By PredicamentBondage

[[WARNING: This story — and the many chapters that precede it — feature descriptions of extreme elements that some readers might find objectionable. Continue reading at your own risk.]]

Training a sex slave typically takes six months or so. The first three months are spent breaking the subject down, removing all sense of self-worth, taking it to the edge of despair, to create a hollow shell, which can then be moulded into an obedient, compliant servant.

The second three months are spent fashioning the slave’s skill set to the potential owner’s requirements. As the clients vet their purchases, physically, before we even start phase one, when we’re ready to start sex training we can move forward with confidence knowing that the customer will happily accept the product upon completion. We can, therefore, immediately start tailoring the slave to the client’s sexual needs.

These needs are massively diverse, ranging from body modifications, castration, deep-throat training, arse-hole training, foreplay skills, fucking stamina, pain endurance, verbal skills, and so on, and on, and on.

In previous chapters, I’ve explained some of the training techniques employed during the first three months of a slave’s life at the centre. I guess I should also give some insight into how we train our stock sexually.

It probably sounds a tremendously appealing prospect, to train slaves in the sexual arts, and in some ways it is. But remember, we could easily have five to ten trainees at any one time. To bring each slave to the standard required, they need to be enduring some pretty intense sexual action for up to eight hours a day. Between myself, my two house slaves and my three trainers (one full time employed and 2 part time), it’s physically impossible to provide enough one-on-one attention to each slave.

I consider myself to have a fairly high libido, and can generally unload into a slave hole between 3 and 6 times a day, depending on how horny I feel. I’ve selected my paid staff on the bases of their sexual stamina, their sadistic nature and cock size. My house slaves have voracious sexual appetites, but all of us put together are not enough to achieve our goals.

So, it’s back to technology and, in some cases, letting the slaves train each other….

Darren, before he was captured, was a 19 year old, BMX bike enthusiast. Very active in sports, very handsome, square jaw, black hair and wicked smile. His naturally smooth torso was always displayed with pride in the streets. He had a happy-go-lucky attitude to life, balancing several girlfriends in a hectic social scene.

He was about to start his first full time job as a painter-decorator. His 7 inch, uncut, weighty cock was always leading him into trouble. Where his cock led, his balls would follow and he was fairly sure he’d achieved at least one pregnancy. 78 percent of his brain was permanently occupied with how to blow his load, and he would shamelessly masturbate, even in public when the mood took him, which it did at least three times a day.

Joey, on the other hand was an academic. He was studying physics and chemistry in his fresher year at university, age 19, and showed great promise before he fell into the clutches of the Snatcher; my trusted procurer of male flesh.

Joey has lush lashes framing hypnotic emerald eyes. Strawberry-blond hair, swimmers physique, slim waist, strong legs and arms, good pecs, pink chewable nips and a Scottish accent. His cock is long and slim, with a mushroom head, completely uncovered; not cut, but naturally lacking foreskin.

Both have been on Viagra and in chastity cages for the last two weeks, so both are horny as fuck. Their cocks are rigid and straight, jutting obscenely from their crotches, strings of precum hanging salaciously from their piss-slits.

They stand about two feet apart, looking into each other’s eyes. Between them is a solid steel vertical pole that protrudes from the floor. Its height is set exactly to match that of the prisoner’s chins. Securely mounted to the top of the post is a two foot cross bar that just reaches each of their necks. A solid steel collar, welded to each end of the cross bar, securely holds each captive in place; the collars locked with substantial padlocks.

Their hands are handcuffed high on their backs, connected to the back of their collars by short chains. Their feet are held apart by one-foot spreader bars with leather ankle cuffs. The spreader bars are centrally chained to eyelets set into the floor, so the slaves can’t rise from a flat-footed stance.

Each slave has a large ball gag stuffing its mouth, locked on with a small padlock. There’s as much, if not more, drool dripping from their mouths as there is juice oozing from their cocks. The saliva pools sexily on their chins, and runs off to collect on the cross bar of the bondage frame.

Two 8-inch brackets protrude from the vertical pole at crotch height, supporting two silicon, hand-held jack-off sleeves. The slave cocks pass through the sleeves, but each has been warned not to move. They know better than to disobey.

Behind the slaves, at a 30-degree angle from the vertical, pointing directly at their exposed arse holes, are two pneumatic pistons surmounted by exact replicas of their new owners cocks. Both are substantial dildos capable of inflicting great pain. The tip of each dildo rests just inside the sphincter of the slaves, causing them to twist and squirm in discomfort. They can’t raise up, off the dildos, because of the anchored ankle spreader bars.

It’s time to explain the game to my victims…

“Slaves,” I pronounce to get their attention. “Today, for the first time in several weeks, I’m going to allow you to cum. All you have to do is thrust forward and fuck the jack-off sleeve in front of you with your cock. You can go as quickly or slowly as you like, to give yourself the maximum pleasure. How you bust a nut is completely up to you.

“There’s just one thing you should be aware of, however, and that is the jack-off sleeves are fitted with sensitive motion detectors. The dildo behind your partner will mimic the movement of your cock exactly. As you thrust forward, so the dildo behind your partner will thrust into his arse. As you pull back, so will his dildo. You will, by proxy, be fucking your partner in the arse. And he, of course, will be fucking you.

“I’ve applied lube to both dildos and both cocks, so you are ready to begin.”

