Dirt

A BoyToy, Inc. Universe story

Whatever Happened To Tommy Vescu

Location: Bundus III

Chapter 1
A Fateful Decision

Tommy

He had felt a strong allure by some of the bondage situations available on sites on the WSI Net, but again the actual thing was so much more intense. In fact, as he felt the tube within his rectum start its function of maintaining an empty bowel, and the amazing confinement of his small 4 inch [10 cm] rigidly erect penis with its internal tube and outer sheath, he could feel the build up of an amazing orgasm – something which only recently became an important part of his world experiences, even if they were still without the emission of seed. Tommy was returned to a more serious reality when the tubes were inserted into his nostrils and adjusted so to keep him breathing while a mouth plug was inserted and annealed to the inside of his stretched open mouth. He was instructed on how to keep the nutrient and liquid feed flowing. He was surprised by the taste – something between a chocolate 'slush' and a 'milk and butter fromage.' His fear again escalated as the front face shield of the Boy Cage was put into place, but he was somewhat relieved to note that he could at least still see out through the small slit in front. But he recalled his determined purpose and stilled his mounting fears. He was especially determined to put up a good front in front of his mother who would soon witness his transfer from his home of 12 years to the transport sending him onto the State Slave Collective and Distribution Center, from there eventually to the Slave Authority Auction. To be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Tommy wondered about his prospect for his next six years as a voluntary Indentured Class One Slave. He was not ignorant. His voyage through the WSI Net informed him that he had more than a 77% chance of finding himself in a boy brothel, given his age, looks, sexual development, and body conformation. And giving his certain sexual proclivities, definitely one for men, and very possibly one in which he will find himself in various bondage situations. This very future prospect, while still quite frightening, also elicited a strange and strong sexual arousal.

Now that he had been placed into his Boy Cage, he was quite startled to note just how fast things proceeded. He was whisked past his demonstrating mother and unbelieving brothers, placed into the transport and was already on his way to his future enslavement before he had an adequate chance to filter through the events which led up to his fateful decision to offer himself up for temporary Slave Indenture.

Tommy had always been a shy retiring boy, seemingly unable to find friends or mix in with the other kids in his class at school on those weekly 'social days' where classes were not beamed directly to their private home com center. Though he was athletic enough to join the soccer team, and even though a bit small for his age at an even 5 feet [1.50 m], he was still almost the fastest boy on his school team. Even at home, though he was friendly and talkative enough, it seemed his three older brothers never had time for him. And his dad – well his dad had skipped out years ago; Tommy barely remembered him. It was his Mom whom Tommy was so at ease with. She was not only the best Mom in the whole world, she was also his friend. He would always be there helping her fix dinner each night after she came home from a long day at work. She was a secretary, and while the pay wasn't bad, it still was barely enough to pay all the bills and feed four hungry boys. And one of her ever growing laments was the fact that she could barely put anything away for her sons' advanced schooling or trade school. And in this day, without either option open, the boys' future was not very luminous. In fact, down right bleak.

Tommy was a bright and even a precocious young boy. And quite inquisitive. And not especially shy when it came to ferreting out secrets. So it was a month after his 12th birthday when he discovered the second factor which threatened to disturb and possibly even topple his secure world. In his Mom's locked drawer, the electronic lock easily opened with a modified mag-decoder, and in a locked file within, easily picked with a tiny screw driver (totally mechanical), he found all his mothers security codes for both her personal comp and her private communication consul. And there were two files within he had always been curious about. The first file at first excited him but then left his a bit disquieted. It was a market account which was headed 'boys' education fund.' That it even existed brought a warm smile to his face. He knew how much his Mom worked and how much she wanted success for 'her boys.' But the total figure at the bottom left him totally dismayed. His oldest brother, Peter, be would be graduating from the state school next year and there would barely be enough for his first year at a trade school. Period! Tommy brooded about this for some time but then noticed a new file simply headed by 'medical.' And what it contained, more than anything else, was what led Tommy to make a decision which he thoroughly dreaded. But which he became gradually more and more resigned to.

Tommy had already started to figure out just where his sexual interest lay. And it was not with any girl. Of course he was well aware of the new Consensual Slavery Laws though he had never actually seen a slave in person, but it was only very recently that the idea of being someone's slave had a certain allure, and brought a peculiar feeling to the region of his groin. So overriding the security protocols of their home com and computer station, Tommy learned all he could about several Slave Agencies who specialized in the buying and selling of consensual slaves. There was one in particular which specialized in those few boys who not only volunteered for temporary Class One Indenture (and Class Two Consensual Slavery), but also would guarantee a sale to a man-boy sex brothel so long as the boy was willing to undergo treatment to maintain a temporary hold on physical maturation together with a sex enhancement drug regimen so that he would always 'be ready' to satisfy a 'clients' needs. The very idea both excited and frightened Tommy so much. Though truth be told, only another overriding need, that to help his mother and brothers, was able to finally compel such a grave decision. Thus, after a series of 'secret' communications, Tommy had been secretly escorted to a distant city and had undergone some extensive genetic typing and brain scans and whisked back without any of his family knowing. Only five days later Tommy received a coded message on the family comm. It looked innocent enough until its 'invisible' portion was revealed using a passcode.

Tommy was astounded, and now even more frightened. The sum which they were willing to pay his family for his purchase was astronomical, at least in comparison to what they now had. His brothers' educational futures would easily be assured. And for his Mom 3;

It was the next day when Tommy showed his mother the electronic draft which could be validated simply by Tommy sending a coded message. And allowing himself to be collected and sent to the State Slave Collective and Distribution Center. The message had assured Tommy that his future slave role would be in a very high end resort offering 'unique' sexual services to their clients. And even his fear seemed to increase his excitement. Because of the extreme cost of his drug regimen and specific medical sex enhancements, he would be required to sign a contract for a minimum six year Indenture, of course with the usual option of choosing permanent Class Two Slavery at age 16 or later. (It always surprised some people just how many of the Indentures who eventually opted for permanent enslavement).

His Mom had become alarmed when she saw from just whom the draft originated – one of the more infamous Slave Brokerages – but then was equally as astounded when she saw the amount.

Her voice acquired much more than a soupcon of fear: "What is this all about Tommy? You are beginning to frighten me."

"Mom. I know all about the medical procedure you need and can not afford. And about the education fund for us. And this will solve all our problems."

His mother got very frightened. "How do you know about all that, and exactly what have you done?"

"Mom please forgive me." Tommy was now in tears. His normal extreme emotional response to almost any serious happening, was amped up to its extreme. "But I can help. My brothers will have all the education they could ever want. And you need help yourself."

Tommy's mother felt a massive wave of love for her youngest boy wash over her but a second wave of horror quickly followed as she realized just what Tommy had been planning on doing. She had noted the brokerage company who had sent the draft, and Tommy didn't get most of his brains from his father.

"No Tommy! You can not do this. You MUST not do this. I will not allow you to do this." And she also knew about the new Indenture Laws. "Twelve years is too much. Even one year. I can not allow it."

Tommy started to overcome his initial fear with resolve. "It's only for six years. And what will happen if you can't get medical help and we are all taken away from you and put into government homes? You can't even guarantee we would not be permanently held and the government can then STILL indenture one of us if they decided to recoup their expenses."

Tommy's mother knew he was right, but still held out hope that she could get some government assistance for her medical condition. And expressed this view.

Tommy rejoined: "And then what? How about Bill, and Adam, and Peter? When they have no education?"

No one 'won' any argument. But it was made moot when Tommy touched several spots on the com-panel and gave out a big sigh, as he started crying all over again.

His Mom, now thoroughly frightened, asked: "Tommy! What did you just do?"

"They will be here within the hour. I don't need to take anything, not even clothes."

Tommy forced his tears back and even smiled. "Just think, six years from now when you see me next, I will still be a 12 year old."

His Mom got a horrified look on her face. "What do you mean 12 years old?"

"That was why we got so much. Only few of us have the genetic codes which can allow them to use those anti-maturation drugs on for such a period of time." He also added to himself: "And be conditioned and trained to be a good sex slave." He also wondered how about the various medical procedures he would be eventually undergoing. By this time tomorrow he would be scheduled for preliminary medical exams pursuant to his entry into the next Slave Auction. He wondered just where he would be installed as a sex boy. He came back to the quite emotional responses of his mother and replied: "Sorry Mom, but I had to do it. And don't worry. I'll be OK."

Tommy's Mom tried unsuccessfully to stop the transaction, and discovered after calling a lawyer, that there was nothing she could do. A boy 12 or older did not need a parent or guardian's consent.

Within an hour, two men came directly to his door with a SafeSecure Transport Boy Cage. His Mom almost became hysterical when she saw the contraption and recognized its use. Tommy talked them into allowing him the privacy of his room for his striping and the attachment of catheter, and special butt and mouth plugs allowing for the elimination of waste and feeding for his transport almost a thousand miles [1600 km] away. His own relatively backward area of the world, with its own quaint customs and almost unrecognizable dialect, had no Slave Center of its own. As he took down his undershorts his ultra stiff 3 inch [7½ cm] boner was as hard as he'd ever felt it. And the feeling from his groin was almost overwhelming. One of the men made a comment about Tommy's being so turned on by his intimate boy parts being so handled and his being put into the confines of the transport cage. His legs and arms were put into their individual sleeves and when his placement was complete he found himself in a sitting position and totally unable to move. There was only a small opening out of which he could still at least see. And as the momentary sexual allure of the cage and his confinement therein was wearing off, he was now so thoroughly frightened, he started almost wishing that his mother had prevailed. He consoled himself with the thought that at least his family now was completely taken care of. When his cage was grav-lifted and pushed through his house he found he couldn't even say good-bye to his Mom or brothers. The feeding gag in his mouth filled it entirely.

