Ste 115 1 Page 3

  With that, Master lifted Matt's face up with his hand below his chin and saw the tears. "Well, I see you're beginning to understand boy. Believe it or not, that will actually make your training easier. This is a kindness boy, though you may not realize that yet. Now, are your arms beginning to hurt boy?"

  Matt continued to let the tears fall as he looked into his Master's face and said, "Yes Master."

  Well, I can help you there boy, and with that he punched the remote and the chain began to lower. Matt felt the circulation flowing back into his arms as they came slowly down. The chain continued to lower until it began to gather on the floor. It coiled quite a bit, then, it stopped.

  "Now I've done my part boy, you'll have to do the rest yourself because Trainer will begin raising that chain in just a couple of minutes, and I can assure you, it's going much higher than it was just now. With that, Master handed Trainer the remote. If you're smart, you'll sit on the floor and pass your cuffed hands under your lovely butt, curl your legs up as tight as you can and continue to pass your hands under your feet, thus bringing your cuffed hands to the forefront. And if I were you boy, I wouldn't waste any time getting that accomplished because you're about to find it easier said than done."

  Matt stood in disbelief for a minute then realized he was wasting valuable time just standing there. He now knew this man was capable of anything, he wasn't going to underestimate him again. He squatted as quickly as he could, straining his arms so that he could get his hands under his naked ass. It was harder than it had sounded, in fact, he wasn't sure it could be done. But finally, by curling his body a little and stretching his arms almost out of their sockets and scraping the chain connecting the cuffs hard against his bare ass, he began to make some progress.

  Unfortunately, it wasn't soon enough for Master as Matt heard him say, "Trainer!" And with that the chain started moving up into the ceiling. Matt curled his legs in as tightly as he could against his abdomen and chest. The chain began uncurling from the floor. If he didn't get the cuffs under his feet quickly he would be pulled into the air in an impossible position. He focused on the cuffs and groaned from the exertion until he felt the cuffs finally moving under his feet. He got them just past his toes as the chain began to pull his cuffed wrists into the air. The chain lifted Matt up and continued until he was once again standing on his toes with his arms stretched straight above him toward the ceiling.

  His Master approached him and came within inches of his face. "I'm going to leave you for awhile now boy. You have a lot of training to get done so you'll be quite busy. But before I leave I wanted you to understand just how completely your life has changed and how complete my control is. 'Matt Forrest,' no longer exists. Within a few days every remnant of his miserable little existence will be erased. What's left is you, my slave. I don't bother naming slaves because I don't want to get that personally attached. Trainer, number!"

  Matt saw Trainer look on a clip board and respond, "115 Sir."

  "Well that's it then," Master said, "until I say otherwise, you will be known as 115. Everyone will refer to you by that number and you will respond to it as your new name, because who's dead boy? Tell me boy, who is dead?"

  Matt looked at him, with tears still streaming down his face and choked, "Master, Matt Forrest is dead."

  "And who's left boy, who are you?"

  "Master," Matt choked as he said it, "I'm 115."

  "And here's the big question 115, 'what' are you?"

  "Master, I'm 115. I'm your slave."

  "And what can I do with my slaves, 115?"

  "Master, you can do anything you want with your slaves," 115 said as he continued to cry.

  Then Master moved in even closer, grasping one of 115's nipples in his left hand and his ball sac in his right, and began applying pressure to both, until 115 began to squirm and groan through his tears. "And what can I do to you, 115?"

  "Master," 115 gasped, "you can do anything you want with me."

  "Anything, 115?" Master said, increasing the pressure on 115's tit and nuts.

  "Master," 115 said as he began to weep in earnest, gasping from the pain and snot beginning to drool from his nose, "anything Master, anything you want."

  "Good boy, 115," Master said as he continued to apply more pressure, relishing the sounds of quite agony coming from this beautiful slave. Then slowly, very slowly he began to release the pressure and removed his hands from his new slave. "You're going to be very busy for the next few months 115. How you fare during that period will be entirely up to you, remember that, and forget about trying to escape. You'll come to understand that it's simply not possible. Better minds than yours have made sure of that.

  "Trainer," Master said, while still facing 115, I'm giving you good material, make sure you give me a good slave."

  "Certainly sir," replied Trainer as he stepped over to 115. "Now if I may begin sir, we can still get several hours of work in before we stable him."

  "Absolutely," Master replied, as he finally took his eyes off 115's face, nodded to Trainer and casually walked out of the room.

  When Trainer and 115 were alone, 115 noticed an immediate change in him. He seemed to actually get a little bigger. He moved over to 115, standing about a foot away and look intently into his face for awhile. 115 now had a chance to really look at Trainer as well. Trainer was about 6'4", well built, not bulky, but very strong. He had dark features and almost black eyes that gave him a threatening appearance. He was the kind of guy that Matt Forrest would have avoided in an alley, but now, 115 was hanging helplessly, naked, before him.

