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  But the man didn't stop, in fact, before he was out completely, 115 was vaguely aware of two other men on the floor, next to the platform. One of them was laughing and enjoying himself, the other was almost quiet...letting out a few moans every now and then. It's too much, thought 115, it's too much, no one can take this...then he felt himself becoming lighter, almost floating, it became darker in the room...then nothing.....

  Chapter III

  Hell

  When 115 started coming around, the first thing he noticed was the silence and the darkness. The room was finally quiet, but he realized he was not alone. Someone was lying next to him, in fact, had their arm and leg over him, and that person was as naked as he was. He lay still for a few minutes trying to get his bearings, then moved slightly to be able to see more around the room.

  From his perspective he couldn't see the whole room. He was in a cell about ten by eight. The bed, if you could call it that, was against the back wall. It consisted of a raised wooden platform with a thin pad on top. There were no covers, only another man lying half on him because the bed wasn't really big enough for two people. When he moved again to try and see more he heard the man next to him whisper, "Be as still as you can, don't let them know you're conscious yet. Who knows what else they might want to do to you on your first day? Don't turn, just listen and I'll try to explain some of what's happened to you. Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you, I'm 104, I'm a slave too."

  115 settled down a little and though he was still terrified because of what had happened to him, he tried to relax as the voice had said.

  "Like all of us, you were noticed and selected by a guy named Watts for the good Doctor, though I've yet to find anything "good" about him. He's a wealthy Doctor who is also a true sadist. He's developed this slave farm and now you're part of it. Sorry to tell you, but no one we know of has ever escaped. We've only seen slaves leave here when purchased by a new master, or a dungeon. I doubt that makes much sense to you right now, but believe me, there's a whole underworld developed for the pleasure of sadists and masters with enough money to do pretty much whatever they like. You're part of that world now, I'm sorry, but that's the way it is, and you need to start acting accordingly if you want to survive."

  "Trainer is our master while the Doctor is away, and if possible, he's even more of a sadist, but it doesn't end there. They have half a dozen goons that work for them tormenting us, and they seem to really get a kick out of that. Two of them fucked us last night when they brought you in. I was put in your cell to help keep you calm and to do just what I'm doing now, but how long I'll be here or when they'll start up on you again, I couldn't say. Just keep as still as you can."

  "I guess they showed you your stuff. That's pretty hard, but not as hard as it will be when you see bits and pieces of it on the Bosses, that's what we have to call the goons. I wish I could tell you it gets better, but it absolutely does not. You just get more accustomed to the pain and humiliation and are able to take more. The morning will be rough for you, and there's not much any of us can do about that. There are ten slaves here now, including you, and we are to treat each other like brothers, only not like any brothers you've ever heard of. Do you see that large, heavy post in the middle of the room, between the cells? Don't speak! Just nod slightly."

  115 looked into the dim light and could barely make out a massive post about nine feet high and about ten feet beyond his cell. There were large, heavy rings bracketed into the post in various places. He nodded slightly to his companion that he could see it.

  "Well, when they roust us in a few hours, as a welcome to our new brother, they'll fasten your arms above your head onto that post. Then each of the other ten slaves will be made to fuck you, leaving their cum in you. The bosses will be there, whipping us on to make sure we do it hard enough for their enjoyment. They'll be laughing and calling us names until all of us have fucked you. Then you'll be one of us. I'm really sorry guy, I'm not telling you this to scare you, just hoping it will help prepare you for what's coming. None of us wants to fuck you, but nothing here is about what any of us slaves want. The most you can do right now is get as much rest as you can tonight, because you're going to need your strength tomorrow. Try and rest, little brother, we'll be able to answer some of your questions later, and you can answer some for us. We don't even know the date around here. Rest now."

