By Jackson Amacher

Dylan decided to think about how good it felt to finally have his arms free. Thinking about that took his mind off the pain of walking barefoot on the forest floor, and off the humiliation of being in a collar, connected by a rope to three other naked slaves.

He used one hand to cover his groin. Not because he was trying to hide it–there wasn’t much point in that anymore–but because locked around his balls was some sort of device. As soon as he had crawled out of the truck, someone blindfolded him again. He felt himself being marched a few feet and then chained with his arms over his head. They left him like there for what felt like an hour. Until he started feeling someone… teasing him, stroking his body, having fun with him. Dylan thought the mystery guy was going to fuck him right then and there. But then he felt this awful thing get attached to the base of his dick and balls. And then he felt his first shock.

Leading them, by the neck, was Jesse, a Blue. Dylan knew Jesse pretty well–nice guy, level-headed, from Texas. From where he was, all Dylan could see of Jesse was his bare ass, framed by a jock strap.

“Hey. Hey Jesse. Wait up,” Dylan said.

“What, slave?” Jesse said.

“So, I mean, tell us. What happened to you guys? How did the Reds get you?,” Dylan asked.

“Get us? Once we realized the glory of Supreme Leader Rick, we all volunteered to serve him,” Jesse said.

 

Dylan stared at Jesse in disbelief. But then he saw it. Behind Jesse’s ear, there was some sort of microphone, with an antenna. Dylan thought there weren’t any Reds around, but he realized they were listening in. Great.

They arrived at a makeshift fort. Really, it was just a big cleared area with a dirt floor and sharpened logs stuck in the ground for a wall. Inside was a small chain-link fence enclosed area.

“This– this is the White fort, isn’t it?,” Dylan asked.

Jesse pushed a button. The contraptions that were locked to their ball sacs buzzed. Dylan and the other Whites felt a searing pain in their balls.

“All forts belong to Supreme Leader Rick. All of us belong to Supreme Leader Rick. Never question that!,” Jesse said.

Jesse put them to work. Basically, their job was to take those heavy, sharpened logs out of the ground and carry them back to the camp.

Dylan realized what the Reds and Blues were doing. They using White slave labor to demolish the White’s own camp. They were cutting off any hope of escape or independence.

It was hard, difficult work digging out the logs. Dylan saw that this work crew included some of the strongest, most muscular Whites, probably for that reason.

Then it took two men to carry each log back. Dylan and the others were exhausted and starving by the time they returned to the main camp with their logs. But they were ordered to head right back to the would-be White fort and come back with more.

Only, Dylan was ordered to separate from the work crew.

“We have another specialized job for you,” a jock-strap-wearing Blue told Dylan, “Follow this foreman’s orders.”

Dylan shuddered when he saw who his new “foreman” was: Ernie.

Dylan and Ernie basically hated each other, and had hated each other for years. It went back at least as far as a fistfight in their first year at the academy. But this year Dylan had been made barracks commander over Ernie, and things got worse.

Dylan liked humiliating guys. As a teenager, he got excited about wrestling primarily because he loved the feeling of forcing another guy’s body to submit to his will. In the academy, Dylan was down for any opportunity to haze, prank, or humiliate any other cadet. When Dylan became barracks commander, with Ernie having to obey his orders, Dylan took full advantage of the situation. Once, after Ernie broke a minor rule, Dylan punished Ernie by requiring him to be naked at all times in the barracks for three days. Dylan didn’t know that Ernie’s father and little brother were scheduled to visit Ernie the next day, but didn’t change the punishment when he found out, either.

Now Ernie, clad in his jock strap, was smiling and leering at the naked, enslaved Dylan.

“I don’t want there to be any disobedience from you, slave, or else…,” Ernie said, pointing to the button strapped on his wrist.

“No, sir,” Dylan said, meekly.

Dylan had no idea where they were going. The direction was different from where all the other slaves were headed. They quickly got off the trail, walked through a patch of evergreen trees, and came to a small clearing. A small stream was flowing, and flowers grew near it.

“OK, we’re here,” Ernie said.

Dylan wanted to ask: “What are we doing here?,” but remained silent.

Ernie walked around the naked Dylan. He touched Dylan’s left nipple, stroked his butt, tapped his abs, and then flipped Dylan’s limp dick up and down.

“Oh,” Dylan said.

“You have no idea how far you’ve fallen, Mr. big-shot barracks commander,” Ernie said to Dylan.

Dylan remained silent. But thought to himself: Big talk, from a dude stripped to a jock strap.

“Drop to your knees, slave,” Ernie ordered.

Then Ernie turned to face away from Dylan, and Ernie pulled off his own jock strap. His unobstructed ass was in Dylan’s face.

“Pull my ass cheeks apart and lick my hole,” Ernie said.

Dylan saw Ernie immediately move his hand to the button on his wrist.

