By RotherhamMan

Don was left with eighteen hours on the bidding clock after the slave had been left for the six hours he thought long enough to reinforce his new rules. He no longer thought of the meat as Colin, that person was no longer of any significance and he would not be telling the buyers the name either. The only way they would know was if they went and found out for themselves, unlikely, or if the slave broke the rules and told them —something Don would be told about and he had a guarantee that if that ever happened with one of his products he would come out and punish them for tarring his reputation. It hadn’t happened yet.

Six hours had been a long time and despite having sat down to plan the slave’s training he was interrupted by the arrival of a friend who wanted to hang out. He hated people dropping in on him unplanned but he had a social life to maintain as part of his cover as a normal person. He had formed a comfortable social circle of people he found mildly interesting to be around and hung with them enough to appear normal, he might even enjoy himself some times. He felt quite the thrill of entertaining a guest while, unknown to them, he had a person kept in his basement against their will. He had a hard time hiding his rock solid erection and when it was noticed by the friend he played it off as having a day where he just felt horny. The friend laughed with him and departed, assuming Don was going to make a random hook-up to get off. Before he left he used Don’s toilet for a piss, not surprised by the novelty of a waterless toilet, having used it before. He would be surprised to learn it didn’t lead to the sewer but to a tank for the slaves to drink when being punished or trained for such things.

Once he was gone Don wasted no time in going back down to his lair and resuming his plans as if he hadn’t been interrupted. The guest, his sort-of-friend, had no idea of his other life. He dint even know he was gay. What a shock it would have been if Don had answered the door without changing into normal clothes but still in his leather uniform for dominating men. Sometimes he fantasised about taking the vanilla guys for a night or two and showing them a whole new world of pain and pleasure but unless he got a perfect opportunity it would stay a fantasy. It wasn’t often he introduced a man to that life and let them go, they usually came crawling back to him and then they were his.

Breaking a human being down into a slave was a fun but tricky business. If there was any routine to the pain and torment it could become bearable and predictable, even if there was a cycle to their new life it had to be kept varied enough to keep them on edge. Every torment had to be of a different variety, for a different amount of time, and at irregular intervals. This uncertainty would be a torment in itself. It was easy to hurt someone physically but he had to do it mentally too.

Fuck, he loved his job. He could break captives all day, every day, in different ways and mould them into whatever he wanted. The slave formerly known as Colin was a blank canvas, and he was an artist.

Back in his leathers, Don re-entered the chamber where the slave hung after six hours on top of the twelve hours before that. The slave had emptied his bladder again but seemed less upset about it. Far more pleasant than the stink was the smell of sweat, clear on his skin and soaked into his clothes. He looked at Don with red eyes, his face still with drying tears on it, and whimpered into the gag. Don shushed him and approached.

“I’m going to take this gag off. You do remember the rules about speaking?”

The prisoner nodded. Don took off the gag, not gently but not violently either. The captive gasped and worked his jaw but thankfully stayed silent.

“Are you going to obey?” Don asked.

The prisoner was a few moments in answering, wetting his dry mouth and working up the nerve to say the words. “Yes… Master…” The words were slow and hesitant but good enough for a first attempt.

He was making progress, time for another lesson. “Don’t expect praise for being obedient. Don’t even expect less pain. It is not your Master’s place to give you anything they do not want to. You will be given pain and punishment for being disobedient and maybe even if you are obedient. An obedient slave is generally in less pain, in both the long and short term. Better to commit yourself to obedience for better treatment.”

With the new lesson done, whether it was heeded or not, Don set about the next task. From his belt he pulled a strong and sharp pair of scissors. Sometimes he used a knife, usually on the more unruly captives, but this unwrapping video was about anticipation. Make the audience wait for it. He was about the show them the quality of the meat.

He started with the shirt, soaked in sweat and some tears. It fell away easily enough, and the captive’s upper body was on display now. It looked finer than Don remembered, when he had seen it when the prisoner was lying unconscious. Now it was upright, chest heaving in embarrassment and muscles taught with effort and covered in sweat. The chest wasn’t huge and the abs, thought visible, weren’t amazingly defined, but the shoulders and biceps were nicely thick. It was a fine upper body and with some hard labour under the sun he would firm up nicely. There was a light dusting of dark blond hair which Don was sure would be shaved off at some point, by him or the buyer. Slaves didn’t have hair on their bodies.