  And with that, 115 felt his companion snuggle a little closer and relax. His breathing slowed and 115 knew the other man was asleep, but there was no sleep for 115. What had he done to deserve this he wondered. He began to pray that he would die before the morning, whispering almost inaudibly, "please, let me die, just let me die......please," and he lay there the rest of the night praying for death. But as he heard the stirrings of a new day in the other cells, he realized that there is no mercy in Hell.

  * * *

  Before he realized it, those stirrings became solid movements by men coming into the large room. As the lights came up, 115 got a better look at the room. There were twelve cells just like his own in the room. The room was larger than he'd first thought last night. There were three cells on each of the four walls with large double doors in each of the four corners leading to what looked like hallways. In the middle of the room was a large open space with the heavy post in the middle. The cells were divided only by bars, so it was easy for each of the occupants of each cell to see everyone else in the room, and of course, Matt thought, "be seen by everyone else at all times." His shy nature was aware the he would never have privacy in this room. As a Boss came into the room, the slaves began to stir, getting off their beds.

  "Okay ladies, you have a new sister among you today, and I know you'll all want to welcome her into your family," said the Boss. Then he forcefully yelled, "Now get to the fronts of those cages and stick'em out."

  With that, all the slaves moved quickly into place, grasping the bars with their hands, standing close against the bars, spreading their legs and sticking their cocks and balls between the bars into the Bosses' territory. 115 painfully joined 104 at the front of his cell and did like the others. He was incredibly sore since his whipping, but he tried to block that out of his mind.

  For the first time he saw the other slaves. While racially they were varied, there were two constants among them. They were all very good looking men with well built and well proportioned bodies, and they all had metal collars fit snuggly around their necks. In the outside world they could have been posing for an erotic calendar, then 115 remembered Watts asking him if he'd ever done any modeling. He should have started running as hard as he could, away from that guy that very minute.

  Then Trainer strode into the room and you could feel the electricity and attention from all the slaves. This man was in complete control, you wanted to keep this man happy, because angry, this man could be deadly. Trainer was carrying something in his hand, but 115 couldn't make it out.

  "Good morning ladies," Trainer said as he came to the center of the room.

  "Good morning Sir," the slaves obediently responded.

  This morning you'll each have a chance to welcome your new brother. His name is 115." As he was speaking he began to walk around the room and look into the eyes of the slaves. Some he would reach out to and take hold of their cock or balls or both and fondle them or squeeze them. Each slave stood willingly for Trainer to do whatever he wanted. As Trainer approached 115 he smiled and said, "Welcome 115 to our little family. I even thought to bring you a house warming present to make your space a little more homey." At that there was laughter among the goons.

  Trainer took what he was carrying and held it out for 115 to see. It was an iron ball on a leather strap, much like the one he had had on last night for the beating. "One of the many problems you have that I'll have to deal with is fortunately only cosmetic. Our clients like for our slaves to carry their jewels in such a way as to be highly visible. They like to see those jewels dangle and bounce as the slave goes about his duties. Unfortunately, your ball sack do
esn't really hang that low, but this little gift will be just the thing.

  With that, Trainer roughly grasped 115's ball sac and stretched it out. 115 gasped at the force and groaned loudly, then felt 104's hand touch his on the bars. That little bit of sympathetic human contact, unnoticed by Trainer or the goons, gave 115 the strength to take Trainer's rough handling. When Trainer was finished the weight was hanging between 115's legs, pulling his nut sac down.

  "You'll wear that device 24/7 until I say otherwise. When you're on your cot, it's to be hanging over the side. If you're sitting, it's to dangle over the edge or over your arm if you're on the floor. Get the idea boy, pressure always or we can go back to that little room. Any questions shithead."

  "Sir, no Sir," responded 115, determined to avoid that room as much as possible.

  "Murphy," Trainer barked, "get 115 into position for his welcoming ceremonies, and let's have 104 and 99 out first to welcome him."

