Pete Brown's Slaves

Dex Madison could scarcely believe it. Just two months ago he’d been your normal married man, with two small kids, looking forward to a comfortable suburban American life. His marriage wasn’t the greatest - he’d married when he was only seventeen and only because Tina Monroe, the girl he’d been dating for just three months, had somehow gotten pregnant even though she was on the pill. At least, that’s what she maintained. Tina turned out to be something of a shrew and Dex had lost any sexual interest he’d had in her years ago - but she’d come from a wealthy family and financially they were doing great. And, notwithstanding his increasing estrangement from his wife, Dex really doted on his two boys, who fortunately took after him and not Tina. Moreover, Dex was good-looking enough to have no problems getting laid elsewhere whenever the urge struck, though, not wanting to repeat the mistake he’d made with Tina, Dex always used protection. All things considered, Dex had been happy with his life.

Now, here he was, stark naked, his arms and legs in shackles, a tight steel cock-ring permanently welded around his scrotum forcing his boy-cock into a hard, painful, humiliating erection as he was being auctioned off as a male sex slave. While his term of sexual servitude for repeatedly raping his wife had been putatively set at twenty years, he knew the reality was that he was being condemned to spend the rest of his life as a pathetic fuck-bitch for gay men. Six months was generally considered the longest period of time a straight man could serve as a male sex slave without suffering a significant alteration in his sexual orientation. Anything longer than a year was seen as permanently impairing a slave’s ability to function as a heterosexual male. After the twenty years of sexual slavery to which he had been sentenced, Dex would be psychologically incapable of functioning as anything other than a totally submissive male fuck-bitch. By the time Dex Madison was released from his captivity, he would see himself as the rest of the world saw him - as a totally submissive cum-slut whose sole purpose in life was the servicing of male cock.

It would have been hard enough for Dex to accept the punishment prescribed by the court if he had been guilty of the offenses with which he was charged, but the reality was that Dex was totally innocent. He’d been set up by his wife Tina, who, having tired of her husband’s extra-marital sexcapades, had decided to dispose of Dex by charging him with physical and sexual abuse. The charges against him were totally bogus and his attorney, Wayne Pickens, Esq., had assured him he had nothing to fear. But, when the case came on for trial, the defense that his attorney presented was so lame and unconvincing that even Dex would have voted to convict himself if he was on the jury. And convicted he was, after only a single hour of deliberation.

When the verdict of the jury was read, the bailiffs immediately stripped Dex naked, as his wife and her friends tittered in amusement, and then forced him to stand and face the judge as she delivered her sentence - twenty years of sexual servitude. The judge summarily refused his attorney’s pro forma request for an appeal and directed that Dex be sold at the next scheduled auction for sexual miscreants. Dex was in shock as he was led naked from the courtroom while his wife and her friends laughed and shouted insults at him.

Auctions for those convicted of sexual deviancy were held every Friday so Dex spent the next three days in custody. He was kept naked, of course, as he would be throughout the duration of his sentence, male sex slaves being absolutely prohibited from wearing any type of clothing while serving their sentences, their enforced nudity being seen as part of their punishment. He was also cuffed and shackled as he was required to be whenever he appeared in a public place though his ultimate owner could dispense with these in private if he so desired. After that, his slave ring was welded around his scrotum where it would remain for the rest of his life, even after completion of his sentence, as a permanent warning to any future partner of his conviction as a sexual miscreant.

Once Dex’s intake was completed, he was escorted to his holding cell which was a simple cage set against a wall, a mere three feet by three feet in area. Though it was tall enough for Dex to stand upright and there was a small bench which folded out of the wall to allow him to sit down, Dex quickly realized that it would be totally impossible to stretch out on the floor to sleep without extending his legs around the bars into the common area. A small foul-smelling pail was set on the floor, its purpose obvious. Similar cages lined all four walls, set no more than a few feet apart from each other, every one occupied by a naked male who was cuffed, shackled and ringed the same way Dex was. There were close to a hundred men in the room and Dex was shocked to realize that all of them was scheduled to be auctioned off as sex slaves that Friday. He’d had no idea that so many men were being consigned to sexual slavery every week.

A quick glance at his fellow prisoners showed Dex that they seemed to range from teenagers to middle-aged men and were of all nationalities and races. His view of some of the other prisoners was obstructed by guards standing in front of them and he realized with a start that many of the guards were being sexually serviced by the prisoners inside the cages, who were on their knees, gagging and choking on large cocks being rammed into their mouths and down their throats. Just moments later, a guard approached Dex’s cell.

“On your knees, bitch,” the man roughly ordered. When Dex didn’t immediately comply, the guard reached behind him and pulled out a taser. “Don’t make me tell you again, bitch. Get on your fucking knees and open your mouth.”

Slowly, Dex dropped to his knees. The guard smiled at him as he reached down and undid his pants, extracting what looked to be a seven-inch, throbbing slab of Man-meat. He reached into the cell, grabbed a shock of Dex’s hair and pulled his face forward. “Now get your faggot mouth working on this, bitch.”

The next thing Dex knew he was getting his first taste of Man-cock as the guard proceeded to brutally skull-fuck him for a good ten minutes, forcing the prisoner to gag and choke as the guard tried to jam his hard dick down the boy’s inexperienced throat. At the end of what seemed an endless assault on Dex’s mouth, the guard shot off a monstrous effusion of cum, a good portion of which trickled down Dex’s chin onto his torso. Having got his nut, the guard yanked his cock from Dex’s mouth. “Clean up the mess you made, bitch,” he roughly ordered as he tucked his now flaccid cock back into his pants. Once he was zipped up, he looked down at the prisoner now huddled on the floor of his cell, slowly scooping up the remnants of the guard’s orgasm in his fingers and depositing them in his mouth. “Look at me, bitch,” he ordered and when Dex complied, he proceeded to hawk up a loogie and spit it directly on the prisoner’s face. “Fucking virg,” he muttered, as he turned away and left.

Dex scarcely had time to process what had just happened, he hadn’t even had time to get up off his knees, when he heard a new voice directing him to ‘open your faggot mouth, virg. You’ve got another customer.’ Dex looked up to see another guard standing in front of him with his dick already out of his pants, “Oh, please, sir…” he started to beg when the officer reached through the bars and slapped him hard. “Get your faggot mouth working on my dick, virg. Now, you fucking cunt.” Stifling a sob, Dex opened his mouth, leaned forward, and took the proffered cock into his mouth. In just seconds he was gagging as another hard Man-dick tried to force its way down his throat.

