man-muscle.  The testicles had been more thoroughly digested so they weren’t distinct within the piles Mark and Kevin contributed.  Besides, as they pointed out, they were very small – an observation that generated more laughter.  The runny mass of shit was truly disgusting, but Bill swallowed all of it as instructed, thanking the alphas for their gift.  He literally was eating himself in his proper form – as shit.  The degrading sight led to lots more fun abuse, and while they ridiculed Bill they also had him clean out his mouth, so he could give each alpha a morning blow job, gratefully swallowing their cum to follow all the piss and shit.  It had been a fabulously fun and entertaining start to the day.

 

As Bill finished expressing his thanks, Danny spoke up again, asking the group: “Does anyone want to hear any more out of this fag?”  They all said no, so Danny took a scissors and used it to cut off Bill’s tongue.  He tossed that into Bill’s mouth with instructions and an explanation.  “It’s about time you bit your tongue, faggot.  But this won’t get digested since your innards are ruined and your asshole is plugged for good.  But you are still required to chew it and swallow.  Other than shit and piss it’s the last thing you’ll ever eat.”   As the rest of the group spat in Bill’s face, Danny lashed his chest brutally for failing to thank Danny for preventing him from embarrassing himself by talking.  Bill tried to mouth a thank-you, but hat just caused Danny to whip him harder.

“I’m ready for a hearty breakfast and then ready to go deep sea fishing,” Mark announced next, to the cheers of the group.  They all had gone down to the dock and boarded Mr. Jordon’s impressive fishing yacht, The Angry Reaper.  He had named it in honor of his lifelong passion for ridding the world of useless fags.

 

The house fags were on board in case anyone wanted to beat them or fuck them, but the focus of the day was on fishing, and there was an expert crew to assist them.  Bill had also been brought on board, placed on his back in a tub that was designated not only to store him but also for the passengers to use when they needed to urinate or take a dump.  His severed arm and hand were in a small tub next to him.  After everyone pointed to where his cock and balls had been and had a good laugh, Mr. Jordon explained the day’s plan, and Bill suddenly realized what had been branded on his chest and what his purpose was.  He once again admired and appreciated the appropriateness of Danny’s ideas.

 

“We want to attract the big fish that inhabit these warm waters, and that requires the right bait.  Over the years I’ve learned that fresh fag body parts work wonderfully well for that, and as you can see we have a fag already branded for what it now is – “live bait.”  But I have also discovered that the fish are even more interested if the live bait has been soaked in a mixture of piss and shit.  So, while I know it’s a little embarrassing for some of you to urinate and shit in public, you’ll be adding to that mixture and increasing the chances of catching something impressive as fag parts are attached to your fishing lines.  Our expert crew will do the cutting, as it is important to keep the fag alive, so the bait stays fresh.  We think there’s enough of it to serve as bait for all three days of our adventure if we’re careful.  And, of course, this also means it will spend part of the day, and each night, soaking in a solution of filth that attracts fish and befits its status.  Also, try to aim for its mouth so it will swallow as much as possible, which also helps flavor the meat to be better bait.”

 

The group moved a little closer to the tub where Bill was being stored.  The young alphas had stripped down to tight Speedos, which allowed them to enjoy the warm sun, get a tan, and show off their awesome alpha bodies.  The sheer dominance of the situation – themselves as big sea fishermen, the house fags as service animals, and Bill as live bait – had aroused their masculine instincts big time.  The tight swimsuits did nothing to hide the large erections that resulted.  What they did not realize, and what would have annoyed them, is how much this turned Bill on.  He was no longer a sexual animal, of course, but he was still a fag.  And as he viewed the fantastic man-flesh looming over his ruined body he once again realized how much he worshiped their forms and how right it was for them to use, torture, and dispose of him.  If he had still had a cock it probably would have shot a load without him even touching it.

 

Since it was Danny’s idea to use Bill as bait he got the first piece of meat to add to the hook at the end of his fishing line.  It was a nice slice of thigh-meat, and everyone enjoyed watching the expert crew cut it off while listening to Bill’s pathetic attempts at screaming without his tongue.  Yet as Danny moved even closer to enjoy the show his god-like body and the sight of his perfect, erect cock outlined by the tight Speedo meant Bill had no complaints.  A little blood flowed into the tub before the wound was closed by adding a tight tourniquet just above the right thigh below the butt.  That way they could remove more bait from the thigh and leg, which they did as they prepared the lines for the other vacationers.  Danny’s added load of piss down Bill’s throat contributed a bit more fun to the opening scenario and set a good example for the others when they needed to piss.  Since Bill’s cock had been removed and his sphincter crushed by the bat, the piss that went into his mouth soon emptied out of the piss-hole that remained, for him to lie in.  Mr. Thompson especially approved, and everyone got another good laugh.  By the time the vacationers were set up with their fishing lines, Bill’s right leg and thigh were mostly devoid of meat or muscle.    The crew saw to it he stayed alive and awake to entertain the passengers, but Bill had another purpose to fulfill once they reached the desired fishing area and the boat was put at anchor.  Bill was tied with ropes, using the handle of the bat and his neck as the key points of contact to keep his body upright, and lowered over the side of the board, bouncing off the boat to the amusement of everyone.  As Mr. Jordon explained, the piss-soaked live body was the key to attracting large fish to within range of the lines of the fishermen.  Bill was literally live bait, and Mr. Jordon was correct.  Within a short time, Bill’s body attracted a large shark, which surfaced as it took a bite out of Bill’s butchered leg.  Mr. Jordon was quite pleased as this meant the tourniquet would stop further bleeding and they could leave Bill in the water to keep performing his function of attracting fish.  But the big excitement was when the shark bit the piece of fag meat at the end of Tommy’s line, and with help form the expert crew Tommy was able to land the huge predator.  He was absolutely thrilled.

 

“Hey, Tommy, you just caught a shark.  I thought you lawyers didn’t do that.  You know, professional courtesy and all that?”  Ryan’s joke got a huge laugh, and although everyone caught at least something on their first day of fishing, this catch was the highlight of the day.  Fag bait was once again successful, as Mr. Jordon had predicted.  Bill was hauled back into the boat and placed in the tub to marinate further, so he’d be ready for day 2 of the adventure.  By then the tub was full and the five young alphas added some piss and shit to fill it even more, as always aiming at Bill’s open mouth.

 

The vacationers returned to the resort and had another fantastic evening, enjoying delicious food and fine wines, which included fresh shark along with one of the house fags that Mr. Jordon had ordered bar-be-cued live for their enjoyment.  Everyone agreed the fag’s meat was delicious, and the young alphas commented how much better it was than the samples they’d had of Bill.  They had contemplated eating a bit more of him, so they could again shit on him with his own meat, but concluded he wasn’t good enough and didn’t deserve the honor anyway.  “We clearly allocated the fags to the right tasks,” Mark noted.  The real joy, however, was everyone seeing how happy Mr. Thompson was with the day’s events.  He had caught a large snapper, so he had enjoyed the fishing, but mostly he was thrilled with how the day reflected on their shared view of fags and the need to dispose of them.  He and Mr. Jordon had a lively, enthusiastic exchange on that, and Mr. Thompson was effusive in his complements, also taking note of how well the young alphas were humiliating, punishing, and dismembering Bill.  Mr. Thompson was both thrilled and grateful.

 

After dinner the young alphas again had fun torturing and fucking the house fags.  Mr. Jordon had not only replaced the one who had been eaten but added four others, so each young alpha had one to play with.  It was especially fun as the three new ones were still in training.  Training a fag to know its place and purpose was great fun.  Their live bait, meanwhile, remained on the yacht marinating in the tub of filth.

 

Day 2 was also successful, starting on the yacht with everyone shitting and pissing into Bill’s mouth and all over what remained of his body.  Tommy had joked about his Speedo creating a tan line, and Mr. Jordon encouraged the young alphas to skip the swim suites. “Young alpha males traditionally hunted and competed naked, and I think you’ll enjoy that as well as taking care of Tommy’s tan line concern.”  Then Danny also pointed out being naked would be more convenient for pissing and shitting on Bill, and for using the house fag slaves for sexual release.  Of course, what he really liked, but didn’t say, was the fact it meant he could show off his well-shaped cock, which was a bit bigger than the other four.  Given the amount of testosterone that the setting generated, all five of the young cocks were erect for much of the day, with the house fags well used for sexual relief.  Bill, of course, was no longer an option to use for that, with his ass plugged by the bat and no tongue remaining to give a proper blow job.

 

The only slight hitch of the day was Bill being severely bitten by a barracuda as he danged form the side of the boat.  The bite was obviously no problem – it was amusing to watch – but it meant he had to be hauled up for a bit while the wound was treated.  The fish had bitten him in the chest, where he had been branded “live bait” so at least the interruption had an ironic and humorous aspect.  Mr. Jordon ordered the repair because he wanted the bait to stay alive for all three days.  However, the huge plus side of that was that the prize game fish had then bitten Mr. Thompson’s line, generating what he would often refer to as the most fun day he’d ever had.  Even Bill was pleased, listening to the events while being repaired and realizing he had caused something good in his father’s life.  Of course, no one else considered that aspect, especially not Mr. Thompson.

 

As they again headed back to the resort, they all commented that the experiences and comradery were terrific.  So was the evening, this time not featuring the prize game fish to accompany the live fag meat, as Mr. Thompson wanted to have his trophy prepared for mounting in his living room in Vermont.  But the fresh snapper went well with the grilled live fag.

 

As they reached the boat for day 3, they all observed that Bill had been thoroughly marinated in blood, shit, and piss from their efforts, but they were amused to note he also had been the target of seagulls during the evening and early morning.  “Even the birds think he’s best used as a target for shit,” Tommy observed, and everyone agreed.  They then engaged in the now-traditional entertainment of pissing and shitting on Bill, and then they increased the quantity of bait used on their lines, leaving Bill with neither arms nor legs, let alone a cock, even before he was lowered into the water to perform a final day’s duty as live bait.  This was followed by dumping the tub overboard so all the “marinate” soaked his body and the water around him.  Bill was live bait, and after the day’s fishing he would be of no further use.  So there was no further need for the marinate and no one paid attention when he was bitten multiple times.  His body had attracted lots of fish this day as well, so it didn’t matter if he was still alive or not.

 

When the day was done, and the yacht powered up for the journey back to the resort, Danny happened to look over the side and, to his surprise, realized that Bill was still alive, albeit barely.  Danny also saw another giant shark in the distance heading toward Bill.  He alerted the rest of the group, since he not only had no objection to Bill being eaten by a shark, he figured that would be fun to watch.  The group assembled quickly to observe the fun, but then Danny remembered Mr. Jordon had told him sharks tend to leave a lot of the carcass to float away.  It would be inconvenient if part of Bill washed up on shore.  Mr. Jordon had recommended a different approach, and the five young alphas did a fast game of rock/paper/scissors to see who would do the honors.  Danny won, and as the group watched he casually cut loose the rope that was keeping Bill upright in the water near the side of the ship.  As Bill was pulled under the ship by the powerful engines and props his eyes briefly met Danny’s, and Bill tried to mouth the “thank you” he genuinely felt.  He had finally been used to provide pleasure for his former family and then disposed of as befit a fag object as disgusting as he always had been, removing a point of family shame.  But, to the cheers of the onlookers, Danny flipped him off and spat into the water.  They all heard a satisfying “thud” followed by a brief slowing of the engines.   Mr. Jordon assured them the special design of the props meant what was left of the fag was now thoroughly ground up.  Bill wasn’t the first fag who’d been used as live bait needing to be fully disposed of after use, nor even a noteworthy one.

 

As the engines returned to full power and the yacht began its journey, the vacationers were served fresh drinks and celebrated both the great day fishing and the disposal of Bill.  Mr. Thompson suggested a picture of the five young alphas, who quickly returned to the side of the ship and posed.  Their naked bodies glistened in the sun, shoaling off their masculinity (which included impressive cocks since the recent thrill had caused each to become erect).  They smiled at the camera and held their drinks up for a toast. Danny, in the center, held up the end of the rope he had just cut, with an appropriate look of triumph.  It was the perfect reminder of their vacation and their accomplishment, and they continued to congratulate each other as they recalled the fun details.

 

The final evening was the best celebration of all, and Mr. Jordon processed another of the house slaves to create his favorite “fish and fag fry” feast.  All his guests were effusive in their thanks, especially Mr. Thompson.  “This was a fantastic trip in every respect, and I now feel I can truly have pride in my entire family.”  Neither he nor anyone else was ever bothered by the thought of Bill again, and the photo was a treasured reminder of the reason why.

THE AMS NETWORK By Gay Slavemeat Gsmeat2@gmail.com

I am indebted to one of my readers not only for the core idea of the AMS organization but for some of the writing.  Part One is my work, but Part Two relies heavily on his.  I have his permission to use his ideas and such, but he did not want to be identified.

 

This story also features another reader, Cody, who had some good ideas on how he might be snuffed.  I really liked Cody’s ideas and think he will enjoy his fate (I would).  I welcome ideas and requested themes, along with any feedback – positive or negative – from readers.

 

PART 1:

ACCEPTANCE, TRAINING, AND DISPOSAL

 

1

Acceptance

William and Cody were both gay studs with amazing bodies, different in most ways but sharing an intense interest in extreme S&M male sex.  They initially found each other on ZambianMeat.com, a delightful site dedicated to male torture, snuff, and cannibalism, and they decided to connect in person after they learned the site was being taken down like so many others they enjoyed.  It took a while to set up the meeting, as William lived in New York and Cody in Silicon Valley, each with very full schedules because they were very successful in their careers.

 

When they finally met the sexual energy was intense and sparks flew.  One reason the “meeting” was a huge success, was because of the complementary nature of their differences.  William was a totally dominant sadist, and Cody was a totally submissive masochist.  There was also an age difference.  William was established, in his late 40s, with a network of colleagues built around an elite S&M society he led.  Cody was a high-tech investor in his mid-20s whose friends centered on the gay S&M bars where he hung out.  He had been orphaned in high school, and then dropped out and used the insurance proceeds his father left him to become a full-time investor when he was not chasing gay sex.  He turned the proceeds into a serious fortune with brilliant Silicon Valley investments.

 

They also differed in appearance.  William had a massive and imposing build, highlighted by the leather vest, leather pants, and steel-toed leather boots he wore not only during S&M sessions but as his regular garb. The pants had a removable leather pouch at the crotch, so he could free his massive cock for its tasks, enabling his sex partners to worship his cock and huge, low-hanging balls after they knelt before him and used their teeth to unfasten the snaps.  Then they sucked the giant cock or positioned themselves to receive it up their willing assholes (or unwilling – he enjoyed raping guys who were forced to serve him, breaking them down to become yet another of his slaves).  He kept the vest open to show off the thick black hair on his muscular chest, which accentuated his thick beard.  His mere presence was intimidating, and his dominance became increasingly clear as he used his strength and force of personality to control all the many males who served him sexually before being disposed of.  He was always the “top” – the ultimate alpha male.  Indeed, it would be technically wrong to refer to sex “partners” as there was no partnership, only dominance and service to satisfy William’s limitless lust.  There was only William, using other males merely as sex objects.

 

Cody was a nearly perfect sex object for William.  He had a slight build, although he was just as fit.  His nerdy twink look included moderate chest and body hair and a neatly trimmed beard.  He felt it made him more sexy-looking for the guys he serviced in gay S&M bars and clubs, which it did.  He often bribed the managers at gay leather bars to let him be totally naked and let the dominant males (and the eager managers) whip him and fuck him in public while he was tied up.  After all, with such a great young body anxious to be used he was an appealing fuck. And he had the money to pay for the public sex and humiliation he craved.

 

Preparations for the first session with William and Cody affirmed their roles.  When they exchanged pictures over the web.  William refused to send a picture of himself naked, offering only a head shot.  But he instructed Cody to send a portfolio of himself naked, both front and back, with his cock placid and with it hard, including one with him bent over holding his butt cheeks open to view his hole, and including one with him on his knees with his cock hard and his mouth open to receive another guy’s dick and service it.  William did not want to waste his time on someone with an inadequate body or someone who was not going to be obedient.  Then, when William had reviewed the pictures he instructed Cody to get a shorter haircut and not only to shave off his beard but to remove all his body hair.  The removal was to be permanent so William would not have to deal with the issue if he decided to continue having sex with Cody.  William was only interested in animals with totally smooth, hairless skin for his use.

 

Cody was shocked, and started to write an email protesting, since he liked the way his body looked and felt.  But there was something about William that caused him to pause and reconsider.  This was a level of domination he had never encountered, and it turned him on.  A lot.  So he did as instructed, and then arranged another, identical set of pictures with his now hairless body shown for William’s approval, including, as instructed, a series of shots showing him on his knees, cock hard to the point it was sticking straight up and leaking a little pre-cum, hands tied behind his back, a large dildo sticking out his ass, wearing a dog collar, and mouth open wide to receive his master’s cock.  That instruction alone settled any issue for Cody as to whether he wanted to proceed, and when he had a few guys at the bar he frequented take the shots Cody had no trouble achieving the erection and attitude required.  (He also got fucked a lot that night since it turned on the other guys in the bar as well.  It was a great evening.)

 

At that point William sent Cody an address and the time for his arrival, further informing him he was to strip naked and place all his clothing in a hamper near the door, ringing the doorbell once he had also achieved an erection.  There was no acknowledgement of Cody’s prior obedience.  That was what William expected and always received.

 

Cody arrived at William’s house as instructed, a massive 5-acre estate in the middle of New York Cody checked his cell phone to be sure he rang the doorbell at exactly the right time, placing the phone in the hamper as he did so.  As the door opened Cody was standing silently at attention in front of his new master. The excitement of what might lie ahead had meant there was no problem getting and staying hard even though it was a cold, snowy day.  Like so many others he was overwhelmed and thrilled by the sight of William in his leather gear, wondering but not asking what the emblem “AMS” embroidered on William’s vest referred to.  But Cody could guess the meaning of “Alpha 1” underneath it, a term Cody understood applied to William but definitely did not apply to Cody.  Perhaps what surprised Cody the most was the effect on him of no longer having any body hair.  Somehow he felt much more naked, and it was a huge added turn-on.  He realized it wasn’t how sexy he looked that mattered, but how available and vulnerable.  His prior appearance was that of a person, albeit highly submissive.  Now he appeared for inspection as what he was – a piece of male meat utterly under the control of a true alpha male and ready for whatever use was to be made of him.  Or “it.”   Cody had never been so utterly turned on.

 

Cody was a fantastic specimen of male sexuality, experienced in his role as a masochistic slave, and being naked and inspected by William had made him even more rock hard, dripping pre-cum.  William immediately took complete control and examined Cody’s body like it was a horse or cow being purchased at an auction.  But William was far more respectful of the horses he bought for his racing stable. Even the cattle on his ranch our West were better treated than his sex targets.  Cody’s skin was pinched and slapped, his mouth opened to inspect his tongue and teeth, his nipples twisted hard, his cock measured for length and thickness, and his balls grasped and harshly squeezed to gage their size and start to gage Cody’s pain tolerance.  After William finished the inspection with Cody bending over and spreading his ass cheeks so William could examine his hole, he was permitted to enter the house and followed William to a large dungeon.  William then used Cody as the sex object he was – and wanted to be.  When William had satiated his sadistic sexual lust, Cody lay on the floor bleeding form the floggings he’d received, his asshole filled with cum and piss, and his body unconscious from the breath-play William had performed, choking his new slave to the point of losing consciousness as William shot yet another load up Cody’s ass.  William had not spoken a word to Cody but Cody had taken the signals and obeyed totally and silently as he was fucked and tortured.  William had not removed any of his own clothing but allowed Cody to use his teeth to remove the leather pouch that covered William’s immense, hard cock.  William placed a leather dog collar on Cody, attached to a leash so he could lead his new sex object to where he wanted it for William’s pleasure.  William had had multiple orgasms shot up Cody’s ass and had released several loads of piss down Cody’s throat.  Cody had not cum except once as he passed out from being choked, but that orgasm had been amazingly intense for him and entertaining for William.  William loved the simultaneous thrill as the body he was fucking lost consciousness while having an orgasm, which enhanced the pleasure and sense of dominance (to William the same thing) of his own orgasm.  Cody’s orgasm was an involuntary reaction to the effect of being fucked and choked, a reaction William was aware would occur, and the pleasure Cody felt was acceptable because it was pleasurable and entertaining for William.  Everything had perfectly and naturally fallen into place.

 

When Cody returned to consciousness he thanked his tormentor for using him, apologized for having had an unauthorized orgasm, and asked if he could make a request to further express his gratitude.  Their roles had so naturally come together that Cody realized he only deserved pain, not pleasure, and that this was an appropriate way for Cody to inquire – permission of the master was inherently necessary before a slave would be allowed to speak, and when, or even it, he had an orgasm was up to William.  This was also what William expected and demanded, and he was pleased to see Cody already, and clearly. understanding their roles.  William was secretly both curious and hopeful about this new piece of young male meat kneeling on the floor with its head bowed, so he allowed Cody to proceed.