The prisoner stared forward and breathed heavily through his nose. His face was dry but only because he had no more tears left. Whether he had noticed the cameras discreetly set in the corners was unclear, if he had he might have realised he was on display to far more than just his captor. Across the world hundreds of men watched with hands on the cocks, waiting to see what Don would do with him.

He took off the shoes and socks next, they squelched with the piss and reeked something awful but Don kept up his poker face. He also undid and pulled lose the belt, letting it fall to the floor but thinking it would be fun to whip the captive with. He cut the jeans separately from the underwear, running the scissors up the outsides of both legs and letting them fall away revealing the legs.

Now the slave stood in just his underwear. When they had been put on they had no doubt been clean — or clean enough, some guys wore them for days before washing and he struck Don as a lad who just threw on whatever was clean enough — but now they were ruined. Still damp, the front was yellowing. Don cut them easily and removed them by hand to make sure the mess didn’t spill.

He stood back to take in the prisoner’s naked form, finally exposed for all the viewers to see for the first time. The uncut cock, flaccid and slightly shrivelled from cold and shame, was shining with the remaining piss and about five inches with the balls hanging almost as far, both shaved. He had noted that the ass, also with a fine layer of fur, was taught and cute enough to use as a pillow.

The captive still stared ahead, face red and breathing heavily, but he did shift slightly, as if instinctively trying to cover himself. He winced as his muscles, undoubtedly burning with the constant strain, moved and he held still again.

Don gathered up the clothes and took them away into the other room, he would be disposing of them but he kept the socks in an airtight bag (always fun to gag someone with their own sweaty, and in this case piss-stained, socks) along with the belt, and returned with a bottle of water and a protein bar. “I said you don’t get any praise for being obedient, but you do sometimes get rewarded.” He held up the food and water. “Do you want these?”

The prisoner stared at them. He had last eaten before arriving at Don’s almost twenty-four hours ago and had last drunk then too. “Yes… Master.” He added the last part hastily, forgetting for a moment.

Don stared him down, making his disapproval at the near mistake known. “Beg for them.” The captive opened his mouth for a moment to make a retort but stopped instantly. Don doubled the intensity of his stare. “I told you a could make you beg. When do you think you’ll be offered food again? Do you think it’ll be as good as this? Beg me for the food, while you still can get it this good, or go hungry for as long as I want you to before I offer something you won’t want to eat; like dog food.”

A moment passed. The captive clearly wanted the food and they both knew he would do what it took to eat but was putting this off for as long as he dared. Don actually wondered if he would do it; the dog food was always on standby but if he did have the strength of will to refuse that too he would have to resort to force-feeding.

“Please Master…” said the prisoner in a small voice. “I…”

“Speak up,” snapped Don.

“Please Master…” the captive began again, “Please, can I have the food.”

“That’s good enough.” Don uncapped the water and took hold of the prisoner’s hair, pulling his head back to pour the water into his mouth. The captive didn’t seem to have thought that he wouldn’t be unchained for his meal so he had to rely on his Master to pour the water down his throat at a slow speed so he could swallow. After he had taken half the bottle Don unwrapped the bar and broke off a piece.

“Open wide,” he said, holding at mouth level but too far to be reached.

The prisoner paused a moment, seemingly taking every opportunity to defy him, however small. Then his mouth opened and Don, slowly and gently, placed the piece of food in his mouth. He silently dared the captive to bite his fingers but the captive was smart enough not to bite the hand that fed him. He chewed the piece eagerly and when he swallowed he looked at his Master. The look on his eye meant it was time for another lesson.

Don broke off another piece and held it up. “Do you want another piece?”

He clearly hadn’t been expecting to beg for every bite but after a taste of food his apatite had been ignited. “Yes please, Master,” he said, no louder than he had to.

“You look like, just because I have given you a piece, that I am going to give you more. Like it is a given for you to assume and not my decision.”

It was time the captive knew just how dependant he was on his Master for survival and that he had to be grateful for everything he got and not to expect anything to be just handed to him. He looked down, submissively even if he didn’t realise it.

“I have given you food, the least you will do for your master is thank him for everything he gives you.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“Good.” Don held up the piece of bar. “Open.”