And that was how it went for the next eight hours. Cock after cock would be presented for servicing and, when Dex reluctantly opened his mouth, he would be viciously face-fucked until the man using him managed to empty his nads in the prisoner’s mouth or, sometimes, directly on his face. And Dex wasn’t the only prisoner servicing cop cock pretty much non-stop. In the infrequent intervals when Dex wasn’t actively gobbling down on Man-meat, he noticed that prisoners all around him were engaged in the same activity, though a number of them were actually standing outside their cages, bent over and getting brutally fucked up the ass.

Dex guessed it was close to midnight before the steady stream of guards and cops demanding servicing finally ebbed. He was still huddled up on the floor, his jaw hurting more than he could ever remember, his throat rubbed raw by the constant pummeling it had taken, when the prisoner next to him on the left stood up and lowered the little seat from the wall and sat down on it, splaying out his legs in front of him. “God,” he murmured, “it feels so good to be able to just stretch my legs out.” Then, turning to Dex on the floor, he added, “You should try it, virg.”

Slowly, unsteady after so many hours on his knees, Dex stood up. He reached back and lowered the small bench-like seat and sat down. The other prisoner was right - just being able to sit down felt so good. Dex relaxed for a few minutes and then turned back to the other prisoner, noticing that the man looked to be in his mid-thirties, though in good shape for his age “Why did you call me ‘virg?’ That’s what all the guards did, too.”

The other prisoner looked at him with an amused expression on his face. “I called you ‘virg’ because that’s what you are, boy. A virg. A virgin. Just like I’m a ‘peater’ a repeat offender.”

The answer seemed obvious once his fellow prisoner explained it. And then something else dawned on Dex. “Is that why they fucked you up the ass and not me? Because you’re a peater and I’m a virg?”

“That’s exactly why, boy,” the man agreed. “Most of the prisoners here are virgs like you. The guards don’t want to fuck your pussies because that will lessen your auction price. There’s always a premium when you’re selling a virgin boycunt - particularly when the boy is as pretty as you are. But with peaters like me, our pussies are fair game.”

Dex looked at the other man more closely. “So,” he finally said, “you’ve been sold at auction before? What’s it like, the auction I mean?”

“Pretty much what you would expect, boy,” the man replied with a shrug. “You’re displayed like a goddamn animal and the prospective buyers fondle and molest you right out in the open, a lot of them going so far as to stick their fingers up your pussy to see for themselves how tight it is. A few will even make you suck them off, supposedly to see how much training you’ll need, but really just to get a nut. It seems degrading as shit your first time but, in reality, for most of the new bitches being auctioned off, it’s nowhere near as bad as the rest of their sentence is going to be.”

“And then,” the older prisoner continued, “they auction you off. You’re a good-looking virg so you’ll probably fetch a good price. You just have to hope that you’ve caught some wealthy dude’s eye and that he’s willing to outbid any corporate or group bidders.”

Dex realized that he’d never really considered who it was that would be bidding on sex slaves. In fact, until now, he hadn’t given it any thought at all, since he had been sure that it would never impact his life. But now that it was going to determine his entire future for the next twenty years he realized how clueless he was to how the whole system worked. It was obvious, though, that the prisoner in the cage next to him - a ‘peater’ - pretty much understood exactly what was going on. And even though knowledge of what was going to happen to him wouldn’t change his future one bit, Dex wanted to know as much as he could ahead of time.

“Why,” Dex asked after a moment’s reflection, “do I want to have a wealthy dude purchase me rather than a corporation or a group of dudes?”

“Well, virg,” the man next to him replied with the air of having to explain the obvious to a slow child, “if it’s a single bidder purchasing you, all you have to worry about pleasing is him and his friends. As long as he isn’t an out and out sadist, that’ll be a whole lot easier than if you’re purchased by a corporation or a group of bidders.”

“Corporations actually bid on sex slaves?” Dex pressed.

The peater actually laughed at Dex’s ignorance. “Hell, virg,” he replied. “They make up the majority of the bidders, and some of the worst one, too. There’s the kennel companies, of course. They’re the worst of all; nobody wants to be purchased by them.”

“Kennel companies?” Dex repeated, questioningly. “You mean companies that board dogs? Why would they be bidding on sex….oh, no, you can’t mean that.”

“Fuck, virg,” the peater sneered. “Where the hell have you been your whole life? Of course, that’s what I mean. They breed the male dogs they’re boarding with sex slaves like you and me. It helps to keep the dogs docile and calm, though it pretty much destroys the slave’s pussy in just a couple months. Fortunately for you, though, kennel companies almost never bid on virgs, especially young virgs like you. The dogs don’t much care about how good looking a slave is or whether he’s young or old. They’re just interested in the slave’s pussy-hole. And, especially considering how rapid their slave turnover is, the kennel companies are interested in getting their sex slaves as cheaply as possible, so they bid almost exclusively on peaters like me, though hopefully I’m still young enough to make the cost of purchasing me unattractive for them.”

“Holy shit,” Dex muttered. Even though the peater had just assured him that it was unlikely the kennel companies would be bidding on him, the boy was still appalled by even the possibility that he might be forced to sexually service a pack of dogs every day. That was a horror he hadn’t even contemplated before.

But the peater was still talking. “No,” he was saying, “for a virg like you, it’s not the kennel companies you should be worried about, it’s the brothels. They’re often willing to pay top dollar for a virg, figuring they’ll make it back off the virg’s cherry pussy. It’s bad enough if you get purchased by one of the upscale brothels like “Gentlemen’s Home,” but it’s really bad if you get bought by one of the cut-rate whorehouse chains like “Punk a Punk.” They just work the hell out of their slave’s pussies - eight hours on, four off, eight on, four off, 24/7, all year long. And since they rent their boys out for half-hour sessions, a slave bitch can end up servicing 30 different cocks in a single day. It’s pretty much assembly-line fucking for the sex slaves in those brothels.”