 

“Thank you master.  I have been in lots of S&M scenes, always as the victim, but nothing like this one.  I am also grateful you caused me to understand how my flesh should be presented to accentuate its nakedness and vulnerability.  We already knew we are both turned on by extreme sex, and that our natural roles are complementary.  You’re the best master I’ve ever served and also the sexiest and most dominant.  It was amazing, and I am honored and deeply grateful to have been used so viciously and completely, knowing that I don’t deserve the attention but do deserve the humiliation and pain.  I am deeply sorry for having cum without advance permission but am confident you can train me so the natural involuntary orgasm that comes from being choked unconscious will not occur if that is your wish, or perhaps accomplishing that by removing my genitals.  I acknowledge your right to neuter me to prevent me from feeling pleasure ever again.  That is your decision, as are all choices related to my body.  To clarify that reality I would like to make it formal.  I have always been decisive and make decisions quickly.  So, this is not an impulsive or random offer.  Quite simply, I offer you myself as your slave.  Completely and permanently.  Would you consider having me become your property?  I know my body wouldn’t be a gift that is worthy of you, since I’m just a worthless piece of shit, but I would be honored to become your slave if you will accept me, and I will utterly devote myself to your pleasure no matter what.  I would of course also turn over all my belongs to you as part of the transaction, which may help make up for my own worthlessness as I’ve done well financially.  You would own me to do with as you wish, and I would just be a piece of male meat, having no rights and owning nothing, not even myself.  I would be yours to use, command, or dispose of as you wish.”

 

William was pleased, not admitting that this was his secret hope.  Cody turned him on massively, more than any other slave he’d tortured and fucked.  He had already decided to make Cody his slave whether he wanted to be or not based on the emails and pictures Cody had shared earlier, but was even more turned on to have it happen voluntarily – a natural acceptance by Cody of his role as property and no longer as a person.  But William made the conditions clear.  “You are indeed a piece of shit and utterly worthless.  You deserve massive pain and humiliation.  The fact your orgasm was involuntary is irrelevant.  You did not have permission and I am tempted to cut off your cock and balls right now as punishment and to assure it doesn’t happen again.  But your body turns me on as it is, including the genitals and the orgasm you achieve as I’m fucking and choking you.  The added pleasure I feel watching you cum causes me to tolerate your brief pleasure as you pass out.  It’s an amusing and humiliating aspect of breath play.  But if you ever cum without my permission understand that you will lose your genitals, and it will be exceptionally painful for you.  You’re just a sex object – a pathetic piece of shit.  You will only feel pleasure when and it augments my pleasure.  You have no other purpose.

 

“The session wasn’t as good as it should have been, because I wasn’t sure if you would cooperate if I had decided to snuff you, torturing you to death as you deserve.  I didn’t kill you in this session, since you’re still interesting to me, with lots of torture and humiliation options to explore, but I want it clear that this is my right when I feel like doing so.  I’m not interested in ‘pretend’ slavery.  It must be the real thing.  You’ll be my property and I will do with you and to you whatever I want.  Your role is to be cooperative and grateful and eventually to die in total pain and humiliation at my hands for my pleasure and amusement  Understood?.”

 

“Absolutely, master” was Cody’s enthusiastic response.  “You own my body, and when you get tired of it you are of course free to destroy it however you want to.  To be honest, that’s part of what I want too, not that my desires are at all relevant.  If you had decided it was time to kill me in our first session, I’d have cooperated fully, and that is still your option if that amuses you now.  I know that is my eventual and appropriate fate, and it is up to my owner to decide when and how I am killed.  I’ll be your slave for as long or as short a time as you want, and when you kill me maybe I’d even be part of your meal if you think I deserve that added honor.  There are lots of good stories on the websites we both like to give your ideas, and some of them are extraordinarily painful, ending with a great meal for the owner while the meat is still alive and able to express its thanks as it is eaten.  Or sell me, alive or cut up into pieces.  Or whatever you decide.  Your whims are my commands.  I have always wanted to serve someone sexually and totally, and there are no limits whatsoever and no turning back.”

 

“Good.  I accept your unworthy offer.  You have 10 days to return to California, sell everything you own, and turn over the proceeds to me upon your return.  During this 10-day period convert your assets into bitcoin.  That way no one can ever trace it and it will be final.  Develop a story such that no one will ever come looking for you when you disappear, although I doubt anyone would care about a piece of shit like you.  You will serve me with absolute obedience.  When I feel like it you will die a horrible death.

 

“You will learn to live as a slave during these 10 days; your slavery starts now.  If you don’t obey me totally I’ll know, and you will be deprived of the opportunity to serve me.  I’ll have you killed as a random act of violence.  Return to my front door in 10 days, totally nude and with your cock hard.  Slaves should always be naked, so you are never again to wear any clothing.  Slaves are property, so you no longer have a name.  You don’t deserve that.  To remind you of your role and fate, you are now snuffslave.  That’s a category of property, not a name. Since you are the 187nd such slave property I’ve owned, you are snuffslave 187.  You are to call me “sir” or “master.”  Don’t have any delusions.  At some point I WILL torture you to death and probably eat your meat, as I have done with the prior 186 snuffslave objects.  Nor are you anything special.  You’re just a snuffslave I haven’t snuffed yet. So your name is appropriate.  When I feel like it, I’ll convert you from a living sex slave to a dead piece of slave meat.”

 

As the snuffslave formerly known as Cody accepted these terms with enthusiasm, William illustrated his points, and administered punishment for the unauthorized orgasm, by brutally kicking snuffslave #187 in the balls with his steel-toed boot.  When 187 doubled over in pain a second kick to the gut sent it sprawling onto the ground, barely able to recover its breadth.  More kicks to the vulnerable naked body caused 187 to convulse and fall to the floor writhing in pain.  The kicks were then alternated with lashes form a whip enhanced with metal tips to cause deeper lacerations as the entire body was kicked and flogged.  The beating eventually rendered 187 unconscious again, releasing the bladder and causing 187 to piss all over itself.  William left his new slave lying in its own piss, admiring his impact on the unconscious body as he pissed all over it.  Then he took a break to shower and fix himself a well-deserved drink to celebrate his new acquisition.

 

When 187 recovered consciousness for the second time, he was instructed to clean up the mess he had made by licking his piss and cum off the floor.  187 did what his master ordered, genuinely thanking his master for using him and hoping his pain and humiliation could provide further pleasure and amusement.  As he finished his thanks, the next kick was to his butt as he began licking up the piss, sending him sprawling again, so the waste was all over the bleeding body.

 

After 187 finally managed to lick the floor clean, followed by also cleaning William’s boots, William led him by the leash, doggy-style on all fours, to a room adjoining the torture playroom.  It contained a firepit that had a red-hot branding iron ready for use.  “I want everyone who sees you to know what you are,” William sneered.  He tied 187 on his back to a rack with arms and legs spread-eagled, stretching them to the point where 187 had no choice but to scream in pain as his shoulders were dislocated.  William added lashes to the belly to balance out the earlier ones on the back but didn’t apply much to the chest.  For that he walked over to the firepit and retrieved the branding iron.  As 187 screamed in pain and William enjoyed the sweet smell of burning flesh, the branding iron seared into 187’s chest its status and number – snuffslave 187.  Despite the extraordinary intensity of the pain, 187 properly thanked its master for such clear labeling of the master’s new property.  And the snuffslave formerly known as Cody realized its fate had been determined long before it had walked in the door.  William had already made the decision to make 187 a snuffslave before they even met and had the branding iron ready to confirm it, as was proper.  The only variable had been whether William would have to condition him or if 187 would accept its fate as the inherent right of alpha males like William.

 

2

snuffslave training

 

The next instruction after being branded was for 187 to go outside and wash itself off in the freezing cold with the garden hose by the front door.  187 was then to stand on the street corner until otherwise instructed, labeled for what it was.  William locked the door and called a buddy who was the local police chief.  The chief then sent a deputy to the house who arrested 187 for indecent exposure.  187 spent his first night as a slave locked naked in a cold  jail cell, with other prisoners encouraged to rape him once the cops were finished doing so.  They all laughed at his branded chest, which was a great source of ridicule.  The deputy, Duncan, was especially vicious and added a load of piss down 187’s throat, which inspired others to do the same.  Willian enjoyed the videos the chief and Duncan made  of their fun, including when they delivered 187 to the Greyhound station with a ticket for the three-day bus ride back to California.  William had arranged a bribe for the bus driver to permit 187 to be naked during the ride, remaining on the bus and consuming no food or liquids other than the piss and cum of the driver and any other interested passengers.  With the driver’s encouragement, lots of other passengers also used his body, especially his cute, available ass.  And hardly anyone used the urinal in the bus itself with availability of one that would come to their seat, kneel in the aisle, and accept their piss with gratitude.  They also laughed at his branding, commenting how appropriate it was for a worthless piece of shit like 187 to get snuffed.   They were just disappointed when the driver told them it wasn’t scheduled to happen during the bus ride.  (187, of course, had no idea when or how it would happen, just that someday it would.)  William wanted 187 to adjust to the humiliation of its new “status” and through another law enforcement friend, who was part of William’s AMS society, William also arranged for 187 to be arrested again upon arrival in Silicon Valley and kept overnight in jail for more gang rapes and humiliation. Before being  forced to walk naked back to his condo the gleeful cops had him get an erection, placed a tight cock ring on his penis, and plied him with Viagra so he would remain erect, adding a slave collar around his neck and a dildo sticking out his ass to complete the effect.  That didn’t bother 187 at all, enjoying the erection and hoping the humiliation was adding pleasure for the onlookers who laughed and made fun of him.

 

When 187 arrived the building manager let him into his unit once 187 sucked his cock to get him erect and then bent over while the manager removed the dildo, fucked him in the elevator lobby, and then rammed the dildo back in place – all to the amusement of the onlookers in the lobby.  The manager had no problem believing 187’s story that he had decided to become a nudist and move to Key West, which was warmer and had a more concentrated gay community that included S&M groups.  After all, the manager had whipped and fucked 187 many times at the local gay leather bar they both frequented.   The few people who knew 187 were aware he was a faggot into S&M, so no one would bother to verify the story when the manager spread it around the local S&M crowd, and no one would care.   When the manager asked if the brand was a joke 187 admitted it was real, saying it was a condition of the Key West S&M group he had joined.  The fact this meant he might be snuffed was of no interest or concern to 187’s “friends.”  The manager commented that he had hoped it was real and asked 187 to be sure to alert him when he was going to get snuffed so he could attend the event and join in the fun.  He figured he could watch and maybe even help torture him, and hoped it was especially painful for 187.  187 said that was not his decision but admitted he shared the hope it would be slow, painful, and entertaining.

 

187’s unit was the penthouse of the luxury condo building.  When he opened the door he was stunned to see that it was essentially empty.   There was only a wooden table with his computer and cell phone on it, and several cans of cheap dog food on the shelf in the kitchen.  Next to that were some plastic jugs that contained liquid, and he realized when he opened one that they were all filled with a mixture of piss and cum.  William had arranged for his ongoing indoctrination, and the instructions next to the computer included the time of the return bus ride along with a bus ticket and a reminder that he was to stay naked.  He was to eat only dog food, drink only piss and cum, sell everything he owned, and give the proceeds to his new master via an identified bitcoin account.  187 was impressed, grateful, and excited, quickly turning to the assigned tasks after taking a large swig of the piss/cum combo.  He was not only utterly content but sexually excited, his cock growing hard as he thought of what likely lay in store for him.  But as an obedient slave he didn’t masturbate since he did not have permission to cum.  He wondered if he would be permitted to cum at some point before he was killed and how long William would keep him alive, but 187 also realized these decisions were none of his business and certainly not his to make.  He knew this was his proper role.  He knew this was what he wanted and far better than he deserved.  He felt fortunate to have found such a fantastic master.

 

3

An AMS video event

 

Meanwhile, William was congratulating himself on creating perfect training, so his new property would understand its status and purpose and adjust accordingly.  But William had other tasks and responsibilities beyond just arranging the acquisition of his latest snuffslave, and while 187 was heading west William was hosting an event at his estate.  It took place in the large playroom where he’d tortured 187, but there was now a set of cameras and an expert film crew.  His buddy the chief of police was there, along with Duncan, who was a stud in his early thirties.  The Chief, as he was always called, was about William’s age and build, dressed in leather with a vest that featured an embroidered “AMS” under which it read ALPHA 2, identical to William’s ALPHA 1. Duncan wore a leather harness and jock strap but was otherwise naked.  Sitting in a wooden chair to which he was tied was a nineteen-year-old totally naked male twink who was fit, gorgeous, and terrified.  William smiled and addressed the main camera.

 

“Good evening members and guests, and welcome to our regular AMS broadcast – celebrating the Art of Male Snuff.  We have a fun show for you tonight, with an especially deserving and attractive award winner, so let’s get right to it.  You probably remember my co-host, Chief Nelson, who leads the AMS America’s region and has brought one of his promising young trainees, Duncan, to join us this evening” The camera focused on the Chief and Duncan, who smiled and waved.

 

“Duncan wants to join AMS, and as you know we have an initiation ceremony in five months as we celebrate the summer solstice.  That is always a huge amount of fun, and the Chief and I thought it would be nice to give a little preview.  Duncan has always been an absolute sadist, and he has had one of the best mentors anywhere.  So he’s ready to commit to our society and will pledge his loyalty at the ceremony.  Or perhaps he’ll be unlucky, and he’ll not make it past the initiation ceremony.  He’s on board either way, as are all AMS members.

 

“Tonight, we are going to induct another member of the Darwin Award Culinary Society and Duncan is going to audition by doing the honors.  As you know, this is a specially selected group of award winners.  All the AMS members pursue snuff as the art it should be, and we agree that at some point each member will himself die for the sake of that art.  AMS is a select and prestigious group of alpha males who enjoy the sadistic sex of a good snuff but honor the art more than themselves.

 

“There are others who are not deserving, and who are worthless drags on society.  One of the AMS services we provide is to eliminate them, and to do so before they breed and dilute our species.  As Darwin taught us, survival of the fittest demands their elimination from the gene pool, and as artists we perform the snuff to protect the gene pool and to advance our art, which means maximizing their pain and our entertainment.  It’s a culinary society since we don’t waste their meat and our artistry continues in the kitchen as we butcher and enjoy the delicious flesh of our award winners, always fresh and often while it’s still alive.

 

We especially appreciate and welcome our pay-per-view patrons, who help fund AMS by supporting our civic endeavors.  We hope everyone gets “off” as we “off” our award winner this evening.  We know you’ll enjoy watching the award ceremony as he dies.  He’s a petty thief, a drug addict, and Duncan has had to arrest him multiple times.  So he’s a well-qualified award winner.  And a very sexy one who should be a lot of fun to fuck and snuff.”

 

With that, the three men approached the trembling youth, who had heard William’s introduction and was now sobbing and begging for mercy.  William slapped him hard in the face to get his attention.

 

“Shut up.  You should be honored, since you’re finally about to do something worthwhile – provide entertainment for deserving viewers and generate funding for AMS.  Our viewers will get a lot of pleasure masturbating or fucking a slave while they watch you die.  After that we’ll auction off your meat and you will even provide nourishment.

 

“But first, our viewers like to know a little about the guys they are watching get snuffed, so let’s find out a little bit about you.  What’s your name?”

 

The teen was too upset and scared to answer, and Duncan filled in the information.  “His name was Curtis.”

 

“OK, Curtis.  It’s nice to meet you.  Congratulations on your award and welcome to our award show.  Let me start by explaining how we’re helping you be a better snuff star.  We’ve injected you with a huge dose of capagon, a drug that will diminish the effect of system shock as you’re tortured and help you last longer during the festivities. You also got a massive dose of Viagra that will keep your cock hard no matter what.  That’s why you have an erection now even though there’s obviously a lot of adrenaline in your body.  The dosages are much greater than what’s safe, so even if we didn’t snuff you you’d die of a heart attack anyway in a day or so.  That also could be caused by the fact we stopped the drugs you’re addicted to and you’re starting to come off your high, which means you’ll suffer from withdrawal as well as from what Duncan is going to do to you.  We don’t want the drugs you are addicted to be a barrier to you feeling the pain we’re about to inflict.  In other words, you’re going to be dead in any event, and you’re going to die in agony, so why not make it fun for everyone?  We want this to be as horrible for you as possible, since that turns us on sexually a lot.  So does hearing you scream and beg.  Please keep doing a lot of that.  Speaking of being turned on, I see the Viagra is working especially well – that’s a nice hard-on you’ve got, although it isn’t a very big cock.  Have you been naked and hard in front of a camera before, with a bunch of guys eager to watch you die?”

 

Duncan and the Chief chuckled at William’s question, but Curtis just stared and begged.  So William continued.  “I guess not.  How about sex?  Have you had sex with other guys before?  Or will this be your first time having your ass fucked?”

 

This was something Curtis hadn’t considered.  He was straight, and very homophobic.  He shook his head as he again pleaded for mercy, now adding pleas not to rape him.

 

“Well guys,” William continued, smiling and turning to the camera.  “It looks like we get to introduce a straight guy to the joys of gay sex.  If it weren’t for us he probably would have passed on his pathetic genes.  This is such a great public service!  I doubt there’s anything else interesting about him, so I guess we should get the show going.  As you know, we always start with a little warm-up action, so Duncan and the Chief are going to double-fuck Curtis’s ass.  No point having him die a virgin and it will be even more fun now that we know he’s homophobic.  Ramming those two big dicks into a virgin ass is going to generate a whole lot of pain that will be fun to watch while we enjoy listening to his screams.”

 

The three men untied their victim and dragged him to a large mattress where he was positioned on top of the Chief, who lay on his back with his large, hard cock thrust up Curtis’s tight ass.  Curtis screamed and begged as he lost his “virginity” with waves of pain, but the sexual pressure on his prostate and the overdose of Viagra assured he responded nicely with his own small cock as hard as it could get.  Then the real fun began, as Duncan removed his jock strap and positioned himself so that he could also insert his cock into Curtis, which he rammed into place.  Curtis screamed wonderfully, and the two policemen took their time enjoying the outstanding bonding experience as their cocks rubbed against each other inside Curtis’s bleeding asshole.  Nor was William left out.  He joined the fucking with his massive cock inside Duncan, increasing the sexual intensity as Daron was turned on beyond anything he’d ever experienced before, double-fucking with his friend and mentor, having the honor of being fucked by the head of AMS, and, most of all, fucking an unwilling but gorgeous young straight guy he was about to torture and kill.  If joining AMS meant this much sexual pleasure, the fact he’d someday be the target of a snuff scene was more than worth it.  And while his preferences had always been extremely sadistic, there was an aspect of Duncan’s eventual fate he found appealing.  This surprised him, as did the pleasure of being fucked by William.  But the Chief assured him (over many drinks they had together following joint rapes of attractive males they had in their jail) that this didn’t undermine his sadistic nature, it just expanded it.

 

The camera crew did an outstanding job catching all the great action as the three men put on an amazing sex show for the AMS audience.  But this was just the beginning.  After that had each shot their load, it was time for Duncan’s “audition.”  He started by ramming an electrified dildo into Curtis’ bleeding asshole, then administering a large amount of electricity as he masturbated Curtis.  The straight boy was horrified at being used as a fag, but he had no choice.  He soon shot his final load of cum for everyone’s entertainment, crying in humiliation and pain as he did so, Duncan rubbed Curtis’s cum all over Curtis’s face, and while the fag-in-training complained about that too, Daron picked up a knife and slowly emasculated Curtis, cutting off his cock and feeding it to him, then cutting off his balls and offering one each to his two companions.  William and the Chief laughed at Curtis’ humiliation and agony, then enjoyed the treats as Duncan forced Curtis to chew and swallow his own cock.

 

The main focus of the snuff then demonstrated that Duncan had even more useful snuff skills.  He announced that he wanted a souvenir of the event and proceeded to skin Curtis alive.  He cut slowly and expertly, peeling off sections of beautiful young skin that would be turned into leather and become a very special leather outfit for Duncan to wear while he enjoyed S&M sex with other guys.  There would be an ability to open the crotch, so he could free up his cock, like the design of William’s leather pants, which like his entire outfit had been made from skin removed from a live slave.  But in Duncan’s case there would also be an ability to open the rear when it was Duncan’s turn to be fucked – a feature that did not apply to William.  William was Alpha 1 – he was always the top.

 

When Duncan had removed the skin, there was still opportunity to enjoy watching the effect of Duncan’s efforts, as Curtis was, amazingly, still alive.  It was a testament to Duncan’s skill at skinning live meat.  The final screams as the twink died were even more intense than those during the emasculation and skinning, and William, Duncan and the Chief each enjoyed another orgasm, as did all the AMS viewers.  Duncan’s audition was a huge success.  Curtis had finally added some value, an entertaining death, some delicious fresh meat, and a very profitable event for AMS.  William congratulated Duncan and again reminded the viewers of the upcoming initiation ceremony, the schedule of “live” snuff video sessions, and that they could enter bids for fresh meat from Curtis’s body that would be immediately butchered and flash-frozen for overnight delivery to AMS members or other viewers who wanted to buy cuts of straight-boy steak to bar-be-cue.  It would turn out to be one of their higher-rated snuff video events, including great DVD sales.  Duncan had done well.

 

4

Slave property ready for use and disposal

 

snuffslave 187 had performed his tasks exactly as directed.  He cleaned himself off in the shower after the long bus ride but kept the water ice cold as instructed.  That was followed by a meal of dog food and piss/cum, mixed together and served in the dog dish that was the only remaining dish or utensil in the condo.  He put the dish on the floor and ate doggy-style since he was now sub-human, still wearing the dog collar that was so appropriate for the occasion.  The meal had such an appropriate menu that 187 thoroughly enjoyed it.  He had quickly realized that piss and cum were the perfect liquids to temporarily keep him alive while reminding him of his snuffslave status.  The disgusting taste turned him on.

