Chronicles of a Slave Trader – Chapter 11

By PredicamentBondage

Scally-lads are a British phenomenon that have flourished across our society for close on twenty years. They are tribal animals that run in packs, usually congregating in groups of three or more on street corners, with little to do except look for trouble.

They are essentially feral mongrels that live by their wits, self-obsessed, self-serving, enjoying life, without a care in the world.

Their uniform usually consists of ill-fitting, worn and unwashed tracksuits, with hoody tops and trainers or tennis shoes, often branded and new.

Usually uneducated, they have poor language skills, are often loud, abusive and lack social skills.

They typically have very high libidos, fucking whatever low-life females they can convince to ‘put-out’ for them. They make excellent sex slaves but I encourage owners to adopt a very specific attitude towards their scally slaves….

In fact, they should not be considered sex slaves at all, in the traditional sense. It’s better to consider them more as masturbatory tools, as utensils to aid busting a load, as devices or contraptions to facilitate orgasm.

Many years ago, a very famous UK dog rescue service coined a slogan that has resonated with UK dog lovers ever since: “A Dog Is For Life, Not Just For Christmas”. In relation to the scally breed, the adage is inappropriate. They can, and should, be considered highly disposable objects to be cruelly beaten and tortured until their bodies fail. After serving their purpose, they can be tossed in the nearest land-fill without remorse.

Never sympathise with a scally – they are the toilet paper of the slave world.

Ok, so having said all that, you now all think I hate scally lads…..

On the contrary – I have to say, I absolutely adore this breed. Their bodies are usually fit as fuck, they can take a beating like no other breed, are extremely difficult to break and even harder to train. I love the challenge provided by the breed and always spring a boner when I hear that scally-stock is arriving for training.

Because of their proliferation, they are easy to harvest in large numbers but it is for the same reason that my customers are rarely interested in acquiring them as slaves.

The main down side is that many, the majority in fact, are covered in unsightly tattoos which is an immediate roadblock if they are needed for sex slave training. It’s true that we’ll occasionally get a request from a customer for a tattooed slave, but in the main my clients like to decorate, or personalise, their slaves to suit themselves. Consequently, regardless of the breed, function of the slave or its body type, we have to supply them without tattoos.

Luckily, because scally-lads roam in herds, available in such large numbers and are so easily collected, we have abundant supply into our bio-filter business. In fact, the majority of our stock of bio-filters tend to be tattooed scallies.

Put it this way, The Snatcher had to go through fifteen candidates before finding the example currently occupying treadmill pod number 5 – sans ink!

The fourteen predecessors all had skin markings that precluded their training for my customers, so we are now stocked with enough bio-filters for the next several months. The problem is that you often don’t know if they are inked until you get them stripped. Bio filter stock is housed in a special facility that I may talk about in a later chapter. The storage unit is not something I’m particularly proud of. It reminds me of a visit I once made to a battery chicken farm. Quite unpleasant.

Ryan, in pod number 5 has been with us for five weeks now. Known as fuck-face, its status as a slave should have been pretty much cemented by now. It’s been a rough ride, however. Being a scally means it has to be treated differently to the other slaves. Number one rule with a scally – never, EVER, handle it unbound; at least in the first four months of its training.

The most effective way to break a scally is to beat it. Keep it awake, day and night, and beat it again. Do this continuously until it’s broken. This is the only way they learn to respect you. Not having the social awareness of other breeds, scallies must be repeatedly pounded to tame the beast within. NEVER trust an unbroken scally. They’ll turn on you in an instant and, give them the chance, you’ll rest in an early grave.

Ryan came in as the perfect piece of jailbait. Cute as fuck, his teenage features displayed a permanent loathing for any authority figure. In need of a serious attitude adjustment, he’s battled against all attempts to tame him.

Upon arrival, Ryan had russet brown, almost black-coffee coloured dishevelled medium length hair, similarly unkempt pubes and pit hair, a sexy centre patch of chest hair and a strong treasure trail leading enticingly southward from an inviting navel. Since then, of course, its body has been chemically denuded, its head now has a neat #1 buzz-cut, and its facial hair has been shaved clean.

Lean body, very fit, with sinewy, strong muscles, it stands just 5’ 6” tall. At 130 pounds, the strength in its wiry frame belies its size. Agile, supple, resilient and rebellious it’s a perfect example of scally meat and I’ve had a continuous boner since its arrival.

Its cock is a thing of beauty. Seven inches with impressive girth, a complete foreskin shrouds the sensitive glands when flaccid. It’s almost impossible to resist playing with the musky pole. When stimulated, it grows to a magnificent 10” monster with exposed, blue hued, mushroom head, completely disproportionate to the adolescence’s body size. Youthful vigour results in long lasting, rock hard, ram-rod erections and eager, fertile orbs produce copious fountains of thick, opulent, flavoursome semen.