“Of course,’ the peater continued, “it can actually be worse if a frat house purchases you. A house with 30 or 40 young guys in prime physical shape can do a real number on a sex bitch’s pussy in no time. If you’re lucky, you’re in a house with at least one other sex slave, someone else to share the load with. But if you’re all by yourself, it could be even rougher in a frat house than in one of those Punk a Punk brothels.”

“But it’s like I said at first, virg,” the peater concluded. “The best you can hope for is that some rich dude takes a hankering for your pussy and purchases you for his own use. And then you just have to pray he’s not some god-awful sadist who gets his jollies not out of fucking you but seeing you writhing in agony. That’s the best you can hope for, virg. So take my word for it, as bad as the auction is going to be, serving out the rest of your sentence is going to be infinitely worse.”

Dex was pretty much numb after the peater explained what was going to happen to him. He sat there on the small wooden bench, his mind just reeling, trying to comprehend how on earth he had ended up in the situation he found himself in while the hours slowly passed, until he was jarred out of his trance by an order to “Get on your knees, virg, and take care of my cock.”

Dex looked up to see that a guard was standing right in front of his cage, his hard cock jutting forward, waiting to be serviced. A quick glance around the room showed a number of other guards already being serviced. Wearily, Dex sank to his knees, leaned forward, and starting sucking on the Man-meat pointed at him. Rest time was obviously over.

The next two days were an endless succession of cocks presented for sucking, all of which Dex duly took into his mouth and did his best to take down his throat, though some were just too thick for the boy to swallow, no matter how hard the guard tried to force his boner down Dex’s gullet.

On Friday, auction day, Dex and his fellow prisoners spent the early morning hours servicing cock and then were herded outside where they were hosed down and douched with ice-cold water. Then, they were brought out in groups of twenty to the auction area. Dex was in the second group being sold.

The peater Dex had talked to had warned him that, while the auction itself was a humiliating experience, it didn’t hole a candle compared to the life he now faced as a male sex slave. Dex soon discovered for himself just how humiliating being auctioned off was. Like all his fellow prisoners, Dex was displayed splayed out on a small, elevated, wooden platform, his arms connected to chains dangling from the ceiling, his legs spread far enough apart to allow easy inspection of his anal passageway, with a thick black dildo placed in between them for the convenience of any buyers who wished to more fully examine the tightness of his boy-snatch. Dex had been settled into place less than two minutes when the first prospective buyer approached. “Virg or peater?” the man asked the naked auction-house slave standing guard behind Dex.

“Virg, sir,” the house slave replied.

“Too bad,” the first man sighed, shaking his head. “My dogs would have really enjoyed this bitch.” The man slowly moved away, as Dex shivered in horror.

His place was immediately filled by another man who extended two fingers towards Dex’s mouth. “Open your mouth, bitch,” the man ordered gruffly. When Dex did as he was told, the man roughly jammed his fingers inside and made a quick circuit of Dex’s teeth, probed briefly at his tongue and throat and then withdrew them, only to lower his hand and ram the two digits deeply into Dex’s boycunt, causing Dex to squeal in a mixture of surprise and discomfort. The man was obviously amused by Dex’s pained reactions as he began to viciously finger-fuck the prisoner’s tight fuck-hole. He continued working the boy’s hole for a couple minutes and then withdrew his fingers which he promptly presented to Dex for cleaning. Even though he’d just been douched, Dex was thereby afforded his first taste of his own anal juices, something he had never expected to endure but something he got more than used to over the next hour, as one man after another ignored the dildo that had been provided and instead gleefully finger-fucked the prisoner to judge his boypussy’s ‘clutch.’

Suddenly, a bell rang and the auctioneer requested everyone to take their seats. It was time for the auction to begin. After everyone had settled down, the man moved over to the corner platform, briefly consulted his notes and then said, “Number 21, a virg, aged 19, single, 5 years. What am I bid on this fine teenage bitch?” Dex glanced over and saw that No. 21 was a good-looking young boy who looked like he had spent all his time in the gym. His body was just rippling with muscles. Dex thought the boy was likely to bring a good price and the bidding bore him out. It was fast and furious, topping out at $32,200. Dex was surprised when the winning bidder turned out to be another boy, roughly the same age as the prisoner he’d just purchased. He looked over at the peater who was on display on the adjacent platform. ‘Frat house,’ he clearly mouthed at Dex. No. 21 was obviously going to be seeing a lot of use by young college studs over the next five years.

That sale completed, the auctioneer moved over to the next platform. “Number 22,” he announced, “a virg, aged 24, married, 2 years.” There was a noticeable hooting and hollering when the auctioneer announced that the slave was married, a fact that seemed to stoke interest in the slave, who was a blond with a decent build though nowhere near as muscled as No. 21 was. There was a fair amount of bidding on No. 22, too, though it topped out at $24,300. When the high bidder stood up and approached the table to complete his purchase there was just something so sleazy about him that Dex couldn’t help turning to the peater and mouthing ‘Brothel?’ The man shook his head ‘yes’ and then mouthed, ‘Punk a Punk.’ If the peater was right, No. 22 faced a hellacious two years of non-stop abuse.

The auction continued. The next two sex slaves were both virgs, aged 20 and 29, respectively, both single, each sentenced to 10 years. The first sold for $37,500 to what Dex suspected was another frat house and the second for $31,100, probably to a brothel. Number 25 was a peater, aged 36, single, sentenced to 10 years. While No. 25 was only 36 years old, he looked much older. Life had apparently not been kind to him and the bidding was desultory, topping out at $18,700. And Dex realized that No. 25′s life wasn’t about to get any better when he recognized the high bidder as the first man who had approached him after he’d been placed on the auction block. No. 25 was headed to the kennels.

Dex had already figured out that, based on where his platform was located, he would be among the last of the prisoners in this batch sold and he soon wished that he had been sold early on. The waiting was really getting to him as his mind began to play out various scenarios as to who would end up purchasing him, all of which ended horribly for the boy. There was virtually no good outcome that he could imagine, which wasn’t surprising seeing how he was about to start a twenty-year sentence as a male sex slave.