  "Let's get a few things clear from the get go 115. I'm interested in only one thing here, and that's keeping the Doctor happy with my work. He pays me very well to do something I thoroughly enjoy, and I'm not going to let anything or anyone interfere with that, especially something as unimportant in the grand scheme of things, as you. It's my job to make you a first rate slave that will be desirable to our customers, and hear me 115, I'm very good at my job. I'll make you into what the Doctor wants, or I'll kill you trying. Do you understand me 115, because I want to make sure we're perfectly clear on this.

  115 looked at Trainer and knew without a shadow of a doubt that he meant every word. He began to realize that there was a very real possibility he might not survive long enough to escape. He knew it would be the hardest thing he had ever done, but he was going to survive. As long as he was alive there was hope that something might happen to change his circumstances. He looked into Trainer's face and responded, "Sir, yes Sir."

  "I applaud your attempt to reassure me 115, but I think we need to begin with an object lesson." With that, Trainer turned and walked to one of the cabinets against the wall. He opened the door and 115 gasped. On the interior of the cabinet were, what 115 knew could only be described as torture devices. Even on the inside of the doors a collection of various types of whips were neatly arranged. Trainer looked around in the cabinet carefully selecting various items, then returned to face 115. With no explanation or hesitancy, Trainer placed what looked to 115 like a little suction cup on his right nipple. He squeezed it a little then released the pressure as the cup affixed itself to 115's tit. He felt the pressure and pain from the cup immediately and let out a little groan, but before it was all the way out of his mouth, Trainer had placed another cup on his left tit. The pain was manageable, but it was there. Then Trainer knelt on his knee and wrapped something around 115's ball sac. It was like a small bungee cord with Velcro, but it had a hook hanging from it. Trainer then placed a lead weight about the size of a tennis ball on the hook. The tension and pain was immediate, and 115 continued to groan in growing agony.

  Then Trainer returned to the cabinet and selected a short whip that looked like a cat-o-nine tails out of old dungeon movies. The whip had lots of flat pieces of what looked like leather all gathered together. It looked bad in itself, but it looked horrible in Trainer's hands as he walked back to face 115.

  As he was walking Trainer explained to h
im that this type of whip was very painful, but didn't leave any permanent scarring. "That's important to us," said Trainer, "as we don't want to devalue the stock unnecessarily."

  Trainer came to stand right in front of 115 again. "You see 115, I think you still don't really understand your situation. I think you're a pretty smart guy and you're thinking you'll 'play along' until you can make a break, and until you get that notion out of your head, we're simply not going to make much real progress with your training. So my first job is to disabuse you of all those notions. Isn't that a great word, 'disabuse,' the root of that word is the same as the word that describes what I'll be doing to you."

  With that Trainer started laughing like he'd made the greatest joke in the world. Only 115 was too terrified to participate in the levity. He was beginning to realize what was about to happen to him, and he was literally trying to move on tip toes away from this guy. However, the problem was that a step in any direction actually took him off the floor, and even trying was causing the weight on his balls to move painfully. There was nowhere to go.

  Trainer continued to chuckle as he moved behind 115. "Nowhere to go, is there 115?". I wonder if that might not be the point to this little lesson," Trainer said laughingly. Then 115 heard a sudden rush of air followed immediately by the CRACK of leather on his back, and the sensation of pain that caused him to lift himself off the ground again. The lead ball actually bounced in the air, yanking his nuts even harder as he cried out from the lash. He was trying desperately to curl his body and protect himself from the next blow. As the next blow came lower on his back he screamed out in pain again.

  "That's good, 115, you need to be able to express yourself in these early stages. Feel free to scream, yell, curse, beg, whatever, while we get to know each other. CRACK!, another blow, this time over his shoulder.

  "GODDAMNIT," he screamed, "STOP IT, STOP IT, PLEASE". CRACK! "God help me.....CRACK!........"PLEASE"........CRACK!

  "Don't you want to offer me anything, you know, buy me off"...CRACK! "Oh, that's right, everything you own is piled up over there in that heap of garbage".......CRACK!

  By now Trainer was moving to the front of 115 and the next blow came across his chest...CRACK! "Well maybe you have something else, something we missed." CRACK!........115 was screaming incoherently and almost continuously, "no.?"....CRACK! "How about it, you got anything else to offer me, or is it just that shit over there." CRACK!

  Trainer finally stopped for a minute. 115 was weeping and begging for him not to hit him anymore, assuring him that he understood he was a slave, he would be a good slave, he would do anything they told him, just please, don't hit him anymore, but Trainer was casually walking over to the pile of 115's stuff. He rummaged around and pulled out a tie that had been given to 115 by his mother just before she died. He draped if over his neck and came back to 115.

  "How about this tie, can I have this tie 115?"

  "Sir, yes Sir," blubbered 115, take anything you want. CRACK! "Oh God, PLEASE take any of it.....take all of it." CRACK! "PLEASE!"

  "You see 115, that's part of our problem. You still think you have something to 'GIVE' me. Because you still think of yourself as a real person...you know...out there. You think you'll be back out there, don't you? CRACK! But hopefully, this lesson will help you begin to understand that you are no longer a person like the ones 'out there.' You are a slave, with no hope of ever changing that condition, and what can you 'give me,' when you don't 'have' anything, and I can take anything I want from what you used to have? Like this!? And Trainer grabbed 115's cock and balls in one hand, squeezing them savagely and causing 115 to literally dance on tip toes and continue begging through his tears.