He decided he was going to do it. He pulled cheeks apart and was greeted by the smell of sweat and shit. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his tongue, and licked… something.

“No, higher, idiot,” Ernie barked.

Dylan couldn’t believe what he was doing but he did it, and did it again. Ernie moaned with pleasure, then pulled away from him.

“The great and mighty barracks commander, licking my hole. Tell me you enjoyed that, slave,” Ernie said.

“Yes, sir,” Dylan replied.

Ernie was facing Dylan now, and Dylan could see Ernie’s naked cock was halfway erect.

“Shit, I almost forgot. Slave, crawl over to those flowers, pick some, and put them in your hair,” Ernie said.

“W-What?,” Dylan asked, but Ernie spanked him.

With the flowers in Dylan’s hair, Ernie walked over to him, naked and clutching his jock strap in one hand. Ernie stroked his own dick two or three times, and then moved it toward Dylan’s mouth.

“You know what to do, slave. Like a freshman doing a senior,” Ernie said.

It was true that at the Academy seniors sometimes… impressed freshman into service like that. But Dylan had never sucked another guy’s cock. He closed his eyes and took in Ernie. Ernie started ordering him in what to do, moving faster, in and out, using his tongue. He felt Ernie’s cock getting stiffer, and then tasted… something start to come out of it.

Ernie pulled out of Dylan’s mouth suddenly.

“Turn around, and bend over this log, ass facing me,” Ernie said.

Dylan had to do it. His ass was in the air, arms and legs toward the ground.

Dylan’s face flushed with frustration. This is what I get, he figured. This is what happens to losers. Yeah, he could tap out and quit the game right now. Everyone in the game could. But he wasn’t going to.

Ernie spit in his own hand and then pulled Dylan’s ass cheeks apart and started rubbing the spit on Dylan’s hole.

“And now, you’re about to learn what it truly means to be a slave,” Ernie said.

Dylan braced himself for this. He had never been fucked. He had no idea what was about to happen to him. He felt Ernie’s body press against him and felt Ernie’s dick start to press against his ass.

But then suddenly Ernie stopped and pulled away.

“Yes… yes sir…,” Ernie was saying.

Dylan turned his head and looked at Ernie. Ernie was touching that thing that was in every Blue’s ear. As Ernie listened, Ernie’s face looked pissed, then stunned, then scared.

“I understand, sir,” Ernie said. Then:

“Sir, I think perhaps another White can be found, who… I see, sir. Yes, I understand,” Ernie said.

The conversation seemed to be over. Ernie dropped his hand from his ear, paced around in tight circles, and exhaled deeply.

“Get up,” Ernie ordered. Dylan stood.

Ernie lied down in the same spot where Dylan had just been.

“You have to fuck me,” Ernie said.

“Sorry, what?,” Dylan asked.

“Don’t ask questions, don’t make me zap you, just do it,” Ernie said.

“Well, sir, I’m going to need a little… preparation first?,” Dylan said.

Dylan’s dick was limp. He was, however, suddenly getting turned by this.

“Jack yourself off until you’re ready,” Ernie ordered.

“I will, sir. I mean, I am. Though this device around my balls is… making it more difficult?,” Dylan said.

“I bet it is, slave, but that restraining bolt is part of your body now. Get used to it,” Ernie said.

“Oh, yes, master, of course, and I’m so thankful for it. But I meant to say, that I could get hard much faster, if I had help, kind of like the help I gave you?,” Dylan said.

Dylan was close enough to Ernie now that he could hear the faint voices from Ernie’s earpiece speak into his ear.

Ernie sighed.

“Fine,” he said.

On his knees, Ernie gave Dylan a blowjob. The rush of power, and vindication, quickly made Dylan hard. Dylan pulled out of Ernie and flipped him over, laying him across the log. Then he pulled Ernie’s cheeks apart and, without lube or spit or any lubrication, pushed his way in.

Dylan knew that you were supposed to be gentle, but he was not. He went in as far as he could go, then pushed harder. He enjoyed hearing Ernie’s yelps and squeals. He enjoyed the sensation of being able to cause Ernie pain, and maybe a little pleasure.

But that damn thing on his balls–the “restraining bolt,” Ernie had called it–felt like it was squeezing. Probably, that was an intentional design of those damn things.

“That’s — enough — pull out!,” Dylan heard Ernie say. And he did.

The two men lay on the ground for a bit, gasping. Then Ernie suggested they go over to the stream to get cleaned up.

It felt wonderful for Dylan to wash off the hours of sweat, mud, and God know what else had accumulated on his naked skin. Ernie warned him not to get his “restraining bolt” wet, and Dylan was careful not to.

Ernie got all the way into the stream, and washed off every part of his body–paying particular attention, Dylan noticed, to his asshole.

“Ernie,” Dylan whispered, “they can’t hear us over the noise of the stream. Tell me the story of how the Reds enslaved you guys.”