Dex had stopped playing close attention to the on-going auction but his attention was drawn back to the present when he heard the auctioneer announce, in an obviously excited voice. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we come now to the pick of today’s litter. Numbers 31 and 32 are being offered as a pair. As you can see, they are twins, age 18, both virgs, number 31 is single while number 32 is married with a pregnant wife.” This last piece of information elicited catcalls and jeers from all over the crowd, causing number 32, who, like his brother, was a stunning, raven-haired boy, with deep sea-green eyes and a lithe, muscular body, to blush furiously. The auctioneer waited for the tumult to die down before continuing, “and their sentence is 10 years. Now what am I bid for this pair of outstanding examples of teenage male pulchritude.”

The ensuing bidding war was frenetic. Quickly, the price rose above $80,000 as two determined bidders fought for the twins. Finally, with a bid of $134,500 that seemed to shock even the auctioneer, one of the bidders emerged victorious. Everyone, including Dex, turned to look at the successful bidder as he made his way forward to complete his purchase. The man was smallish but elegantly dressed, not particularly prepossessing until you looked at his face. But his face was something else. His lips were a thin line fixed in what looked to be a permanent sneer, his cheek-bones were high, his eyes heavily lidded, the irises black as coals and just as lifeless. While individually these elements might be unremarkable, combined they projected an aura of frightening malice. Just looking at the man’s face, Dex had not the slightest doubt that the two twins faced ten years of awesome suffering and degradation and all he could do was thank God that this man had not purchased him. And it was obvious that Dex’s perceptions were widely shared - the two boys were literally shaking in terror as they were led away by their new owner.

The crowd slowly calmed down as the auctioneer continued selling the sex slaves, one after the other. And finally, he reached Dex’s platform. “Number 37,” he intoned, “a virg, 24, married with two small boys,” the latter information reinvigorating the crowd which apparently was energized by the prospect of purchasing a virgin father to serve as their male sex slave. The auctioneer waited for the noise to ebb before continuing, “20 years,” he added, raising his eyebrow. “Twenty years,” he repeated before observing, “obviously this slave pissed someone off.” Knowing laughter swept through the room as Dex realized with a start that none of the slaves who’d been auctioned off before him had received a sentence greater than ten years. Why had he received such a long sentence? What had he done that had deserved that? But even as he began to wrestle with that question, the bidding had begun and Dex pushed that question back down into the recesses of his mind and focused on the more pressing issue of who would be purchasing him.

The auction for Dex was surprisingly lively with a number of different bidders participating. Eventually, though, it devolved into a fight between two bidders, the buyer who the peater had indicated was the purchaser for Punk a Punk and another bidder at the back of the room that Dex couldn’t see. It went back and forth between the two for a couple of minutes until finally the bidder at the back of the room won with a bid of $45,500. While Dex was happy that the buyer for Punk a Punk had been outbid for him, he was understandably worried that he might have avoided the frying pan but not the fire and he was straining to see who had purchased him when the man’s face finally came into focus. And he was absolutely flabbergasted to see that it was Wayne Pickens, his lawyer.

For a few minutes, Dex couldn’t avoid entertaining the hope that Pickens was acting as the representative of friends of Dex’s who had pooled their money to purchase him. Dex would still have to live the next twenty years as a naked sex slave but at least he would be spared many of the horrible futures that might otherwise await him. But no sooner had Pickens joined him at the sale table than Dex was rudely disabused of any notion that the man was there as his rescuer.

Dex couldn’t help squealing in pain as Pickens roughly stuck three fingers up his asshole and grabbed the boy by his fundament. “God damn, boy,” Pickens laughed, “I’ve been looking forward to fucking this cunt for a long time. I’m gonna have so much fun with you, Dex. So much fun.” And standing there as his lawyer roughly fingered his asshole - or his cunt as it would be from now on - everything suddenly made sense. Everything fell into place, his lawyer’s poor performance in the courtroom, the judge’s harsh sentence. It was all so obvious now - he had been set up. Dex had been set up by his own lawyer. And now he was going to be that lawyer’s sex slave for the next twenty years.

And even as his mind reeled in shock, Pickens was completing the purchase. “Do you have any special requests, sir,” the clerk was asking him.

“Well, yes, I do,” Pickens replied. “I’d like to have him collared before I take possession.”

“No problem, sir,” the clerk noted. “What type of collar would you like?”

“Metal,” he replied. “Iron.”

“And would you like the collar removable or permanent?”

“Permanent.”

“That’s no problem but there’ll be an additional welding fee of $75.”

“That’s fine,” Pickens replied easily. “I assume the controls will be embedded in the collar.”

“Of course, sir,” the clerk agreed. “That’s standard with all of our collars.” She looked down at the paper in front of her and made a few notations. “Anything else, sir?”

“Yes, I’d like the slave depilated, too.”

“Pubes or full body, sir?”

“Full body, definitely.”

“And do you want that temporary or permanent, sir?”

“Permanent. I don’t want to have to waste time shaving the boy down every few days.”

“That’s understandable, sir. But you realize that full body electrolysis takes a couple of days.”

“Yes, I understand that.”

“Okay then, sir. Let me figure out the additional charges. Fifteen hundred for full-body depilation, plus boarding for two days at $50 a day, plus an iron collar, that’s $575 plus $75 for welding. So that’s an additional $2,250. You bid $45,500 and there’s a ten percent auction house surcharge on that so the total I’ll need to complete your purchase is $52,300. So how will you be paying, sir?”

“By check on a line of credit,” Pickens replied, pulling out a checkbook and beginning to write. A moment later, he was passing the check to the clerk.

“Okay, sir,” the clerk said after processing the check. “You’ve completed your purchase. The slave will be prepared as you’ve requested and you can pick him up on Sunday anytime after 6:00 p.m. Just show the officer at the front desk your receipt.’ Then, turning to the guard who had stood behind Dex during this entire exchange, she handed him a copy of the paperwork. “You can conduct the slave to the processing room, officer.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the guard replied, pushing Dex forward. Dex who had stood there totally mute as these arrangements were made, just looked at Pickens who returned his stare with an amused grin on his face. “I know you think I’ve already fucked you over once, boy, but trust me, it was nowhere near as painful as the real thing is going to be. And I’ll be doing that, I’ll be fucking your cunt for real, boy, in just two days. In just two days.” Then, laughing at his own sally, he turned and walked away while Dex was directed back inside for ‘processing.’