 

187 then focused 100% of his attention to disposing of his assets, which were considerable.  He called the company that owned the condo building and offered to sell his penthouse condo to them slightly below market if they could close the deal immediately for cash.  If they didn’t accept immediately he told them he’d put it on the market and they’d lose the increased value they could get for it if they marketed it themselves.  He knew it was a risk, since he only had a few days left to sell everything, but he was an outstanding negotiator on financial matters and knew they’d accept.  Given Silicon Valley housing prices and the exceptional quality and views of his condo, they did jump at the chance, and he did well, as he expected.  He drove his new Tesla to the nearby dealership and was also able to sell that on the spot, although there were awkward questions about his nudity and branding.  Fortunately this was Silicon Valley, they knew he was rich, and people with serious money were often eccentric and always permitted to do what they wanted.  His story about becoming a nudist with a gay S&M group in Key West worked again, and he made it through that experience.  The toughest part was the fact being exposed in public in his new status as a snuffslave turned him on and he got a hard-on while he talked to the handsome dealer even without the effect of any Viagra.  The dealer clearly was disgusted and didn’t approve of all this, but he saw a chance to get a good deal on the car and took it.  The car title had been part of the pile of instructions, so he was able to complete it on the spot.  187 was relieved that no one hassled him much as he walked naked back to the condo to finish the final transactions, again getting an election as people stared and laughed at him.  One guy pointed at this branding and asked if he was ready to get snuffed on the spot, but 187 just ignored him.  It wasn’t that he objected; it just wasn’t his decision to make.

 

William had simplified things for him a lot by taking his furniture and other possessions, so the only other task of note was to sell his investment portfolio, a process he had started immediately upon returning to the condo and getting his cell phone.  It required in-person notarized signatures and a three-day settlement period.  He got that done with a visit to his condo by his personal banker along with a notary form their office.  Investment banks are happy to visit high net worth customers, and the banker wanted a chance to talk him into keeping the account.  This was the only risky part, as the banker would want to know a reason, and needed a place to send the resulting tax forms.  It took all of 187’s persuasive abilities to make it through that discussion, but the fact the condo was now empty and 187 was naked and branded helped convince the banker there would be no change of mind.  187 had also arranged a PO Box in Key West through the internet so there was a place to send the forms.  No one would ever pick them up, and they would be destroyed when the box lapsed. (He’d only rented it for a month to save money, since it was now Master William’s money.)  There would be no trace or reason to investigate by the bank. In  trying to find the money to collect taxes the IRS would face a dead end. 187 laughed as he relished the irony of that phrase relating to him.  By the time the IRS took action 187 was pretty sure he would in fact be dead and his flesh eaten.

 

When he had been a person 187 had been a brilliant and sophisticated investor. He turned the insurance proceeds from his parents into a true fortune.  As part of that process he’d learned a lot about the bitcoin phenomenon, and he already had an account into which he deposited the proceeds of the car and the condo sales.  He had his banker set the stock settlement, so it would automatically be transferred to his bitcoin account.  Then he arranged for a second automatic transfer that would drain his account and send the bitcoin to his master and owner.  There would be no way to trace the transfers.  William would receive everything with total anonymity, tax free.  This pleased 187 greatly.  A master like William should be served and worshiped, not taxed.

 

Ironically, the most difficult transaction was the one with the least value, selling his cell phone.   There was a Verizon store on the way to the bus station and 187 stopped off there on his way.  The store was crowded, and he was hassled by the clerks and other customers for being naked.  His story didn’t matter there, and the clerk threatened to call the police, accusing 187 of having stolen the phone.  Fortunately, William had returned his driver’s license, which was needed for the car sale and also as proof for the notary required on the other sales.  So he had something.  But there was no way to prove that he owned the phone, since he had swiped it clean before setting out to the store.  He could not risk someone getting access to the recent transactions he’d used it to complete.  What saved him from having his careful plans derailed was one of the customers, an aggressive young millennial seeing a chance at a good deal, who offered 187 several hundred dollars for the phone if he also got a blow job out of the deal.  The money was well below its market value, but 187 saw no other option and took the offer.  (The blow job was not a problem for him and he enjoyed that part – even the follow-on pissing down his throat as the guy kept his hold on 187’s head after he shot his load of cum down his throat.)  As he walked the rest of the way to the bus station 187 used a bitcoin ATM in a convenience store (unheard of in most places but not uncommon in Silicon Valley) to add the proceeds to the balance in his account. He then borrowed a scissors and cut up his license.  As he dropped the pieces into a trash can, he reflected on that reality that he was no longer Cody or anyone else, and he did not own anything – even his own body.

 

As he got on the bus he realized he now possessed absolutely nothing.  It was an exciting and liberating thought.  The final transfer would happen as snuffslave 187 arrived at its master’s home to add its body – now just live meat to be used and disposed of – to the property its master now owned.  The lack of ID was proper.  187 was no longer a person.

 

187 arrived at William’s door as instructed, following a return naked bus ride that was similar in terms of the humiliation, use as a human urinal, and frequent rape, but different in terms of 187’s reaction.  He was now liberated from the burden of having possessions or even being human, comfortable in his new role as disposable property.  Of course people would humiliate him, laughing at him as they pissed down his throat, taking turns and comparing experiences as they used him sexually.  Hitting him in the balls and gut was a favorite for onlookers, just for the fun of it.  Taking off their belts and using them to whip his ass reflected what he was for, and there were no limits so long as it was OK with his master.  William’s training had been totally successful.  187 had thoroughly enjoyed the bus ride.

 

The snuffslave formerly known as Cody did have one surprise for his master, a very pleasant surprise.  As 187 stood at the door William was checking the alert he had gotten as to the bitcoin transfer. He was stunned but of course did not show it.  William was already wealthy, as befit the Alpha 1 of AMS.  After all, he inherited the assets of the males he snuffed.  But he was now very rich.  His bitcoin account had just received over $100 million.  He had no idea his new snuffslave had been so wealthy.  This would put AMS into a whole new league.  There would be no “thank you” or even comment on the gift, of course.  Instead, the torture session William began as he accepted snuffslave 187’s live meat was especially painful, focused on how little 187 had received for the cell phone.  William beat the slave especially savagely for failing to get full value for William’s property.  He had been watching his property closely and knew everything that went on.  187 gratefully thanked its master for the beatings, knowing they were well deserved.  Not that it mattered if they weren’t.

 

As William finished with the fucking and beating that would be 187’s new normal, and as 187 achieved an intense orgasm as he passed out from having his throat choked, they both knew there was nothing left of Cody the person.  There was only a sub-human snuffslave ready for use and disposal by its master.  William had given 187 permission to have an orgasm as it passed out, which was particularly entertaining and pleasurable for William, to the point he overlooked the fact it was also massively intense for the slave.  William made sure orgasms that added to William’s enjoyment of sex were the only physical pleasure the slave received.  William’s pleasure was all that mattered.

 

5

An instructive party

 

After 187 regained consciousness and licked up the liquids on the torture room floor, William reattached the slave collar and leash and led his property into a nearby living room area with a large screen TV.  William was joined by the Chief and Duncan, who had been invited by William to celebrate the completion of the DVD featuring Curtis receiving his Darwin Award and the completion of Duncan’s new leather outfit made from Curtis’ skin.  They planned to spend the evening watching the DVD and enjoying a torture & sex-filled party.  Some of Curtis’ meat had been prepared for them as appetizers to enjoy as they watched.  Besides enjoying the film himself, William thought it would be instructive for his new snuffslave to watch a real snuff.  It was, and it turned 187 on massively, imagining itself as Curtis.

When asked, 187 promised to be far more cooperative and appreciative when it was his turn to be killed.  Indeed, 187 secretly hoped they would use its skin to make some sort of leather clothing but knew that was too great an honor to ask and none of its business.  187 did get a special treat for his meal, however, in the form of part of Curtis’ raw intestines soaked in urine.  He was of course very grateful.

 

The Chief had brought one of his own house slaves, who he felt would also benefit from the lessons of the movie.  He was a mature, very fit slave named Norman.  The Chief was quite pleased with him, turned on by his meek attitude and sexual submissiveness.  At 5’10” he was easy for the much bigger chief to dominate, and the slave’s head was shaved to show respect, also making a nice contrast with the dark hair on its body, especially the impressive chest.  All this made Norman quite satisfying for the Chief to fuck, and especially to fist.  But it was time for Norman to learn more about AMS and formally accept his proper role.   Duncan had also brought a slave to serve him, a young prisoner he had enjoyed fucking and beating the previous night.  He had told the prisoner, who was gay, that if he serviced Duncan and his friends well he would be released from prison and the prisoner had agreed to the deal.

 

William was in an expansive mood, aided by a few celebratory drinks following his fun with 187, and he explained a lot about AMS to Duncan.  187 and Norman also listened, on their knees ready to service their masters as instructed.  The prisoner paid no attention, but knelt in front of Duncan, his hands tied behind his back.  The prisoner would serve as the evening’s live meat entrée in due course, the ultimate release from prison, but for now he was unaware and would service Duncan’s sexual desires as the three masters enjoyed themselves.

 

Besides the social aspects of the evening, William and the Chief wanted Duncan to appreciate how much of an honor it was to be a member of AMS, and they wanted their sex objects to realize the good fortune at being owned, used, and eventually killed by the top two leaders of this prestigious group.  William liked gratitude from his slaves, as he deserved.

 

“AMS, as you know, stands for the Art of Male Snuff.  It is an incredibly select group, and totally secret.  There are only 314 senior members at any time, but there are 700 regular members and several thousand snuffslaves who are the property of members.

 

“All AMS members are alpha males, each of whom is carefully selected and each of whom has strong sadistic traits.  Each also recognizes the beautiful artistry that can be achieved during a ceremony where a male gets snuffed, especially willingly, acknowledging this art is more important than the life of any member.  All members agree that this will be their fate someday in the future, and each is assigned by lottery a date by which that will happen – the member’s lapsing date.  The exceptions are the four top Alpha males – Alphas 1,2, 3, and 4.  As Alpha 1, I am the supreme leader.  I have absolute authority over everything and everyone.  Alphas 2, 3, and 4 each lead one of the three geographies of AMS – the Americas and Australia, Europe and Africa, and Asia.  The Chief, as Alpha 2, controls the Americas and Australia.  His role as police chief is just a hobby he enjoys, mostly for easy access to prisoners like this one and to spot potential recruits like Duncan.  None of us have assigned snuff dates, and each of the three regional leaders rules absolutely in his region, subject only to me.  We work together closely to coordinate events and enforce the rules.   Running AMS is my full-time responsibility and I take it very seriously.

 

“Even when scum like 187 and Norman were people they never could have joined as a member, since they were clearly not alpha males.  Fortunately for them members take live male meat as slaves, snuffslaves, keeping them for a period to serve us sexually and otherwise.  When we feel like it we use them in wonderfully creative snuff rituals.  We treat members with respect as we snuff them when their time lapses, celebrating their life and sacrifice.  The snuffslaves are targeted for the pain and humiliation these worthless pieces of shit deserve, so they don’t have lives worth celebrating.  We just dispose of them when we’re done using them.”

 

William kicked 187 hard in the balls with his steel-toed boots several times to emphasize his point, receiving thanks for doing so as 187’s cock got even harder.   The Chief did the same to Norman, who was a little surprised but did not complain.  When Duncan did the same the prisoner objected loudly, so Duncan kicked him again even harder.  All three went sprawling as the kicks continued, but the two trained slaves quickly thanked the masters as they struggled to regain their breath.  It was an amusing interlude as William continued his explanation.  The prisoner began to listen more closely to what was being said, now starting to be very afraid.  Duncan shackled his ankles together and restored him to his kneeling position with instructions to pay attention to Master William.  Duncan was seriously aroused as he listened, his cock nice and hard as it stuck out form his sexy new attire.  He thrust it into the prisoner’s mouth with orders to suck it.

 

“I’ve personally had 186 snuff slaves prior to this one, and I dispose of them as soon as they start to show the impact of the severe physical abuse they suffer – usually a couple of months.  I have a magnificent video library of their deaths.  Some alpha males keep their snuff slaves for long periods of time, even years, but I don’t enjoy the “whipped dog” mentality that creeps in after a period of being tortured and humiliated.  It’s not as much fun for me, which is of course the only relevant criterion.  It’s up to each AMS member, and I know the Chief has kept Norman for over ten years as a sort of manservant around his house as well as a sex object and urinal.  He fills his snuff desires through ceremonies like the Darwin Awards and parties like this one.  That’s his choice.”  The prisoner was now paying attention as instructed and was therefore now terrified.  His fear added to Duncan’s enjoyment as the cock-sucking continued.

 

The Chief interrupted.  “I’ve given thought to the comments you’ve made before on that topic, and I think you may be right.  I do think I kept this slave too long and have decided to snuff him at a special celebration in the next month or so.   I don’t regret keeping him so long since I’ve been using him for a psychological experiment, much like a lab rat but without any ethical limits, as well as a fun object to fist and fuck when he’s not taking care of his household duties.  He responds to fisting, one of my favorite sports, better than any slave I’ve had and he generates a huge load of cum when he’s permitted to do so – mostly, like 187, when I choke him into unconsciousness.  Ten years ago he was just a somewhat submissive fag I hired as a domestic servant.  He dind’t mind being fucked but he was hardly eager for it, let alone being fisted and drinking urine.  Now he is a total slave and remarkably eager to please me, especially by being snuffed.  The combination of psychological and drug experiments has been completely successful and he is a willing snuffslave.  Besides, my buddies and I have fisted him so often his ass isn’t very tight and he’s not as much fun to fuck anymore.  I checked with a vet about repairing him.   He’s not worth the effort given that he’s now 60 years old and should be snuffed anyway before he starts to look his age.  (Duncan was surprised, having assumed the fit slave was at least 10 years younger.)  I know you prefer snuffing younger meat like your current snuffslave, but I enjoy more mature slaves who have grown into their proper roles and ultimate use.  It’s time to make his status official, as I mentioned yesterday.”

 

William smiled and led the group to the annex where he did slave branding.  The coals were again red-hot and there were two branding irons.  The Chief took one and, while William and Duncan held Norman still, he shaved Norman’s chest and back and then branded Norman’s chest with “snuffslave 96.”  (The Chief had not had nearly as many snuffslaves as William.)  96 screamed but quickly recovered and expressed his deep appreciation for the clarification of his role and his commitment to please the Chief in every way he could through his upcoming death.  Duncan took the other branding iron and applied it to the prisoner, who was tied to the table after trying to resist and then branded “live meat” as he screamed, swore, and cried from the pain.  He had begun to understand what was happening and began to beg, reminding Duncan of the pledge to release him from prison.

 

“Don’t worry about that,” Duncan responded, laughing.  “I already signed and filed the release papers so you’re no longer a prisoner of the city.  But life is a prison, and what better release is there than being eaten alive after being tortured and fucked?  You’re as worthless as these other snuffslaves and you deserve a similar fate.  You’ll also provide nourishment along with the fun.”

 

The three masters had gotten horny form the movie and the conversation and went into the torture room for some fun with their sex objects.  But the conversation continued, and William and the Chief provided lots more information about AMS.

 

Duncan learned about the A-Team members, who were very senior members and the next level of leadership of AMS.  While they did have lapse dates, they were always many years in the future and William sometimes extended them.  They were the ones in charge day-to-day, and while some had jobs they were all jobs that advanced AMS.  A key aspect of AMS was obtaining snuffslaves and Darwin Award victims, and this was done by close relationships with police and other law enforcement groups worldwide.  Maintaining and enhancing those relationships is a primary task of the A-Team members, but also an important role for regular members.”

 

“A regular AMS member’s life expectancy is between 3 months and 10 years, although it is extended if they become senior members and then A-Team members.”  Duncan would start as a regular member, but quickly set a personal goal of becoming an A-Team member in due course.  He assured William and the Chief that being part of AMS was such an honor and so sexually exciting he was willing to risk being snuffed himself after only 3 months.  The Chief smiled at his protégé with pride.  Duncan was all in.

 

Duncan also learned about the idyllic Caribbean island AMS maintains for members to vacation and relax, called Alpha Paradise.  In addition to hundreds of AMS members vacationing there at any given time, there are about a thousand worthless Darwin Award candidates like Curtis brought in each month to be snuffed.  There’s a ceremony every night with members each getting at least one of the Darwin candidates to help snuff.  It’s a great bonding experience for members, especially as they wander through the cages and select live meat to enjoy at dinner as well as the day’s sex, torture and snuff targets.  Access to Alpha Paradise is one of the major perks for AMS members.  It makes a major contribution to reducing crimes worldwide while it’s export of “exotic” meat is highly profitable..

 

Duncan was equally turned on by the other AMS events, which are also wonderful releases for members’ sadistic alpha urges, and always include elegant banquets featuring the neat from the evening’s snuff targets.

 

“There are a large number of applicants to join since it’s an extraordinary experience and an appealing trade-off,” the Chief stressed as he pushed his fist further up 96’s ruined ass.  “AMS members are dominant, sadistic, versatile, alpha males. In exchange for a date-limited life expectancy, they get fulfilment of their darkest desires and a chance to live pleasant, fulfilling lives knowing they are part of an elite society that performs important public service. There are no limits on what we get to do to our victims.  The only obligation is a regular and rather intensive practice of fitness to provide the best body possible for the AMS ceremonies, whether as a torturer in a snuff scene or, at some point, as a victim who will also provide meat for the feast afterwards. “

 

William took over the instruction, pausing briefly from whipping 187 front and back as it hung suspended by its wrists from the ceiling.  “What really unites AMS is our cult of snuff.  We celebrate and embrace fucking, breeding, torturing, snuffing and being snuffed, and we view cannibalism as our right.  We own slaves and treat them as the property they are.  We also help cleanse society by accepting Darwin candidates from law enforcement and other sources worldwide.  We’re a major reason crime is dropping, since there are no repeat offenders once we take control of the animals.”

 

The evening was a huge success, with Duncan more excited than ever to join AMS, snuffslave 187 utterly overwhelmed by the honor of being owned and soon tortured to death by the Alpha 1 of the group, and snuffslave 96 realizing and utterly embracing his role, hoping his death would please the Chief and determined to help plan it so it would.  The three alpha males greatly enjoyed the sex and torture sessions and were careful as they cut into their dinner meat to keep it alive as long as possible in order to enjoy its pain and humiliation as well as its flesh.

 

6

The Disposal

 

While there are other occasions when new AMS members were tested and initiated, winter and summer solstice are the major celebration days for AMS, and Duncan was excited that the time had finally come.  He thought back over the wonderful evenings he’d enjoyed over the past several months and all that he had learned about AMS, especially grateful to the Chief for his attention and instruction.  He was more determined than ever to meet its standards and become a member.  Unlike many sadists, he even recognized that it would be fulfilling even when it was his turn to die.  He was especially fascinated by the enthusiasm of snuffslave 187, who was clearly deeply grateful for the chance to be a snuffslave.  He had discussed that feeling with the Chief over many drinks, and the Chief had assured him this would not be a barrier to Duncan’s ambitions.  It just broadened his perspective and made him an even more impressive candidate.

 

The initiation was held in a cavernous basement arena at William’s estate.  Duncan arrived exactly on time and was met by a hooded leather-clad doorman who directed him to a waiting room for the candidates, where he was instructed to strip naked and store his cherished leather clothing in one of the lockers.  The room was full of other applicants, nine in total, and Duncan was impressed with the variety of alpha males assembled.  They were of all ages, from late teens to early 50s, and they were from countries all over the world.  The nine had not only been selected as worthy candidates, but as worthy to be part of this important ceremony rather than just one of the regional initiations.  Among the things they had in common were exceptional bodies that were utterly fit.  The ones who were already naked and standing around seemed to have a reasonable idea of what AMS was, and Duncan began to interact with them. Three of the males were unconscious, each naked and tied to a cot.  Duncan remembered William’s description of applicants who were not told much, or anything, about AMS but had been contacted very recently by a member after being watched through their activities over the internet (especially the dark web) and in gay S&M bars and clubs.  AMS members checked them out thoroughly and concluded they would be good candidate.  Members would engage in conversations with them to verify their attitudes toward extreme male S&M, especially snuffing other males, and also their degree of alpha sadism.  Working out with them at a gym would verify their fitness levels were high enough to meet the AMS standards.  Sex scenes at gay S&M bars would verify their sexual dominance and performance.  If the answers were positive, the prospect was drugged and brought to the ceremony.  These three were lying on cots in the locker room until they recovered consciousness.  Duncan watched one of them, Horst, a candidate from Germany for the European zone, as he slowly awakened and fiercely demanded to know what was going on.  He erupted in anger about being stripped and tied to the cot, but it did him no good.  It did enable Duncan to admire his massive, exceptionally fit body.  This was clearly a major Alpha male.  Horst and the other two males tied naked to a cot would have to make their decision on the spot at initiation, assuming they passed the tests, while Duncan and the other 5 who were already awake and just waiting for things to start had already committed to AMS.

None of them knew what was next, or what tests they would have to pass. William had given Duncan no hint on that front to assure he had no advantage over other applicants.  Duncan admired the high ethics he’d seen form both William and the Chief.

 

Very shortly, the unsuspecting applicants recovered consciousness, with varying levels of understanding and memory of past conversations, but a consistent level of alpha male anger at not being in control.  Once everyone was awake several hooded assistants entered and released the three abducted candidates from their cots, telling them all their questions would soon be answered.  The lead assistant reminded them that they had all had conversations about torturing and snuffing other males, and they were going to have a chance to join a group that performed and celebrated that art form.  They weren’t satisfied at all with that, demonstrating their alpha status, but there was nothing they could do, and they were still a bit groggy.  Soon the memory of their conversations began to return, and they were all highly intrigued at what this prospective group might be.  Snuffing other guys sounded like fun.  Indeed, as Horst and the others began to remember the conversations, they started to have hard-ons.  By the time the nine candidates left the locker room each had a sizeable erection from the thoughts of what was going on and the prospect of snuffing other males.  It was a good group of candidates that was starting to bond.