Although he has learnt the three laws of speech, and the seven laws of behaviour, his attitude is still belligerent, stubborn and divisive, and he’ll only recite the laws after repeated beatings. Because it’s physically impossible for me to manually beat a slave 24-7, I use an alternative approach…..

Fuck-face is lying on its back on the rack. It’s wearing heavy duty leather wrist and ankle restraints, short 12 inch spreader bars separates the wrists and ankles. Steel cables connect the centre of each bar, to winches mounted two feet away from the slave’s hands and the same distance from its feet. Its body is currently taut but not in pain.

The winches are designed to apply specific levels of tension to the slave’s marvellously sensual juvenile muscled body. There is no “click-click-click” of a traditional rack. These winches operate silently, but the fresh-faced slave will soon feel every millimetre of stretch applied to its straining limbs. Cameras focus on its face and body to record every delectable response to the forthcoming torture.

Protruding vertically, a couple of inches below the slaves perineum, the area between the anus and the scrotum, is a scaffolding pole about one foot long.

Each of the slave’s balls has been drawn around the pole, stretching the plum size globes outer sack, paper thin. A long black bootlace binds the balls together, between the balls and the cold steel, on the far side of the pole. The scrotal skin is pulled so tightly around the slave’s bollocks that every blood vessel and every contour of the encased baby-makers is clearly visible, looking like a fine Italianate marble sculpture. The tight bondage makes the slaves spheroids implausibly sensitive and the slightest touch produces shudders all along the slave’s torso.

The rigid cock, normally pointing proudly towards the slave’s navel, is forced by my left hand into a vertical position. Very gradually, sensuously, irresistibly, I insert a 12” long, quarter inch thick, hollow, stainless steel rod into the piss-slit. As the slave’s rod is invaded a rasping moan comes from somewhere deep in the slave’s throat. Once inserted, the top of the sound is secured using a plastic bracket to the top of the scaffold.

Connected to the open end of the hollow sound is a 10 fluid ounce collection jar – enough to keep this young sperm factory busy all night. The cock twitches every second or so, and is fascinating me so much that I pull up a chair to study it for a few minutes. About three minutes later, and without any stimulation at all, the slave tenses and shoots a warm gooey load of sperm-filled semen straight up the cock-skewer into the collecting jar. The slave ejaculates with such force that I actually hear the splash as the heavy load lands and splatters across the glass bottles bottom.

The slave is panting and a sheen of sweet has formed all over its body. This is going to be fun.

I attach two e-stim systems to the slave’s body…..

The first is an ET312 box from which I connect pads to each ball and to the top of the penetrating sound. This will excite the slave’s reproductive system with ever increasing and varying waves of irresistible, inescapable stimulation to force climax after painful climax from the stretched torso.

The second e-stim system is far less refined and is designed to generate the ultimate in painful shocks. I connect electrodes all over the slave’s body to ensure contraction of all the major muscle groups – abdomen, legs, arms, lower back. The sweaty sheen on the slave’s body will assist electro-conductivity.

The control box is connected to a sensor that encircles the cock just behind the glands. It monitors heartbeat, pressure, resistivity and temperature and is designed to trigger whenever the slave busts a nut – wet or dry. This results in the slave experiencing punishing agony all over its physique at the precise instant it experiences passionate pleasure as each load is forced from its entrapped cock and balls. As time goes on, the fear of ejaculation will become increasingly overwhelming and the slave will mentally fight against the inevitable eruptions, dreading the intense pain as each milking cycle builds to an inevitable, unpreventable, unwanted climax.

The slave is young, fit and virile. I know the slave’s disloyal body will betray him again and again as the first electro-stimulation unit works untiringly and dedicatedly on the slave’s genitalia. The slave’s libido will not resist the stimulation. The kid is used to jacking off at least four times a day. Recurring, unbearable pain is inevitable and I lick my lips in anticipation of the spectacle to come.

Until now, the boy’s most prized possession has been his cock and balls. Now, his mutinous cock, will soon betray him in the most detestable way.

I lean in to the slaves face. “Let’s see how long you last” and I flick the switch.

 

To be continued …

Metal would like to thank PredicamentBondage for this story!

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2 thoughts on “Chronicles of a Slave Trader – Chapter 11”

  1. Hi this is a great series. Id love to hear all intimate details and the stripping off shaving and inspection of the resisting bodies the embarrassment and anger they experience. The scally guy is great but shy young guys too. Lol cant wait for an update

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