The processing room that Dex found himself in was similar to his original holding room. The same small individual cells. The same pull-down seat. The same foul-smelling pail on the floor. The only thing different was the absence of guards and police officers constantly presenting their cocks for servicing. Dex quickly realized that this was because the prisoners in these cells were now private property, bought and paid for by individuals and companies, and were no longer available for random sexual abuse by any guard with a hard-on. But the prisoners were all still slaves and in every other way they were treated as such.

Dex had been in his cell less than an hour when a guard came by to take him for his collaring. He stood there, unresisting, as a heavy iron collar was fitted around his neck and then welded close. Dex was surprised by the feelings of shame and despair that washed over him along with the realization that he would be wearing this collar - and nothing else save for his cock-ring and shackles - for the next twenty years. He had been sentenced as a sex slave days earlier but, in the back of his mind, he had always hoped that somehow things would work out. Now, he knew that they wouldn’t. His fate was sealed. He was now a pathetic male sex slave and he would be for the next twenty years. For the next twenty years he was going to be Wayne Pickens’s sex slave, his male fuck-bitch, and nothing was going to change that reality. For the first time since his conviction, Dex Madison began to cry.

The technician who had fitted him with the collar ignored the boy’s tears. It was a relatively common reaction to being collared and the man had seen similar tears literally thousands of times before. Instead, he inspected the prisoner’s intake papers and, seeing that he was also scheduled for permanent full-body depilation, he picked out a metal clip with the initials FBD/P on it and attached it to the bottom of the collar. Then he turned to the waiting guard. “You can take this bitch back to his holding cell,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” the guard replied. He clipped a leash onto the collar and, after picking up a control device for the prisoner’s collar, he led him out of the room. He marched him back to his little cell and brusquely ordered him inside. Once Dex was inside, the guard ordered him to turn around and face him. Then, raising the control device, he said, “Boy, I don’t want any shit from you while you’re here.” Saying that, he pressed down on one of the buttons. Immediately, Dex screeched at the top of his lungs and grabbed at his neck. It felt as if a thousand red-hot needles were being stuck into him.

The pure agony continued for three seconds and then ebbed. When Dex was finally able to focus his eyes again, he saw the guard standing there, sneering at him. “Hurts, bitch, doesn’t it?” he asked with a chuckle.

Dex was tempted to ignore the question but having just had his first lesson in the pain his collar could cause him, he quickly thought better of it. “Yes, sir,” he replied, adopting a subservient tone. “It hurts a lot.”

“I’m sure it does, bitch,” the guard agreed, a broad grin now spreading across his face. “I’m sure it does. And what you need to understand, bitch, is that what you felt was only a two and it goes up to ten. You give me any shit - any shit at all - and I won’t hesitate to give you the full treatment. I expect you to behave like a good little bitch. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Dex immediately answered, terrified that the guard would zap him with a ten. But Dex’s response didn’t seem to mollify the guard and the man’s eyes narrowed. Frantically, Dex amended his answer. “I’ll be a good little bitch, sir. I promise. I’ll be a good little bitch.”

Hearing the boy verbally humiliating himself apparently placated the guard. “See that you are, bitch.” he said. He hooked the control unit to the outside of Dex’s cell. “I trust that I don’t have to warn you not to even consider touching this unit,” he said as the did so.

“No, sir. No, sir,” Dex immediately agreed, feeling the skin of his entire body burning as he continued to abase himself. “I wouldn’t think of touching it. I’ll be a good little bitch….just like I promised, sir.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will be,” the guard replied, chuckling again as he turned to leave. “I’m sure you’re going to be just the perfect little bitch from now on.”

Totally humiliated by his exchange with the guard, mortified by how quickly he had referred to himself as ‘a little bitch’ when faced with the prospect of suffering some pain, Dex sat down on the small bench in his cell, his eyes downcast, his entire posture that of a freshly beaten dog. He was still sitting like that when he heard a voice from a cell next to his.

“Virg,” the voice said. “Don’t take it so hard. You just had your first lesson in what it’s like to be a sex slave. You’ll be calling yourself a lot worse than ‘a little bitch’ before your sentence is over. You can count on that. Wait till you have to beg some total stranger to empty his bladder down your ‘faggot piss-hole’ and then keep your mouth open as he does just that. That’s real humiliating, believe me. I know from experience.”

Dex looked up to see an older, muscular dude, maybe close to forty, in the cell next to him. He was doubtless a peater since he clearly had been a sex slave before. He was, of course, shackled and ringed like all of the other prisoners, but he had a thick leather collar around his neck with two tokens dangling from it. One bore the initials FBD/P, just like Dex’s did, while the other had the letters C/R. What was most remarkable about the man was that, while almost all the other prisoners seemed sunk in depression, he appeared positively ebullient, almost as if he was looking forward to his slavery. Since gay males were excluded as a class from serving as male sex slaves, the authorities concluding that too many of them might actually enjoy the experience, it was difficult to fathom why the peater was seemingly enjoying his situation. Intrigued, Dex came out and asked the peater this very question.

“The truth is, virg,” the man answered, “it’s not that I’m going to enjoy another five years as a male sex slave, it’s more that I’m just incredibly relieved at how the auction went. My mother used to say I was born with a horse-shoe up my ass and I guess she was right. The first time I was sold as a slave the dude who purchased me was a rich old guy. Of course, I was just 19 then, and quite a looker. Any way, he was rough on me and I had to service all his friends whenever he threw a party, but he wasn’t a real sadist or anything like that - definitely not like that dude who bid on those two twins, that’s for sure. Shit, that guy scared the piss out of me. I can’t imagine what’s gonna happen to those poor boys. But like I was saying, for a 19-year-old virg like I was, I really lucked out.”

“Today, though,” he continued after taking a breath, “I thought I was in for it. And, sure enough, two of those god-damn dog kennel companies were bidding for me. I was sure one of them was going to win and then, at the very end of the bidding, an Ag corp. swooped in and bought me. Fuck, I know they’re gonna work me hard - they always do - but I’m a strong fucker and I’m not afraid of hard work. I know all the hired workers will be pounding the crap out of my pussy every night for the next ten years and I’m not looking forward to that, but it’s bound to be easier than spreading my thighs for a pack of dogs 24/7. No, I lucked out again, just like my mom always said I did.”