One of the men collecting him sent a code to their bank releasing the entire funds. The man looked at his mother and said: "Don't worry, your boy is very brave and will be well taken care of. His Indenture is for six years and an official electronic copy of the contract is available whenever you need a copy for tax or other purposes. Your boy said to say he'll be seeing you and not to say goodbye. The brokerage firm has already gotten a pre-auction offer from BoyIsland, Inc. and your boy will be allowed visitors within one month after his medical interventions, and conditioning and training. This will probably be in about 4 to 5 months from now. At age 16 he can opt for permanent Class Two slavery if he wishes. Usually an owner, though not required by law, will then provide the family with the boy's 'Freedom Benefits' which he would have received after release from his full Indenture term. It is quite substantial."

His Mom looked at her boy with tears in her eyes. "Be good boy. And please be happy."

Chapter 2
The Stage Is Set

Peter

Peter's Mom had the long drawn out (and quite expensive) medical procedure which reversed her liver degeneration, and was now quite healthy. And of course he had been enrolled in his first trimester at the Bhat'u State Trade Center, where they trained technicians in many diverse areas including force-field and bio-implant technology. And after several months Peter was wondering just when they would finally hear from his youngest brother. He knew that his Mom had tried to pry out information from the Slave Authority but all they would tell her was that her son was not yet permitted to communicate with her, or anyone else for that matter, but that he was well and had even been enrolled in the special on-line Slave Co-op School to complete his State School requirements. About that she had been quite thankful but she the lingering doubts came back and she had difficulty accepting no information just what may be happening to and with her youngest son remembering the parting words from one of the men who had taken her boy: "Pre-auction offer from BoyIsland, Inc. and your boy will be allowed visitors within one month after his medical interventions, and conditioning and training." The images conjured up of just what her son may have been 'conditioned for' took on new life when she eventually got the nerve to actually look up information on the WSI Net specifically about the company that dared to call itself 'BoyIsland, Inc.' She was appalled at the proffered, even if slightly censored, images. And she absolutely could not understand just how her boy could have been so sanguine at just what he would be forced to do. But now she was wishing that that was the only problem which concerned her about her son.

Finally just last week she had contacted by Real-Time VA Link, a representative of said company and was quote troubled to learn that her son was indeed NOT 'in their service force.'

"Look Ma'am, I truly can empathize with your need to learn about the disposition of your son. But believe me, the world of Indenture and Slavery is frequently cloaked in circumspection if not downright secrecy. I tell you what, I will try to discover just what has transpired about your son and get back to you. Do you happen to know his Indenture #?"

"I have it here somewhere. Here it is, 3; I-69-9934-2 PB. Will that help? The Slave Authority keeps telling me only that my boy is in good health and is enrolled in some on-line slave education thing."

But just two days ago she had finally heard back from the BoyIsland rep.

"I am sorry Ma'am. This is all I could discover. We placed our pre-auction bid as required by law three days before the actual auction. And believe me it was substantial. However, we were quite disappointed to learn that for some reason we had been outbid. And when we tried to find out just who did buy your boy we ran into a Slave Authority blank wall. I am truly sorry. I might suggest hiring an agent with a good background in dealing with the Slave Authority to look into this matter. The only thing we learned was that for some unknown reason your boy is allowed no communication 3; out or in."

They talked some more but all it did was get both of them more frustrated. All she got was a series of "I don't knows," and "I'm sorrys."

It now had been fully four and a half months since the day of her boy's auction and the only thing she knew for certain was that indeed her son HAD been sold at auction, and his Indenture number. And absolutely NO ONE could (or would) explain to her just why she could not communicate with her son. She had even gone to see her State rep and several days later was informed, that there were exceptions to the Unified State Indenture Slavery regulations and that given the right set of circumstances – for example by instruction from the Indenturee – it was certainly possible for her to be denied any communication with her son. Again another blank wall.

But Peter was finally geared up. The very next day at school, he was talking with his best friend at a Pro air-ball contest, safely seated behind the nearly invisible CoraSteel webbing.

"Your brother did WHAT?" His friend asked incredulously.

"He indentured himself. Almost five months ago."

"Holy Seventh Depraved Depth of Deneb! (His friend was fond of cursing especially using quite ribald references). A real slave? By his own free will? Holy Denebian Fecal Matter! I don't even KNOW any slave. Just what I've seen on the Net. And the rare times it's in the news. You mentioned your brother was strange but this goes all the way to deranged! Why'd he do something so dumb?"

"Look Quan, stop disparaging my brother. And he did it to get enough money to get my Mom treated for her liver problems and for school for me and my brothers. So as far as I'm concerned my wacko brother is a hero. But now we're all worried. It seems he's not where we expected him to be and we can't find out where he's at."

"But how about the Slave Authority. I know those guys are rad-scarf scary but they got to know."

Peter explained all that had been going on. In between some pretty exciting moments where there were actual air collisions where even one sled pilot had crashed right into the ground, (thank goodness for their crash suits), the boys hashed out possible ways to discover where Tommy might be. Of course when Peter had told his friend about what exactly transpired on BoyIsland did he get another barrage of unseemly and ribald remarks.

"Shit, I can't imagine walking around all day totally bonkers naked with my boner sticking out and being handled and used by all those rich guys. If it were rich women now – as long as they were half way good looking and maybe with big bazoombas – well that might be exciting!"

Fortunately their conversation was to yield some fruit. Just the very next day, while Peter was over Quan's house his cousin – not a real cousin but the son of his Mom's friend visiting all the way from New Brasilia – overheard about what was happening with Peter's brother.

"Look, maybe they can't help but my uncle is a slave, but not only a slave, but owned by a former legal agent of BoyAbductions, Lmt. He should maybe know something."

Quan exclaimed: "What the buggerall is this BoyAbductions group. Is it even legal?"

"His cousin, Kon Lee, shrugged. I guess. My uncle's owner's never been arrested."

"But, you talk about your uncle being a slave like it's totally normal. That's total crap." Quan announced.

"I don't know. Just 3; it just seems like it's a known fact for as long as I've lived. Even saw him once, when I was little. In fact I was fascinated since he was kept naked almost with something really weird up his butt hole. And he seemed happy enough so I never though much about it. Slavery's legal after all. Just not common 'specially 'round here."

But Peter was more interested in getting information that could help find his brother, not argue the niceties, pro or con, about slavery. "Look, can we get back to your cousin or his owner, this agent guy. How can we reach him?"

Kon Yan

I had been born into poverty in a struggling mining enclave on the airless world of Gendard III. During an especially difficult economic period the colony sold all of its prepubescent boys from ages 6 through 12 into slavery. I was nine. I was purchased at auction by BoyToys, Inc. just as they were expanding into the personal slaveboy market. I was surprised that I was considered to be 'cute,' having been, I assumed, fairly typical among my peers who were all strongly of Mongol heritage. My master claimed that my looks were already so special that the only modifications he had done to me after my purchase were all the 'usual' things making sure that my sex parts were enhanced for man-boy sex, and to keep me a 10 year old indefinitely. The only modification to my brain pathways was to greatly strengthen my submissive nature, and allow me to mature cognitively. In spite of this I had still found it a struggle to allow myself to totally 'give-in' to the actual fact of my slavery. I had difficulty giving up my dream of an equal intimate relationship with the person I could fall in love with – a long tradition of my forebears.

But my master was strict and persistent in his demand that I submit fully to my station and his discipline methods were effective even if at times moderately painful. Even a year later I suffered occasional 'lapses' which allowed me to gain a working knowledge of some of the more unusual and technologically advanced devices for administering torture without undue physical damage. Thus after being my master's slave barely two years I was totally astonished when my master, who I was finally coming to respect, if not regard with actual affection, informed me that he intended to have me trained as an abduction agent for BoyAbductions, Lmt. And then several years after my enslavement my master had surprised me by sending me to flight school. My native reflexes and certain abilities allowed me to obtain certifications for all classes of limited passenger and cargo air ships. I am certainly amused at the looks of those who fly with my master and I in our own Tuskagee IV stealth aircar, when they see a seemingly nearly naked small light brown 10 year old of Mongol heritage take position in the (specially designed) pilot's chair.

And I surprised myself even more when finding an opportunity soon afterwards for complete freedom, when I actually gave up a perfect opportunity to escape my enslavement and obtain sanctuary in a Non-Aligned nation. And everyone is quite surprised to learn that it was my master's slave – all 68 pounds [31 kg] of me – and not my master, who was the field agent for BoyAbductions, Lmt., fully trained (and lethal). (Until last year my master had been a legal agent for that corporation).

"Ahhhhh!" The muffled yell of Kon Yan torn from the slave's throat as the micro force field pierced into his very nerve endings – this time located in his right nipple. The slave – a still cute physiological 10 year old – had many years of 'practice' handling quite a variety of torturous punishments. And his objections were by now purely theoretical. It would really never have occurred to him, after nearly 20 years as his master's Class Three Slave – Non-Consensual, and modified for sex at the famous BoyToy labs – to be anything but loyal to his master. To a master with whom a real bond of intimacy and affection had been established over the years.

Vasili's slave had been stretched spread-eagled facing upwards being tethered and almost totally supported by force fields attaching to the cuffs on his four extremities. The only other points of support were with old fashioned cables attached to the small rings through his nipples – capable of only minor support, and another attached to his tight chastity cage which totally trapped the entirety of his small boy genitals. This last 'support' was pulled with sufficient tension to give the slave a serious case of hurting testicles. But there was one additional contraption set up by his inventive master. A force field probe, usually used to pierce solid bodies at whatever programmed designed depth to measure varying degrees of density, was now being incorporated to 'probe' the slave's body. And it was programmed at 10 second intervals to pierce at random any exposed portion of the slave's body, with special emphasis on the boy's genitals and nipples. Within 20 minutes all the slave could think about was pain.

At long last the boy had finally been released. Due to the nature of his punishment, and to the actual enhancements made to his torso when modified all those years ago, he was neither really injured, nor even in great pain when he was finally released. So that immediately he was capable of entertaining thoughts of just how his punishment had been totally unjust and just how he would get 'even' with this seemingly capricious and gratuitous judgment of his master.