 

The hooded assistants led the group to a shower room where they each endured an ice-cold shower and an enema.  They were given a steel cock ring and a necklace with a number from 1 to 9.  They were also ordered to swallow a Captagon pill.  Duncan was very familiar with the drug, which is widely used by warriors to raise endurance and reduce system shock in battle, and also has a positive impact on male sexual aggression and performance.  It is commonly given to suicide jihad fighters but is a highly useful drug for AMS to enhance the ability of snuff victims to endure greater levels of pain as well as the aggression of those doing the killing.  It was a reminder to the 9 candidates that not all of them would survive initiation.  That made their erections even harder.

 

After the preparation, all the candidates were led to the main arena, where William was presiding with each of the regional Alphas who reported to him by his side.  They were on a stage in front of an audience of fellow AMS members, and there were many others watching on video.  The room was brightly lit so everyone could enjoy the ceremony, and there was a wide range of equipment of various sorts on the stage, most of it oriented toward torturing and killing males.  There were also several large tubs for disposal of body parts that would soon be separated from males being snuffed but weren’t good enough cuts of meat for dining.  These would be fed to snuffslaves to remind them of their fate.

 

William began with a short but complete explanation of AMS, which did answer all the questions the candidates had.  Their reaction was clearly demonstrated by the eager looks on their faces, their rapt attention, and the massive erections each of them had.

 

Next, the candidates went one after the other in front of a camera.  Facing it, they said their name, age, and country, and then declared that they were ready to face the initiation process whatever the conclusion, and willingly accept the dedication of their life to the Art of Male Snuff Organization.  Any doubts were gone, and they were all totally committed, including the three just introduced to the organization.

 

After receiving their oaths William did not turn immediately to the candidates.  He first summoned snuffslave 187 to the stage.  187 crawled up on all fours, its cock seriously hard.  187 was well aware it was about to die a humiliating and pain-filled death for the entertainment of its master and the other AMS members, but unaware how it would happen.  The “how” was irrelevant to 187 and obviously none of its business.  But 187 was honored and totally turned on no matter what, determined to cooperate in every way.  After all, this was its purpose and the death would be enjoyed by a huge number of deserving alpha males.  What more could any snuffslave wish for?

 

“As you all know, many of us own snuffslaves that are disposable property we keep alive for a time for our pleasure.  That always includes the fun of torturing them, to death, and a property trained snuff slave such as this one understands this is its highest and best use and welcomes the honor of complete service.  I have already made this sex object available for each of you to fuck as you arrived and during the cocktail reception we just finished while we waited for the applicants to be prepared.  I was pleased to note that so many of you took that opportunity, but there wasn’t time for all 150 of you to do so.  You’ll have another chance shortly.  But its next use is to entertain us with what should be a very painful and amusing snuff.  We will start our official ceremony with a demonstration of just how much fun a snuffslave is and how that fun can be enhanced with the aid of some of our torture toys.  We’ll also  show you what amazing progress we’ve made in being able to train worthless scumbags to realize that becoming a snuffslave is their proper role and to embrace it.  This live meat naturally realized its proper role, but not very many do.  That has been a serious limitation on availability of snuffslaves for our members.  But now, as a result of some outstanding research led by Alpha 2, we are adding a product line of trained snuffslaves for sale to members.  You can examine and enjoy our first batch for free during and after the ceremony.  They are lined up naked along the side of the chamber eagerly waiting for you to torture and snuff them, one for each AMS member here in the arena.  Feel free to choose one to entertain you as you watch.  Another set is ready to be the meat at our feast, eaten while still alive.  So feel free to torture and damage your snuffslave any way you like and then we’ll butcher and freeze the meat for you to take home and enjoy later.  I think it will be our best feast ever and our video catalog of snuffslaves for sale will go live right after our sessions.”  There was a loud cheer and a mad scramble to select a snuffslave, but William nonetheless continued.

 

“We also want to feature one of our new torture toys, the “fatal fist fuck enabler.”  It’s a lot of fun and makes fisting a snuffslave even more painful for the meat.

 

“Also, as you know we don’t waste fresh meat, and as we kill this snuffslave (and others) during the course of events today we will slice off the high-quality meat and serve it to our audience here in the AMS Arena.  You can use the computer tablets at your seats to select a piece that appeals to you and it will be brought to you.  Be sure to indicate if you want it cooked or raw.  We’ve set up the room with large couches to make it more comfortable and to facilitate you enjoying the snuffslaves and each other during the ceremonies.  Or feel free to examine the carcasses as they’re laid out near the stage and slice off your choice cuts yourself.  After all, today is all about sex and snuff and we want everyone to have a great time and shoot lots of cum.”  The audience again cheered loudly in appreciation.

 

Snuffslave 187 was now on stage, kneeling at its master’s feet with head bowed in a kowtow position.  William placed a noose around its neck, tightened it, and guided 187 to a table where it was positioned on its back with its ankles lifted and attached to shackles lowered rom above.  William took off his leather jacket to reveal his amazing torso and his powerful arms.  But he still wore a leather harness that was embroidered with “ALPHA 1” – as if anyone would forget his status!  He held up a “glove” and slid the fingers of his right hand into it. As he closed them into a fist the audience could see that the glove was designed to extend his reach with a very sharp, carefully designed metal knife.

 

“One of the frustrating aspects of fisting a snuffslave is that the animal’s innards get in the way of our fists as we push into the asshole.  Even the most talented fisters can’t get past their elbows before there is too much meat in the way to go further.  That not only limits our fun but it means the meat survives the session, which of course it does not deserve to do.  This clever device solves both problems.  As you can see, the knife part rotates, which is motorized.”  William demonstrated by pressing his index finger on a button inside the glove, which caused the knife to rotate, revealing that it was in effect a drill.  The audience applauded, and William also held it so that 187 could contemplate what was about to happen to it.

 

William pushed his hand into 187’s exposed and well lubricated hole, using his great strength to reach up to his wrist.  187 had been fisted many times, so this was not a new feeling.  But as William continued to push, now moving in and out with his lower arm, the pain grew exponentially.  187 screamed loudly as William activated the drill function and now continued to push in past his elbow.  He could barely be heard above the shrill screams as he added commentary for the cheering onlookers.

 

“I’m now into the lower belly, moving up the body internally past the intestines.  The drill is now starting to chew up the internal organs.  Given all the nerve endings I’m cutting through, our researchers think this is likely the single most painful torture we can inflict on a snuffslave.  Best of all, that pain wi9ll continue even after I remove my arm, but the animal will not die right away.  These wounds are fatal, of course, but it will be several hours before the internal bleeding results in its death.  Several hours of remarkable levels of pain.”  As he finished his explanation, William had inserted his arm all the way to his shoulder.  He grinned in triumph and spit into 187’s screaming mouth.  After he slowly removed his arm he bowed to the audience, who gave him a standing ovation for his fantastic exhibition.  187 fainted from the pain but was quickly revived.  Not only was he to endure the pain that would soon kill him, but he was to suffer other torture that would also be fatal and would be the immediate cause of his destruction.

 

187 was then placed on a mattress where two especially well-endowed AMS members waited with cocks ready for action.  The one with the larger cock lay on his back and 187, as instructed,  positioned itself on top of the larger male, who thrust his cock up 187’s already bleeding asshole.   After the fisting, there was plenty of room, as William observed to the amusement of the audience.   He inserted a dildo to create a tighter fit for the cock already inserted.  Then William approached the snuffslave and added his own massive cock to start a triple-fuck. After the 30 plus fucks and the fatal fisting 187 had just received, this was now the only way for alphas to enjoy a nice tight fuck.  The two males fucking 187 continued the snuff by thrusting in and out with considerable pleasure, while inflicting even more pain on the snuffslave.  The third alpha then knelt above 187’s head and fucked its face while his own ass was positioned so it nearly suffocated the snuffslave.

 

William resumed his commentary.  “We often enjoy feeling the snuffslave achieve a final orgasm as it dies, which accentuates our pleasure as we cum.  But we also enjoy well-prepared cock-and-balls snacks.  I plan to enjoy both.  The cock and balls will be cooked and eaten while they are still attached to the body.”

 

As he continued to fuck 187’s hole, William was handed several implements, including a long metal skewer that he pushed into 187’s piss/cum slit.  The thrill of being so horribly used by its master had turned on the snuffslave even more, enabling it to maintain its erection despite the pain.  The skewer went far into the hard cock well past its base, adding a new source of pain (and amusement) and assuring the cock would stay erect as it was prepared.  Next, two other metal skewers were inserted, one into each testicle.  William was then handed an electric probe attached to a 120-volt circuit.  To demonstrate how it worked, he touched the probe to 187’s left nipple, then to its right one. The screams of pain were again amazingly intense, and the nipples were literally burned off as the audience laughed.  William then rotated the probe among the three metal skewers, bit by painful bit cooking 187’s genitals. The electricity was rapidly switched on and off to increase the “shock” impact and to slow down the cooking.  A favorite part of the scene was the fact the “shocks” caused 187’s body to convulse as the electricity ran through it, rising in the air and challenging the skill of the three males fucking it.  But they managed to keep their cocks inserted in the meat as they fucked it.  The crowd cheered, clapped, and laughed as the alphas performed the equivalent of a “bucking bull” on and in the gyrating animal.

 

The precision of the effort was so expert that it was fully 15 minutes before the cock and balls were fully (and perfectly) cooked and ready to be eaten.  To the further delight and amusement of the crowd 187’s screams were loud and extreme, intensifying to the extent they didn’t even sound human.  After all, as William pointed out, 187 was no longer really human – just live meat being processed.  The crowd went nuts with cheering, laughter, and sexual excitement.  They released some of the excitement by, in turn, torturing the snuffslaves they had been provided for just that purpose.

 

As the wonderful smell of cooking male flesh fueled William’s lust, he and his fuck-mate intensified their thrusts into 187’s ass, also thereby intensifying the pressure on its prostate.  As a result, and despite the fact its cock and balls were no longer functional, 187 released the largest load of cum it had ever shot, with the thick creamy liquid working its way along the skewer in its cock to leak out the impaled slit. The skewer held the cock erect, and the liquid added to the pain form the electricity.  As the cum gushed out William slowly cut the cock off at the base, using the skewer to hold the cock while he ate it, much like a corn dog at a county fair.  It was delicious, all the more enjoyable due to the incredible pain 187 was suffering.  The two skewers cooking the balls came out next, again cut very slowly to maximize the pain and the entertainment.  Being always the generous leader, William handed one each to his two colleagues, who also greatly enjoyed the well-cooked slave-meat treats.  187 was delirious with pain, but not so much so that he failed to mumble an effort at “thank you.”  Although that was barely discernable due to the pain and the thick cock in its mouth, it generated further laughter.  187 knew its death was near, yet was overwhelmed with gratitude for how it had been used and for the honor of having its cock eaten by its master.

 

It was time for the final stokes, and as the alpha fucking 187’s throat increased his thrusts in order to achieve his own climax William moved onto 187’s chest and very slowly slit its throat, continuing until he had completely beheaded the snuffslave.  The head fell into the hands of the alpha fucking it, who shot his load down its throat as it came loose..  William took the head and held it up to the audience as the remainder of 187’s body continued to entertain the audience with its dying gyrations.

 

“While this snuffslave is now just snuffed meat, it can still be useful even beyond providing us nourishment.  Feel free to fuck the body, either in the ass or the neck.  We’ll leave in the dildo to help make the asshole tighter.  I think those of you who haven’t fucked a fresh-killed snuffslave will be surprised how much fun it is to fuck either end, or both, while the body is still warm.  I think it’s the ultimate humiliation for a snuffslave and so well deserved.  And we’ll pass the head around so those of you who didn’t get a chance to fuck it during the reception can enjoy doing so now.  I think you’ll find that is also remarkably satisfying.”

 

As the audience cheered, the severed head became quickly popular.  For example, Paul and Xavier were two AMS members who had recently met and were enjoying their new snuffslaves when someone passed it to them.  When Xavier held it up he was startled.

 

“Wow.  I think I knew this when it was human.  He had a beard then, but I think it’s the same guy.”

 

“Really?  Was he a buddy?”

 

“Hardly.  He was a decent fuck, and fun to fist, but I always thought he was an asshole.  This is going to be fun.”  With that, Xavier started eagerly fucking what was now just a masturbation  toy.

 

“What was his name?”

 

“I’m not sure I remember.  Colt, maybe?  Or Casey?  Something like that.  It obviously doesn’t matter now, if it ever did.  It was just a snuffslave.  They don’t have names.”

 

Xavier shot his load into 187, having used both the neck and the mouth to assure a fun jerk-off.  “Go ahead and take a turn – it’s really satisfying and fun to listen to all the cum sloshing inside it.  I’m going to go fuck his dead ass.  William’s right, as always.  That’s also a lot of fun.”

 

So Paul also added cum to the sex toy and passed it to the next alpha.  The two buddies then headed to the stage, turned on by the sight of the headless, dickless, and lifeless snuffslave, its neck still spewing some of its body fluids while its ass leaked out the cum with which it had been so thoroughly filled.  The animal had once been quite sexy, and in its pathetic destruction it somehow remained so.  They enjoyed fucking both holes of the warm piece of meat that had once been named Cody. Xavier observed that it confirmed the fact it’s best use was as the asshole it had been. Then they helped themselves to a couple of slices of the meat itself.   As the butchers came on stage and sliced off the rest of the meat and tossed the other remains into the large tubs, snuffslave 187 was quickly and completely forgotten.

 

PART 2

THE AMS CEREMONY

 

The audience cheered again when William regained their attention.  He was an extremely popular leader who knew how to please his members. But now it was time for the official ceremony.

 

William signaled for the room to be darkened.  There were 9 spotlights, each focused on one of the candidates, who were instructed to take a position under one of the lights with legs apart, hands behind the back, cock hard, totally still, and looking straight forward.  William asked if they were ready for the initiation to start, and they all

answered a loud YES !

 

At that same moment 9 more beams of lights were turned on revealing 9 impressive males each facing one of the candidates.  They were existing members who had applied to become part of the A-Team. Each was bare-chested except for a dog tag and a leather harness, wearing impressive tight leather pants open at the crotch to reveal their huge hard cocks.

 

For the membership candidates, after William’s display of the art by snuffing 187, AMS was no longer a concept or a fantasy. It was now reality, right in front of them, consisting of imposing slabs of male studs who were a mirror of what they could become.

 

After 5 minutes of standing still during which the men could face and contemplate each other’s perfect pack of meat under the sharp beam of light, William broke the silence once again, first addressing the A- Team applicants.

 

“You willingly offered your lives to the Cult of Snuff. You will now honor our four values:  Self-denial, Performance, Obedience, and Commitment”

 

The lights in the arena switched on as William spoke.  “I want the A-Team applicants, who are already members, to set an example and show how true AMS members exhibit these values.”

 

The A-Team applicants knew the drill and  closed their eyes.  Each took a ball from a deep jar presented by one of the assistants.  There was a moment of suspense and silence after the last one had taken his ball and William ordered: “SHOW”

 

Each applicant revealed the ball in his hand, boldly, with no expression on his face.

 

The time of the man with the black ball in his hand expired. He was a big slab of prime beef (6’8”, 280 lbs.) with a thick black beard and a furry chest much like William’s.

 

A107 (the ID that was tattooed on his left pectoral) rapidly took off his harness, his dog tag (the original lapsing day would have been over six years later), his leather pants and boots, and his cock ring.  He then stood at attention in front of William, totally naked with his cock still quite erect.  William handed  him a 6-inch sharp dagger.

 

“THANK YOU, SIR,! No mercy for my body! Take my soul , Finish me the hard way!“

 

With no hesitation he gutted himself just above his cock, expanding the wound upward, seppuku style.   Then he cut around the base of his scrotum, which enabled him to grab his cock and balls and pull out some of his intestines before falling to his knees, still fully conscious but in extraordinary pain to the extent he could not proceed further in the task of destroying himself.  A15 and A46, the applicants who had been standing on either side of A107 rushed next to him, slammed him onto his back.  They then took turns pulling out the rest of his intestines, positioning the dying body so each of the other six members could participate in cutting or stabbing some key part of him to advance the snuff.  It was an excellent example of exceptional teamwork

 

A91 spread his legs open and cut off his balls and cock, presenting them to William, who handed the thick cock and the large balls to a taxidermist who would turn them into a  trophy William could add to his collection.  A128 and A35 each took an axe and, with a loud shout, cut off his legs, as blood started to spill abundantly on the tiled floor.  A66 and A72  removed the arms near the shoulder sockets. A107 screamed in excruciating pain,  A104 opened the belly wound up to the chest and removed most of the internal organs.  But it was William who reached into the chest cavity and pushed his hand upward to where he squeezed the heart and ripped it out, still beating.  A107 was now dead, surviving far longer than would be possible were it not for the drug he and the other AMS participants had taken that day.  He had become a destroyed mass of bleeding meat.  William impaled the heart onto a nearby spike, and then cut off the head and placed it at the top of the spike.  The head and the heart would be

reminders of the AMS value of obedience.

 

It took 10 minutes only. Minutes of torment made more entertaining by the desperate screams of  A107 as he and his fellow applicants  demolished his body.  Most of the audiences both in the arena and watching on video enjoyed a massive orgasm as they watched, which is a major goal of any male snuff.  The difference in the audiences was that those in the arena could now enjoy the fresh meat that had been A107.

 

The 8 remaining A-Team applicants  returned  to their spot facing the membership candidates, having just modeled expected AMS member behavior.  William was very pleased.

 

“You have all performed as you are required to perform, including A107, who died with honor.  We celebrate his life and his death as we dine on his meat.  Also, all of you showed excellent teamwork, which is key for A-Team members.  We have already examined your qualifications and determined each of you merits the promotion.  This was your final test, and you have passed.  Congratulations and welcome to the A-Team ranks.”  The audience cheered, and the newly promoted members bowed respectfully to William.

 

The first formal event was now concluded,

The 9 candidates under their bright beam of light became the focal point for the second part of the ceremony, which would be the final selection of new AMS members.  They, too, had been pre-screened and the four Alpha AMS leaders had determined who was worthy.  Eight of the nine had passed.

 

Each AMS candidate was given a frozen cum cube to suck and swallow as William announced the event.

 

“Cum is the source of life and death.”  Life for 8 of you, sudden death for one.  Suck and swallow this precious gift.”

 

The candidates obeyed, and minutes after the last candidate had swallowed the last drop, Boris, a bulky Russian, started to convulse in the middle of the room. The doomed male’s final moments started with  5 minutes of intense pain as he fell to the floor, his body gyrating wildly with the agony. While he was still alive several assistants cut into him to open bleeding wounds, and the naked body was tossed into a pit where hungry dogs ripped him apart and ate his flesh.  Boris had not been found worthy to join.  The message of this tradition, as William explained, was a simple illustration of how some males are so worthless they are best used for dog food.  There would be no celebration of Boris, who was an alpha male but had been deemed weak.  The tradition also illustrated AMS’s casual attitude toward death.

 

William next went to a wheel and spun it., The number it landed on  (between 1 and 7) would determine how many more candidates would be snuffed  during the ceremony.

 

The wheel of death stopped: three more candidates where to be killed.  All 8 were now members, but the lesson was that a member’s fate was subject to rules of chance.  The candidates had all assumed the risk when they pledged their oath of loyalty.

 

In order to determine which candidates would die, a vote was launched electronically among AMS members both in the arena and online. The candidates were also permitted to vote, since they were all now considered AMS members even though three of them would soon die. A dashboard showed the progression of the votes and the score of each of the 8. It quickly became clear that Milom, a Romanian with an exquisitely beautiful body that cried out to be snuffed, and Horst, the imposing German who would provide such a generous helping of prime male meat, would be the top  two “winners,” followed by Duncan.

 

William directed the three to take places on the stage, each lying on his back on a table with cameras positioned to capture all the action.  They were not restrained.  There was no need for that since they knew and accepted their fate.

 

“I welcome all eight of our new AMS members and congratulate the 5 who will survive and join us for our celebration banquet.  This is always such an inspiring ceremony and it has gone well.

 

“As you all know, I have all power and no limits.  I rigged the vote so that Duncan will be one of the new members who will be killed today.  Chief Nelson and I have enjoyed his body many times and we have lusted over the idea of destroying it during this ceremony.  The 5 surviving members are to focus on the other two animals while he and I carry out our sadistic sniff desires on Duncan.  In addition to this being my right as Alpha 1, it is also the case that he is the perfect specimen to be an AMS member who is snuffed.  Duncan has been a subject of the Chief’s experiments that I referred to earlier.  He unknowingly went through the same transformative conditioning that the new snuffslaves eagerly waiting to be tortured and consumed alive during our feast went through.  But Duncan started as a total dominant sadist, an alpha male like the rest of us.  He is now also a willing masochist, suitable as a snuffslave.  He simultaneously has both characteristics, seeking both to inflict pain on others and to suffer it himself.  Isn’t that correct Duncan?”

 

Duncan had been in shock form the announcement but paused and thought.  What William said was true.  He realized he was now more turned on by the idea of being snuffed than by doing the kill, although he was excited by both activities.  He related to the dead bodies at least as much as to himself snuffing the live ones, especially the two snuff-ready new members lying on tables next to him.