Dex couldn’t help but be struck by how happy the peater was to be facing the next ten years working naked in the fields like a pack animal and getting his straight ass reamed out every night by upwards of twenty different men. This is what passed for a good future for a fuck slave. And, even though it surprised him, Dex realized that he was almost envious of the peater. At least he knew the outlines of his future. Dex didn’t really have a clue. Yeah, he had avoided being purchased by a brothel, which was definitely a good thing. But Dex had no idea what Pickens had in mind for him beyond the obvious use he intended to make of him. He was going to be the man’s male fuck-bitch, that was clear. But, beyond that, Dex had absolutely no idea. And that was scary.

Dex didn’t want to dwell on all those questions just now. He’d find out the answers soon enough. More to take his mind off all these real questions swirling around inside his brain than anything else, he asked the peater about the two tokens dangling from his collar. He knew what the FBD/P meant. After all, he had the same token hanging from his own collar. But he had no idea what the peater’s ‘C/R’ token stood for.

“Oh,” the peater easily answered, that stands for ‘caged - removable.’ Ag corps always keep their slave’s dicks caged. That’s standard practice. They want them removable, though, for their daily milking.”

“Daily milking?” Dex queried.

“Yeah,” the peater laughed. “Those damn Ag corps don’t let anything go to waste. They milk their sex slaves every day and then sell their cream for use in emollients and lubes. That’s why they want their slaves caged - they don’t want them wasting their ball-seed on their own pleasure. Normally, they’d do the caging themselves but since I needed to be depilated anyway - my first owner liked his bitches hairy - they decided to have it done here.”

This peater obviously knew the system a lot better than Dex so the boy asked him another question. “What do the letters ‘SR/PwP’ stand for?”

Instantly, the smile left the peater’s face and he stared at the boy long and hard. “Why do you ask?” he finally inquired.

Suddenly self-conscious, though he didn’t understand why, Dex explained. “I was in a cell next to another peater before the sale and he helped me out, explaining things to me. He was sold right after I was, but I didn’t see who purchased him. I noticed he was here with us in the processing room but he seems like he’s totally withdrawn. He never looks up or talks to anyone else. Even the guards seem to leave hims alone. He’s got a token with ‘SR/PwP’ on it and I just wondered what it meant.”

“Poor fucker,” the peater said, shaking his head. “That dude really pulled the short straw. ‘SR’ stands for ‘sex reassignment.” They’re gonna cut off his boy-junk - all of it - and replace it with a vagina. They’re gonna take that boy’s cock and balls and give him a cunt.”

“Holy fuck,” Dex exclaimed, not believing what he was hearing. “They can’t do that. The law’s clear. No disfigurement, no permanent changes.”

“Boy,” the peater replied, “that law was changed a few years back to allow tattooing of a slave’s body. And when they did that, they also snuck in another provision which removed any limitations on what can be done to 3-peaters. If you’re convicted for a third sexual offense, there’s no limits on what your new owner can do to you. None at all.”

“So his new owner can just turn him into a woman - give him a cunt and boobs - just because he wants to?” Dex asked, horrified by what the peater was telling him.

“With a 3-peater? Yeah, he can. If that’s what he wants. But that’s not what gonna happen to your friend. He’s just getting himself a pussy between his legs - that’s what the ‘P’ stands for. If it was a complete sexual reassignment they’d have the letter ‘T’ for total. They’re not going to be doing any work on his chest. His new owner isn’t looking to turn him into a woman; he just wants a man with an honest-to-God real pussy where his junk should be.”

Seeing the obvious confusion on Dex’s face the man continued. “It’s become a big thing among really wealthy perverts - having a young, muscular, super-masculine dude with a real pussy that they can fuck exactly like they’d fuck a girl. Not surprisingly, it’s hard to get young dudes to agree to exchange their manhood for a woman’s snatch and some dudes have paid upwards of a million dollars to entice boys into agreeing to it. It’s a hell of a lot cheaper to just buy a 3-peater at an auction and have the operation done here. That’s what happening to your friend, I’m sorry to say.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dex muttered under his breath. He could understand why the peater had been so withdrawn since the auction. Even having to spend the next twenty years as Wayne Pickens’s sex slave paled in comparison to what the peater faced. Out in the world, before all this had happened to him, Dex had had no idea of how twisted some men were. Now he was beginning to find out. But he did have one more question. “What does the ‘wP’ stand for?” he asked the other prisoner.

The peater looked at him and snorted in disgust. “It means ‘Pussy with Pelt.’ Those rich perverts who want their boys to have real pussies want the whole thing. They want their boys to have nice bushes, too. Your friend, like most peaters, has already been permanently denuded so they’re going to graft some hairy dude’s skin onto his groin after they cut-off his boy-junk. And they say we’re the sexual miscreants. Give me a fucking break.”

The conversation petered out after that exchange and just a half-hour later Dex was taken for his first depilation session. His arms and legs were denuded during that session and, while it was considerably less painful than Dex had feared, Dex was surprised at how upset he felt when he looked down and saw his now permanently hairless legs. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much he had associated masculinity with at least a certain degree of hairiness. Now his legs didn’t look like a man’s legs, they looked like a boy’s. And they would look like that for the rest of his life. The permanency of this alteration shook much more than he would have expected.

And if Dex was upset with how his legs looked after his first session, it was infinitely worse after his second session on Sunday morning when the technicians completed their assignment and his entire body was now permanently hairless. Dex could hardly believe the image that projected back at him as he stood in front of the full-length mirror that they had ordered him to look at. Without pubes or any other body hair, his body’s muscular development seemed almost a caricature of a real Man’s body. It was the body of a boy playing at being a Man, a boy Real Men had every right in the world to use for their own enjoyment, however they pleased. And Dex was even more mortified when he noticed the silent tears running down his cheeks. He was crying, just like a boy would. Just like a boy.

When he was returned to his cell, the guard accompanying him couldn’t help commenting on Dex’s new look. “Aren’t you a pretty little boy,” he taunted him as he ordered Dex into his cell. “I’m sure your new owner’s gonna have a lot of fun with you, boy. A lot of fun.” Despite everything else he’d already been through, Dex felt himself blushing in embarrassment. But, once inside his cell, Dec couldn’t keep from thinking about the essential truth of what the guard had just said. His new owner was going to have a lot of fun with him. Wayne Pickens clearly intended to do just that.