Therefore he was quite surprised by his master's very first comment when he had been brought back to his master's study and by the fact that he was instructed to take a relaxed position. Sitting down in fact, rather than kneeling the formal slave obeisance. Heck, his master had not even replaced his mouth gag and muzzle.

"Boy, do you have any memory of your older sister who emigrated to this planet just ahead of the collapse of the Dunbar Mining Enclave on Gendard III?"

Kon Yan

In fact I smiled remembering all those frequent times my master and I did react with each other with true camaraderie and affection.

"Master, I remember her only vaguely from our shared misery on my planet of birth. But we actually barely interacted since I was more than 13 years younger. She did visit more than 10 years ago but again we did not seem to be able to really converse let alone connect on any personal level. To be precise master, we are essentially strangers."

"Boy, my question was more rhetorical than needing an informational reply. However, it is a preamble to my informing you of the content in that electronic missive you so blatantly received against all slave protocol." My master smiled taking the sting out of his reproach. "And by the way, you must understand due to your exceedingly boring record of NEVER truly deviating from your complete and total devotion to your master in recent years, I need certain, – well let us call them – outlets. Heck boy, sometimes, in certain regards, you're no fun any more. I had to almost invent that excuse to apply some minor torture to my most esteemed slave."

Since I was in relaxed slave deportment, I permitted myself an appropriate measure of license, and replied with a mild reproach of my own: "Master, perhaps your vocabulary needs refurbishing. The word 'minor' can in no way be used to describe the pain you visited upon my small defenseless and cute body. And, for the immediate future, I am not quite sure my, 3; oops, I mean YOUR SLAVE'S sexual apparatus will work to necessary standards demanded by your nearly unquenchable appetites."

After a short laugh my master promised to 'make it up to me.' "But look boy, your master needs some fun. After all, I am getting up in years and need to utilize every opportunity."

We made small talk for the next while which my master used HIS SLAVE'S body and both love holes for his sexual relief in quite an aggressive manner. (And since he had had his own sexual equipment 'enhanced' a good while back it was very aggressive, engaged the far reaches of both his slave's throat and rectum, and required multiple 'uses.' And I too thoroughly enjoyed every second of it). He led me to his bedroom by grabbing the only protruding appendage – my small encased penis. I yelped at his aggressive behavior but basked in the pleasure it sent through my small brown body. I REALLY liked being so small and so easily manhandled, or rather boy-handled, by my master. I also liked being a boy. In fact I am quite able to let my control lapse, and just BE that small 10 year old. It was especially satisfying. Even though the only brain pathway modifications done to me, as far as my master has mentioned, during my modification at the BoyToy labs was to enhance my predilection towards needing to be dominated, I still was, at least emotionally, a 10 year old, when I allowed myself to just BE. Only my motor skills and my cognitive abilities had been allowed to mature. Of course I sometimes took a perverse delight in presenting myself to people as a true 10 year old, and having them treat me as such. And in my master's line of business, this underestimation of his slave was frequently to my master's advantage. But now I was only interested in pleasing my master. One thing for which my master choose me as his slave from such a wide selection. I am quite naturally passive and submissive emotionally and sexually – something my master takes full advantage of. And to my own astonishment, sometimes I even enjoyed being tortured as a prelude to sex. But in spite of my protestations to the contrary, the degree of torture I really experience at the hand of my master is usually relatively minor – comparatively speaking.

As I retuned to his study I discovered that I preferred to stand. (You might guess why). We were both in a supremely good mood. And again I reminded myself, as slave situations go, I was one of the more fortunate Class Three Slaves on the planet. At least I believed so.

My master's mention of 'age,' however, shot a small pang through my mind, even though with the current state of medical care, my master had at east another 50 to 70 years. But that reminded me to make sure I did not outlive my master. One of the very, very few rights afforded a Class Three Slave by law was right to choose internment with one's master if one's master died first. At present I could not contemplate any future that did not include my master. My resolve was to be placed atop my master's coffin just before the grave was filled in. Some coffins are even equipped just for such an occurrence with a depression in the top and a formidable and severe extensive ironwork that when closed, totally confines the slave permitting absolutely no physical movement other than that required to breath. Some even come with the option possessing a multitude of slender hollow needles up to an inch [2½ cm] long which pierce much of the slave's body. They are strategically placed to allow the slave to die from exsanguination rather than smothering. And of course incorporated into this framework is a severe mouth gag and muzzle so that the slave does not embarrass himself by screaming. The slave also has the choice of his favorite butt plug. His genitals are allowed freedom since – as it frequently occurs – he is permitted his very last orgasm. My own wish would be to die just as the dirt finally covers my entire body. (And I certainly did not want to die first; I did not want my master to grieve that much).

But my attention was forced back to my master. This small lapse of inattentiveness was quite unusual and I berated myself for it even though my master was totally unawares. And I was determined to confess at the earliest opportunity.

"Well boy, we need to get serious for now. Please read this – I actually printed it out. It is a message and plea from a boy named Jou Quan, who only learned about you from Kon Lee, the son of his mother's childhood friend – and your sister. I know the relationship here is quite convoluted but the plea in the letter hits a chord."

Greetings:

I really do not know how to address a message to a real slave. (Never came up in our Writing Class at school. Perhaps I should mention this lapse to our education system).

Actually I am trying to figure out how to ask for this REALLY big favor, especially since we really do not know each other. But here it goes 3;

3;So you see, my friend has nowhere else to turn. He and his mother are desperate. This boy who seems to be where no one can find him gave up so much to help his family. So I am so hoping that you could persuade your master to help out some way.

Thank-you

Jou Quan

I was definitely moved. But I first asked my master: "Master, may I ask what your thoughts are on this?"

"Come here boy."

I was lifted onto my master's lap and reveled in the intimate contact. Damn! One thing for sure, that BoyToy lab had sure enough gene-spliced me into the horniest boy on the continent. My now totally free penis sprung out stiffer than a Cathland preacher's back. It might be small but it sure operated real good. Almost as good as my butt hole. Whose plug was soon removed and replaced with several of my master's deeply probing fingers. I reveled in these true benefits of being my master's slave. I was barely able to concentrate on my master's words as he expressed his decision concerning this apparently misplaced slave, Tommy Vescu.

It was the very next day when my master made a secure Net call to a friend of his who was currently a high official in the Unified Slave Authority for the entire planet. Well the Aligned Nations anyway which included all but Cathland and the forever warring factions within the Oligarchy of Quaraque. (This later nation, if it can be called that, had their own unique solution to the potential of overpopulation. And the former was a literal treasure trove of Class Three Slave 'recruits' due to their penchant of 'putting so many of their own children in so-called 'moral correctional and re-educational facilities' or just as frequently of simply throwing away those they considered irredeemable).

Concerning my master's intent to find this Tommy Vescu, he said that it would either be simplicity itself or I'd better bone up – I snickered at the double entendre – on my skills as a field operative. I was quite small but I was lightening fast in my reflexes. And I had several sets of special slave cuffs which in fact contained several weapons and other nifty things, and were even weapons themselves. (Don't tell the Slave Authority. A couple of them were quite illegal for even citizens to possess without special license).

That very afternoon we were on my master's Tuskagee IV, flying more than a thousand miles [1600 km] to the town where the message originated. I was quite all smiles, in actual physical fact, since while piloting the aircar I necessarily had to be able to speak, hence, the simplest way being, no mouth gag or muzzle. And not much of anything else. I felt practically naked. And I LIKED feeling practically naked. Just my usual chastity restriction and a rather comfortable butt plug which didn't even need the wearing of any waist-to-genital harness. The only thing I 'wore' was one of my more simple slave harnesses which went around and under my shoulders and didn't even make it to my waist. But I sure enjoyed flying that aircar. And I sure smirked when I 'ordered' my master to secure his safety harness. A redundant system because of the newly installed micro-force field safety 'web' but still required by regulation. I also knew I would be paying later for my smirk. We landed in quite a backwater, and therefore had to taxi to a paved outdoor staging area instead of directly entering a privately owned or rented hanger.

I also almost laughed – not allowed since I was currently in formal slave protocol – when one of the people servicing the plane gasped when he saw me, and totally went agog when I was the one who signed off on his schedule of maintenance after I had made sure all was in readiness by my own private monitor, which was attached to my right slave cuff. I sure wished I could 'play' with his mind a bit but protocol forbad it.

I was then quickly put back into a rather severe bondage arrangement, – right out there on the tarmac – including a very special mouth gag and muzzle, hand mitts with my arms secured behind my back, severe butt plug and genital capture – which was transparent – and even short hobbles between my ankle cuffs and thighs by way of additional cuffs placed on my thighs just above my knees. He even put me in a little utilized severe posture collar, and added a posture bar which ran from the back of the posture collar to a designed connection to my mammoth butt plug. Where it ran under my crossed forearms it connected to an additional double cuff placed around my mid forearms. I suspected he was rubbing it in the noses of the severely prudish indigenous population. I also suspected that my master was rewarding me for the extreme conscientious manner in which I attended to his sexual needs the evening before. Once on leash – damn this set up was restrictive, and gave my libido a max rev up – my master led me to our ground car, provided by a limo service. I inwardly smirked as the driver kept staring at me with an expression of disgust and disapproval. And if I didn't have my mouth gag and muzzle just reinstalled, I'd be openly smiling at his discomfiture despite the consequent future punishment for illicit slave behavior in formal comportment. I was so used to this arrangement of being on an actual physical leach, and really hated, for some reason I could not adequately explain, those electronic and other virtual leashes which had no apparent lead.

This driver's expression did remind me of the fact, that with only few exceptions, which included ground transit through most of the Federal Nature Preserves, all prepubescent children (and other prepubescent and physically nullified individuals) were permitted the freedom of nudity in any public venues within all territories of the Aligned Nations. But some of the more inhibited populations of a few of the very backward provinces looked askance at public nudity even among children. And slavery was even less tolerated, though it did occur.