 

“Yes, sir.  I now realize you are correct, and I am anxious to die as if I were a snuffslave.  I also now understand the messages the Chief was sending me, and suspect he added drugs to my drinks.  I admire how clever and talented he has been with all this. Thank you for allowing me to reakuze my alternate status and for the honor of being killed by you and the Chief in this marvelous ceremony.  My conditioning proves how effective your treatments are.  Turning an alpha sadist like me into a snuffslave will be an ability that means AMS can convert any piece-of-shit male into a useful, obedient slave anxious to be snuffed.”

 

William smiled and explained how this project not only meant a supply of snuffslaves would soon be plentifully available, but also that AMS members could now choose whether to become masochists who would better appreciate and enjoy their snuff when it was their turn, or remain pure sadists who might be tempted to resist.  It was one more way he sought to assure the members lived and died fulfilling lives.  As that reality sunk into the audience, he turned to the 5 successful candidates.

 

“Men, FREE your sexual lust and twisted libido on these two SACRIFICIAL OFFERINGS. Show us your primitive instincts. You have 60 minutes!  The only rule is that they are not to die before the time is up.  You will find all kinds of helpful and amusing tools on the nearby tables.”

 

The 5 eager new members quickly surveyed the tools available for them and were very pleased.  There was all manner of knives, huge dildos with sharp edges to cut into the sides of the assholes, , cattle prods, axes and cleavers, hammers, saws, and electric prods with a wide range of current levels.  The next 60 minutes was a masterpiece of the art of male snuff, and all three males were horribly tortured but still alive (albeit barely) when the time was up.  That allowed the cameras to catch the death throws of each animal as it then died, having endured levels of pain that were beyond measure and only possible due to the drugs injected into each of them.  Duncan was appropriately grateful, and both William and the Chief fulfilled their sadistic lust – and then some, on a willing subject.

 

William closed with comments celebrating the three snuffed new members.  There was of course no celebration of the snuffslaves.  Then the AMS members in the arena started a celebratory meal featuring not just the meat from the males snuffed that day but lots of live meat from the newly conditioned snuffslaves.  And, of course, there were other, unwilling Darwin Award nominees available just for members to enjoy and practice the Art of Male Snuff.  The ceremony was a total success and William was extremely pleased and sexually satisfied.  That, after all, is what mattered.

Sludge by Petr-Johan

  • SLUDGE

I knelt down, dipped my hand in the usually crystal clear stream and…watched it disappear before it even got to my wrist. “Yep, certainly is. Sludge.”

Jack and I stood there looking stupid in chest high waders, carrying our fishing tackle, a cooler that floated and was attached to a strap holding up his wader, poles, bait buckets….everything for a first class day of fly fishing in gin clear, cold, fast rushing water. Not Sludge.

“That shit would rot anything, fuck knows what’s in it…you better find a wet wipe and clean your hand before that accidentally becomes the only trophy we fish out of the river” and tried to laugh but it didn’t work.

 

It was the ten day long, plus travel time, yearly, two guys fishing/fucking trip. As sacrosanct a date on the Calendar as the Fourth of July or Christmas and just as unmovable, this was the time, we’d been building to it, tying flies to take, trying out every bit of equipment we had, buying new, all the gadgets, tents, water purifiers……All the crap stowed in it, Jack’s new Pick Up looked more like it was off to save a trapped group of settlers crossing the mountains than it did two guys going fishing. But not this year. “Well, fuck.” We stared at each other the question, “What now?” loomed in the air but with no apparent answer so it stayed unasked.

“Maybe, if we wait a day or two….”

“Or until after winter and the snow melt cleans all this muck out. Or two seasons until the fish no longer know it’s a great place to die of suffocation in their own element or….”

You have heard about being up a creek?…With a partner?

 

I started to unhitch my waders which, when not surrounded by chilled water were hot, difficult to move in and, just now, pointless as a Halloween costume at an Easter Egg Roll. He joined me and shortly, looking just as stupid, we were standing there in our thermal underwear, heavy socks and the sneakers we wore inside the waders.

“Lets get drunk.”

And so we did.

So drunk we couldn’t even fuck each other which was the other main reason for the fishing trip; As any man knows-well, any man who fucks men-fucking in the great out of doors, filled with the scent of pines, fresh air and, eventually, sperm, is terrific. On more than one occasion to combine the two adventures, we’d fucked each other using a just caught fish. (The wiggle in your ass is unlike the gyrations of a cock plus there’s the chill factor.)

 

The next morning each of our hangovers was of such epic proportions that dunking our heads in the sludge didn’t seem an altogether bad idea, hell, there might have been something curative in it, who knew? Jack’s hands shook as he fired up the propane stove on which coffee could be made and, from past sins, we also each had a warm beer, drunk straight down, that helped. A little. But that still left us with most of eight days to kill; We’d never planned on anything except fishing, more fishing, cleaning the fish, cooking the fish, catching more; Then we’d fuck each other as preparation for a night of the sort of sex we’d found we enjoyed which was rough, fun, without rancor and ended happily with everyone getting what they wanted from the other. Following which we’d take a plunge in the cold water, run back to the over sized tent, dry down and snuggle into our two man sleeping bag. A good time was had by all. But, make no mistake, fishing was the nexus that held all the ancillary activities together and, looking at “our creek”, fishing for anything wasn’t an option. Although, from the day before, there had been some slight though perceptible changes; It now looked less a tormented black and brown but had what seemed to be bearing pustules of exploding gas that seemed to sigh as it oozed its way past our great campsite by the beautiful mountains with the bright sun shining down.

 

“You bring anything to read?”

“Sure, ‘Huckleberry Finn’..are you nuts? ‘Course not. You?”

“Uh, no, just asked.” I tied the stems of two dandelions and tried to remember how to make a kazoo from weeds.

Jack got up, headed for the tent to sleep off what was left of his hangover. “Wake me if the Pope drops by to bless the fishing fleet….” and disappeared.

 

Boredom, if you let it, can swamp you with the sort of ennui that prevents action of any sort, you know there’s nothing to do so you give in to doing nothing, save complain about the boredom and there’s the leitmotif for what might be days. I’m a restless soul who falls to stall walking in a slow elevator and the usual instigator of things to do borne from my fear of being bored. Not infrequently this has led to friends and family saying things such as, “For God’s sake Bill, we don’t want to play charades, go on a snipe hunt, look for four leaf clovers, play strip anything or go on a walking tour of our own city block. Shut up, sit down or go away and play with yourself.” They meant it kindly if not literally although having been encouraged to “play with myself”, I retreated to someplace private and did so; At least it killed time pleasantly and I wasn’t bored.

 

Knowing the keys were in the truck, I got in, turned it on, did a U turn then headed back down the road we’d used coming in; It was the same one we always used, to the same camp we always made. One of the ranchers was kind enough to lease about two hundred yards of stream to us, both sides, which gave us privacy and a good shot at what ever might swim by.

 

Nothing is more depressing to a fisherman than to be taken to a “secret place” that only your “good buddy’s friend knows about” to find everyone’s good buddy’s friend seems to know about it and, for some dumb reason, there are three hundred guys in a patch of water only somewhat larger than a suburban back yard each trying to “catch a fish”. Need I tell you what they usually caught, and painfully, was each other? I thought not. The rancher did us no favors in terms of price but he did guarantee exclusivity 365, 24/7, even posted it with our initials and some grim wording about what might happen to you if you were found on that piece of property but were not us. The sign was even illustrated with a picture, with remarkable detail, of a man hung from a line which also had fish on it. Also illustrated were the genitals of said person, marked for removal and…whatever happened next. If you didn’t get the idea from the words, the picture should have sealed your decision to turn back; Some things can be seen as ‘gags’, humor, the sort of sign one might by as an amusing gift for anglers; This was in no way one of those.

 

My thought was to drive up to the ranch house, say “Howdy” and pick the owner’s mind for suggestions. Or anyone who was there and had an idea. Somewhere in the back of my mind my too fertile imagination suddenly focused on a day or two horseback ride to…somewhere, maybe somewhere with fish and no sludge. Given the down pours that had caused the fouling of our creek, and all other running water for miles around, that didn’t seem likely but, ever the budding tour director, it was worth asking. ‘Sides, a few days camping, horses, maybe find a pond that didn’t look like Hershey’s syrup….worked for me. Jack…would probably just want to see if it was true about butt fucking a horse……

 

Poker Flatz was a retired radio cowboy who, when radio went away, so did he. The name, really Bud Venville, was forgotten but Poker Flatz stuck as a good, memorable handle. As opposed to many “cowboy” stars he came by his country roots honestly and, while he was yodeling for cash, he was buying property, someone slipped him the name “Haloid” now better known as Xerox. Must have been pushing 80, or more, but was still spry, interested and interesting so my visits to him were anticipated by both of us although Jack saw him as a doddering old fool who remembered the past constantly and didn’t know where they were biting, his only interest. He was only too happy to have me go off to visit while he unsnarled leader, made adjustments with a ball peen hammer to a spoon or retied a fly. In his mind, if you were going fishing, you went fishing or did things that related to fishing; end of story. Oh, and of course, fucking me and getting drunk were also a part of “fishing”, sometimes, when “they” weren’t biting, a big part.

 

Poker, happy as always to see me, invited me in, offered coffee, food, a comfortable chair-he liked to have someone to talk to and as listening audiences go, I was the deluxe model. He looked at me sternly, went to the fridge and got a beer which he opened and handed to me.

“Does it show that badly?”

“Nah, only us old sinners could spot it. Bet you didn’t even get fucked, didcha?”

I peeked out from behind the bottle, signaled that another one would be good, and nodded “no”.

 

“Sorry about the crick, son, I thought on callin’ you but thought, well, shee-it, theys a gonna come on and tellin’ em they ain’t nothing to catch, well, just didn’t seem right. Course, it didn’t seem right not tellin’ you either….You know, a damned if you do, damned if you don’t sitchiation….Hey, that’s some rig you drove up in, mind if I take a look….been thinkin’ about tradin’ in that rickety ol piece a shit I been drivin’ forever…..”

 

In other words, he’s looked forward to a visit and knew he could talk about cars to me as I knew absolutely nothing about them but found his way of describing them endearing which made what he had to say important to hear.

 

His was a classic 1946 Chevrolet six cylinder pickup that was in cherry condition. Collectors everywhere wanted it, Jay Leno had come all the way just to look at it with an eye to purchase. No sale. Poker’s ranch hands had to laugh; He went to bed early and didn’t know or care who Leno was just said he thought he needed a chop job on his nose and chin. Nice guy, wondered why he came all this way?

 

What Leno thought isn’t known. What was known was that the truck would be sold only after he was dead and maybe not then cuz he’d said, a few times, he was, “thinkin’ on bein’ buried in it”. Some might have laughed at that idea but I did not; For all his breezy sometimes foolish seeming ways, he was a country gentleman who did keep his word, was a good guy and did more than most to “hep the other feller out”; Just now I was the other ‘feller’ and I needed ‘hep’.

 

Perhaps this is a good moment to put in a word for older men and what they supposedly can’t do, fucking being one of them. Poker was nicely equipped and, best of all, I have never known a man who could get it that hard and keep in that way for as long as he could. Not only was he a world class fucker but he never shut up while he took you, just changed the dialogue from whatever was being discussed to his own version of ‘talkin’ dirty to ya”. And it was. Somewhere in him must have been a latent sadistic streak for once he had you down, and I gave in with no fight, his cock turned from a prime piece of man meat to a well honed stiletto with which he fully intended to carve up ‘yer innards an’ have ‘em fer my breakfast”. If you survived, you could have ‘a mess’ of yours, too. Laying under Poker, if that’s how he chose to take you, you forgot this was an old man but rather that you’d wandered into the field where the bull was kept and were now paying the price for not running faster; He was that good and that hung.

 

As most people in the country are he was something of a snoop, a fact we’d found out one visit when, on arrival, ten feet out from the bank, there was a large, red hollow bobber apparently attached to the bed of the stream; In it were condoms, lube and a hand written note saying he wished he was a bit younger….there were some parts of show business he did miss. Made it easier for us. If we wanted to lay around naked, screw outside naked, toast our nuts in the campfire naked, we didn’t feel we were bothering anyone and, based on a rather professional looking telescope I’d seen on his terrace, might just be providing some voyeuristic entertainment-was there a video camera-with a telephoto lens attached? My having not seen it did not mean it didn’t exist.

\

Jack never knew it but…a couple of times I’d slipped just enough away to not be heard and called Poker on my cell phone. Nothing important, just a suggestion, if he happened to be outside, he might like to check and make sure the lenses were clean….

 

Poker was fascinated by the ever increasing gadgets that were applied to cars and trucks, he lingered curiously over things he considered to be pointless laughed at the electronic “gimcrackery” and, when we got to the bed, almost bent double at the custom made, drop in metal and paint protector. “Sheeeit. Beds is made to get roughed up, fucked in, hop up, I’ll show ya, thas why they’re there. Look at my ol heap, those boards in the back been changed I don’t know how many times….thing still runs don’t it?” He leaned over the top of the bed, arms folded on the edge and looked straight at me;

“Time to change a lot a things ain’t it? He don’t love you, least ways that’s how it looks when he comes up here with some dude in a convertible and that dude ain’t you.”

 

“No. No, I guess it isn’t..” stumbled into trying to laugh, didn’t work,… “…nice to know Andy puts the top down, never thought he did….Ginger haired? Almost flaming red?”

Poker just nodded his head. “Yeah, well, that’s who it would be.” I turned my back and leaned against the quarter panel.

“You hear me son? It’s time to get rid a him before he plum kills you with heart ache. I got someone fer ye but ya gotta get rid a that cheatin’ sonofabitch. Hear Me?” I nodded, too dumb struck to say anything do, maybe tears were coming. Poker rounded the truck and stood in front of me. “I need to talk to ya but git that ass up on that fancy shit lining bed and see if’n it resists fuckin’”.

I did as asked and wondered if the bed liner was stronger than Poker’s semen?

 

Of course, taking me was just a time out, he had something on his mind and I was going to hear it.

 

“No, son, you didn’t hear me, I said, get rid of him, not let him turn you in on a newer model, you’re too fine a stallion for that.” I looked at him and tried to catch what he was throwing…but…it wasn’t quite there. I had all the words but the meaning….”You got to dispose of him, kill him, thas what I mean when I say git rid a him. Permanent, so’s you won’t run into him every damn time you turn a corner. Come on back in the house, Ol Poker has a story to tell you…bout a time years ago when we wasn’t just broke, we was poorly broke. Stumps had more’n we did and my brother and I used to play like we’s a sittin’ down to a big meal, all the good things, like double Christmas but weren’t nothin but the wind, the dust and one almost dried up farm pond that was only good if you was fishin fer mud.” We went in the house, he pushed me down and told me a story.

 

Four hours later driving back to our camp I HAD learned a lot, had a lot to think about and not too much time to get done what Poker told me to do. At one point during the story he was telling me he’d noticed that I’d drifted away and, to prove I wasn’t listening or paying attention, got up slapped me, hard, open hand, across my face. “Thas what I’m a tellin you, fergit him, now….” Stung but realizing he was telling me the truth I concentrated and, before long, was cheered up quite a bit. Poker did have a story and it was one with contemporary application.

 

Jack was sitting on a cooler in his boxers drinking a beer and, based on the empties, it wasn’t is second or, for that, his sixth. (We brought it by the case and, with the water to chill it, always had a cold one available. The code for wanting a fresh one was to holler out, “Hey, fucker, go an catch me one of those brown eyed label holders.” This time putting the bottles in the water wasn’t a good idea so, for several hours, Jack had been making do with what was still cold and in the cooler. Knowing that I’d got some ice from Poker, the sight of which cheered him. A little. The up side was that Jack wasn’t in what I might call a resistant mood to my suggestions. Without his realizing it, although he was the structured one, I more than contributed by thinking of things to do when we weren’t fishing, fucking or sleeping. As much as we enjoyed it, standing in the cold water all day, getting a good sun burn could become, for that day, more than you wanted to do. He even seemed glad to have me back and had assumed where I’d gone.

 

“Well, how is the old fart? Dead yet? You get the story of his life from ages three and a half to four and three quarters, Jesus, he’s so full of shit, I don’t know how you can stand him….”

“Ah, he’s a nice old guy, and he had an idea I think we can use. Seems he and some of the other ranchers own a lake about twenty miles from here that’s sheltered from any crap in it ’cause it’s fed by a spring and, this is what I think is neat, there’s a kinda notch where there’s a hot spring, can’t get too close but you can slide in and relax plus they stock the lake. Like Poker, most of ’em are old guys so they don’t go up much…he reckons there must be some in there, ten, twelve pounds…”

“Of what?…”

“Fish.”

“What kind of fish? I doubt if we’re going to waste our time going up to this place looking for Flipper or the Loch Ness Monster. Shit head, what sort of fish do they stock it with?”

“Trout”, I blurted out…

“Okay, that’s a start, what kind of trout? Cut throat? Rainbow? Brown…..?”

“How the hell would I know, Poker said Trout and I didn’t ask him for the menu. Jeez…Anyway, he’s sending up one of his hands to make sure it’s clear, no one using it and he said tomorrow, unless we heard otherwise, just go on up. He’s gonna have a stake with a flag driven in the road so we’ll know where to turn off the road to find the hot spring…”

“Off the road? The truck isn’t even paid for and you want me to rip it up so you can go dip your nuts in a hot tub? You can do that at home.”

“He also let me borrow wet suits so we can swim out in the lake and do some skin diving with spear guns…”

He looked at me as if I’d lost it.

“Wet suits? In a lake to go snorkeling? What’s really in that pond, Jaws?”

I was already mad but this torqued me. “Look, we can’t fish here, we can go there and try it. So have some more beer, shut up about it and try and enjoy what was meant to please by an old man doing a favor, Okay?’ And slammed into the tent, regretting there was no door for impact, with every intention of taking a nap.

From the outside. “Okay…but if this doesn’t pan out….”

“Go fuck yourself”.

 

It was not a happy evening. Since we’d planned on a primarily fish diet, the other edibles we’d brought were side dishes or vegetables. Dinner was baked potatoes, corn, some sort of ready to cook corn bread plus plastic wrapped snacks for desert that looked almost less appetizing than the stream.

 

We slept back to back.

 

The stream almost made moving mandatory; Around four we both woke up on the verge of retching from the stench. A quick look with the flash lights revealed a dead skunk, the loser in a battle with some larger animal, on the other side but in it’s death throes had shot every bit of defensive spray it had which was now lingering over our campsite. Without even discussing it and by common consent we pulled on some clothes and started packing up. Given Jacks love of “stuff” this took some little while so that by the time we could seal ourselves in the truck and allow twenty first century air conditioning filtering to salve our lungs, the sun was well up.

 

As Poker had said, it was about a twenty mile drive, entirely scenic but, for once, I abandoned my jolly tour guide mode and kept my thoughts to myself. Jack was hungover-again-or, maybe, still so I drove. Normally he liked to be the Captain of his own ship but in his precarious condition he yielded the helm to his second in command, indulged Commander’s privilege by undoing his pants, took his dick in hand and indulged in another of his favorite off road activities, the long, slow, jack off. I’d known him to go to sleep mid stroke which was what happened this morning. Helpful as a Christmas Elf, I’d made masks for us but pointed out he could drink beer through the fabric which would cut the smell of the skunk which he’d done.

 

The road was decent enough better than one might expect but to spare Jack’s sacred truck, I turned on the cruise control to as low as it would go allowing me time to think and steer without much effort. My visit with Poker had been an eye opening experience on many levels. Beyond just finding I was now the former boyfriend, his insistence that the insult required no less than the death penalty seemed a bit too much until I thought it over. Why not shoot the sonofabitch? In fifteen years he’d not been much to me and, increasingly, apart from some sport fucking, not even part of my life. I saw him infrequnetly, we had our big deal fishing trip, we fucked even less and beyond that….nothing. The word “love” had never crept in and, now, wasn’t likely to. I said I supposed I wasn’t bright enough to guess there was another man but Poker had another view on that.

 

“Yer too good a man, you’d a know’d . Fuck, even after he’d dumped you he’d probably still call to ask you to do errands for him, he’s a user and it’s time he got used.” There was a pause while he diddled something into his cell phone. “Hey, Pepper? We got any of that sausage left? Whomp up a mess a sausage gravy and biscuits for our young friend here.” He turned back to me. “Can’t have puny looking murderers can we, cause that’s what you’re going to do; Murder him.”

 

Oddly this was arousing and I was a bit embarrassed to let Poker see how turned on by the idea I was. He liked that I was getting off on it. “Take it out, shuck it down, hell, let ol Poker suck it off, an after I git done, Pepper’ll be next, taught that boy about suckin’ myself. I knew you had it in ya to do this. And when you get ‘er done, you’ll be a new man, I promise.” With that, he took out his dentures and gave me an A number one suck job. A man with no teeth but soft gums and an artful tongue should be a national treasure. When he finished I was so completely relaxed, I just crumpled against the pillows on the couch. With a smile that couldn’t come off. Poker just gave me a shit eating grin and said, “Good thing we’re on the same side, that’s a high powered flavor you shot, makes me a wonder what the rest of you might be like….” I wondered if he’d run quality control and make Pepper give him a taste of what, if anything, he could pull from me. Oh, yeah, Pepper….followed orders perfectly; It was like being edged but by two people. Even after the last shot, I lay there wondering if I could drive back to our camp? Getting that quality of blow jobs took it out of a man. Two different ways.

