By FirefighterSIR

Part 2: The Beast

Travis heard more than saw the slave called The Beast.

The blond jock had been on the ranch for months now.  His cock weighed heavy inside the clear plastic chastity device, his shaved balls swollen with loads of cum waiting for release.   His muscled body, built strong by years of demanding football coaches, was now at its peak.  The guards and Masters of DZ Ranch had seen to that, honing him with precision workouts and a full schedule of hard labor in the oak studded confines of the remote ranch under the snowy gaze of the volcanic peaks of Lassen and Shasta in far Northern California.

The day Travis had been on a cleaning detail in the massive metal barn that served to house and train the 4 or 5 current slaves on the ranch.  Totally naked, his collar inducing a ring of sweat on his thick tanned neck, he had looked up as he heard one of the Masters approach.

Dane was the CEO of DZ Ranch, a tall bearish man in black SWAT bdu pants and black boots.  His dark pharonic beard jutted out from his chin and a heavy radio harness barely covered his bare chest, thickly covered in trimmed black hair. Dane was holding a cattle prod in his hand, a chain leash in the other as He walked with two guards to the end of the barn.  Between the two lines of stalls in the center of the floor was a metal trap door.   The sound of their boots seemed to arouse something under the floor, for Travis could hear grunts and growls issuing from the trap door, one guard leaned down to grip the lock handle of the door, the other stepped to one side with the cattle prod.  Dane squared off in front of the door, leash ready.

“Open” He commanded.

The guard yanked back on the handle, raising the door away from the floor.  Even before it was fully open, a muscled limb reached out, grabbing for the black boots of the Master.  Travis nearly dropped his broom at what emerged from the underground cell.

As he watched, a massively muscled animal crawled out of the pit and curled itself around the spread stance of Dane.  It was a man, barely, shaved clean of hair, it’s huge muscles carried on what appeared to be a very stout frame, perhaps about 5 foot 5.  The beast’s body was almost pure white except for the dark purple lash scars that criss-crossed the nearly perfect muscle slave flesh.  The beast’s head was locked in a heavy rubber hood, with dark goggles locked over the eyes, eyes that no one else at the ranch had ever seen, and a metal grid covering its mouth hole.

The Beast growled and continued to paw and nose the boots of Dane until He reached down and locked the chain leash into place.  The guards relaxed their stance, now they knew the subhuman muscle animal was in the mood to behave today.  With a quick yank of the chain, Dane signaled the Beast to sit.  He handed the end of the leash to the right hand guard, while He strode over to the ATV parked a few feet away.

Dane jumped on the quad and kicked it to life with a load roar and cloud of blue smoke.  The leash was attached to the trailer hitch of the bike and Dane began to move off without a word, the Beast rising up to trot behind the bike, like a bound gorilla, knuckle walking to keep up.

Travis could feel his dick juice dripping down his thigh as he watched Dane and the muscled Beast disappear down the hill below the barn.  His cock was swelling painfully within the clear plastic of the chastity device locked onto his own massive jock stud member. As the pair disappeared, the jock slave returned to his sweeping under the gaze of the two muscled guards, but his thoughts were on what he had just seen.

Meanwhile, Dane led the Beast deep into the folds of the oak covered hills.  The day was clear, cold, and sunny.  The pale blue sky was streaked with white cloud wisps and the thin Grey Pines whispered in the chill breeze.  The dry gold grass of summer was now replaced with a carpet of tender green shoots but the dry ground had been turned to rocky mud and the wheels of the quad spun chunks of red clay into the Beast’s chest as the pair worked up another ridge.  The Beast knew the route well.  The path over the ridges led to a grove of pines scorched dead by a fire some years back.  Each tree trunk, over 40 ft tall, now stood charred and leaning, like bones thrust into the earth.  Over time the Beast had been used to down and buck these snags one at a time, by brute strength, with a the sharp axe now strapped to the rack of the quad.

The engine was cut, replaced with the ringing silence of the ranch in winter.  Dane stepped off the machine and looked around in the new green grass.  In a minute he had found what he was looking for and reached down to retrieve a heavy rusty chain from the ground. The Beast sat on his haunches, blowing hard, sweat mingling with the slick of mud on his thickly muscled back, new clear ooze dripping from the clear plastic device between its legs. Dane dragged the chain over to the slave, picking up the long electric prod in his left hand.  The Beast grunted and pulled away, copious amounts of ooze splattering its bare rough feet and the muddy ground below. He was now fighting against the chain, jerking the heavy ATV backwards down the slope.  The cattle prod sparked to life in the Master’s grip but he did not press it to the thick muscle of the Beast, but instead yanked hard on the leash, his heavy boot pressing it into the mud, throwing the slave off it’s feet.  Dane locked the collar to the long chain but spent a few minutes savoring the moment.  The muscled slave thrashed in the dirt and grass, grunting through the reek of his dick juice rising up despite the cold morning air.   Dane unstrapped the heavy axe from the rack and released his boot from the chain.  The Beast struggled to his feet regaining his stance on his haunches, waiting, obviously eager to get started.

Dane dropped the axe at the feet of the Beast, turning towards the dead snags standing around them in the clearing like ghosts.  They had been working there before and now the Master selected the next snag carefully. He motioned for the slave to move and it lumbered up to tree trunk, gripping the axe loosely like a monkey might, the chain dragging behind it.  The chain was locked around one of the stumps to keep the slave’s range limited to it’s length.   The slave grunted and shifted his grip of the heavy axe handle following the bare-chested Dane towards a leaning snag.  The Beast’s breathing became heavy and his gasps were loud through his heavy mask, his cock was drooling in thick ropes down into the ground. Through the goggles, the slave’s eyes focused on the thick muscles and tattoos on the Man’s back watching the radio harness slide back and forth across his trapezoids.

The Beast could remember hours spent swinging the axe into the thick, splintery wood of these snags one blazing hot afternoon after another.  The slave remembered the sting of Dane’s switch on it’s back each time the axe had been dropped as its’ hands had stung from new blisters and the axe blows that sent tremors up his exhausted arms.  The hot sun had turned the slave’s white muscled flesh dark brown and leathery in the summer but now, locked away and chained down for weeks on end, attended by the guards, his skin was soft, smooth and white again. The slave suddenly saw red, staring at the back of the Master, remembering the long hard days of summer, the rage boiled deep inside his animal brain.

The Beast shifted his grip again and measured his swing of the axe, covering the yards between him and the Master in seconds, thrusting forward like a charging gorilla. Dane head the bare feet of the Beast slapping the tiny green shoots under foot and dropped down and spun around in a second, the switch flying forward to connect with the Beast’s hooded face.  The blow sent his neck snapping to the side, the axe driven deep into the soft wet dirt of the glade, the Master’s boots flinging more mud up into the air.  Dane sprawled backward into the grass, the Beast fell forward with the momentum of the axe blow, face first into the mud. Dane struggled to his feet, able to orient himself faster than the hooded, chained slave.  His heavy black boot stomped hard on the chain leash close to where the metal collar had rubbed a thick scar into the neck muscles just as the electro prod sparked to life again.

The Beast looked up, a flock of starlings bursting forth into the blue sky just as the cattle prod and the leather switch landed on each side of his spread, muddy back.

NOTE: You can find the author of DZ Ranch — FirefighterSIR — on Recon.