  With that 115 was hustled out to the center of the room and his hands fastened in clamps over his head on the massive post, his arms having to wrap around part of it. Then his feet were spread a little around the base of the post so his ass was stretched open and vulnerable. 115 didn't bother begging this time, he knew it was a waste of energy and he needed to conserve all he had. Maybe knowing in advance had helped him prepare a little, and maybe knowing that the ones who were about to fuck him didn't want to made some difference. For whatever reason, he just focused on trying to relax and getting through this.

  "104 did you share with our new arrival how his coming would be celebrated by our cumming," Trainer and the goons laughed as he asked the question.

  "Sir, yes Sir, I told him what he could expect."

  "Goooood boy," Trainer said as if he were speaking to a dog. "I can always count on your soft heart. So as a reward, you get to be the first. Now fuck your brother," he barked, "99, get 104 ready."

  With that 99 dropped to his knees and started playing with 104's cock. This was necessary because, as 115 would soon learn, no slave was allowed to touch his own cock unless specifically given permission. Some had learned through long painful sessions in "the room," that the consequences were severe. So to get 104 hard someone else had to play with him. He was nicely endowed and in no time with 99's fondling, rubbing, sucking, he was hard and moving toward 115.

  "99, get 115 lubricated," Trainer again barked, "we don't want him to think we do this like savages," he laughed with the others. And 99 squatted behind 115, used his hands to stretch him open further, with 115 moaning slightly, and began to lick his asshole and get it ready.

  "Get with it 104. I know you faggots love doing that, but we haven't got all day," Trainer said, to more laughter in the room. The contrast in moods was as stark as the cells. Trainer and the Bosses seemed jovial, while the slaves were as solemn as a funeral.

  104 moved up against 115's ass and began to rub his cock between the ass cheeks. Then he slipped one hand around 115's abdomen, while 99 helped him get his dick to the opening of that asshole. He was trying to slowly push himself in when the first CRACK of the whip fell across his own ass.

  "No reason to be so slow," growled Trainer, "we've got others waiting and daylight burning cunt mouth, fuck him and fuck him good, right now."

  With that 115 felt 104's dick plunge all the way in. He gasped again, still not use to the sensation or the pain. 104 put his arms around 115's chest and began to pump in earnest, in and out, as smoothly and as quickly as he could. He wanted to cum quickly so he retreated to his own memory of his first time he had been with a man. It had been so exciting, so wonderful and thrilling to finally feel muscular arms around him. It was so long ago, but he remembered, and he was there again for a few minutes as he methodically fucked this defenseless young man, whose only crime had been attracting Watts' attention.

  Soon 104 was gasping himself, as he came in 115's ass. He held him for a minute, trying to comfort him and to hold on to his own memory, but had to finally pull out. That was when he came fully back to the present and could hear the catcalls and whistles of the goons. He stepped back from 115's beautiful ass and went to his knees to get 99 ready for his turn. In a couple of minutes 99 was primed and ready for his turn. 99 wasn't as sensitive as 104, with no memories to fall back on. His only goal was to keep Trainer happy and off of him. He was told to fuck this guy, so be it, he didn't have anything against this guy and was sorry this was happening to him, but 99 had learned, survival is obedience.

  "Come on 99," Trainer chuckled, "I know you can show us how this should be done. Willis, get the next two out here," Trainer ordered, as he remembered when 99 had been the one strapped to the post, and how far he had come in his journey into slavery. Trainer actually felt some pride in what he had accomplished as he watched 99 obediently moving toward 115.

  And that's the way 99 strode up to that open ass, stuck his meat in it with no assistance and began to fuck. There was nothing emotional or sensitive about it. It was one of the few times that the slaves were allowed to feel like men and experience this masculine pleasure. 99 wanted to just feel good for a minute, and if the cost was the pain and humiliation of 115, that was a price he was willing to pay. Was it a crime to just want to feel good for one minute in this living hell? He fucked 115 as hard as he could, and 115 was responding with cries of pain. Things are tough all over thought 99, as he continued to slide his gorgeous cock in and out of that moist hole. No one had to whip 99 to get him to perform, they just had to order it. He'd been here longer than any of the other slaves, he'd learned. He shot his massive load with gasps of pleasure, feeling like a man, but careful not to show that. Finally he leaned against 115's back for a second and whispered, "sorry, but thanks."