 

I guess the guy who showed up was again, Pepper as he had a steaming plate covered with biscuits and sausage gravy. It was the sort of smell that had so much power it reached up to you, insinuated itself into your nose, you knew it would be the best you ever had. And it was. The food was such that I wondered if Pepper was up for round three? Dump some gravy on my cock and eat that.

 

With gravy dripping down my chin I finally could stop long enough to ask where he’d got the sausage and was told it was made right here on the ranch. There was a pause while a strange smile came across his face. “You really like it, huh?” I nodded as much as I could without having gravy drip from my mouth to the floor. “Well that’s good ’cause in a day or maybe two, that’s what yer buddy is going to be, sausage.”

I didn’t even put down my spoon-using a fork would have allowed gravy to drip through the tines. “No shit? Wow, best he will have ever tasted. I wasn’t quite putting two and two together. Where’d you get the meat?”
He paused, thoughtful, “Hey, Pepper, where’d that batch a sausage come from? I fergit.”

Pepper, an affable young man with a good rangy cowboy build, happy blue eyes and an attractive selection of deep dimples, thought a bit himself. “Seems like that was the poacher we caught about a week ago? That sound about right? Yeah, cuz, that jerk that came to see about clear cutting a swathe was before him-member? We did him in a pine bough smoker?”

I looked up. “This sausage is made from a man? I’m eating a man?” With three quarters of the plate empty, I hadn’t thrown up and…it tasted great.

“Right. So you like man meat? Enough to harvest your own?”

“You mean if it’s Jack?”

“Yeah, him first and then ole Poker will teach you how to fend for yourself, should always have a man around that needs cooking and, as you look around, yer gonna find theys a lot of them. All the boys up here with me, well, we wouldn’t touch a beef steak anymore, man meat or nothing. Right Pepper?” Pepper had a beatific smile that agreed with more than words.

 

We then, the three of us had a conversation that was generally about catching and cooking men and specifically about cooking Jack; Poker and Pepper considered him pretty much caught. From there it was details, working out a schedule, picking up the equipment and some other arrangements. I would have stayed longer but I knew eventually Jack would want his truck back-I was just an accessory-so we finished up knowing who would be where and when.

 

On my way out the door I promised to have my teeth pulled and come back to show my appreciation. For everything. Poker almost bent double laughing.

 

Driving back, apart from some flavorful burbs, I laughed all the way. Apart from what Poker lined out, visions of Jack being strung up, on the rack, burned at the stake, meeting the guillotine….But mainly, even though I had been a chump, emancipation was at hand and I was about to gain a new title, “Premeditated Murderer”. Laughed so hard I almost took Jack’s truck….well the truck that belonged to the soon to be late Jack into a ditch.

 

 

Jack actually liked the look of the lake, the little cove with the tongue of the lake that came in and was steaming in one spot. After the sludge of the past few days, this was more inviting than something in a travel agency pamphlet, so much so that I stripped off my clothes and ran in…right up to my nuts.

 

Ever notice that the water doesn’t really get cold until it hits your balls? Well, at first contact I reversed course and headed for the hot spring being careful to stay away from the steaming, hissing part. Jesus did it feel good. The water in it actually felt soft, as if you were wrapped in swaddling clothes, I yelled for Jack to come on and give it a try. Which he didn’t. He had his laugh watching me zoom out of the lake and now was on to the serious business of checking to make sure his truck hadn’t been damaged while I was driving it. Also, he felt only he could properly set up camp so I let him. Comfortable, warm, full of ideas, I lay there with just my head out of the water and, taking a suggestion from Poker, wore my sun glasses so I could watch what Jack was doing and where he put things. The only glitch in the plan was a large bag of diving stuff I’d collected and which was to stay under my control. That had been explained to Jack and since it was of no interest to him, he didn’t even look in it.

 

You can get too warm so I hauled myself out, had another quick dip in the deep freeze, dried off and got into my thermal underwear, my waders, picked up a pole, a hat with tied flies on it and waded in to about my waist. No doubt about it, this was fresh, cold water. I could feel my nuts pull up in my body along with my dick but at last I was fishing. First cast out, a good long one, must have gone thirty yards, I saw something flash out of the water and just missed the fly. Jack, standing on the bank, saw it too and ran to suit up; Now we were really fishing. However before he could get too involved in that, I got back out and suggested he try the wet suit over his thermals. According to Poker the really big ones were almost impossible to catch by line and bait, you needed to be in the water with them, your spear gun and some of them could and would fight. That was right up his alley. We got him in, thermals and all, booties, fins, and a spear gun and he shoved off from the bank. Not five minutes later I heard him calling, “Holy shit, I just saw a walleye the size of a sixty pound cat, this is going to be great.” I found I could but agree.

 

Back at the campsite I looked around the trees where I’d been told to go and found a grill on legs about a foot tall. It came in sections to accommodate the length of the thing to be grilled. Pepper and his partner Rusty had made a camp a several hundred yards from ours near the helicopter and the parking area-neither of which I’d mentioned, to my fishing buddy. They had other supplies for me and, to avoid being seen-although by now Jack was deeply engrossed in Water World and wouldn’t have noticed if I’d put up a Ferris Wheel-we were a bit cautious; Jack had a suspicious streak along with his other lacks of character. Just to be on the safe side, Rusty gave me his gun and said if anything went wrong and they couldn’t get there quick enough, shoot to kill. I was pretty much set up now all that I had to do was start the game so that I could also finish it-I hoped I could be as good a winner as Jack was going to be a good loser.

 

Jack came in a time or two to show me what he’d caught and I suggested that, as it was getting late, he pick one to cook and throw the others back, they’d be there tomorrow.

 

Worked for him and off he went to get…whatever. I started the fire under the grill, got a pot of coffee going, started baking potatoes in the embers, had some succotash Pepper brought, garlic toast, all that lacked was the main event which arrived on schedule. Great seven pound brown trout. I congratulated my fisher friend, suggested he get out of his wet suit and thermals, take a plunge in the hot spring and I’d get dinner ready.

 

I’m a whizz at scaling, gutting and deboning fish so within twenty minutes I had it on the grill over a slow fire ready to be pushed toward the hotter spots when Jack was ready to eat. He, too, found the hot spot to be a great place and, when he got out to come and eat, suggested we go back there after dinner just to relax…..

 

It was actually a good dinner. Food was all fresh, plenty of it, the light from the embers merged with the late dusk, the moon came up and was reflected in the almost still surface of the lake. Every so often a fish would jump and Jack would almost jump with it. “Jesus, did you see that? Must have been a twenty pounder…”He was finally happy, in his element, seduced by what he wanted to do, unwary, willing to do what came along. We finally turned in and, as he mounted me-he was really hard- he even thanked me for finding this place. I dozed off before he even came.

After his workout in the lake plus the energy he expended screwing me, he was almost immediately asleep when I slid out of the tent and met Pepper and Rusty for a few more “touches” and refining what we were going to do. There was only one thing that was slightly left to chance but, knowing Jack and his aggressive competitiveness, I didn’t think we had much to worry about. Apparently I was part of their group now as it was made clear that I’d move up to the bunk house with the other hands after we got the business here taken care of-After all, however much a good idea this seemed, I still ended up a murderer and murderers, too, need a place to lay their head. And get laid. (Poker was of the Code-of-the-West theory that bumping off Jack wasn’t murder, just a chore that needed doing. He did, however, feel that after the deed was done, my presence in polite society was better if it didn’t exist.)

 

Remembering an event of a day or so past, I suggested to Rusty that Pepper and I recreate a scene from our recent past, fuck me, while Rusty did an old fashioned edging. I almost suggested that, as asleep as he was, we all slip in and fuck my soon to be cooked partner….well, it seemed a good idea and, besides, this might be his last outing. Whether he knew it or not. ar

Pepper even said that I looked like I might taste real good….I took it as a compliment. Started to think of myself, as did the other guys around Poker, as fresh meat to be used if ever needed; Part of the deal of living there was that in a pinch you were the pot roast…. It was implicit that in the eventuality that there was no meat in the cupboard, we’d all draw straws and short straw got to be ‘it’.

 

Back in the tent I finally dropped off and got a excellent night’s sleep during which I could see Jack, all in one piece, in a butcher’s display case, offered up as so fresh it still had the ‘oink’. Can you laugh in your sleep? Apparently I did as Pepper mentioned he thought he heard me during the night…..

 

It was all I could do to keep Jack out of the lake before the sun rose. He didn’t even want a beer, just, as quick as I could get it done, some coffee, oatmeal, whatever, he just wanted protein in him when he swam out to take on in him whatever he was going to take on in the lake. I managed to slow his departure by series of annoying events that only depth charged his early morning plans. Such as I boiled the coffee pot and then found I’d failed to add the coffee. Start over. He had several sets of thermals-we’d learned from hard experience that they didn’t dry overnight and really needed sun to get the job done.

 

Off he went, leaving me to clean up, start the grill- and to meet Pepper and Rusty to help them set up the cameras. Poker always had some sort of something to photograph his prizes and now I’d have mine. In color and live action, my first kill; It was like memorializing your first fuck, something you’ll always remember.

 

I let him fool around in the lake for an hour until he came toward me and I threw an apple at him, calling for him to bob for it! He did, enjoyed the game, threw it back to me and I tossed it out again. After the next round he pretended to be a seal catching a fish and put it in his mouth, brought it to the shore and dropped it at my feet, pretending to slap his flippers and go “Arf”. This time I patted his head said “Good Boy, Go Fetch! And gave it a real heave. Just like a water Spaniel he reeled about and headed for it.

 

One more time and I had a suggestion….how about if I were the fisherman and he were the fish. I’d cast out with a piece of wood, something that would sink and he’d go after it. It was an instant hit. For the next two hours using ever larger things and heavier line I cast out and he’d dive down, grab it and, eventually, began to act more the fish and fight with me as I tried to reel him in. Loved it, he said, great sport. But….he wanted to make it more real. I hadn’t planned on that but it was great from my standpoint so I looked the suit over and said…what if we taped your biceps to your sides? He’d have those gigantic swim fins, was a strong swimmer himself….I could see him think it over. As he pointed out, fish had pectoral fins and if his arms were marginally tied down….easy. We’d just tape them down at the elbow and.. how would he feel about having his legs taped at his knees? That seemed okay and the last swim of the day had him newly restrained, figuring out how to make it work.

 

After all his exertion I gave him a beer, told him to go sit in the thermal pool and, lacking a fish, I’d come up with something for dinner. An hour later I proudly served him sausage gravy and biscuits, telling him Poker had given me that gravy and I’d forgot I’d put it in the lake to chill and keep the meat fresh. He slurped down two big platefuls and I could see was contemplating a third but held off saying he hoped there was enough for breakfast….Another beer, we spent an hour in the warm water, I jacked him off and he kissed my forehead in thanks. Pleading exhaustion, he left me behind and entered the tent. Within moments he was snoring which was the cue for Pepper and Rusty to join me. Quietly laughing, they said they couldn’t wait for me to see the tape of him leaping like a seal in the water catching things and bringing them to me. Rusty said it would only get funnier tomorrow; I thought I agreed with them.

 

Jack slept in. During the night he’d barely moved, I don’t think he realized what a strenuous workout I’d put him through and particularly at the end where he’d had to use more muscle to produce less effect. Just for the hell of it, I fucked him, he never noticed.

 

Morning and, again, he begged to be almost restrained; He was into this game and, I realized, he was beginning to see this as real contest between me, the fisherman, and him, as the fish; Suddenly it was serious for him, typical, Jack could never just play, it always turned to competition. On about his second trip in he suggested I tie something to a line with a sinker and then cast it out. Fine, just what I had in mind. We tried several things none of which gave his teeth the purchase to fight with me when “hooked”. We tried an apple but he ate half of it. Chain, I told him, could damage his teeth but…what if the chain was attached to a rubber ball? It would sink, pulled down by the chain, he could get his mouth around it and the fight would be on. Worked just like a charm with him never wondering where I got a rubber ball. All morning I cast further and further out and he, gaining ability with his restrictions, got more ambitious at how deep he’d dive and how far out he’d swim.

 

Short lunch, long nap. I insisted he strip, get in the hot pool, then rest if not nap. Of course he was asleep immediately and stayed that way for two hours. His only comment when he finally made an appearance was to ask why the grill was so long to which I pointed out that, fun as the game was, if he didn’t catch something dinner was going to be noticeably bland. Also, I wanted to smoke some of the catch. He walked on. To get him rigged up took a good thirty minutes and he laughingly said that sausage must be putting the pounds on him as the suit felt tight. Then down to the edge, the fisherman and his catch to be. The red ball with the weight dangling and he was after it. I had on my waders and, what he didn’t see, was that Pepper hot footed it out from the tree line, attached a solid rope to me so that I couldn’t be pulled in. Or, if things went wrong, Rusty was in a tree with a high powered rifle and a scope; He’d float until we could get to him and haul him to shore, one of the advantages of the wet suit was it had some buoyancy, even if Rusty didn’t get a kill shot, he’d float and we could haul him in. In some ways, that wasn’t what I wanted, what we planned….was far more interesting and far more instructive to my soon to be grilled former boy friend.

 

The third cast was made with a new pole, heavy line and a new red ball with the chain weights. For maximum distance in casting I swung from the side and back handed; The line must have gone, following the weight, almost two hundred feet and sank fast. He was after it. He dove for it and I felt in the line he had it in his mouth. All it took was one good, strong tug and the triple bladed Marlin hook that I’d sank in the new rubber ball stuck in his jaw. This time there was a fight and it was for the life of the fish. With every pull back I set the hook deeper forcing him up to breath before trying to hide under the water. Why? Why does any fish try to run after being hooked?

 

He knew not to get too near me and yet…he still thought this might be a game, maybe some sort of accident. The hook must have hurt like thunder and wouldn’t allow him to close his mouth. On the bank every time I gave it another strong yank, it tore into his gums then impaled itself in his jaw bone more sharply. Rattled by pain and confusion he tried to reach the offending implement with his hands but in this suit-we’d switched while he was sleeping-the arms were sewn down and then to conceal that, covered with the tape we’d previously used. Just as in a real contest with a real fish, he fought, but was coming closer; for every three feet he ran away, I pulled him in four and finally he was ten feet out, the fight gone all that was left to do was wade out, gaff him in his suit, pull him to shore and begin his conversion from man to man meat.

 

He tried to struggle, the blood from his mouth was oozing and, because of the spikes he couldn’t speak, just stare at me. Wondering. Pepper and Rusty came out of the bushes and helped me cut away the suit, strip him, get him cuffed and then, just for the look of it, we slung him from a pole and marched him to the grill where he was temporarily hung between two stakes. He continued to stare at me, wanting to know, wondering if this was still a game. When I took pliers and further pulled the Marlin hook into his jaw and mouth he figured it out. As with any good fish, preparation means scaling which is what I did next which also removed all of the hair from his body-the stink of burning hair adds nothing to any occasion, even a murder. He could see the smoke and the white hot embers waiting under the long grill. I hadn’t lied to him, I was going to smoke and grill my catch of the day, him.

 

Without going all the way in, I started an incision from his sternum to the top of his pubic bone but only going less than a half inch in. In a fish, I would have flipped him on his side, made a deep cut along the bottom, pulled out the guts, opened to filet it, pull the bones and either put it in a press for smoking or prepared to pan fry it. But Jack presented some larger problems. Committed as I was to killing him, butchering him and enjoying him, I wanted just a bit more from him, more pain, more realization from him of what was happening. I’d decided on an initial smoking and to better infuse the flesh, I took a flensing knife and made a series of close cuts the length of the body to allow the smoke and its flavor to get in. Wasn’t necessary to put him in a wire press as he could be turned and secured onto a grill set well above a smokey fire and, to help that, we were going to tent the area. Rusty had constructed an Indian smoking frame with adjustments for a man. It was a stick figure with the arms and legs wide out so that all portions of him were accessible to the heat and the smoke. As they bound him to that, I kept dragging my knife up and down his body, over his face, his lips, his feet, hands, all of him. Blood seeped but when that hit the low fire the iron in it would produce a form of nitrous oxide gas that would further eat into his tissues while making him happy. The guys had brought up a tent they used for smoking fish which was put over Jack, the glowing embers, the smoke….

 

One last thing, I stood by his head and casually said that I’d called Andy, cell phones distort voices so he believed I was Jack, and he was coming up day after tomorrow and I’d penciled him in to be roasted and served Saturday night. Then I stepped away, dropped the edge of the tent, grabbed a beer and thanked the guys for their help. Four hours later we opened it up to find there was some slight pulse but he was unconscious. The guys flipped him on his side, I stuck in my knife and pulled it the length of his torso letting the guts fall out. Just to make sure, I reached in and pulled out his heart. Then we lowered the grill to the frame, resumed the smoking and, some hours later took our smoked meat up to Poker and the rest of the gang.

 

His butcher did the honors, cutting of the head, the feet, hands…his cock and balls, offered to me-I declined them saying I’d already had them too many times already. Thirty minutes later he was on the center of the table surrounded by condiments his skin so crisp you could just pull it off to get to the flesh. Bottles of rough red Italian wine were on the table as well as bowls of Cole slaw, corn on the cob and a humongous chocolate cake for desert. Wasn’t enough left of Jack to bother to save so his bones and bits and pieces of meat were taken a few miles away and put where a pack of wolves could enjoy the remnants of him; They were particularly fond of breaking the bones to get the marrow.

 

“Well, son, when you fixin’ to get yer teeth yanked? I believe you made me a promise. And remember I got something for you sort of a surprise.”

I called Pepper over and whispered something in his ear. He gave me that, “Jesus…” He stared at me. “Are you fucking serious?” look to which I said, “… as a heart attack”

A few minutes later he was back with a set of pliers and two guys to hold me down. Just before they started yanking I looked Poker and said, “Man eaters need sharper teeth.” They started to pull.

 

 

After my gums finally became just lines of soft tissue, I found a dentist two hundred miles away who made several pair of dentures for me. As I’d said to Poker, man eaters do need sharper teeth so one of the pairs could rip through flesh, living or dead. Also, on the last trip when my various sets were put in and adjusted, I’d had Pepper follow me; The idea being I’d leave Jack’s truck in the long term lot at the airport. I hadn’t seen one, but knew there had been posters asking for information about both of us, finding the truck wouldn’t help, particularly when they found a semen sample-atypical of a crime scene-along with blood spatter, in the cab. Clearly we’d been in it, something had happened there but now….? Every thing was dried, months since either of the supposed victims had been in it and…Jesus, I wanted to see the deputy who figured out what the semen was, wonder what the fuck….?

 

As to his boyfriend, too dumb not to come when called, I had a special fate for him. Almost too easy to catch, I’d personally escorted him to the place where we tossed leftover meat and bones for our pack of friendly Wolves that lived in the area. Didn’t even bother to slice him, just made sure he was cuffed then one leg staked to a steel spike we kept for just such purposes; One last touch, I made some slashes that weren’t deep, wouldn’t kill a man but would bleed and attract carnivores…Never saw it but heard tell that sometimes the vultures got into with the wolves as to which group got what first….Poker was determined to get a film of that some way.

 

That night, as I blew Poker with my soft gums, the howling was particularly loud; We guessed they didn’t get live game very often. Only sorry we couldn’t hear the screams….before they got his throat.

 

I settled into the routine of Poker’s place. He had things he liked his men to be, sorta hairy for one and tan for another, said it made us look more like animals. When the sun was out, part of each day was spent on the look-out porch, naked, working out, deciding on when we needed to go to the ‘market’ again. It was into Fall and Poker wanted a full freezer; The weather could and did seal us in with snow for several weeks occasionally so beyond non perishables, kerosene, lots of chopped wood there was the larger issue of meat. (We had an old fashioned root cellar in which we kept things like potatoes, corn, parsnips, the vegetables we grew that, once picked, kept a long time in a place with a lowered temperature.) We weren’t lazy, now and again two or three would go off and pick off something that would last a few days-one time we had a stroke of luck, six hippies came round, real polite, asked if they could camp down the way a bit for one of their rituals, the one where, in their bizarre culture, the men were wholly circumcised then staked out so ‘Father Sun’ could welcome their man head into….whatever.

 

Poker, feigning interest in a culture that wasn’t his, asked if a couple of his men might attend, not as participants but as respectful observers, even agreed to be sort of helpers, stripped, body painted….As it worked out, they waited until the three who were to be staked out were down then cut the throats of the three ‘Celebrants’. Guess the guys on the ground thought this was some part of the ceremony they didn’t know about. Just to play it one step further, our guys already stripped and covered in completely made up symbols, slathered ashes on their bodies then, still with the ceremony, crawled to each of those staked out, cut off their nuts, a treat for Poker….about then they figured it out. With six men in the freezer, we could lean back for a while, get ready for hard winter, fuck each other more….in fact, sex became our main activity every day. Making a snow angel and getting plowed at the same time….may be the only angel mark with a cock and balls.

 

I had became Poker’s favorite, seemed to like his old man hard cock and was ready for it whenever. Right here, whatever you think of old men and sex, you could be wrong. You could have used his meat as an anvil, it was that hard plus tipped so when it went in you, you were effectively staked out until he decided to let you up. Almost like a dog, he could knot his pecker inside you which locked him in-that was the moment he liked me to carefully turn 180 and let him almost eat my cock. He said, and I believed him, that only his affection for me and his other men kept him from eating their cocks and balls…seems somewhere he’d developed a taste for them. Occasionally some of the guys found some temporary work on a ranch doing the branding and gelding, part of round up . Got a bucket full of calf nuts after a steering session on a local ranch and while we gobbled them up, he said they had to come from a man or he wasn’t interested.