Chapter 3
The Quest Begins

Mrs. Velda Vescu (Tommy's Mom)

"Honest Mom. This guy, or at least his master, is on their way. Right now in fact! I'm as surprised as you are. And the message said they will do all they can, free."

I was more than skeptical. Why would such a person, callous enough to own his own forced slave, actually decide to gratuitously help someone?

Of course nothing prepared me for the spectacle that I beheld later that day when I answered the pip from the home computer-net system informing me of a guest. On my very doorstep was something out of some lurid fiction. I barely could stop staring at such a sight, even though I know that I saw holos of such unfortunate people. But this was just a boy, and obscenely naked. And his — (I wouldn't dare let my mind put a word to it). And he was led on a leash like some animal! How could he even stand such a thing? And I could not help staring at the perfectly obscene attachments to his genitalia and there also seemed to be something attached somehow to his rear, and worst of all the utter cruelty of some sort of muzzle so tightly affixed to his face and head. And then I almost buckled when I though that my own son could at this very minute be so horrifically treated.

The other baleful figure was quite forbidding in visage even though he too made some attempt at cordiality. Though his dialect was just about impossible to understand. But with great effort of will – given me no doubt by the Higher Power – I allowed myself to comport with this 3; this, 'gentleman.' I was resolved to do anything if it would help find my son. Even allowing such depravity into my own home. I bid them enter.

Kon Yan

I made a great effort to control my emotions, and my sexual arousal. But damn! These were the occasions I almost lived for.

We were invited into a modest but beautifully airy and laid out single residence. We could have actually done all necessary communications from my master's home but he used this as an excuse to enjoy a trip to a part of the world we'd never seen before.

Before any real communications were attempted, because of this strange dialect, my master nodded toward me and I knew that I was to take the lead. I almost was squirming in anticipation.

I bowed slightly and began the introductions. "Mrs. Vescu, this humble slave has been enjoined by its master to conduct this interview because of the necessity of using a translation comp, which is attached to my mouth gag." (We both had ear pips which made her words to us understandable).

I took so much delight in watching the series of emotions observable in her face.

"But 3; what?" She barely was able to gasp. "I don't quite understand."

She struggled to get control of herself.

"Mrs. Vescu, my mouth and throat piece ( I chuckled mentally at the blatant euphemism) is equipped with a sub vocalization enabler and combination translator so that you can understand me."

She merely nodded but eventually bid us to sit in an elegantly appointed central living area. The offer of refreshment was evident by the glasses and 'keep-cold' fluid containers already on the table in front of us. But she was a bit taken aback when I eschewed the chair and knelt next to my master. I then made the introductions and explained what we were hoping to accomplish by way of people we knew in the Unified Slave Authority. My master chuckled at times when he recognized my going to lengths with my vocabulary, showing this person that even a Class Three Slave can show erudition and sophistication.

(Later my master would reprimand me. Maintaining that he was definitely only in need of a simple callipygous slave, and not, I will quote "an inimitable and euphonious socdolager of excessively ariose, dulcifluent, and pompously verbose oration." It was almost a week before I was outside the presence of the snickering and scoffing presence of my master, and thus able to look up the meaning of several of those words, of which I'd never before heard, let alone understood).

I continued: "Mrs. Vescu, please do not be deterred or unduly perturbed by my unusual aspect or appearance or the reality of our master-slave comportment. Both of us are assiduously motivated to help in any way we can. We quite empathies with you, and comprehend the degree of your anxiety in not knowing about the condition or whereabouts of your son."

"You 3; I mean 3; I am perplexed. You stated that you yourself will be helping in this investigation?"

"I think you may have some profound misunderstanding about the exact nature of my relationship to my master. I have not merely been my master's slave since the age of 10. I am well trained and educated, and my master no doubt will use my assistance in this endeavor. Not only am I a field agent with complete training, I am also my master's pilot. We flew here in a Tuskagee IV. Please do not allow my immature and incongruous aspect deceive you. Chronologically and cognitively (when I make the effort) I am almost 30 years of age."

Mrs. Vescu looked at me and then at my master who remained mostly quiet trying to look affable – though he was not quite succeeding. His normal visage was always a bit intimidating.

We briefly spoke about what we intended and Mrs. Vescu finally, I suspect, could not contain herself: "Look 3; (she did not know how to address me), I mean I would like to know how anyone could make an innocent 10 year old into a slave?"

Many of the people here in South Bhat'u Province, were a fundamentalist offshoot of the sects that inhabited Cathland. I wanted to ask this woman how she could consider herself so arrogantly infallible that she so cavalierly could indoctrinate and brainwash her own children into an egregiously detrimental system of crude and internally self-contradictory 'dogma' which frequently ignored any critical evaluation of the empirical evidence of science. But I suspect it would not actually be constructive to my master's mission. And more importantly, would upset him.

I laughed instead, even if it came out a bit strange from the miniature speaker in my muzzle. "Mrs. Vescu, I was 10 years old when the mining operation for which my parents worked came into financial trouble. It was on an airless world, and life was more than difficult, and sometimes barely marginal. They sold all the children from the ages of 6 through 12 to a slave brokerage agent on this planet. I was actually pleased in the improvement in my living conditions when I found myself here. And regardless of how things began, there are not enough riches on this planet to persuade me right now to be anything other than my master's slave. Along with my master, I am not only infinitely content, I am frequently happy, and unlike yourself, I am without any deep sadness or fronted by any sorrowful calamity. And that is in large part why we wish to help you. Please do not be unnecessarily concerned about either my welfare or my condition."

This was probably the most I have ever said about how I felt about myself and my situation – except to my master – in my entire life. Sure it took a number of years to resolve my feelings about being forced into slavery, but Mrs. Vescu need not be told that.

Mrs. Vescu seemed quite surprised not only at what I had said, but the depth of the feelings with which I said it. For once in quite some time I wished that I could do something I knew my master would not permit – and remove my mouth gag and muzzle to give Mrs. Vescu a deliberate smile. (I would have to confess this misdemeanor later).

We finally got down to business and obtained from her, her son's Indenture number. With that we communicated to our contact within the Unified Slave Authority. In less than 30 minutes we had her son's location. To Mrs. Vescu, it seemed miraculous. We continued to make inquiries using the definite clout of our highly place contact.

I continued: "Mrs. Vescu. It is most definite. Tommy is not in any way connected to the resort called BoyIsland, Inc. The person you contacted there was totally honest. In fact we have discovered the whereabouts of Indenture I-69-9934-2 PB, formerly one Tommy Vescu, a voluntary six year Indenture. Does that sound correct?"

And I was confronted by something I'd never before in my life experienced. I was instantly rushed by a totally out of control woman who proceeded to lift me bodily off the floor and squeeze me to within an inch of blackout. (Unfortunately she touched my encased penis, a transgression for which I would most certainly receive quite a punishment that very night. A slave was ALWAYS responsible for any breech of strict slave protocol, no matter what the actual circumstances). I looked up at my master, who added the insult of his laughter, and gave him my most sardonic look. Difficult with mouth gag and muzzle. It lacked something without any observable expression from the lower portion of my face. Of course I would also be punished for that look itself. Even if it had elicited another guffaw from my master.

Mrs. Vescu released me and looked at me with sudden embarrassment. But her eyes soon lit up with sudden relief. Her joy at hearing this information transformed her into the beautiful woman she was. She quickly settled down and asked: "Where? What happened to my boy?"

I told her.

My master attempted to contact her son's owner but was totally rebuffed. My master finally left the residence but only after he, through myself as interpreter, was able to assure Mrs. Vescu that we would not only do everything we could to find and speak to her son, but that he believed success was essentially assured. Only a slight prevarication.

That night, after I flew the first leg of our journey – my total hours as pilot in any one day were not allowed to exceed a predetermined limit – my master brought me into one of the better over night establishments the community had to offer. Not the most expensive, but the locale, overlooking the ocean was quite nice, and the accommodations were quite comfortable. Even though this area was not really on a direct route to our final destination, he allowed us to make what amounted to a two hundred mile [320 km] detour because this was the closest area in which there was a well equipped bondage club. As soon as our aircar had been adequately serviced and housed for the night, my master immediately put me into complete restraint – at least to the extent which could be obtained considering our luggage did not contain any serious amount of slave bondage gear.

My master took out a severe mouth gag and muzzle I didn't even know he owned, let alone had even used on me. I learned later that it was the Model 128 punishment gag, from BoyServices, Inc. It looked innocent enough but that was not its effect. It consisted of a cage like mesh which easily sits within the slaves' widely open mouth. There is a special retaining ring so that it can not be dislodged. Besides being quite uncomfortable when it is activated to fill absolute every crevice of the slave's mouth, and keeping the tongue bound to the floor of the mouth, every portion of the web-work is covered with minute projections which were connected to an internal micro power source which can zap your boy's mouth if the tension on them is increased. Fortunately my master adjusted so that there was at least some forgiveness in the apparatus so that minor pressure did not trigger the array of pain inflicting projections. Of course on my way to our destination I screamed quite a number of times as I failed to keep my mouth sufficiently open. It was quite diabolical. The instructions which came with the gag claimed that the projections were safe and would not cause injury.

Next came tightly fitting slave mitts – something he rarely used – but allowed for absolutely no movement of any of my upper digits. Not one millimeter. He then attached temporary cuffs to my upper arms and forced my arms into the small of my back attaching wrist cuff of one arm to the upper arm cuff of the other. A posture over-collar was positioned around my neck which forced my head into an almost rigid position with several reinforced straps covering literally covering half my head. There were even projections which fitted far into my ear canals, and two into my nostrils. Then a flat posture bar attached to the back of my collar which ran down my back (underneath my arms) and then attached onto a totally monstrous metal butt plug which had been forced into my rectum. Additional rigid bindings attached my crossed arms to a connection on this bar. Then for a final indignity a very short rigid bar less than a foot long was connected to my ankle cuffs, and another set of cuffs placed around my thighs was connected to a short chain. And then finally a quite cruel if simple chastity device was swapped for the current one. It merely consisted of a narrow sound which extended into my urethra at least six inches [15 cm] – my dark brown circumcised penis, when rigid, was four inches [10 cm] long. Then an innocent mesh was placed over my penis and small tactical sac, and activated. I could not help scream as it continued to constrict my sensitive member. It took a full three minutes to force my punished member into a confining 1½ inch [4 cm] length and a substantial reduction in girth. At last the pain finally reduced itself to a dull throb.