“Like I’m fucking going to do you any favors,” Ernie whispered back.

“Tough talk, for a naked Blue. Hey, Ernie, do you think this jock strap would fit me? I forgot to pack my clothes, and I found this lying around,” Dylan said.

Ernie looked up in shock and saw Dylan dangling the precious jock strap over the stream. Ernie immediately pushed the button on his wrist, but nothing happened.

“Guess you shouldn’t have shorted out your button in the water, Ernie,” Dylan whispered.

Ernie sighed.

“OK, here’s what happened. Cops stopped our bus on the highway. It was kind of exactly what happened to you, only when they got us outside the bus they started tying us up then ripping off our clothes. Everything except for whatever underwear we had on. We were all gagged and tied up. We had no fucking idea what was going on. The cops were laughing and slapping us and one of them even pulled down Jesse’s boxer shorts and slapped around his dick for fun. It was then that Rex pulled up in and SUV and got out and told us we were all his prisoners,” Ernie said.

Dylan nodded.

“Rex had some sort of deal with the cops, obviously, because he gave them our bus as a bribe. The cops just drove away with it, leaving us there, tied up in our underwear, at Rex’s mercy. That’s when your school bus showed up. We saw everything, Dylan, from our corner of the parking lot. We saw your naked slave asses marched out of that bus, utterly subdued, and then packed into a box truck like livestock,” Ernie said.

“Must have been exciting for you,” Dylan said.

“Actually I did enjoy seeing you, in particular, humiliated. That’s when Rex started to talk to us. He told us we had a choice. We could join you guys as slaves at the absolute bottom of the totem pole, subject to being abused or fucked at any given moment, or we could be slave foremen. What choice did we have? One by one, they untied us, and we stripped naked, prostrated ourselves before the Reds, swore to serve them, and received our jock straps in return,” Ernie said.

“That’s it? You all gave up just like that?,” Dylan said.

“Yeah, what else would there be? Now, give me my jock back,” Ernie said, reaching out.

“Sorry, no, you’re holding out on me,” Dylan said, and held the jock strap further back.

“Fine,” Ernie said, “there was more. We had to do something else before we got our jock straps.”

“Tell me what, or this tiny little jock strap floats out to the ocean,” Dylan said.

“One by one, they called us over to a private area. There, we had to strip off our underwear and tear it up. Then they gave us dildos. Big purple rubber ones. And they told us that we each had to get it at least halfway up our asses. A couple of guys froze then and there and said they wouldn’t do it, and the Red said, fine, it’s your choice, just join the Whites in their cattle truck and enjoy life as a slave for two days. So those guys did it, too.

“And, Dylan, they videoed us. One by one, they shot video of us. First, full frontal, and they made us recite our full name, hometown, and birth date. They handed us a ruler and made us announce how short our dicks were. Then they had us turn around and show the purple dildo sticking out of our asses and make us announce how grateful we were to our new slave masters,” Ernie said.

Dylan laughed, and walked over to Ernie.

“They really own you guys, then. More than they own us, even. Now that I look at it, it wouldn’t have been so bad to have your micro-dick fuck me. I would barely have known it was there. So what length did you have to announce on that video, Ernie? About two inches, I’m guessing?,” Dylan said.

“Fuck you. Remember your place, slave. I can fucking make your life miserable,” Ernie said.

Ernie snatched the jock strap away from Dylan. Dylan let it go.

“Yeah, you can, but I’m always going to remember these tender moments we just had,” Dylan said. He made thrusting motions with his hips for emphasis.

They walked back to the main camp. Before they left, Ernie made Dylan collect more flowers, and stick them in his hair. When Dylan asked why, Ernie shocked him. The button worked again. Order was restored.

As they approached the camp, beautiful smells greeted Dylan. Dylan realized it was fresh-baked pizza. When they arrived, they saw jock-strap-clad Blues each happily munching on a slice of pizza, and drinking from cold cans of beer.

The filthy naked White slaves, however, were locked in chain-link cages, crouched on the dirt, their hands tied behind their backs, lapping oatmeal out of steel dog bowls.

“It must fucking suck to be one of you pathetic losers,” Ernie said, and spanked Dylan’s ass for emphasis.

Two Blues, Jesse and Colton, saw them arrive, put down their slices of pizza, and jogged over to them.

“We received a new order about him,” Jesse said.

Jesse made Dylan turn around and handcuffed him behind his back, his wrists at his shoulder blades.

“Good, he’s ready. Colton, take him on up,” Jesse said.

Colton attached a leash to Dylan’s collar and started leading him away. Ernie walked alongside Dylan just long enough to whisper in his ear:

“Enjoy getting personally fucked by Supreme Leader Rex, slave.”

To be continued …

Metal would like to thank Jackson Amacher for this story, which is posted here with permission. Do you want to read more chapters as much as I do? Be sure to leave feedback in the comments section below!