 

 

Being Poker’s favorite seemed to cause no problems with the other guys. His constant mantra to me was that….someday he had a surprise for me, something I would like. Okay, but I was happy with or without whatever he had in mind. One thing. I felt now that we were at the first edge of Winter, I wanted to organize my own shopping trip, bring in a good haul that would supplement what we had….would prove my appropriateness to stay there, to seem to become….something I didn’t fully understand but knew it existed.

 

Months had passed. My lover of fifteen years was now part of me; I’d eaten him. I’d become part of a group of men who relished the taste of male flesh and had banded together to guarantee their continuing supply of slaughter house quality men. Back then, seems so long ago, I was a guy with a so/so job, a less than satisfactory boyfriend and a certain sense of aimlessness that wasn’t bad but was the proverbial treadmill. And then we went fishing.

 

I don’t even remember Jack ‘cept he’d tasted good, Poker was right, killing him got him off my mind permanently. One of the guys, as a joke, cut off his cock and balls, had ’em stuffed and I used them as a key ring for a while, the sort biker wear, hanging outside your pants on a chain. That gets looks you better believe. Had it ended in a slightly different way, I might have had his cock made into a dildo but under the circumstances, no. Eventually, since no keys were necessary, I added them to a group of ‘souvenirs’ of ‘guests’ who had stayed to be dinner. A couple of our meals had interesting tattoos which someone suggested we skin and make into whatever. That was just too close to Ilse Koch and the Third Reich so the idea was abandoned.

 

However, each of us had ink of some variety. Just depended on your taste and how far you were willing to go. One thing, Poker drew a line at tats that were vulgar, tasteless, without some meaning to the owner. I had the physics symbol meaning ‘forever’ on my chest looped around my breasts. Poker had my nipples pierced, both up and down as well as back and forth. One difference, the inner most bar had a hole in it for a chain that connected each side and, when he wanted, a longer one that led from me to a place where I was hung by my wrists while he flogged me. Said it built character. Only Pepper also was treated to this and only Pepper had pierced nipples, but only one way…

 

For his own reasons he wanted his men to look like his idea of grizzled saddle tramps. Kept us outdoors, naked, even in winter when the sun was bright cutting into the cold. We cut each others hair which….looked like something an old saddle tramp might have done. None of us looked like we did when we arrived….never asked but it was assumed some of the guys were on the run from some form of crime or another. One thing, and Poker knew who’d done what, he preferred men who’d murdered or, like me, killed a partner who, in is mind, deserved to be killed. Never got talked about but….it built a strange camaraderie plus it sure as hell made it easier to change our catches to table meat. Once, and only once, had supplies really run low so without saying anything, straws were drawn and short one….Guess they made his departure easy on him.

 

I knew Poker had good intentions for me, he proved it every day and I was one of the few men there he fucked because I wanted him to. Old man cock is still hard and he knew how to ride my pony all night long. Sometimes he’d put a soft bit in my mouth with a bridle while he held the reins. He’d kneel behind me his big cock well oiled and in me. talkin’ to me…”Yes, sir, yer a good’n and I got something for you, just learn a few more things and then Old Pokers gonna make you a gift. Member the night you had Pepper get the pliers and yank out some of your teeth? Greatest gift a man ever gave me, not just because you kept your word but cuz I knew you really wanted to be able to suck my dick just like I sucked yours, and that meant no teeth. When I look at your new choppers, specially the ones made to tear through raw meat, I think …. there’s my man. I could mount you a thousand times a day and you’d be happy to have me…means somethin’…take a couple of deep shots…oh yeah, clench that ass,..grab my old man stick…I’m the last man you’ll every let fuck you unless you really want to let some one but yer gonna be a sweetheart of a fucker and you got meanness now, just like you should have. Doesn’t mean yer a bad man, just got hardened up a bit. I watched you jerk off that last time when Jack was being smoked on the grill, I almos’ fell down when you blew that load and shoved it up his nose, probably that’s what killed him but I member that, what a great idea, cum stuffin’ their nose. You gotta good strong back need ta do some more weights cuz when you bring in those two hundred pounders, a man don’t want a bad back…you knew I’m fixin’ to brand you I spect….”

“No, didn’t.. When….?”

“Oh when there’s a good time, you’ll know it, I betcha right now if I called for Pepper to start the forge and git out the brandin’ irons you’d go for it wouldn’t chee?”

“ Fuck me deep for a minute and I’ll tell you….Oh, yeah, bash in this man’s g spot, feels sooo good.” I could feel his cock stiffen at the idea of branding me which moved the action along; Kinda turned me on too. It was almost quiet ‘cept for his deep, throaty moans and my chorus egging him on, forcing him to get his seed in me….I wanted it… Got whipped out and fast as I could I pivoted around and licked him clean….Then rolled back.

“Old man, you have your brand on me in every way. Each time I feel your seed I’m your man and I’m gonna be proud to carry your mark wherever you put it. When ever you want to. Make that iron hot cuz I wanta sizzle like steak when you run it on me….”

 

He got up, sat on the edge of the bed, rolled a cigarette and looked at me. “Member I told you I had a gift for you? Well, I still do and it’s about time to let you have it. Tell Pepper to get the irons hot for tomorrow just after breakfast, all the guys need to see this.” Also, tonight, you, Pepper, Rusty, Jakey, Sancho…. you’re all sleeping in my bed, paid enough for that big fucker, might as well use it. I’ll explain why tonight. Now scat, wash my cum that’s leaking out of my man’s faucet. Have Pepper take you to the horse tank, give you a cowboy tubbing…..”

 

He was right, those baths in the troughs were a treat. They looked just like ordinary horse troughs but they had hot and cold running water, jets that shot water up your ass, massage jets, a person could sit in there for hours. Some days, if we were cooking a man outside, you could watch the meat on the spit turning, getting a crisp shell on the outside to keep it juicy on the inside. Always good when we’d stuck him still living and you could see the pain in his eyes as he went around. Moments like that made a jet of water up your ass feel real good. Some one would come out and baste the meat, dampen the fire to produce more smoke, check the degree of done-ness and go back in the kitchen. Just the smell of roasting man meat wafting over you got you hard, said there’s good eating tonight. Wondered who it was but it didn’t matter.

 

Took a nap, Poker could always ride me hard and put me up wet, even after the bath and almost missed the bell for chow.

 

Dinner was always informal, beer, meat, maybe corn-Poker said show him a man who didn’t like corn and he’d show you a man you couldn’t trust-maybe dessert but mainly we just sat around, slopped down food and planned where to get our next load of meat and if anyone had any suggestions. Maybe watch one of the cooking channels for ideas but mainly they weren’t much help. Nice people probably but damn, they never cooked anything that weighed over three pounds. One guy, an oriental on something called “Iron Chef” looked like he’d make good Sushi but we weren’t much into that. Tartare on occasion but Sushi? I’ll take a pass.

 

Just as we were breaking up going off to do whatever we did Poker said that tonight we all were to sleep in with him-great shouts of approval- and then tomorrow morning….he looked all around the room, I was gonna get branded. Great respect to me. Every man shook my hand, said they knew it, that it’d be me but it was just fuckin’ great. And they’d shore be there. Sancho handed me a beer and told me to come to him after it was done to have some salted cream on it that would make it heal in raised letters, knew I’d want that.

 

The evening passed, watched television, played cards, read, then Poker appeared and said it was lights out and the guys damn near stripped on their way to his big room. Poker had evolved the idea of a pack of men rather than just a bunch of guys hanging out. When we hunted we did so as a pack, took the kill as a pack with the Alpha Man, Poker, having first rights to rip into the kill with his special teeth, like mine, made for ripping and tearing flesh. ‘Course he never did cause it was to be shared out with all of us but it was the respect of the thing. In bed we played like cubs, rolling, slobbering, just enjoying each other. Jakey had his dick sewed to his abdomen, just like a dog or a wolf-to piss, he had to go outside and lift his leg at a tree- and he’d fuck guys that way or whatever; Only doggy style for him . There was no pecking order in our fucking or whatever we were doing with each other, just a sense of pleasure you were getting and giving. Finally Poker’d had enough and he’d take up a dog quirt he had and swipe it around, catching everyone on the butt and we’d make noises like pups hurt then shut up. Just like very young animals everywhere, we slept in a pile fighting to be closest to the warmth or the bottom or wherever you wanted. That night, late, Poker, extracted me from the group and quietly leaned into my ear.

 

“You took this ril good, an’ I’m proud. Not one man here has anythin’ but the most respect for you an’ that includes me. I want one last fuck before I take your stud cherry with my brands-there are two of ’em-so roll on over and do what you know you can do; He leaned over, kissed my ass then moved in to mount me.

 

This time he said nothing, just his hard cock in my tight hole without fighting for dominance, it was a partnership. Easy in, out, in out, I was sweating and laying there fearing that the sun might start up and he’d finish me off but, in the end, he silently slid out, pulled around and, holding his hard old man’s cock up like a fountain let me take his juice and when I finished, mouthed him, showed the Alpha I respected him, then lay on my back while he came again on my belly and licked it up.

 

Like all puppies, we woke up slowly, yarring, stretching, boxing at each other but finally, one at a time, drifted across the floor grabbing clothes, just whose it didn’t really matter. Some one started the range, made coffee, got out the bottles of juice-no glasses, we just drank straight from the container and breakfast was under way. The idea wasn’t to eat and run but sorta hang around until everybody was there. Drink coffee, talk about nothing, eat, get up fix your own eggs or have a bowl of cereal…could take two hours but by the end of the meal everyone knew what the day would bring, one or two of the highlights and what they were supposed to do.

 

This morning Pepper quietly came up behind me and asked that I have a moment with him, private like. Okay, no problem. He took me out on the terrace where there was an iron pot hot with coals and two sticks coming out and a saw horse, one with straps at the wrists and ankles and a board that extended down at an angle from the horse that didn’t touch the ground.

 

He gave me a sympathetic look. “Bill, I need you to strip and bend over the horse so I can strap you down and then go get the guys. Two minutes later I was ass in the air, legs and arms wide spread and attached to the legs of the horse and, I assumed, ready to get branded. He quietly slipped a thick piece of balsa wood in my gums to conceal most of my screaming, rubbed my butt and left.

 

Everyone assembled, naked, this was a ceremony so to mark it, special attentions had been taken. The guys, my pack, stood in a row to one side so they could see the brands going in and coming away leaving an angry, permanent mark. What it would be….no one knew. Poker had made the brands and, even after they were in the fire getting almost blue hot, still never said.

 

Standing there Poker said the words that everyone expected and yet…didn’t. First up, I was the new Alpha Male, he’d still be one as well but the old must give way to the young and here, as opposed to a pack out there, we didn’t kill the old, we just put up with their stories. Everyone laughed. He’s going to be the same Bill we’ve come to love but now he leads. Anyone doesn’t like that, thinks he’s been shorted, leave-if he thought he could without the rest of us keeping him as food. That done, he asked Pepper to hand him the largest one.

 

“See that letter, that there’s an A like in the Greek alphabet, like in Alpha Male and it goes here” he swung slightly to his right, and sunk it into my cheek just below the eye. I may have passed out, don’t know.

 

“Now, before we can do the other one, gotta do some work.” From the floor where he’d had them laid he picked up two nails and a hammer. Reaching down, he grabbed my ball sack, pulled it down over the piece of wood that extended from the horse but didn’t make contact with the ground. He stretched me as far as he could, then taking a nail to the furthest point pulled away, he pounded it in. Second nail, same way. “This here little brand says to anyone that he is from our tribe, he is the seed of our tribe, the Alpha and, here, the Omega”. I only thought the brand on my face hurt. I could smell the sizzle of hair and flesh and feel it, oh my God, could I feel it. He made a point of making sure it went right on top of my left ball….I wondered if I was now half castrated? Could heat cook a nut?

 

Some one threw a buck of cold water on me, pulled the nails, hurried hands untied me, lifted me up, all the guys looked at me with new respect. As promised, Sancho put his arm around my shoulder and took me off for another date with pain when he put the salt cream in. But, as he said, “Man, those are the proudest marks any man could have. I half expected you to scream, fuckin’ hell, but you just stayed where you were….”

I gave him as much of a smile as I could find. “Don’t think it didn’t hurt cuz it sure as fuck did.”

“Get back in, the other guys will want to be with you, nuzzle you, their new Alpha, we’d all worried….” and then didn’t finish the sentence.

“Can I get some clothes, or do we stay….?”

“Hell, no, buddy, grab some of mine, shorts, shirt, you know how it is with our clothes out here.” And I did. Better to stay naked, to exhibit my new Alpha State, it’s what would be expected-couldn’t see the mark on my balls through shorts…

 

Back in the main room I found everyone else some partially clad, some nude and watching Poker as he crossed the branding irons and tried to find a place on the wall to display them. “Next Person to use ’em will be Bill when he finds the next Alpha. Well, don’t just stand there staring at your new pack leader, get him a beer, hug him, show you accept him as your Alpha…”

 

I was immediately surrounded by my pack, happy, showing me, some licked me, some just pressed against me, some kissed my cock-no one touched my ball sack they knew how that would hurt. But Poker, maybe knowing that the tide hadn’t completely shifted, took one more liberty. “Bills a good name, no denying but..an Alpha Man needs something a bit better and here it is: Bullet. From now on, Bill was then an’ Bullet is now.”

 

I liked the name for no reason. Didn’t really suit me, I didn’t shoot much but the concept of being the bullet, the thing that will kill when other things won’t, yeah, I liked it a lot. Poker was through with public announcements and so meandered through the crowd finally ending up by my side. He touched the still smarting place on my cheek. “Damn fine, son, damn fine. Looks good on you. Not going to ask you how you feel just yet but come some days we’ll sit down and palaver about everything. Oh, I’m moving your room next to mine so you might run down there and see if it’s in good condition, apart from some drunks once in a while, hasn’t been anyone reglar in that room in twenty years. Git…you need some rest. That’s gonna sting for a bit and the one on your nuts will hurt every time you walk but that’ll go away-in time.”

 

I headed for the room by Poker’s trying to remember if I’d ever been in it. The door was open and Pepper was making some passes at trying to clean up, make it ready for occupancy..

“Hey, just making sure everything you need….uh, Bullet? Member how Poker said he had somethin’ for you?”

I nodded in an absent sort of way, had wondered but Poker had his ways of doing things and I assumed, when he got to the right time, he’d tell me.

“Well, I’m your gift….”

 

Pepper? I focused on him. The brown curls on his forehead, the downcast eyes, the dimple, the freckles… “See, Poker knows that you need someone, kind of a partner, you’re not used to bein’ alone like he is an’, anyway, an Alpha always has his bitch so he thought, since I liked you an all…”

I took him in my arms, kissed him and made him get down on all fours. He knew what to do instinctively and only using one paw got my cock out and quickly drained it. When he was finished cleaning me I got him back into my arms and just held him.

 

“Like yer surprize I see.” Poker was standing in the open door. “Pepper came to me about a year ago, when we first saw that red head an’ he was in tears, sayin’ Bill was too good a guy for that to happen to him. Offered to go shoot what’s his name right then but I told him to hold his horses, I had somethin’ in mind. Which I did. I’m an old man, can’t last forever and I needed to know the Alpha who took my place was the man I wanted him to be and that’s you, Bullet. An’ every Alpha male needs his right hand man, to be his man an’ I been trainin’ ole Pepper here just for you. If you liked me fucking you, well, Pepper’s been trained to be a stud but only for you. He’s the only one that can mount you an’ you don’t let another man touch him cuz he’s yers. Now I want to see the two of you get up on that bed and Bullet, sink it into him. Deep like you know how to do. Show him you been taught good.”

 

“One day I’ll take him out to where I do my iron work, get a collar for him, seal it shut…..”. Pepper dropped his head, then looked at me… “Bullet I’m your man….I asked Poker for the collar….it’ll mean a lot to me…specially if you’re there while it’s welded on….”. I held him again whispering in his ear that I would be proud to own him…..he just needed to say one word to make him completely mine. He looked right into my eyes, didn’t blink, said four, “ Bullet, I’m your Slave.” I held him, kissed him….Poker stood by us while I finished off the first part….took my knife and carved my sign, a bullet, in his breast. Later, I’d get some cream from Sancho to make sure they stayed prominent and permanent. Never had a slave but….truth was, I genuinely prized Pepper , he was a good, kind man so only in his mind was he my slave. However, Poker would have approved this, any man make a move on him and they’d be sausage-whether they were one of the guys here or a stranger, no difference, Pepper was private property, marked and soon to be steel collared as such.

We had a few men come up, try figure our what was going on, got Pepper, tried to fuck him…. and they learned their fate….after they hung in the smoke house for several days following which I shot off their nuts one at a time with a shot gun…..Alphas don’t fuck around.

 

Wasn’t much to do but follow his orders. Pepper was smooth fleshed, only a little hair over his dick and on his head, his ass hole hairless, tanned, inviting. He knew how to work it and I could tell we’d never lack for something to do. Poker watched as he licked me up to an erection then laid me back and impaled himself on my cock. I had to do nothing, just lay there and let his ass eat me, massage me, pull me up into him. He was strong and reached behind him to first massage and then pull my nipples as he began to sweat. It was slow and deep and good, just right for morning. I flicked his ass with my finger and he knew that meant finish which he accomplished by turning around and stroking himself off as I shot in him.

“Feed me.” He took his finger and ladled his sperm into my mouth until there was none. Ole Poker just smiled, turned away and closed the door. Pepper crawled up beside me, his lean, hard body warm and moist and yielding to me. I took him in my arms, rolled him so his head was on my chest and let him rest while I licked the sweat and new blood from his chest. He relaxed, we slept.

 

In the darkness of sleep I planned my first kill…

 

When I could walk without smarting and when my cheek was settling down, or, rather, up, thanks to Sancho and his constantly peeling the scab, salting the wound and making it stand up, the larder was getting low; It was time for a me to plan what we’d do. Poker hung back letting me take the lead, make the decision, estimate how much meat we’d need for how long. It was coming up mid fall and winters could be hard, needed extra protein for a man to stay in shape. In my mind, I was thinking about hunting, well, hunting season and how the forests were already filled with hunters who, lacking any real knowledge, shot everything that moved from signs swaying in the wind to each other. This last was a dynamic I could and would use to my advantage.

 

One evening we dragged out our boxes of ‘hunting gear’ or what would make us look like legitimate hunters come up from wherever to…hunt. I’m not really a fan of “style” so the vogue for camouflage everything had missed my attention but that oversight was corrected as they dumped the box of clothing on the floor. Just to make it quicker, we divided everything into six piles, one for each of us with no thought as to what might be in them, the primary sort could fix that. As we went through it, I grew more and more mystified as to why anyone with a lick of sense felt that….camouflage socks-with epaulets-contributed to hunting. Ditto the many kinds of underwear, from jocks to boxers, similarly covered were of much use but some manufacturer must have thought they could sell them and, obviously, they were right.

 

Apart from the curiosities in the bunches, we each had several outfits that were appropriate for actual hunting, well made, warm, had the look of authenticity. Garbed in that and carrying a shotgun or a rifle or a bow and arrow or a spear gun or a cross bow-you never knew….and you were welcomed into the brotherhood of the amateur assassin. Well, others were, we were just some good guys out doing the grocery shopping and happened to be wearing cast offs from everybody from the Army and the Marines to L.L.Bean; We looked like what they bought all that expensive shit to look like, real hunters of game. We just switched the game so they were the hunted.

 

In a sense, our hunts were short and to the point, we weren’t stalking a deer with any points, but rather the man who was stalking it. Or whatever they were trying to kill to, I guess, bring home to surprise their families with the expense spared them of shopping for meat. Of course, that didn’t factor in the costs of all the shit they’d bought to dress down, be one of the guys, get dirty, greasy, etc. And it’s hard to know how grateful families might be to find a passel of song birds, vultures, rodents-imagine a housewife charged with “cleaning” a porcupine-and then the finale when they attempted to cook whatever they’d shot. In the back of my mind I’m reasonably certain that the American Palate does not immediately accept bear or skunk or falcon or … you see my point. Our palate, however, was all set to accept the hunter as a meal and so, before dawn broke some days later, Jakey and I wandered into the forest to go “hunting”.

 

I liked doing things with Jakey, beyond his cock sewed to his abdomen like a dog or a wolf, he’d kept the foreskin so when his prick came out, looked just like an animal. Never used the indoor plumbing, peed on a tree or squatted to take a shit, carefully burying it to prevent predators from finding it. If you didn’t know that, he looked just like a slightly suburban dad hunting for meat for his family, nice guy, trust him, clearly a good man. His animal instincts somehow made it easier and quicker for us to find the lure we would need; a kill to show the hunters/prey we were after and leaving a treat for our Wolf buddies, all hung and bled out. Sometime I was afraid he might decided to stay and join the pack which could only end one way but….giving himself to his pseudo pals in the woods was the best way he could imagine. We talked about it…while it gave me the shivers, as Alpha, if that’s what he wanted…and was ever really serious, come to me and I had an idea that he might just like. Something that would guarantee his finding the pack that normally was near our home.