Damn! My master was really serious this time. Needless to say, even as I was accustomed to severe bondage restriction, I was somewhat more than merely uncomfortable. And barely able to move.

"And boy, this is nothing compared to what will be done to you this evening. You are quite aware that that unauthorized contact by another person to your most intimate sex parts is a serious violation which must be addressed."

I was led on leash over to an awaiting luxury ground car. I was not surprised however when I was placed into the rear storage compartment – surprisingly small for such a vehicle I might add.

Two hundred and fifty three thousand, sex hundred (oops I mean six hundred) and twenty nine bumps later, we finally arrived at our hotel. I was removed, with some difficulty, from the compartment and led on leash again to the desk of the hotel. In spite of the place being frequently used by masters and slaves, I was quite a spectacle as I was led to the front desk. On the elevator up to our suite my master opined: "I am starting to wonder if I should have purchased one of those new 'slave suits'."

I knew that was coming. I mean my master liked to say things like that when he was punishing me. And I suddenly had to withstand the ire of another guest standing in front of me when I could not help screaming – if only a muffled one. That damn mouth gag. And that 'suit' he just mentioned was one of the few things which could still make me nervous thinking about the implications especially considering what such a piece of technology could do to a slave. It consisted of a network of sensors and miniature force field point generators which literally controlled the ensconced slave absolutely. After instillation and activation the slave will absolutely and only, be capable of any action whatsoever on his master's command. When first (and permanently) attached to the slave's body that network of sensors and miniature force field point generators were literally positioned on the entire surface area of the slave's body to start with its permanent attachment. Then the fun begins. The body of the slave is then placed into a strong grav field which elevates it from any surface so that no portion of it is touching any surface. And all the limbs and digits are likewise manipulated so that absolutely no part of the body is in contact with any other part. This already at best maintains the slave in a very uncomfortable position. Then a secondary force field is brought into existence surrounding the body and it holds all sensors and micro field point generators in place. Then a control is activated and the slave screams. (Due to the necessity of making sure that all sensors are properly positioned and calibrated, no anesthetic or analgesic can be administered. Also a block is maintained on the slave's neural system to make sure it does not shut down – that is med speak for become unconscious.

I watched a slave being placed in such an array, or 'slave suit' on a 360-holo almost a year ago. It was a demonstration data stream sent out by the advertisement from the company who pioneered the 'suit,' namely BoyServices, Inc. of Bundus III. And because it was a subsidiary of BoyAbductions, Lmt., of which my master was a legal agent, he was offered quite a discount to buy one of the suits, and would be even given the suit free if he decided to allow his slave to demonstrate it at the upcoming Master-Slave Convention in Calais. I was totally abashed and disconcerted when I realized that I actually breathed a sigh of relief when my master turned down the offer. It probably was the most egregious breach in my slave-master discipline in a number of years. It proved once again, despite all my efforts, that I had not yet submitted to my master's will and control 100%. I immediately resolved to try harder.

Well that holo shook me to the core. It not only showed the entire process – all 55 minutes of it – but the monitors revealed that the pain had surpassed level 5 by the tenth minute, which would have soon caused unconsciousness – oops, I mean 'active neural shut down' – in most people. As I mentioned, the process was quite slow and feels like one's entire body – absolutely every total portion of surface area – was being attacked by millions of sharp needles all at the same time.

Later that evening – I was kept kneeling at slave attention the entire time my master settled into our suite and refreshed himself – we eventually disembarked to the deSade Bondage and Torture Institute. It housed two restaurants, five bars, several clubs of varying clientele and agendas, a school and a slave training facility, and most importantly for my master's purpose, a multitude of private dungeon rooms that could be rented by the day. And a resident doctor for emergencies.

I meekly followed my master into the establishment where we were greeted by a woman maitre de – outfitted quite stereotypically as a dominatrix, and led into an opulently accoutered restaurant, with smells which instantly made one's mouth water. I suspected that for myself, I was never going to discover just how good all that food was. By that time my entire body felt a dull ache with two exceptions. My mouth simply put, hurt, though not excessively, and my poor penis I wondered if it would ever properly function again. My master sat and quickly ordered one of his favorites, a 20 year old cognac from the Isle of Tharsus. Along with a three course meal. Plus desert. Plus after dinner drink. He was really laying it on. And he smiled throughout. I used quite a bit of self control to merely accept the situation as a slave must. I think I well succeeded despite what I considered the injustice of the entire situation. I kept reminding myself, that whatever a master decreed, by that fact alone, was automatically 'just.'

And I was not at all surprised when I was made to kneel throughout my master's sumptuous repast without anything more than a drink of ice water. It was forced into my mouth through a small hole in my mouth gag and muzzle. I was quite thankful – that was until I realized that I had to pee. Of course that was quite impossible at the moment. By the end of the meal I had all I could do to remain motionless as required.

Fortunately I had enough to excite my interest. And assuage at least my mental appetite. Of course the very first thing which stunned me was the realization that the establishment also catered to women. Women with both boy and girl slaves. I was barely able to contain my excitement enough to make sure I did not break proper formal slave discipline. But I was entirely satisfied as I eventually was able to take in my surroundings. One woman had a small boy on leash but because I dare not allow my position to significantly change, being in full formal slave mode, I could discern little out of the ordinary except it sure didn't look completely like a real boy. (And I was also eternally grateful that I had become a slave of a master as opposed to a mistress. I totally shuddered at the thought. I was absolutely certain that I simply could not have survived I could not possibly imagine a worse fate).

Fortunately right behind was a man leading this time two boys both on leash, and this time I could see that they had been severely modified to largely take on the physical aspects of dogs. They were walking on all fours, indeed I soon recognized that for them any other method of perambulation was impossible the way their arms, legs, hands and feet had been reconstructed or modified. I wondered just how it would feel to be forced into the role of a pet for one's entire life. I also was wondering what their genitals, and especially their penises looked like. The modifications that I could see were striking as the components of their boy heritage were still quite obvious. Their heads, held upright, only had a short muzzle of a dog and their torsos looked much more like that of boys rather than dogs. The boys were totally naked except for their collars, and it was mostly their legs and arms that were covered in short fur along with a small portion of their still boy-like butts and upper shoulders, neck and head. When they moved closer I also noted that their faces and heads were mostly fur covered except near their mouths – or more properly called snouts. As they passed by directly in front of me, I finally noted that their snouts had been secured within quite severe muzzles, quite similar to those I'd seen before on dogs. As they were walking away I finally could see the underside of their bodies from the rear. And right there between their legs were genitals which were definitely no longer those of a boy. Their modification to simulate the genitalia of a dog was remarkable with small fur covered testicles tightly attached to the underside of an extended fur lined sheath. But the very last thing I noted as they moved too far away to see clearly had me dumbfounded. The forward extension of the penis sheath seemed to be tightly encased within a silvery metal protuberance, and at the very end of which dangled a very large metal ring. A metal ring quite large enough and properly positioned to have been thrust through the end of the metal encasement laterally and evidently through the very flesh of the sheath itself, and then dangle below. I now recognized that fact that dogs, or more accurately dog-boys, could also be fitted into chastity devices. I suddenly wondered, just as had been incorporated in my own chastity apparatus, if any kind of tube or sound had also been forced into their dog-like urethras, and to what distance they might have been forced.

As the animal-boys passed out of sight I tried to conjure up the salient features. I now recalled that the ears too were much like that of a dog and sprouted from closer to the tops of their heads. Their shortened legs and modified arms ended in definite paws rather than hands and feet. And of course there were short furry tails extending from the base of their spines – and they actually were being wagged back and forth as the boys moved quite quietly through the restaurant. As I recalled the remarkable creatures, I was mesmerized by the mental images. I knew such animal-boy mixes existed, and had seen such modified creatures on the WSI Net, but to actually see them in person was quite thrilling. Too bad they were all too soon out of sight.

Another man, quite black, in quite an amazingly sexy outfit of belts, hood, and other ornaments made specifically to visually intimidate, was actually carrying a very small boy – he couldn't have been more than 4 or 5 years of age. I later found out, that in fact the boy had actually been almost 17 years of age when he had voluntarily accepted Class Two Slavery. But his body had been reverted to that of a five year old, at the famous labs where I myself had been modified. In fact, we even met the master and his boy the very next morning as I was still recovering from my evening's ordeal. At that time I was amazed to see both man and boy in nearly ordinary clothing, well clothing on the man and the usual slave 'apparel' on the nearly naked boy. The boy indeed was quite small and seemed not to be able to stop giggling and smiling as his master frequently handled him and his sex parts all the while we were conversing. The boy stood less than 3½ feet [1 m] tall and could have weighed no more than 35 pounds [16 kg].

But when first seen in the restaurant, he was so totally trussed with numerous straps which seemed to encase a good portion of his visible and otherwise naked little boy body. Connecting the top straps was a simple handle by which the man so effortlessly carries the human package. Seeing the degree to which the little boy seemed literally folded up made me recognize the fact that at that age a boy was quite a bit more limber. The sight to some might have been appalling, but to me it was merely utterly arousing. Of course I myself had a very strong attraction to being put into bondage, the more severe the better.