Dex had a few hours before Pickens would come by to collect him, a few hours before his life as a male sex slave would begin in earnest, and he took that time to review his situation. Dex realized that he had to accept the reality that there would be no last minute reprieve, no deus ex machina rescuing him from the future that awaited him. He was a male sex slave now and would be for the next twenty years. And he needed to accommodate himself mentally and emotionally to his new life.

First and foremost, Dex had to accept that his body was no longer his, it was Wayne Pickens’s, Wayne Pickens’s property to use however he wished. And that didn’t just mean that he could fuck Dex whenever he wanted, though of course he could. It also meant he could beat and physically abuse Dex either for Pickens’s own amusement or to punish Dex for some slight or infraction.

There was nothing Dex could do to prevent Pickens from abusing Dex on his own whim - Dex would just have to learn to accept that treatment as part of his lot in life. But what Dex could do was behave in such a way that he never gave the man any reason to punish him. And if, to do that, Dex had to turn himself into a groveling, pathetic, faggot fuck-bitch, well that was what Dex had to do. It would be humiliating having to debase himself the way Dex knew he would have to; it would be a complete abnegation of everything Dex had thought he was. But it was the only thing Dex could do if he hoped to survive the next twenty years. By the time the guard came by to deliver him to his new owner, Dex had decided that he would be a totally submissive sex slave, he would do whatever he was told, no matter how vile or disgusting, without any hesitation, without any argument. He would be the perfect male sex slave, the perfect faggot fuck-bitch. He would survive.

Pickens was waiting for him at the front desk. And, just by the way the man’s face lit up when he saw Dex, it was obvious that he approved of Dex’s transformation from a hirsute man to a totally denuded boy. “Aren’t you the pretty little bitch?” he said as Dex was brought up to him, his words eerily replicating the guard’s comment earlier that afternoon. Dex assumed the question was rhetorical so he made no response, keeping his eyes downcast as was expected of all sex slaves. But when Pickens then ordered, “Display position, bitch,” Dex immediately moved into action, spreading his legs as far apart as his shackles would allow, bringing his arms up and interlacing his fingers behind his neck.

Dex forced himself not to shy away as Pickens reached out and began fondling Dex’s body, running his hands all over Dex’s freshly denuded torso. “Nice and smooth,” the man said approvingly. “Just like a boy, just like a little bitch. It really fits you, boy.” A second later, Dex wasn’t quite able to squelch a squeal of pain as the man roughly squeezed Dex’s balls.

“Your nads seem fully packed, boy,” the man laughed. “Guess you haven’t been getting off lately. But don’t worry, boy, we’ll be taking care of that as soon as I get you home. You’ll be cumming buckets while I’m busting your cherry, boy. I’m gonna make sure of that. You’ll be shooting geysers as I core you out a cunt for the first time. Course, that’s the only time you’ll be cumming from now on - when I pounding out my own load inside your faggot pussy. I trust you’re okay with that, boy. I trust you’re okay with being my cunted-out fuck-bitch for the next twenty years?”

Dex raised his eyes to look at his new owner. “Yes, sir,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady, “I’m okay with being your cunted-out fuck-bitch for the next twenty years.”

Dex could see that his response took Pickens aback. Obviously, the man had expected Dex to put up some type of resistance, to struggle with accepting his new life as a sex slave. And it was obvious to Dex that the man was disappointed that Dex hadn’t, that Pickens had been looking forward to disciplining his new bitch right here in front of all these strangers. But Pickens moved quickly to cover up his reaction. He gave Dex’s balls a hard twist, causing the boy to groan in pain.

“Bitch,” he said, his disappointment manifesting itself as anger, “you will address me as ‘Master,’ because that is what I am, your Master. Just as I will address you as ‘boy’ or ‘bitch’ because that is what you are.”

“Yes, Master,” Dex immediately replied, trying hard not to writhe on his feet as Pickens continued to squeeze his ball sac. “I’m sorry, Master,” he added, hoping to mollify the man.

Pickens delivered one more vicious twist to Dex’s nads, causing the boy to stagger on his feet, but then released his grip. “Let’s get you home, boy,” he said with a leer. “I’m anxious to start to work on coring you out that cunt I promised.”

“Yes, Master,” Dex replied, grateful that the man had stopped mauling his balls but all too aware that his twenty-years of abject sex slavery was just beginning.

The paperwork that needed to be completed was minimal and, when it was completed, the clerk handed Pickens’ the collar control. “It’s the lastest model, pre-set to your specifications, sir,” the clerk remarked. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy using it.”

“I’m sure I will,” the man agreed, then turned and pressed down on one of the buttons. Immediately, Dex began screeching in pain and reflexively reaching for the collar. Pickens took his finger off the button after a few seconds and, while Dex sagged on his feet, turned back to the clerk. “I’m definitely going to enjoy this,” he chuckled.

“I’m sure you will, sir,” the clerk affably replied, making no effort to hide his own amusement. “I’m sure your will. And don’t forget, sir, it has audio controls as well as manual ones, just as you requested.”

“Oh, I’m not going to forget that,” Pickens assured the clerk. “I’m definitely not going to forget that.”

The auction sale now completed, Pickens clipped a leash onto Dex’s collar and led his new property out to the street. Just before they reached the door, Pickens reached down and gave Dex’s boy-cock a few hard strokes. With the tight cock-ring welded around his scrotum, Dex’s boy-meat was almost always semi-hard and it just took those few quick tugs from Pickens to make it bulk up to a raging hard-on. And so it was that Dex Madison, naked, totally bereft of any body hair, and sporting a throbbing boner, made his first appearance in public as a male sex slave.

Dex had thought that he’d mentally prepared himself for the new life as a sex slave. But as he stepped into the fading light of a late summer afternoon and people on the street turned to look at him, waves of humiliation and shame just washed over him. He could see the contempt and disdain that his appearance engendered. He could hear the laughter and the sarcastic slurs that erupted all around him. In mere seconds, it felt as if his entire body were on fire as he blushed a deeper red than he would have thought possible. It was only the fear of how Pickens might react, what he would do to Dex out there, in public, that kept Dex from moving his hands to at least try to cover up his visibly twitching erection. As it was, the shame of having to appear in public that way caused twin tears to trickle out of the corner of his eyes, which just made Dex’s embarrassment so much the worse.