 

We drove an old pickup-left for us by a previous meal- along a road at some distance from our place until we began to notice signs of other hunters; Cars and trucks by the side of the road, signs of brush disturbed as they stomped in trying to keep quiet and we slowed down when we saw a brand new fifty thousand dollar pick up with Rhode Island tags, too new to yet have Trump stickers and we knew we were on to our game. I jumped out to give it the once over while Jakey pulled on down the road and let our heap sorta slide into the brush, not hidden but not obvious. He’d find me and we would wander off into the woods, each of us carrying a gun and a large back pack.

 

We looked grizzled, un shaved, the prototypical local hunter and, from the sounds of a running creek nearby, I knew lunch, dinner and breakfast were about to be served. I looked at Jakey and he made an obscene gesture with his tongue that said, yep, this was the place. Based on what I’d seen, I knew there were two men; the truck had things on both sides of the console, there was even a note in the window saying in case of emergency…and then listed their names and who to call in the event of a problem.

 

I almost laughed. There was about to be a “problem” but no one would call the carefully listed numbers to report their demise. Ever.

 

Anyway, we set up our camp, found theirs, noticed it looked more like a photograph from “Field and Stream” than a real camp but, so what, it made them happy and also very findable. Back at our place we stripped, took a swim in the cold water, built a fire, warmed beside it, fucked Jakey-watched him lift his sewn on cock to take a piss (I’d watched him fuck guys with that, redefined doggy style)-then decided what way would be the most fun for us. That they were dead meat in our minds was a given, it was just a matter of assisting them to their mortality.

 

When you have a pair to be taken down it’s only marginally harder and the hard part can be that you might have to physically haul your kill out. We’d done it but…today there was a better plan, a ploy, one we called “wounded bird”. As afternoon came on, Jakey went out and took down a deer which he brought back for us to hang, bleed and be our lure. Next, taking a twelve pack, we ambled down the creek until, Surprise! (well, to them) there were our fellow campers.

 

We looked the part, talked the part and were accepted as accomplished hunters. Plus, thanks to technology, we had a picture of our kill hanging back at our camp. Just up the creek a piece and, well, sure, we’d be happy for them to come on up and have a look, Jakey offered to show them, since they said they were new at this, how to gut and speed butcher in the field but…it was still bleeding out so why not have a beer, or three, and then we could all go up and they could see what lay ahead.

 

What is it in people that makes them believe that a man dressed like a hunter in the forest with beer and a fresh kill is any less dangerous than a Muslim terrorist trying to blow up the Supreme Court Building in Washington? Of course the simple answer is that this is one sort of brotherhood, we looked non-threatening, probably from a down and out suburb who really needed the meat. We were good guys, wide eyed at their magnificent spread, eager to show them what we had that they had not: A kill. They were not used to the strenuous days of activity and made more tired by five or six beers, we headed back to our camp. I went ahead to make sure the fire was lit, the few artificial lights we had were on while Jakey stayed with them, guiding them to…the snare.

 

In sight of the hung deer, one of them hit a carefully constructed trap that looked like an ordinary piece of wood over which a man could fall and injure himself. Which is just what happened. We could hear the bone snap and the guy scream in pain and watch his buddy stop and wonder what to do. But he needn’t have bothered; Seasoned men of the forest, we knew what to do and did it. No time to get back to their camp, we needed to get out while there was some lingering twilight and get the wounded gentleman up to our place where we could make him comfortable and call for more assistance. The presence of a helicopter was mentioned which, given their other concerns just then, they took as normal. The leg was easily if painfully splinted and he was held up by his buddy with Jakey and I taking turns assisting. We’d made our camp so we were closer to our truck than theirs but offered to get it and one of us could drive it while the other took point and led us to our place.

 

What great guys we were, even to having a bottle of Bourbon that wouldn’t kill the pain but wouldn’t make it hurt more. We found our truck, managed to get their truck and formed our party to drive back. My suggestion was that both of them ride in the bed of their truck where one could lay out flat not having to try and bend the leg. We insisted that each of them have a sort of improvised seat belt, especially the guy laying down, and roped them to the sidewalls so they wouldn’t bounce out-and also couldn’t get out if they tried.. Jakey and I got up in the truck bed with rope they apparently didn’t realize they had and, while securing them so they wouldn’t fall out, bashed them in the skull and they were down for the count.

 

Life was easier then. No noise, no wearying questions about what the fuck was going on, just two hunters returning from a successful day leaving only a run down campsite with a deer that, by morning, would be pretty much eaten up, appreciatively, by the local wildlife. As to the campsite of our guests? Eventually someone would find it and then the usual would commence. Of course, no one would miss them for several days and by then, well, their fate would have taken a turn for the table.

 

 

While the guys off loaded our cargo, Poker and I stood beside the truck and he cast his usual distrustful glances at it. “Shit, spend that kinda money on this? Whattaya reckon this piece of painted tin set them back? Forty, fifty thousand?”
“At least, maybe more. You’d hate the doodads in the cabin, Jakey pushed one just to see what it did and got a dial tone. Turn that off fast.” He looked at me. “ I checked, no tracking devices, just the direction finder that failed to tell them they were driving into trouble.” I sneered a bit as did Poker.

 

We walked into the kitchen where the meat was having their clothes stripped and were about to be tied down, the one with a bad leg out flat, the other hung by his wrist, tied together, over a pair of hooks, spreader bar between his ankles which had a tie down on the bottom that just fit the hook on the floor-good thing he wasn’t taller, wouldn’t have been so convenient. We all got a beer then settled down waiting for them to wake up so the fun could begin; Half an hour later we doused them with cold water and that turned the trick. Sputtering, confused, one of them in pain, they came around making the usual demands, once they’d noticed they were naked, not free to go, while we just sat and watched them.

 

This was the part where they changed into meat not only in our minds but, with some coaching, theirs as well. The guy with the broken leg was in almost too much pain to worry about anything else-without his pants it proved to be a nasty green stick fracture. We let him holler for a bit and then Poker went over, got his attention and allowed as how that must hurt like fuck. The guy on the table just mumbled something which Poker took to mean, “uhuh”.

 

“Well, that’s the shits ain’t it. A fine big man like you hobbled up with a bum leg, all that pain. Gotta take care of that.” I took the Alpha position. “Looks real bad, don’t it, Bullet, you need to do somethin’ about that leg, looks mean…”

That’s when I swung the axe I was holding and cut it off neatly, right at the hip joint. No point in having it tied down, not in the condition it was in, so I picked it up and tossed it to Sancho who ran the foot through a hook in the ceiling by the other guy and let the blood come out. We knew the guy on the table was going to be in shock so what we did, as we explained, to his buddy, was just a sort of show and tell for his benefit. He was encouraged to watch closely to see if he could remember the order in which things were done.

 

As quickly as possible the femoral artery was clamped off, if that hadn’t been done he’d have died from blood loss, even laying down, in two, maybe three minutes. Poker leaned against the wall as a sort of tour guide for the meat still alive and hanging there.

 

Waited a few minutes and then revived the guy on the table who was so disoriented I’m not sure he remembered his leg had just been chopped off; If anything he was actually in less pain which was or was not to his benefit.

 

Depended.

 

Poker started his tutorial. “See, if he was upright, hanging, we’d a just cut his feet off and let him bleed out but seein’s how he’s lying down, we’d just get it in spurts, go everywhere, as the heart pumps. You know, pump out spurt, pump in, no spurt and that’s a turrible mess, even on these floor that were made to be cleaned with a fire hose. By the way, name’s Poker, Poker Flatz and this here, the kindly gentleman holding the ax is my man, Bullet. He’s fixin to decide what to do with your buddy or, more likely, trying to think whether he’d be better as a roast, smoke him, grill him or butcher him for the freezer. He’s pret near two hundred pounds an I spect we could git, uh, maybe hundred pounds of good eatin off him. Whaddaya think?” He gave the meat by him a friendly pinch that was more in the way of a palpating his flesh, checking for resiliency, possible fat levels, lean muscle, all the things that determine the best thing to be done with meat.

 

“Hey, Bullet, this one’s prime fer shure. You thinking what I’m thinkin?”

I looked over as Poker ran his hand over the gut: Sausage, smoked sausage. I could see on the faces of the other guys they had that in mind, too. A big sausage feed where you ate till you threw up and then laid around the rest of the day. On a cold day by a roaring fire, later you could cook hot dogs for dinner if anyone had the courage to eat. Beer, sleep and wake up to more of it only this time it stayed down.

“So…for this one…?”

“Get him out of the way, everyone take a saw or whatever and speed butcher him as is. The parts can be hung before they’re wrapped and the intestines washed and then soaked in brine. Okay, Go.”

 

As the Alpha, I always got to take first cut and, while he was still living and could understand what was happening, I had someone hold up his head while I first castrated him and then cut off his cock. Our usual was to stuff them in his mouth as the head would be thrown out and, I felt, it gave him the final sense of no longer being a man and really being meat. I held them, they were nothing to brag about, over his head, pulled down his jaw and shoved them in. I’d barely stepped back when his body turned into a carcass and then into butchered parts in about five minutes. Before we broke to rest a spell, have a beer, maybe a Bourbon, he was hung up in parts all around his partner to bleed out leaving only the genital stuffed head on the board turned to face the remaining meat, something for him to ponder while we went elsewhere.

 

“Overnight? It’s still early so we could have some fun with him, get him in the smokehouse and, tomorrow, finish him off, ready to roast or maybe…there’s just something about him that pisses me off so that means….”

“Holy Shit, you’re gonna spit roast him alive, ain’t ya?”

 

I smiled my quiet smile for which I was getting famous, it made my eyes become furtive, conspiratorial….”yeah, spit him, live. Least until he quits screaming unless he really gets to me and I whack off his tongue. Agreed?” I could tell by the looks on their faces that they were planning what we did on these occasions. First, we’d take him to the roasting pit, secure him to a tree while we got the coals going, tested the rotisserie, added some more coals, then, two of us to an end, pulled him out straight, arms tied to his sides but crooked a bit to let the heat get to his side ribs, pry open his mouth…but that was a tease. He’d seen the spit so guessed what was coming only he missed a formality: Getting his ass opened to accept the rounded end of the spit. We each fucked him then when he was still crying in humiliation, the spit would slowly be run through him being careful to do as little damage to the organs as possible. I liked it to come out just above his sternum, leaving his throat open to breath, then up thru his lower jaw and out his mouth. But that was for tomorrow. Then, when his skin was beginning to crackle and blister open allowing fat to drip into the fires, we’d all hang out, roll smokes, have a beer, play with each other, just watching him until that got boring and we went away leaving him to turn and cook. I liked a good cowboy tubbing right about then, the smell of the meat, Pepper behind me washing my back, it was a good comforting way. That’s what I though about tomorrow then rolled over, found Pepper, ruffled his hair and kissed him good night. Sleep.

 

But later that night in bed I wakened, put my head back leaning on my hands while I thought. There was something more here, I didn’t quite have it but…there was an answer to be found. Problem was, there wasn’t a question. Pepper was sleeping peacefully and I hated to wake him but…

“What’s the problem, someone in the house?”

“No, but…I need to do something.”

“What?”
“Don’t know just get up and get dressed, remember it’s cold out so dress warm, we may be outside a bit….” Faithful as a bird dog, he not only got himself dressed but handed me clothes to put on that, in his opinion, would keep me warm. “Do you know where we’re going? Should I grab the keys to something….?”

And then I knew.

 

“Yeah, find the keys to the pickup we brought home today, we’re going on a treasure hunt of sorts.” He looked puzzled so I gave him a Dutch rub, swatted his butt, smiled at him. On the way out I grabbed a large canvas bag and some shears for no reason but one never knew when something would need to be cut and it had been my experience not infrequently, shears were easier to use than a knife.

 

The pick up was the very popular silver color and in the moonlight looked like the ghost of GMC. Working methodically, I opened all the doors, which turned on the cab lights and just stared at it. And then I saw what I knew would be there and had a use; Behind the front seats were two brief cases just as I knew there would be. Our guests were not the sort to really let go, relax, not bring business with them and so they hadn’t. Because the truck was so new there was virtually nothing else in it that was of interest but I had my trophy and knew what I’d do with it.

 

Back in the house, Pepper and I went through the contents finding about what I’d expected. Clearly what was missing was in another room with their clothes but my find, the thing I’d hoped for, was there; A camera. It was a matter of just looking back at the pictures they’d already taken to assure me I could get away with my nasty little idea. I leaned back and almost laughed. Pepper looked nonplussed as he couldn’t see anything. Suddenly I was horny as hell knowing what I was going to do so I pulled out my fattening dick, told Pepper to shuck off his britches and we’d play horsey, he could ride me home to the stable. A quick swipe with his tongue and a little spit to harden me up and he was over his target about to intercept it and flow down the hard spike until he was sitting on my lap facing me. We got naked from the waist down then made out until I shot. It was a good beginning to a great day. (No man was ever given a better present than Pepper. Even shined his steel collar and wanted a pair of matching cuffs..with attachments. I thought about something similar in a large cock ring but decided to wait until I had him pierced and inked the way I wanted him.)

 

Spit roasting is all well and good but it requires more physical effort than just taking a roast from the freezer, thawing it, marinating it, searing it, putting it in a pan and then to the oven. I suppose there are homes with fire places large enough to handle meat the size we had on a spit but ours wasn’t one of them. Pepper and I rolled into the room where the meat was still hanging, his hands probably dead from lack of blood and his shoulders beyond pain from being hung for that many hours. Still, he was alert which is what I wanted. Also, this morning marked the conclusion of his hunting trip which could be seen at some point in the future.

 

Clearly his hands were useless and had been so secured blood, if any had got through, wouldn’t be enough. Sancho showed up, scratching and holding the coffee pot in one hand and several mugs in the other. We all sat on the edge of the table by the head of his former hunting partner and sipped to get warm, to get our hearts started, to get launched into the day.

 

“Guys, what I want is…for him to be cut down and retied only in an X shape. Also, get the whole body off the floor so if you have to use a hook in his back to keep in up, that’s what I want. Then we’ll begin our photography session.” They looked surprised. I could hear Poker laughing, old man knew what I was going to and he already thought it was funny.

 

Our meat wasn’t very cooperative although a lot of the fight had been hung out of him. Not wanting him dehydrated a tube was shoved down his throat and a pint or water was put in him and then…we were about ready. I’d brought his camera in and explained that he’d already captured his trip up and their first day on it and we were going to show the rest of the trip, right up to the end frame by frame. So I took a picture of him in his X posture, showed the hook put in his back and that being attached to a point on the wall. Since this was only a still camera we had to lead the viewer through the activities so they’d fully understand what was going on. Next was a shot of his chest after it was shaved and then another showing his full body denuded. The multiple enemas to clean him out had to be demonstrated I two shots, one of the tube up his ass and the next of the outflow of clear water followed by a third which was the stuffing mixed with beer being forced into him through another tube. Couple of frames of him being coated in marinade, one or two close ups of an apple being put in his mouth and, just before we moved him outside, another medium shot of his body with his genitals followed by one after he’d been castrated and had his cock cut off. To fill in I took a picture of his buddy’s head with them already stuck in to suggest what would happen to him. To avoid being in the pictures with him there were some pauses during which things happened that the viewer didn’t see. Next up was of a pit with a low fire, a shot of him, tied up but with a spit beside him, one of him stretched out, another of the spit going in his ass and, of course, coming out his mouth. One or two of him clearly living and turning. Got some real good ones as his guts spilled out and he was bled and, finally, another of him with his chest cavity split open, still turning on the rotisserie with the fire crackling under him. Later when we took him off the spit, I’d take one last of his head after it had been cut off and then put the camera back in the brief case and the case in the truck. I knew, eventually, someone would find it. I wondered who would see it first, probably some sheriff’s deputy or similar and they’d have to tell the families that these pictures existed but….they didn’t think they’d want to see them. However, not knowing good advice, they would insist saying something dumb like “How bad can they be?”….

 

The day went on, after thoroughly cleaning every thing we’d touched, Pepper and I returned the vehicle to about where we’d found it, making sure it was enough off the road so you couldn’t immediately see it but clearly not concealed. And, of course, we made certain the notices they’d written out as to whom to call if there was a problem were prominently displayed then we high tailed it back. Dinner was coming up and we didn’t want to miss that. Jakey had let him cool a bit when they took him down-made easier by the spit, he could just be brought in the house on that and plunked on the butchering table. Waited a while to pull out the spit-if we took it out too fast some of the internal tissue stuck to it and that made a mess. But even just laid out before Jakey cut him up, the aroma could have drawn bees it was so sweet. Those who wanted to risk a burned finger could push on the crisp skin and find that underneath was firm, juicy flesh-I’m not ashamed to say we were all drooling about then, the smell of man meat making us hungry and horny; Looking around at the guys, wasn’t one that wasn’t sporting a tent pole in their britches.

 

Dinner was delicious. He was a good sized piece of meat and all we had was a rump roast and two thighs and that filled everyone. Leaning back, with some of my men, Jakey and I told them some of the details of the hunt and a couple of them said maybe tomorrow or the day after they’d go after some hunters themselves; While they were out there was the best time to cull the herd and bring ’em in for the winter. No point in running low. Once, Poker told me, they’d been reduced to waylaying the UPS truck but…that was done in desperation and, besides, the UPS guys were generally a bit tough from running to and from doors all day. It was kind of the same with joggers; If they were miles from town you knew they were hard core, were all stringy muscle, no meat on their tail, better ground up as bone meal for the spring garden. In short, we were contented, well fed, food to snack on if you felt like it and a whole butchered meat in the freezer for whenever we wanted. I hoped someone had the ambition to make sausage tonight as I had my taste buds set on sausage gravy and biscuits next morning.

 

 

Winter came easily but up here it was cold. The ground froze, baths in the horse troughs were still great but you had to fight your way through the steam to get to them. Hunting was going well, Sancho and Rich had a run of luck when the found an SUV upside down with four guys all unconscious but none of ’em under 200 pounds. Simple matter to pull them out, tie them down and bring ’em home. There were the usual screams, the yells when they came to and found themselves in what was suddenly a production line butchery but it provided meat for a good long time. We could all lay back, enjoy life, enjoy the difference between the warm fire inside and the cold outside.

 

At night I lay by Pepper and thought about the future, what mine was, how to care for the pups, how to get one or two new ones. Then I took to stall walking, one problem to resolve and one night I did. I’d missed something and went to get it.

 

Poker was sitting up in his huge bed, alone as he often was anymore, didn’t even look up when I came in.

 

“I been expectin’ you. What took you so long? I guess I know what you want…”

“Yeah, bout so and I’m not happy for a lot a reasons. But that’s the nature of the beasts, you know that…”

“Yeup, cain’t never have two stallions in the same box, they’d kill each other.” He paused. “You got it figgered out? Spect you do.”

“Yeah, all worked out in my mind but there’s something else…” I looked at him in the dim light. “…only you can do it for me”.

He laughed his sneaky old man laugh, tossed back the covers and jerked his head meaning for me to get over there. He was still smiling broadly when I crawled in and went straight for his cock, wanted to get it good and hard.

“You want it the hard way I spect?”

I just nodded. He fooled around under the bed, pulled out the box with cuffs, manacles, hooks, chain.

“On your knees Bullet.”

 

In the end he had me chained to the bed post, a gag in my mouth, my eyes covered, hooks in my nipples that were attached to a chain that he was going to use as reins. Made me take out my teeth and a hard bit with points on it went in and he held the controls to that as well. Ankles both manacled and chained…then he came at me first with the whip and then with his cock. I could feel the blood drip down from the slashes that would mark me and never go away fall on the tops of my calves, felt the tip of the whip crack on my biceps and his nails pulled into my breasts as he fucked me harder than ever. I knew he was finished when he fell away, worn out. Finally had to give up, all his seed in me, nothing left. He let me hang by my nipples and nuts until he could rouse himself and then softly took me down, let me fall on his bloodied bed and rest.

 

An hour went by. I could get up, move and, both of us naked, we went down the hall, through the room with just the embers of fire and onto the cold porch.

“Here?”

“Yeah, here. Wanted you to see the whole thing.”

“Over the saw horse?”

“No, man to man, face to face.” And then he knew.

“Holy Jesus, I never ate a man raw but…that’s the best way for this isn’t it. Just…let me linger to watch you do it. Ain’t much meat so watch where you bite…”

 

I had in my teeth that were made to tear and chew raw meat. He was ready, always had been, this was the ultimate end for a former Alpha, to be eaten alive and raw by his successor. To honor his wishes, I started in on places that wouldn’t cause too much blood but finally there weren’t any other places. He was staggering and his blood was beginning to flow freely. I leaned down, tore off his ball sac and put it in his mouth. He choked and was almost at the end. Holding him, with blood running down both of us. “Old man, I did it out here so when I tear of your cock, it’ll freeze and tomorrow I’ll have it made into a dildo. I think he tried to laugh but the blood in his throat choked him. Looking straight at him, I reached down and tore off his cock then pulled him down so I could continue to feed. Even after he’d been dead for an hour I was still pulling bits of meat off…kept warm by my own ferocity.

 

Later that morning when the guys were moving they found the carcass, almost completely torn apart in my Alpha rage to protect my type and nothing was said. Each of them wondered who would come along to take me down and would they have the balls to eat me alive? They knew it would not be one of them, no Alpha ever really comes from the pack but is someone the pack completely accepts.

 

Pepper brought me coffee in bed and tried to wash my back but I refused. That was my final gift from Poker, my whipping marks, proud of them, too because of the man who laid them on me and partly because it secured my position, I was Alpha, no question.

 

Some days later I shoved his cock, now mounted and harder than it had been in life up my ass and smiled at all the memories. I licked my lips and remembered him most of all. Hoped I’d taste as good to the next Alpha but….that was a long time away.