  Then came 101, a muscular black man with a huge cock. The goons kept whipping him across his ass while he was fucking, not because he wasn't trying, but because every time the whip struck him, he would involuntarily jump forward, crushing 115 against the post while pushing his enormous dick even further into that ass. 115 was crying out in pain with every CRACK of the whip because it accompanied that huge cock engorging his asshole followed by the weight of 101's body pushing that cock even further in his ass. This was by far the biggest dick he had experienced in his two day life as a slave, and when 101 pumped his seed into him, 115 actually thought he could feel himself filling with liquid.

  "Sorry Boss," 101 slurred in his slow speech, "but after I came I just started to piss, what you want me to do, Boss?"

  To the delight and laughter of the goons, one of them responded, "well it's too late to do anything about it now boy, might as well finish what you started."

  "Thanks Boss," he said as he stood relieving his bladder of his morning piss up 115's ass chute.

  So 115 had felt himself filling with fluid, only it was with piss, not just cum. He was being torn apart by this guy's dick, and now this guy was pissing in him. He turned his head against the post and caught a glimpse of 104. He was standing in a cell with his dick between the bars, like all the other slaves, but he had this look on his face, a look of stoic encouragement. 115 just stared.

  Then came 107, a medium stature, well proportioned Latino. His dick was hard and ready, and 115 realized he had a ball weight like his own suspended from his nut sack.

  "Hey," shouted one of the goons, "don't get your balls all twisted in a knot to fuck this guy," which brought a new round of laughter.

  The attractive man came up to 115's back, put one arm around him, spit in his hand and lubricated his ass a little more, then whispered, "Lo siento," into 115's ear as he slipped his cock into 115's ass. He wasn't as large as 101, and by comparison was relatively painless, or else 115 was just beginning to lose some of his feeling. 107 pumped quickly and evenly, and their ball weights did clang together to the delight of the goons, but he didn't hurt him as badly. 115 didn't know a lot of Spanish, but he knew what 107 had said to him, "I'm sorry."

  When 107 finally added his hot cum to the load 115 was accumulatin
g in his cunt, 112 was ready and in position to start. He was Anglo, but unlike 115, he had dark features with body hair that accentuated his dark good looks. His dick was hard and moist, and as he slid it in that nice tight ass with the help of 107, he said to 115, "relax little brother, it's a lot easier if you concentrate on relaxing. Nothing you can do about any of this."

  "Shut the fuck up," shouted Trainer, "are you his fucking therapist? Now fuck that ass like you mean it or you'll be in the special room."

  112 practically tore into 115. He was determined to come faster than any of the others to avoid Trainer's wrath. He even slapped 115's butt a couple of time to emphasize his enthusiasm for the task at hand. He couldn't tell if 115 was relaxing a little or not. From the crying and yelling coming from him it didn't seem so. Well, he had tried to help and do what he could. 112 shot his load into that ass so hard that it started to drip piss. When he pulled out some started dripping down 115's legs.

  "You can take this man," he whispered into 115's ear as he stepped away.

  Then 109 came around the post and 115 saw a truly beautiful black man, actually not black, ebony. But the thing he noticed was a shotgun shell 109 was wearing around his neck. He wasn't as large as the other black guy, but he still had a good sized cock, and 115 felt every inch of it as it pushed into his ass. Then felt it moving in and out, filling and emptying him in rapid succession. It still hurt terribly and he was moaning constantly, but it wasn't as bad as it had been. 112 had been right. He had to consciously try to relax his ass. When he tried to let those muscles relax a little, the pain wasn't nearly as bad.