The prisoner opened and let him place it in his mouth, chewed, then said you before begging for another piece from his Master. Don fed him the rest of the bar but on the last piece he spontaneously decided to step it up a notch. He took the last piece for himself when the captive asked for it, looking the captive in the eye when he did to see his disappointment. He kept the eye contact as he chewed it until it was mush. Then he tucked it into his cheek to speak, “You still want it?”

The look of shock on the captive’s face was priceless. The conflict played out beautifully as he weighed up how gross it was with how much he needed food. For a few tense seconds he was frozen. Then something changed in his face, the eyes went a little dimmer. “Please, Master, may I have it?”

Don grinned. He took hold of the prisoner’s hair again to tilt his head back, covered the chewed up bit of food with as much saliva as he could, and spat it into the prisoner’s open mouth. The prisoner jumped from the lump of food hitting his mouth and clearly showed his disgust for it but he also clearly chewed and swallowed it.

Don was pleased. His cock was rock hard and he wanted to cum real bad but knew it would get much better from here.

For the second half of the bottle Don expected him to tilt his head back on his own accord and only had to give him a look to make this known. The captive obeyed and got to drink the rest of the bottle, clearly wanting the taste of the man out of his mouth.

The prisoner had been good today and had over half a day ahead of him to show he could adapt to this new life. He would need to be strong for that and food and water wouldn’t be enough. Returning to his toy box Don brought back a set of five-way shackles that would chain his legs and hands together along with his neck. He fastened them on the legs first, making sure the cuffs were secure and they were hooked to the floor in the middle before releasing the legs one at a time. The prisoner could now get his legs under him for the first time and he winced, biting back a whimper as he brought his legs together and put his weight on them, his shoulders relived of their burden.

Don then fastened the collar before the wrists. He grinned at the captive, who still had a hint of defiance in him. Having a metal collar placed on you was a humiliation, and they both knew he would be releasing the hands next, this would be a tense moment.

“Remember,” he said, “I’m stronger than you, and you are weak right now. Even if you could fight me you can’t break the chains and the keys are in the other room where you can’t reach them. Just because I’m going to be releasing your hands doesn’t mean you can get away. Any resistance will be punished, you shouldn’t have to be told that to know.”

The captive knew but there was still a chance he might try something, even if it was just a punch that wouldn’t be worth it. One hand at a time was released and shackled and without incident the prisoner was free from his spread eagle position. He had let out a pathetic moaning whimper as his arms were lowered, even though Don did it gently. He sagged where he stood, not much strength left and all of it going to standing.

“When I leave I’ll be turning the lights off. Get some sleep, you’re going to need it and, like the food, who knows when you’ll get another chance.” He took the captive’s chin and brought his face up to his. “You’ve been good, but you still let me down on one thing.” A moment of panic and confusion played across his face. “You didn’t thank your Master for cleaning you up.”

Don pulled out a pair of nipple clamps joined by a chain. They were far from the worst he had but the prisoner clearly had no idea how lightly he was getting off. He made no protest as Don pinched his nipples and attached them. With his hands only shackled he would be able to take them off and must know it. If he was smart he would know better than to do so.

Don stepped back to admire the stud in front of him; hunched and swaying where he stood, covered in sweat and trembling. Don left him like that, shutting the door with a loud bang. He would give the kind six hours of darkness to sleep, how he spent it was up to him.

On the video feed he could see in infrared as the lights went out, plunging the catpive into darkness. He dropped to his knees, sobbing and his trembling hands went to his nipples as if to relieve the pain but was smart enough to think better off it. The feed was still live, audio as well, so everyone saw and heard his scream a few profanities at his captor. The forum went nuts, as if it hadn’t been before, commenting on how the captive was going to get it now from Don for mouthing off. Don had been right that people would want him; the bidding was now up to £25,000 for him with £10,000 for breeding sessions. Maybe the prisoner would have kids after all.

There were five serious bidders in the running, all regulars of Don’s and knew he provided quality stock. As it stood Don was looking at £35,000 for the prisoner and he was sure he could raise that with a decent show. The prisoner formerly known as Colin would have, unknown to him, eleven hours to prove his worth and Don would set the bar high, he would either break or…

Don snorted. Or nothing. The boy would break, it was what he did.

Metal would like to thank RotherhamMan for allowing this story to be shared here.  The version above has been edited slightly by Metal with the author’s permission.

To read many more stories by this author you can visit his story archives, located at Gay Spiral Stories and Archive of Our Own under the same author name.

You can also email the author at rthrhmmn@gmail.com.