What I failed to tell the slaves is that I’d used two different types of lube…

The one for their arse is a special mix of thick water-based lube and itching powder. As they get fucked, their rings will become increasingly sensitive to the powder and within a short time any pleasure will turn to agony as they try to relieve the itching irritation. The more they get fucked, the more they’ll want relief and they’ll get desperate for the fucking to get more and more violent.

The lube on their cocks is a very effective numbing cream that becomes 100 percent effective within 20 minutes (about the time they’ve been waiting to start). They won’t feel a single sensation in their cocks, no matter how hard they masturbate, for at least three hours. After that, sensation will slowly return, or I’ll reapply lube. I’ve not decided yet.

“Ok slaves…. One simple rule…. The one who cums first wins, and will be locked into chastity again for another two weeks. The loser will stay in place and a new opponent will be brought into the competition. There will be no mercy. If you don’t come, you might get fucked by up to ten slaves today, and the dildo will be increased in size for every new competitor.”

I let that piece of good news sink in for a few moments, and then I count down “Three…. Two…. One…. GO!”

Joey is first out of the stalls, galloping down the first straight like a slave possessed. He fucks that sleeve so hard, so fast and so deep, that its cock is a blur.

With Joey’s precum splattered hither and yon, Darren is taken completely by surprise. So much so that Joey has been thrusting his rigid pole into the sheath for a good minute before Darren even moves. The intensity of his fuck is such that it’s all his mind can concentrate on and, even now as consciousness returns and it decides it should start retaliating, the pathetic slave can only move about two inched into and out of the tight toy. It’s hardly enough for Joey to feel anything.

Darren continues to stand there, transfixed, whilst Joey pummels his arse with the gigantic dildo. It isn’t until he’s built up a good sweat, and his muscles start complaining (not being used to exerting itself through sport), that it realised he can’t actually feel anything. The rampant hard-on is feeling nothing and so much is Joey’s shock, that he stops dead, eyes wide, whimpering sounds as foaming spittle squeezes around the ball gag.

Joey’s breathing hard as I walk across to him. His tight tummy is inflating in and out in an attempt to force extra air into starving lungs. Veins in his neck have expanded and the steel collar is now tight, and his face flushes red.

“Not as easy as you thought, hey?” I ask.

Turning to Darren, “How’s that pussy of yours slave?” By now its arse hole is screaming for abuse to relieve the intense itching. “If you want to cum first, you’d better get a move on.”

Darren tentatively thrusts forward into the jack-sleeve. There was a whine from Joey as the massive cock slides firmly into his colon. Darren suddenly ‘gets it’ and starts plunging forcefully into the jacket wrapped around his fuck pole. Joey moans as the onslaught begins and sobs when he feels the heat and itch start to impregnate his bung-hole. As the pounding intensifies, the agony and ecstasy deepened in Joey’s shit-tube, radiating up through his abdomen until his mind edges towards insanity.

Suddenly, Darren’s perspiration soaked body cools one critical degree, his muscles shudder, his skin quivers, and animal instinct kicks in. The slave starts pumping, fast and furious, matching his opponent stroke for stroke. Both slaves realize this is serious. If they don’t cum soon, they’re fucked, unequivocally.

Eye contact between the two slaves is intense. It’s as if they are two gladiators sizing up their adversary, getting ready to strike at any provocation. But there’ll be no striking today, just a long exhausting climb to a very illusive climax. Both trying to beat the other to the top of the mountain, racing against hope, fearful that the other will get there first.

Stamina, adrenaline surging to every muscle, sinews tightening and blood pumping, both slaves burst into tears as their engorged cocks refuse to explode. I can hear pleading through the gags; music to my ears, but neither slave slows down, determined not to cum second best.

Forty five minutes into the ordeal and Joey suddenly freezes, rock still, eyes clamped shut. For an agonising two minutes his body is rigid and motionless. The only sound is of Darren’s exertion, and his proxy erection slurping in and out of Joey’s now very slack man-cunt.

Darren doesn’t have the common sense or strategic awareness to stop. He doesn’t realise that with every lunge he’s pushing Joey closer and closer to his goal. The eruption that Joey so desperately needs and which Darren should avoid giving his opponent at all costs, is painfully close and Joey just stands, stock-still waiting for the inevitable.

Suddenly Darren hits Joeys G-spot once too often and there’s a deep guttural groan that escapes around the ball gag. An irresistible dragging sensation begins in Joey’s balls and, as they constrict, he feels red hot lava insistently forcing through the tubes in his lower abdomen. The heat continues down to the base of his cock, where a wall of taut muscle impedes its progress.

Slowly, over what seem minutes, the pressure builds until the muscles crack and let the searing semen riffle the length of the slave’s tortured manhood.

Thick, pearlescent jizm blasts from the tip of the slaves cock, piss slit dilating to about half an inch. Half a pint of baby batter erupts from Joey’s shuddering throbber, and hits Darren squarely in the chest. The agonizing gush continues until Darren’s chest and stomach are caked in white, sticky spooge; a mark of his defeat.

Joey, having received not an ounce of pleasure throughout the whole ordeal, slumps in his bonds and loses consciousness. I release him from the bondage frame and carry him to his sleeping pod.

Minutes later, I return with Brendon, the next warrior to be pitched against Darren.

 

To be continued …

Metal would like to thank PredicamentBondage for this story!