  He thought the weight had been bad, it was nothing compared to having his nuts in the vice like grip of this maniac. He screamed out again, begging for mercy he was beginning to understand would never come.

  "If I want this," Trainer said, continuing to crush 115's balls, "I can have it any time I want. If I want this," and he spun 115 around and slapped his ass, "I can have it any time I want. So I ask you again, 115, what can you give me?"

  Then Trainer spun 115 again, and hugged him with one arm around his neck, pulling him close, and whispering in his ear, while he held the whip up to his face, "and if I want to take you to my bed and make love to you in my own special way all night, I can do that any time I want. What can you give me boy? What can you give anybody? You have nothing because you are nothing, and how can nothing give something to someone else? But boy, hear me, I can make you something. I can make you the desire of a great many men, and if you're really smart, you'll figure out how to use that, because that's your only way out of this place boy, and you won't get there without me."

  Trainer quickly stepped back and swung the whip...CRACK!..."do you understand what I'm telling you boy,....CRACK...the only way you'll get out of here is as a first rate...CRACK...top notch...CRACK...A-1...CRACK...slave...CRACK. The only other way out of here...CRACK...is in a body bag...CRACK!

  115 was screaming like a madman, begging, crying, pleading, anything to get Trainer to stop whipping him. Part of him heard what Trainer said, but most of him was just struggling to get away from the whip. CRACK...."PLEASE, NO, PLEASE, I'LL DO ANYTHING, PLEASE," cried 115.

  "Really," Trainer scoffed, "anything...CRACK...don't you get it shithead, doing anything....CRACK...is the easy part. You damn right you'll do anything, but what you don't realize...CRACK...can't even imagine yet...CRACK...is that you'll do it eagerly...CRACK...happily...CRACK...willingly...CRACK...in order to avoid coming back into this room and facing me!"

  Trainer stopped, 115 was hanging from the cuffs, crying and begging. He wasn't on his toes anymore, all his weight was pulling on his wrists and he was hanging limp from the chain. He had pissed on himself, so complete was his exhaustion and surrender, but Trainer knew this surrender meant nothing. It was just based on raw pain and it took more than that to really break a man, and Trainer knew the real work couldn't begin until 115 was broken....completely.

  As he stood facing 115 he said, "This is just the beginning cuntboy, you think this is bad. Believe me when I tell you this is nothing, and we're not even half finished with this training session."

  "NO, PLEASE, SIR...NO!" screamed 115. "Sir, I've learned, I'm a slave, I'll do anything you tell me, please don't hit me anymore."

  "You're not even close to being a slave, you piece of shit. On my worst day I wouldn't let you near my slaves. We've barely opened the door boy. These first few dozen lashes were the easy ones, I was spacing them out for you. The last ones are going to be continuous, as fast as I'm capable of, and you'll find I pride myself on being very capable."

  With that the beating started in earnest. 115 was conscious for about half of it, then he passed out. Trainer brought one of the hoses, sprayed him until he was conscious and coughing and began again. Another time Trainer used a smelling salts to revive him. When Trainer finished he was breathing hard from the exertion and 115 was barely conscious. As the hook descended from the ceiling, 115 simply sprawled onto the floor. He didn't have the strength to move. In fact, moving his head seemed impossible. As he came to rest on the floor, he was facing the door that Master had left through, and now noticed two muscular men standing there with their arms folded. When had they come in?

  "Gentlemen, will you take this piece of shit to his new home. Don't worry about coddling him because he's new, he might as well start adjusting to the hospitality around here," Trainer said.

  The two guys started laughing as they crossed the room and roughly pulled 115 to his feet. He wasn't able to stand so they started dragging him out of the room, with his feet sliding on the floor.

  "By the way, when you've finished putting him away be sure and come back here and help yourselves to any of this stuff that you might want. He won't be needing any of it anymore," Trainer said laughingly.

  That also brought laughter to the two guys dragging 115 away. "Oh and put 104 in his cell with him f
or his first night. We don't want him to get scared his first night away from home," laughed Trainer, "and if you're feeling a bit frisky you have my permission to fuck'em both before you bed'em down."

  "Hey, thanks Mr. Trainer," the guys responded, looking forward to a little fun before coming back here and pillaging through this slave's old stuff. What a great job!

  115 was hearing all of this, but was only partially aware of what was going on. Oh, he realized in some vague way, they were moving him around in Hell. So much space in Hell, he thought in a haze. Walls change colors in Hell. He wasn't cold or thirsty in Hell anymore...he wasn't anything...he could feel himself being placed roughly on a platform of some sort...someone was raising his ass into the air, he felt...oh God, he felt that terrible feeling again, only this time it was actually worse. "No," he mumbled, "please no," but the pressure in his asshole only grew worse as he could feel it being filled with another dick, he had thought he was beyond pain, beyond feeling, but he now realized he was wrong, as this man began to ride him even harder than Mr. Watts had..."No, please, no," he was almost mumbling as he was losing consciousness again.