I was fortunate to see the boy quite close up as he was deposited onto a counter next to my master's table. Here was a small boy, with his arms folded tight against his chest and his fist held against his shoulders. I could see tightly fitting mitts, probably made from real leather, encasing the boy's small hands and wrists. (Well one of them at least). His head too was totally encased within a seemingly leather hood and I could see that it had been tightened in the rear with old fashioned cord strung through a series of grommeted holes. The only apparent opening seemed to be under his nose. I saw a small bulge at the area where his mouth should be and could only imagine some sort of mouth gag inside. But his legs also were completely folded against his body and quite tightly. I could see absolutely no opening. I was certain that even the age at which my own body was maintained, I seriously doubted that my own appendages could have been folded against my body so tightly. There was a series of five belts – probably again of leather – holding the boy's body in this extreme bondage. Then another small surprise made itself apparent as the boy's owner lifted him up and turned him so that his butt and feet rested on the surface of the chair pulled slightly away from his table so as to accommodate the boy without pressing him up against the table's edge. What was fascinating to see was a small tether actually exiting the boy's butt hole and then tied about his ankle cuffs. Unfortunately I could not see the boy's presumably small genitals. But I assumed, considering the state of his extreme bondage, it too was probably in some kind of severe chastity device. Then I noted that there was indeed an irregularity – in the form of a small round indentation – in the boy's hood directly over what I presumed to be his wide open mouth. After the man had been served his meal I was surprised to see him take out from a case, two large plastic tubes about six inches [15 cm] long and perhaps two [5 cm] in diameter. One was dark brown looking while the other was a pale yellow. I was not very surprised when he took the first tube, with a now recognized tapered end which he then pressed against the indentation in the boy's hood, and with a twisting motion it attached itself. I though that the sight quite compelling as it was quite evident what was happening. And my expectation was confirmed when the man then touched the bottom of the tube and very gradually the color seemed to disappear from the rear of the tube. The boy was being forcibly fed his evening meal. The meal was forced into the boy's mouth – apparently – quite slowly. It was not until at least a good half hour later, the man's own meal having been mostly consumed, when the yellow tube replaced the now empty brown one. This one seemed to be forced into the boy's mouth a bit faster.

As I mentioned we met the small packaged slaveboy and his master in a small private dining room that next morning. It seems that my master had invited them to dine with us. My dining of course, being kept for the time being in formal slave mode, entailed my kneeling besides my seated master and taking small bits of food that he chose to offer to me. In actual fact I liked being fed from his hand to my mouth.

But when the now mostly free but still totally naked (and smiling) boy walked into the room aside his master, it was an instant dazzling display of CUTE BOY. He had very light blond hair atop a cute nearly round face with seriously blue eyes and a button nose. And lips begging to be kissed and even abused. His small 1 inch [2½ cm] penis stuck outward with a slight upward slant and I noted a very small scrotal sac underneath. I also noted three small thin rings. The first encircled the root of his miniature genitals, the second encircled it just behind the small circumcised head, and the third encircled the base of the scrotal sac forcing it to form a small rounded sac underneath. And then I noticed something very strange, when the boy was lifted quite easily into his master's arms. There was a small silver tracery that extended along the midline of the boy's perineum and right to the small depressed dimple of his ribbed anal opening. And amidst this cute rose bud of radiating folds of boy flesh was a small bump of an apparently very small butt plug.

When the boy's master saw the object of my interest he smiled and addressed my master.

"I see that your slave seems quite interested with my slave's boy sex parts. Those rings connect to the boy's quite enhanced neural network in both his genitals and rectum. It forces the boy into a state of sustained sexual arousal. At those few times I need my boy's focus elsewhere, I inject him with a small dose of 'nul-arous'. But otherwise he is always ready to be used for his most important function. Allow me to demonstrate. And please allow me a small moment of private communion with my precious slave boy."

At these words I could see the boy slightly stiffen and then suddenly he seemed to collapse like a boneless cat. But then several seconds later his entire body started to gesticulate and spasm, but with a quite characteristic thrusting motion of the boy's pelvis. The boy was evidently in the throws of an intense little boy orgasm. I was almost envious. Then the man quickly exposed his own (relatively modest) perfectly black uncut penis, touched a control on the back of the boy's butt plug – which we now recognized merely as a force field projection although it would have felt solid to the boy – and he pulled the small boy's butt hole down onto his own upthrusted and totally stiff member. I was amazed that the boy only evinced a small gasp of pain as the man's penis was thrust quite ruthlessly into the boy's tiny sphincter. But soon the boy was back in the throws of his own climax as the man held the boy tightly onto his back and forth thrusting member. And they both seemed in quite an intense sexual arousal and coitus.

I could not believe that this was all done in a public area though we were in a private dining room. I found out later that the boy was kept in an almost constant state of intense arousal. The boy's life apparently was entirely forced into focus as primarily a sex toy by his owner. The boy seemed not to care as his smiles and occasional giggles broke his forced attention to his own genitals.

About five minutes later the boy's body stopped twitching, and the man voiced the very last gasps of his own monumental orgasm. I was quite impressed with both man and slaveboy. The man touched again some spot right on the boy's anal ring and again the virtual butt plug reappeared, and he then placed the now resting and nearly comatose naked boy onto a nearby couch.

"The boy will need a while to fully recover. When I first discovered this boy I learned he had been on the streets and in quite a depressed state, along with several life threatening infections and a severe drug problem. He was quite agreeable to our arrangement. You will note that he presents a persona and an emotional response of an innocent 5 year old. In fact he begged me to have the worst of his memories erased during his modification. I was quite happy to oblige. Also some of his brain pathways have also been modified to allow him to revert emotionally to that of a five year old. But cognitively, when he concentrates hard enough he is back to being a 16 year old, which I find desirable at times myself."

I readily understood that thing about emotional age. I too had to concentrate to adopt the attitude and composure needed for my adult role when it was necessary. But I found my frequent reversions to a 10 year old quite satisfying. As did my master. And as I had watched their carnal display I rued the fact that my own genitalia was in sorry condition. My consolation was that my master promised that when they recovered – probably within a couple of days, he would bring me to a too rarely visited adult amusement center called "What You Wish For." The actual signage outside also added in script in front of the name the words: "be careful." Not an original moniker but, I thought, appropriate. I'd been there only a few times before and remember that with the drug regimen given to me, I had probably experienced more than 20 intense climaxes in less than a 10 hour period.

And damn, their bondage gear was probably the most inventive around. Along with the meticulously designed 'scene' rooms. How would you like to experience your body seemingly being sucked feet first, very slowly, into a very soft, very velvety, very moist orifice? Imagine being forcibly lowered into a small room from above through a small portal and dropped onto a floor the exact replica both visually and tactilely, of a gigantic butt with butt cleft and enormous radiating folds exactly mimicking an anal orifice? And being inexorably drawn towards it feet first by the manipulation of force fields totally out of your control? One with the exact appearance of a gigantic anal opening along with external and internal sphincters, and warm all encompassing interior which first engulfs your feet despite any effort to evade the inevitable? And then feel your entire body so very gradually being sucked into its moist and velvety interior. Inch by inch until only your head protrudes? And then even that is finally pulled inside? It was entirely amazing what technology and force field manipulation could mimic.

I returned from my exciting reminisce, as the little light skinned naked boy recovered, stood, and brushed by me to kneel at his master's side. He seemed to have a little difficulty in maintaining a serious expression as required a slave in formal mode. His master addressed him: "For the time being boy, you may dispense with your strict formal slave protocols. I want you to take part in our conversation."

The boy stood and smiled, and visibly relaxed leaning against his master and grasping his master's hand with both of his.

"My slave likes to hold on to me. His need for the security not only by means of physical contact, but also as his role as obedient and submissive slave, is quite extreme. Isn't that right boy?"

He looked up at first myself and then my master. I could see that the boy was fighting his arousal. I could see that it took considerable effort to place his attention elsewhere.

In a very small little boy voice, but with a strange overtone which I later though probably was due to his being mentally 16, he replied: "Yes master. I think I am the most fortunate boy alive. I remember enough of my life before slavery and cringe in the knowledge. Never a moment goes by when I rededicate myself to be the slave my master wants of me. And to think my very 'caring' parents (the tone with which he pronounced that word indicated the opposite), tried to stop my acceptance of Class Two Slavery even so far as trying to have the courts intervene."

Master and I stayed there quite a while until my master recognized the need for us to depart. We had an appointment the very next morning and the air time to our final destination was a full six hours. But my master seemed to really connect with this larrikin and slave. I still could not get over the fact that this large black man had such a small white boy as his preferred sex instrument. The contrast was engaging.

But it was the previous evening, immediately after dinner, when I was literally stuffed into a small cart, with sides you definitely did NOT want to bump too hard into as they were covered with small rounded spikes spaced no more than two inches [5 cm] apart. I suspected it was to get one's slave 'in the mood,' as if my severe bondage was not enough.

I could not determine where I was taken, but I felt the cart suddenly come to rest. When I was released I was surprised to see my master and I in a small room, well lit with indirect lighting. The only items I could see were a table about three feet [90 cm] off the floor and about perfectly sized to hold an average sized boy so long as his arms were kept at his side. Nothing there so far to get me overly concerned. (Boy was I so wrong!) The only other item was the ubiquitous standing metal and heavily braced frame. Strictly low tech. Dandling from its upper corners were the expected cords which I presumed would be attached to my outstretched arms. My master had placed me in such a framework many times in the past. I was sure glad that my modifications included such joint and ligament enhancements so that even a quite extended period being hung from such an apparatus not only did not culminate in any injury, it didn't even hurt too bad. Fifteen minutes later, all my bondage devices had been removed including mouth gag – I was certainly glad about that! – and even my butt plug and chastity device. Except for my permanent obedience slave collar and my wrist and ankle cuffs, I was totally unencumbered. Ten minutes after that I was hanging by wrist cuffs stretched to the far corners of the frame with my legs likewise stretched outward towards the bottom corners, held there by their own straps. A quite typical beginning to what I assumed would be a quite typical period of torture. But unlike that which frequently preceded our intense love making, this one would no doubt be much more severe. It was a punishment after all and I was totally resigned to it. In fact I seemed to have advanced to a mind set where it was somehow gratifying to know that indeed I was my master's slave. With all that it entailed.

