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  Finally, Holt took him to a large tub in a large hall connecting several of the rooms. He told 115 to step into the tub and then sit down, with his legs crossed. That proved to be more of a challenge than it sounded like since he was looking almost straight up and his arms were tied behind his back. His sense of balance and motion were affected. Finally, he half squatted and half fell into the bottom of the tub. In this new position he was looking up, and could see Holt.

  "Well, don't take all day shit head, you were moaning all over the place, you must need to piss, so piss."

  115's eyes widened a little in surprise. Surely he couldn't mean for him to piss in this tub while he was sitting in it, but of course, that's exactly what he meant. No, he wouldn't do it.......it was too much.......it was absofuckinglutely too much, 115 thought, as he began to become so angry with the situation. But what difference would his anger make......it would just make it harder to survive, he realized. Then he felt it, his piss flowing from his cock and gathering around him in the tub. He pissed for what seemed like forever, and he sat in it. Waiting for his next instructions.

  "Did you think I was going to be leading you around all day piss breath? I have more important things to do than that. For the next few hours you'll sit right where you are. Anyone needing a piss will come to you and you'll take it. When you need to piss, piss. Piss all you want, after all, you'll be sitting in it most of the day," Holt said laughingly as he began to walk out of the room then caught himself as if just remembering, "Damn," he said, "would have been my hide if I forgot that," as he turned back to 115, who couldn't see what Holt was doing then realized what had brought him back. Holt reached down to grab the chain holding 115's ball weight, then casually and viciously dropped it over the side of the tub. It jerked 115's balls toward the edge of the tub with a savage pull. He groaned miserably as he learned that pain could be added to humiliation heightening both sensations. Holt then began to chuckle, leaving 115 to his misery.

  * * *

  As the Doctor and Trainer were going to their private conference room, they stopped in the hall to use that day's piss slave. They paused in their conversation long enough to relieve themselves, each taking the opportunity to ask 115 how he was enjoying his "new job." Of course 115 couldn't respond as each man pissed into his mouth, then the Doctor simply moved his cock so he was pissing all over 115's face. Soon his hair was dripping with the Doctor's piss making his Hell complete. After the two men finished their piss, 115 could hear the piss dripping from his hair into the pool of piss he was sitting in. But worst of all, Trainer and the Doctor simply turned after using him and continued their discussion as they walked. His misery wasn't even an object of their focus for more than a couple of minutes........he now began to realize just how low he was on the scale of things. Even his misery was but a moment's notice to these men, who obviously had more important things to discuss. Here he was, covered in piss, filled with piss, and sitting in piss, and it was nothing to them. Tears began to well up from his eyes and run down the sides of his head, but there was no one there to even notice.

  When Trainer and the Doctor got to the conference room, the doctor was just changing subjects, "I want you to have the slaves prepared for presentation to a new customer. He contacted me about a month ago, and we've been chatting about what he's looking for. I'm not sure he even really knows at this point, all I am sure of is that he can afford whatever he decides he wants so I want to make sure he sees our variety and the quality of our stock. I'll explain to him that some are still in the early stages of training, but I'll also let him know that at this stage we can also modify the training in special ways if he so chooses. It will also be good for some of the new stock to go through the presentation to a buyer."

  "I think you're right about that," Trainer observed, as he began making some mental notes about the preparations that would be necessary. Do you have a date in mind yet?"

  "The eighteenth looked good to the customer the last time we spoke, and I should be able to confirm that today or tomorrow. I'll let you know for sure as soon as I know, but I thought you'd like the advance notice in order to begin getting ready."

  "Yes, I appreciate knowing, everything will be ready. By the way, have you had a chance to see 109 in the past few days?"

  "No, but I read your daily report, and I'm looking forward to enjoying his pleasures. In fact, have him prepared for me tomorrow night, I'll keep him in my room for the night. I don't have to tell you, that your success with 109 means we may be making some changes here, it could mean a little more intense work for you, but the additional profits should be worth it. I'm very pleased with your efforts Trainer, very pleased, and we'll need to set some time aside to discuss our future."

  Those were the words Trainer was hoping to hear. He'd worked hard, but it was really paying off for him now. He was anxious to begin those conversations, but knew better than to rush the Doctor. He was a hard man, but a fair one, and Trainer knew if he kept producing the results the Doctor wanted, his future could be bright indeed.

  "Watt's called me yesterday, he has found another candidate for us. I was glad to hear from him because I don't like not being at capacity. Anytime I go into the stable and see an empty cell I feel like I have this huge hole in my pocket and money is falling out. He knows I want to keep this place at capacity and is working to find us two more slaves. I should know about this particular candidate in a few days. He's another whitey, but he has red hair which always seems to be an attraction for some reason, so I have my hopes up about this one."

  "We haven't had a red head since #89, and as I remember, once we broke him, he didn't last long around here. Didn't the customer in Toronto take that one? In fact, we made a number of alterations as I remember."