I looked intently into my master eyes as he returned from a partly hidden alcove with a quite typical tawse. Only instead of his usual one that was somewhat soft and no more than 18 inches [46 cm] in length, this one was fully three feet [90 cm] long with the last two feet [60 cm] split up the middle.

Already my arms felt that small ache which I was grateful with the foreknowledge it would not appreciably increase over what I expected to be at least several hours. (My master liked to take his time and frequently used my body – as his inherent right – to assuage his ever recurring arousal. Most of the time, he also milked my own small boy genitals which had been modified along with the other things done to my body, to produce a quite strong aphrodisiac and sexual intensifiers, along with other chemicals which would allow my master to recover in quite short order, after ingesting. What I surely liked was the fact that every time he milked me, I too experienced a significant orgasm.

And then I saw what else he had in his hand. So I should add that I too would experience orgasm UNLESS he chose to put onto the base of my genitals the very thing he had in his hand. It looked quite innocuous, but after being placed around the base of my genitals and activated, would allow me to come close to climax but never actually achieve it. Quite diabolical. He smiled. I refrained from smiling back. Of course I was not allowed to speak. Only shout, scream, yell, and cry as my body so directed.

My master I could see, seemed almost apologetic as he tested the two pronged strap against the side of my leg. It was not necessary to get may undivided attention – he already had it. My master finally spoke: "You know boy that I am only following strict master-slave protocols. It does not matter whether you were actually at fault. By the very fact that indeed your genitals came in contact with anyone other than your master requires appropriate punishment. Of course since it was not a deliberate or even careless occurrence, your punishment will be commensurate."

Somehow I could see a small glint and twitch to his facial expression. And I was not disappointed. "Of course I do not wish to waste such an opportunity to enjoy myself. I know you understand."

And with almost with a deliberate insouciance – which I know is almost an oxymoron – or warning, my master brought the full force of the tawse down onto my abdomen. I of course screamed. I long realized there was absolutely no necessity or reason to try to be stoic about this, nor try to pretend it didn't really hurt. Over the next hour, with short pauses – torturing someone was hard labor for the torturer whereas all the torturee had to do was endure, and scream – my master covered just about every square inch of my expose flesh with markings from that evil instrument. About the only area left unmarked was my head and face, and my genitals. I screamed, yelled, cried – when I could get air back into my lungs – but never once pleaded. I was quite content with my good slave behavior. The one thing which almost brought me to the very brink of begging happened when he started on my hands and feet. I do not remember such a painful barrage since I had disobeyed many years before and attempted to land my Tuskagee III aircar at an airbase in Cathland. I had just been on my maiden solo flight and realized that there was absolutely nothing stopping me from landing the aircar there and pleading for asylum – Cathland was one of only two nations which were not signatories to the Treaty of the Aligned Nations. And where slavery was still outlawed. And where I could so easily have escaped from my enslavement.

At the very last second I aborted the landing, turned on all countermeasures to avoid being shot down, and fled home and back to my master – crying all the way and trying to understand just why I had turned down freedom for a continued lifetime of unforced slavery.

But now I was sobbing uncontrollably. My entire body was aflame. It never ceased to amaze me just how close the pain seemed to approach the feeling of a burn. Near the end of the barrage from the tawse, my master momentarily released my arms and bent me forward to use my real hole. The attack was quite a bit more forceful than his usual use of my butt hole. It of course was totally his property and had absolute dominion over it. He once not totally jokingly mentioned that if he could arrange it he would actually forbid me from using it myself – he was speaking about my use of it as a means of ridding myself of my bodily waste. Eventually my regimen of fluid enemas totally removed from me any necessity of actually 'taking a dump' to put it crudely. It has been at least 19 years since I have experienced a true bowel movement – of course my bowel experiences a whole LOT of movement otherwise.

Just before the next 'stage' of punishment was to commence, my master milked my genitals of their very special nectar. Unfortunately I was taken only to the brink of orgasm. Even though I was quite mentally ready for the next installment I became a little concerned when my master gave me an injection and stated: "Don't want you to pass out boy." I visibly trembled in fear. Not fear of the continuing torture – to that I was perfectly resigned as was only right – but in fear of being unable to stop from begging the torture to stop. Totally forbidden. And even more so, I plain wanted to please my master.

The next hour was taken up with my master expertly administering to my body about a hundred or more welts from a very supple and slender cane, interspersed with his twice making use of my two boy holes. I greedily drank form his penis – heck I was thirsty. Too bad his offering was not quite thirst quenching. During the delivery of deeply stinging swats with the cane, I noted that he was quite careful not to cross the resulting welts, something which could all too easily cause the skin to break and bleed. He mentioned that he only wanted to administer pain, not damage. At least no more damage than could be assuaged in minimal period of time. And his very choice of implement indicated his intent.

I again reached all too quickly the point of total and unabashed screaming and crying without any attempt to contain my emotional outcry. The pain is so subtly different than that from the tawse. This pain reached deeper and was much more a sting than a burn. But when he started in on the palms of my hands and alternating with the soles of my feet I almost succumbed.

On previous occasions, after a period for each of us to recover, this was when my master commonly brought out one of his most treasured implements of torture – his set of 200 needles, all lengths, thicknesses, and shapes, depending on which area of my body was to be penetrated. But he only brought out twenty of them – fortunately of quite small gage.

"Boy there is a new contrivance which I will be using on you tonight, so for now I will only use these twenty."

I of course almost screamed myself hoarse as he proceeded to slip each successive needle under the toenails of all ten toes. And only because he sprayed my throat with an appropriate medication did I not go hoarse as I screamed through the next ten, which were pushed under the nails of each of my ten fingers.

I used every ounce of my will power not to plead for release and for the pain to end. Fortunately my master ended his attack barely three tenths of a second before my resolve had completely disintegrated.

My master released me almost immediately and lay my quivering and exhausted pain wracked body onto the table. I reveled in the feeling it gave to my skin by its cool and even soft surface. I was so utterly defeated that I could do no more than merely endure. All coherent thought was nearly impossible. My mind was only capable of entertaining one thought, the pain had stopped! For the most part. And I was suddenly quite surprised when after my master had delicately removed all twenty needles, he even bathed my entire body with a mild analgesic. I was quite grateful.

"Look boy, I am quite proud of you. The monitors indicated that the amount and degree of pain you endured, except for that one time after you aimed your plane at that one forbidden airfield and almost landed, is more than I had ever before demanded of my slave."

With monumental force of will I replied in formula: "Master, I obey and submit."

My master rewarded me with a tight embrace and tender kiss. My heart swelled with love for my master. I was suddenly believing that I could suffer through it all over again. If only I was to know what was soon in store I would not have been so quick to have entertained that thought. But I did know without a doubt one thing. One thing that my mind was capable of keeping hold of. I was the most content slave on the planet. I could not imagine a different life. I thought it strange how things were so clear after one's mind and soul were pared down to its most base components. I had resolved that very moment to mention to my master at the next opportunity, that I wished not to outlive him. That I was to be buried with him.

And I was also remembering that there was yet one more ordeal to suffer through. My master left me there for a short time. When he came back I was quite surprised to see that he had showered and dressed. This was quite a departure. He also handed me a full quart of chilled water to drink.

"Boy, this next will bring not so much physical pain but I am sure you will enjoy it even more than what has so far transpired."

My master has a way with words.

My master then donned a full apron. I was puzzled but not alarmed. I totally trusted my master. He then pushed into each of my nostrils items that I was well acquainted with. These two tubes ensured that I would continue breathing whatever else was to happen. I was well accustomed with the small amount of irritation they momentarily caused when they made contact deep within my throat. They were also so engineered that I was still capable of speech. Next again a familiar item. A cage like gag was positioned within my mouth and activated. It stretched my mouth to its widest extent but not excessively so, and filled it completely. I actually enjoyed the sensation. It was quite arousing. Speaking of which. The next thing that my master did was to remove the neural inhibitor from around the base of my genitals and replace it with a simple covering which form fitted itself about my so ultra stiff boner and scrotal sac. Next a quite unremarkable butt plug was pushed into my butt hole and I could easily discern when it attached itself to the flesh in the interior of my rectum, and that surrounding my 'brown-bud.' (Definitely dark brown, not rose colored). It has become so normal to feel that pressure within the ring of my sphincter that when without any plug it feels totally 'wrong.'

By this time the analgesic had taken good effect and my body had greatly recovered. My small 52 inch [95 cm] body lay resting atop the table, with my small 3 inch [7½ cm] ultra stiff penis sticking straight up pushing against its tight cover.

"Boy I want to show you something; sit up for now."

I complied. I was now more than merely curious. My master held up what looked almost exactly like a power sprayer connected by hose to a small tank.

"Boy, this is new technology. This liquid in this tank, when sprayed onto living tissue will thicken, and quickly harden. Watch."

He then sprayed a small portion of my lower arm. I was amazed. It immediately foamed up forming a coating on my arm of about a quarter inch [6 mm] thickness.

"You will note boy that this will allow your skin to breathe and even sweat, wicking away your perspiration while at the same time maintaining itself so rigidly and feel so heavy that it will make you feel as if you were encased within a tightly molded steel enclosure."

My sexual arousal level went up another notch as I was suddenly quite able to guess what was next. My master smiled as he recognized my grasp of the obvious.

"Enjoy boy."

I sure hoped I would.

I was again directed to lie down and with the touch of a control a series of force fields lifted my body a full two feet [60 cm] above the table. And held me totally rigid with my legs closed and my arms and hands outstretched along my sides. The feeling was totally amazing. My master then proceeded to coat my entire body. I very soon felt the liquid expand and solidify over every square inch of my skin. I was wondering what my hair looked like as it too was totally trapped under the think coating. I now understood the necessity of the two nasal tubes. Within minutes the material had completely hardened. I then felt my body lowered back onto the table. It felt exactly as if my entire body had been encased within a steel enclosure. A very form fitting steel enclosure. Even with the release of the force fields I could move absolutely nothing. I then wondered about the movement of my chest. It seemed that my breathing somehow made the material flexible to exactly that extent. It felt truly wonderful – of course I was quite into extreme forms of bondage. But a tiny thought kept snickering at me. What was next?