  "Yeah, but with all the alterations the price was just over $850,000, so it was worth the extra work. Funny thing is, that customer said he'd like a pair of red heads, so I've had Watts on the lookout. Seems he may have found one. If he has I want you to be prepared to expedite that one, because as soon as I know he'll work, I'll be calling that customer. Only this time, it's going to cost him a little more to complete his matched set," he remarked as both men laughed while they continued discussing the particulars involved in running a successful slave compound.

  * * *

  At about the same time that the Doctor and Trainer were having their meeting, Holt was getting ready for a little fun. Trainer had instructed him to take some extra time with 105 over the next few days. Trainer was ready to take 105 to the next level of submission, and knew extra doses of humiliation would aid that process. He also knew that 105, for some reason, had a particular hatred for Holt. So to have to serve Holt in those ways would be particularly humiliating for 105.

  Holt knew his instructions and was pleased that Trainer would trust him with a job that was usually done by more senior Bosses. Holt loved his work in the compound. He'd never imagined such places existed, but had been in heaven since finding out about it and working here. He'd always been something of a bully, but even he had been surprised with how much he enjoyed being able to torture someone. It was a real turn on. He was careful to stay within the limits he was given, but good for him, the slaves had no idea what those limits were. What really excited him was the prospect of being hired as a trainer himself by one of the customers. He already understood that the men who bought these slaves were only interested in the pleasure of using them. They would no more think about the day to day care or training of them than they would the horses, or fine cars, or mansions that they owned. They would simply hire someone to take care of those details, and Holt understood that several former Bosses were now well situated with wealthy clients. He was going to play his cards right and work hard to get there himself. "Not a bad future for a high school dropout," he mused.

  As soon as he opened 105's cell, 105 knew his life in Hell was going to be worse. This bastard of a sadist was the worst of all the Bosses to 105, he hated him, but he still had to obey him completel
y, which only made everything worse. He jumped to present himself properly to the Boss, causing his ball stretcher to jerk and sway.

  Holt had put on his favorite uniform as a Boss. It consisted mainly of leather straps around and across his torso and groin, not much else, so his generous uncut cock was well displayed. The first time he'd put this uniform on, he knew he was in the right place. He looked great in it and felt powerful. He loved the fact that the Bosses were like gods for the slaves, and the slaves had to worship their bodies. Putting themselves on display like this was a reminder to the slave of their place and their role in the world.

  As 105 knelt before Holt, with his head cast slightly downward, not daring to look into the eyes of a free man without permission, he presented a beautiful package. Holt still preferred women, a little, but there was nothing to compare with the power he felt when he was with a slave. It was more than just sex, in fact, the sex was used as a tool to emphasize the power, the domination over the slave. Holt didn't realize it yet, but he was becoming addicted to that power, and for some reason he found himself being drawn to exercising that power over 105 in particular. He really didn't know what it was about this particular rag head, but he felt himself drawn to him in some way. That's one of the reasons he had quietly celebrated when Trainer came to him and assigned this part of 105's training to him. He knew it was a test for him, and it was a test he planned on passing with flying colors. He couldn't kill this slave, only Trainer could do that, and Holt realized these slaves were extremely valuable, but 105 didn't know he couldn't kill him, and there was a long way down the highway of pain before death was an option. This was going to be fun, but it wasn't quite right yet........."crawl after me you little faggot."

  Holt led 105 out to the center of the cell block so that the slaves still in their cells had a good view of everything. Nothing increased the level of humiliation quite like an audience. Especially for what Holt had in mind.

  "You other slaves present on your knees next to the bars and watch your sister service a real man." And just that quickly, there was an audience as the slaves quickly moved into the ordered position. One might think that this particular audience wouldn't affect any of the slaves, but that's not the case. Humiliation is humiliation, and even if the audience is sympathetic to the victim, the victim is still being used in front of it.

  However, Holt had a little surprise up his sleeve. He had prepared for this event almost a week earlier when he had 105 in his room for the evening. A little private tutoring about how he wanted 105 to present himself to him. He had taught him, knowing that Middle Eastern are such prideful men. He wanted the pride to be part of the undoing, so he had taught 105 to present in a little different manner. He knew 105 thought this was to be a private thing, just for when they were together, but 105 was about to learn that there is no such thing as privacy in the life of a slave.......this lesson would be hard learned.

  "Okay 105, you know how I like for you to present yourself to me........so present," Holt ordered.

  105 couldn't believe his ears. Surely this bastard wouldn't force him to perform that disgusting scene in front of anyone else......even slaves.......anyone. He looked at Holt with true fear in his eyes, the fear that comes from crossing a threshold that you can't come back over. He had done humiliating, degrading things, but this was worse to him.

  "Please, please Boss Holt, please don't make me do this," he begged quietly. Holt could hear him, and he relished the sound, the pain in the voice of this beautiful man. Holt's reaction was more than even he realized when he noticed that the quiet begging of 105 was making him hard, but it was true. As 105 begged, Holt was coming to full erection.