I soon found out. That butt plug was definitely not so innocuous. Nor was that presumably light weight sac that had form fitted itself about my genitals. And I now recognized that at its very end must have been a small hole as I felt a think sound being pushed into the interior of my penis. I almost came to a rapid climax with only that small amount of manipulation of my second most intimate boy sex part. (My butt hole and rectum I regarded as my primary boy sex part necessarily because my master did so).

I awaited something more to happen seemingly for quite some time although I knew at moments like this it was more likely only several minutes. And then the most amazing sensation electrified the entire interior of my rectum and anal opening. It was almost rivaled by the feeling suddenly occurring inside and outside my genitals. I could not remember the last time I had been so sexual aroused. With ever increasing levels of sensation I realized that I would soon have a crashing orgasm. I was absolutely unable to think – only feel and experience. This impending orgasm outrivaled any previous orgasmic experience. My breathing became quite rapid and my body was absolutely vibrating in its desperate need to move. But the encasement was total and kept me totally unmoving. I was inside a steel shell with the most heightened arousal of my life. Closer and closer I came to climax.

And then shear PAIN! Where there had been pleasure there was suddenly electrifying pain. My genitals were stung by a thousand stings. My rectum convulsed in spasm after spasm of stinging pain. It would simply not quit. It never reached unendurable proportions, and maybe not even extreme, but in contrast to what had proceed it made it seem so much worse. I could not help but silently cry. And just as suddenly the pain quit. I breathed in a raged breath, my entire body shuddering with blessed relief.

And for the very first time in quite a number of years I almost cursed my master. This was utterly diabolical. But the shock of the moment had quickly passed. I now realized that I was not really that close to disowning my master and his ownership of me but it was telling that the very thought had actually made its way into my consciousness. And then I felt almost like laughing. My master had truly and totally thrashed me with this one. And I also realized that it was as much mental as physical. The contrast and sudden reversal from pleasure to pain was totally diabolical. And I was absolutely certain that it was not nearly close to being over.

No sooner I had that thought then the process started all over again. In spite of absolutely knowing the end result, and the absolute utter and complete frustration of not quite coming to climax, I could not but still welcome the mounting pleasure as it pulsed through my rectum and genitals, and now pulsed throughout my entire body. If possible this time it was even more intense. For several minutes all I could do was simply experience the mounting rise toward sexual orgasm. And again the utter and seemingly impossible immediate reversal to pain.

This process continued completely unabated. I continued to struggle with very real thoughts of traitorous design against my master. Between bouts of pleasure-pain episodes, which I was now guessing to last fully 4 to 5 minutes, there was a period of relative peace probably lasting another five minutes. Long enough to struggle with the very definition of my being. I was loath to admit, that as the evening seemed to progress with no end in sight to my desperate torment, I was seriously having trouble for the first time in literally years with accepting what my master was doing to me. And this seemed eventually to be an even more diabolical punishment which hit at the very definition of what and who I was.

After what seemed to be hours of this horrific torture, I eventually became determined to banish all thoughts of rebellion. For most assuredly that mental torture was finally being recognized to be even more horrific than the physical assault, as terrible as that also was. So in the lull times I made every attempt to banish all thoughts of rebellion and force my self to submit. I was not totally successful but at least it gave me some mental peace. Over and over, between the horrific bouts of pleasure-pain, I fought with all my will to not only stay loyal to my master, but to make my mind and body to submit totally. It became my mantra. Submit. Submit. Submit.

I banished all thoughts of 'wanting' or hoping for an end. I finally banished all thoughts – other than those recognizing my pleasure and pain – except those regarding my relationship to my beloved master. Submit. Submit. And I suddenly felt a moment of pure peace as I truly gave myself over to the will of my master in total surrender.

The next wave of pleasure-pain felt seemingly at a distance. As if I was looking on as a mere spectator. I inwardly relaxed into an existence of complete well being. And despite the pain and frustration – into a state of total surrender to my master. At that precise moment I would most assuredly have died for my master merely if he had asked it. I submitted totally.

And right in the middle of a cycle the pain suddenly and completely vanished. And very soon afterwards the pleasure waves again mounted but this time it was different. There had been no intervening period. But instead of anticipating the intense slow climb toward climax, I merely lay totally passive allowing whatever would happen to happen. And again at the brink of orgasm, the sensations again suddenly stopped. But this time there was no pain.

And shortly thereafter I felt the material in which my body was encased become less rigid and then evaporate. I looked up in mild surprise to realize that I was again totally naked and without impediment except for the usual collar and cuffs. And well all that other stuff. I had been so accustomed to all the plugs and gags that they seemed totally normal and demanded little conscious notice.

And then I heard my master. "Boy, I am quite pleased. You may relax and stand."

No longer being in formal protocol I rushed into my master's arms and wept. "Mater, I need you. Master, I love you."

"My precious slave. I need you as well. And love you as well."

My master gave me some small refreshment and took me into the shower. My body was immediately inundated with spraying water which I soon realized contained medications which very quickly relaxed me completely and took away almost entirely the pain and discomfort concomitant with all the previous ravages. But my most welcome relief and joy came when my master pulled my body into his and carried me back to his suite. I was totally startled to learn that the night was not even half over. We made the most tender love. I lay passive as my master did more than any machine could. As he entered me I felt waves of much more than pleasure. I felt his love. With gradual growing intensity, my master pushed the entirety of his large 8 inch [20 cm] member to the hilt. I moaned in the pleasure of the fullness within me. Eventually we both reached climax. I came first, and as the spasms forced my sphincters to tighten about his mammoth penis, he too came in a succession of pounding waves and movement. My body was lifted and dashed back down. Eventually we were both spent, and I collapsed on top of his much larger body. I fell asleep with the feel of his embracing arms holding me tight to him.

It was the next morning when we breakfasted with the other master and slave. A study in contrast. The master, well over six feet [1.80 m] of solid if not massive muscle, and black as coal. The slaveboy, small and fair. The master with a wry wit and totally independent spirit. The slaveboy with a desperate need to be wanted and possessed. A perfect match. My master invited them to vacation with us in some future but as yet undefined time and location.

As we were making way to the entrance of the hotel, my accoutrements of a more mundane aspect, just the usual chastity, butt plug, but without either muzzle nor mouth gag. (I would need to be without them soon enough anyway as I flew us to our final destination, and hopefully the abode of one Tommy Vescu, six year Indenture and son of Mrs. Velda Vescu). I felt safe and secure as my master led me to the carport on leash.

I learned that the device last night had a built in failsafe, as many slaves never do trigger it to stop. And not only was my condition fully monitored my master never left. And shockingly, the entire episode lasted a mere 77 minutes. Mere? Ha! My judgments of time had been seriously skewed. And my master explained it was specifically geared to turn off when it recognized by monitoring my brain wave patterns that I had totally submitted. And not just to the acceptance of the frustration and horrors of the pleasure-pain cycles, but also the passive acceptance of not achieving orgasm at the end.

I looked up at my master and he read my mind.

"Speak boy."

"Master, may I ask why that last climb still did not allow me to reach climax?"

"Certainly boy. Only I choose when you are to attain sexual orgasm. And only I will administer it. Not any machine."

As sincerely as possible I replied: "Master, I obey and submit." And this time it was much more than a formula. It was the absolute truth.

Twenty minutes later I was quite happily flying toward Tommy Vescu. And making my master sick! Or at least trying to.

"You do realize boy that any fines for disobeying traffic control mandates and regulations will result in quite a fine?"

"Yes Master, but you will be the one who must pay any fine."

I actually snickered as I said that, and as I watched to color seeping out of my master's face. We were going mach 2.1 which was quite illegal considering the country over which we were flying. And the last high altitude stall into a spiraling dive got my master's undivided attention. And certain punishment when we landed. I laughed at both my master's reaction and my own when I considered the inevitable punishment with absolute equanimity.

Less than four hours later – I really went a LOT faster that technically allowed by law – we landed at Azorian Field in the middle one of the largest of the western coast industrial complexes. And a mere twelve miles [19 km] from the main factory complex of BoyServices, Inc. And hopefully the residence of Tommy Vescu. I read from their electronic-brochure.

BoyServices, Inc., a subsidiary of BoyAbductions, Lmt. of Bundus III, had two factories, and seven outlets located on the main continent of Bundus III, together with its new factory and experimental labs located on the Icarus Ring-world. They were the makers of the world famous SafeSecure line of Boy Cages. Their other lines include everything a person could possibly want for using, controlling and enjoying a master's special boy. Their stock included mechanisms, drugs, and neural implants usable for sexual stimulation, sexual enhancement, bondage and restraints, and other means of control. They sold full lines of clothing, harnesses, piercing tools, permanent and removable attachments, leashes, cages, transports, and all manner of control items, most of which were assembled in their own factories. They also had an extensive catalogue of discipline and torture implements and devices – from the old fashioned whips and paddles, to items using the very latest of force field and materials technology. Their specialized bio-mechanical interfaced products from brain implants to genital and rectal stimulation devices, and from restraints both permanent and temporary to implants used to regulate all manner of sensory input, were at the very horizon of new world technology.

BoyServices, Inc. took pride in their strict adherence to all Laws and regulations concerning the utilization of slave labor, in full accordance to the Indenture, Consensual, and Non-consensual Slavery Laws of the Aligned Nations of 621 AF.

I wondered if it was all exactly true, especially that last part.

Factory labor, even semi-skilled labor as required by much of the slave worker positions within their factory complex fortunately only required the purchase of moderately priced slaves, and its ranks were in fact filled with mostly 6 to 12 year Indentures, along with the occasional Class Two Consensual (life time) Slave. Thus the only real puzzlement was this: How come BoyServices, Inc. was so willing to outbid BoyIsland, Inc. for the ownership of Mrs. Vescu's son?

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