  "Don't make me have to report to Mr. Trainer that you were disobedient you little cunt," Holt snarled as he slapped 105 viciously across the face. The blow was strong enough to knock 105 over, but he quickly got back into position, as he knew it would be worse for him if he didn't. He was terrified of Trainer and knew what his response would be. He and Trainer would be in that room for a long time. It had already happened two different times, and Trainer had told him if there was a third, and he was lucky enough to come out alive, he would have a shotgun shell around his neck, just like 109, and no one had seen him in almost a week. 105 hated what was happening to him, but he wanted to stay alive. He felt himself begin to cross that threshold, he didn't know if he could live with himself on the other side, but he knew he wouldn't be allowed to live on this side.

  "I'm waiting faggot, now present yourself the way I taught you, or face Trainer," Holt demanded as his eyes bore into 105's soul.

  Slowly, reluctantly, it seemed the air went out of 105, as this proud and beautiful mid Eastern man realized he had no choice, that he was a slave, and would have to do whatever was commanded. Holt gave an evil smile as he saw the change in 105 and watched as his body began to shift. 105 slowly went from his knees, realizing for the first time that the presentation position even as a slave had a certain dignity to it, but what he was preparing to do was simply horrible. He went down so that his upper buttock was on the floor, then rolled a little onto his side, resting on one elbow. Then he slowly raised one leg into the air exposing his butt hole as he reached with his free hand to begin fingering that hole.......slipping his finger in and out seductively, and then finally, the last act of submission, with tears in his eyes, he looked up slowly into Holt's face, softened his voice and gently said, "Please Boss, please.......... won't you use this............ little pussy boy's cunt hole, please Boss,........... use that big, gorgeous cock of yours............ to send me to paradise."

  105 was choking with tears, he wasn't sure he could finish, but knew that he had to somehow. He looked at Holt pleadingly, but he only snarled, "Go on faggot."

  "Please Boss...........your cock in me.............. is the only.......... paradise I want. I don't want.......... any virgins, I just want you................ using my worthless............pussy........... to please yourself," he choked.

  Then Holt began the little dance of words, which drove home the complete degradation of what was happening. "I'm not a fag, that I would use some little boy for my pleasure, you disgusting piece of shit," he said.

  "No Boss, you're all man, you're man enough to............ send this worthless.......... pussy............ cunt right to heaven........please Boss. Besides this little........... pussy is really.......... a girl/boy. Look at these........ little titties..........."105 was almost sobbing, he was choking so badly he could hardly get the words out, but knew his life could well depend on pleasing this sadist, so he continued the farce........."these little titties.......... that you could nibble on," and with that he curled the arm he was resting on and started squeezing one of his nipples. "Or these little....... ovaries that just.......... love to be held.......... in your masculine hands," and 105 pulled the finger out of his asshole and began to lift his balls up for Holt's inspection. Of course, this was made more difficult because of the ball weight, but that was irrelevant to Holt, whose face was looking more relaxed now that 105 had complied.

  But Holt wanted to drive the point home with a vengeance, so he looked at 105 maliciously and said mockingly, "I can't believe my ears, this masculine, Iranian, macho man is fingering his pussy and begging me to fuck him. This can't be happening, I must have misheard. Could you please say all that again for me, so I'll know for sure if you're serious."

  Then Holt simply smiled at 105 and waited.

  105 looked up and realized he was looking at the devil. It was bad enough that he'd had to do that at all, but had to do it in front of other men, and now was being ordered to do it again. He couldn't, he just couldn't, he wouldn't.....it was too much, then Holt did something that shook 105 to his very core, something that startled him back into this reality that was now as permanent as anything he had ever known. Holt gazed into 105's shocked eyes as he casually pulled a shotgun shell from the side of his belt and twirled it a little in his fingers. He didn't have to say a word, but you could hav
e heard a pin drop in the room. It was as if the air itself had been sucked out of the space, as 105 looked up at the shell. Everyone in the room, except Holt, was thinking the same thing.......what happened to 109........and was it about to happen to 105.

  Not a word was spoken by anyone, but the room slowly came back into motion and began to move with the rest of the world. 105 knew what he had to do, and he WOULD do it. He looked up at Holt, and in the most seductive voice he could muster, he began the routine all over again.

  "Please Boss, please, won't you...... use this little....... pussy boy's cunt hole, please Boss, use that big........gorgeous cock of yours........to send me to paradise............. and it went on as before, only this time, there were fewer tears and more resignation in his voice, something that wasn't lost on Holt, but he wasn't finished yet, not by a long shot.

  "I'm still having trouble understanding you and your pidgin English, that's the problem with so many of you rag heads, you seem so smart, but can't pronounce the simplest words. Education is truly wasted on your kind, but luckily I know a great technique for improving poor pronunciation. You place a few marbles in your mouth then practice speaking until you can be understood. I've seen it done on television, it really works. Does anyone have any marbles," and Holt looked around at the other slaves, everyone knowing he had something diabolical in mind.