Pickens was enjoying his new slave’s humiliation immensely. And it was obvious he was in no hurry to end it. He proceeded down the block at a snail’s pace, stopping random persons to engage in mindless banter, frequently running his hands up and down Dex’s naked torso, going so far as to squeeze and pinch Dex’s boy-tits just to generate even more caustic comments from the crowd of on-lookers.

It took Dex and Pickens a full half-hour to cover the two blocks to Pickens’s car and Dex couldn’t hide his relief when he was finally inside and no longer fully exposed to anyone merely glancing in his direction. Any relief he felt, though, was purely transitory. No sooner was Dex ensconced in his seat with his legs spread apart as far as possible, knowing that this would be expected of him, than Pickens’ reached over and roughly grabbed hold of his boy-junk.

“Okay, bitch,” the man said, letting his full malice show through, “It’s important that you understand how things are going to be from now on. You’re my bitch, now, and I expect you to behave as such at all times. And if you don’t, if you so much as cock your eye at me when I give you an order to so something, I won’t hesitate to punish you.”

Then, pausing for a moment, Pickens altered the intonation of his voice and said, “Bitch Dex, level four.”

Immediately, Dex found himself squealing in agony, his hands grabbing for his throat as his collar shot bolts of pain seemingly throughout his entire body. Pickens sat there laughing as the boy uncontrollably writhed and bucked in the seat next to him until he finally said, “Bitch Dex, level zero.”

The pain stopped at once, though Dex’s body continued to twitch for thirty more seconds. Dex looked at Pickens, knowing that the man could see the raw terror in his eyes. “Please, please,” he squeaked out. “Please, Master, no more.”

“Hurts, bitch,” Pickens chortled, “doesn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, Master,” Dex instantly replied. “it hurts so bad, Master.”

“Yeah,” Pickens agreed. “I could see that. And, bitch, what you need to understand is that what you experienced was only level 4. It goes up to level 10. Just imagine what that would feel like, bitch. And, trust me, bitch, if you piss me off, you won’t have to imagine what it feels like - you’ll know for a fact. Do I make myself clear, bitch? Do I make myself clear?”

“Oh, yes, Master,” Dex answered, his abject submission clear in his voice. “You make yourself perfectly clear, Master. I’ll be a good bitch, Master. I promise. I promise I’ll be a good bitch, Master.”

“I’m sure you will be, boy,” Pickens responded, his twinkling eyes showing how much he was enjoying himself, how much he was enjoying his new male sex slave. “As long as you’re wearing that collar - and you’re gonna be wearing it for the next twenty years - I’m sure you’re gonna do exactly what I tell you to do.”

“You know,” Pickens mused, more to himself than to Dex, as he looked down at the collar control device sitting on the console in front of him, “the new audio activated device is really something. It’s programmed to recognize my voice and to automatically set your collar to any level I order. I don’t even have to be in the room. So long as it can hear my voice, it sets the level of your collar wherever I want it to be.”

Pickens paused for a second in thought and then, coming out of his revelry turned back to Dex, “That’s pretty neat, isn’t it, bitch, being able to set your level of pain without even being in the same room with you?”

“Oh, yes, Master,” Dex quickly replied “That’s really neat.” Even Dex was surprised and more than a little embarrassed at how rapidly he was slipping into the slavish attitude and posture expected of a sex slave, mimicking his Master’s very words like some sort of trained parrot. Dex had always presented himself to the world as fully masculine until now. But pain, and the fear of even greater pain, had apparently been all that was needed to strip him down to his true nature.

“And one other thing, bitch,” Pickens said. “I don’t want you ever fooling around with your boy-clit, here,” giving Dex’s junk a nasty twist. “I don’t want to see you even touching it. Ever. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Dex replied, only now realizing that Pickens had been gripping his family jewels even while Dex had been writhing in agony as his collar sent bolts of pain throughout his body. “I won’t ever touch my….my boy-clit again.” Dex could feel his skin burning as he heard himself refer to his cock, the cock he’d always been so proud of, as his ‘boy-clit.’ And it was beginning to dawn on him that, while he’d thought he prepared himself for his new life as a sex slave, he really hadn’t. He’d concentrated on the big things - the permanent nudity, the daily ass-corings, the physical and sexual tortures he’d be forced to endure. But what he hadn’t prepared himself for was the myriad small daily humiliations that would now mark his life - the obsequious groveling, the constant abnegation of any claim to manhood even in the terminology he used to describe his own body. He realized now that he faced a daily emasculation, an emasculation in which he would be the prime perpetrator. By the time Dex completed his sentence, he would have, by his own actions, forfeited any claim to even a shred of masculinity. He would be a male fuck-bitch forever.

Dex was scarcely aware of his surroundings, so deep was he lost in thought, when Pickens removed his hand from Dex’s junk and put the car in gear. And he was only slightly more aware of what was happening when Pickens’ reached over and grabbed the back of his head and pulled it down to his crotch. “Suck your Master off, bitch,” Pickens roughly ordered. And Dex obediently did as he was told, spreading his lips and taking the Man’s hard fuck-tool deep into his mouth. He tried relaxing his throat as much as he could, but his new Master’s cock was not only inordinately long, it was exceptionally thick as well, and even with all the experience Dex had acquired during his stay in the holding cell before the auction, the boy found it difficult to swallow the throbbing Man-meat.

Pickens was clearly not impressed by his slave’s efforts and after repeated orders and numerous hard slaps did not produce the desired result, he reached down and roughly forced the slave’s head all the way down on his hard cock and held it there for what seemed like an eternity as Dex choked and gagged. Eventually, though, Pickens relaxed his grip enough to allow the boy to take a strangled gasp of air before his throat was once again fully impaled on his Master’s big boner.

Pickens face-fucked his new slave for a good ten minutes before finally unloading a massive cum effusion into Dex’s now-raw throat, which the boy struggled, successfully as it turned out, to swallow. The man released his grip on Dex’s head, allowing the boy to sit back up, just as Pickens was turning the car into a driveway. With a start, Dex realized that they weren’t at Pickens’s house - they were at his own former residence. And he could feel his entire body blushing yet again as he contemplated what was about to happen - the bastard was about to display Dex naked and chained in front of his former spouse, the woman whose lies were responsible for his present predicament. He could just imagine how he was going to feel as he had to stand there meekly as she laughed and gloated over him.

It was obvious that Pickens was enjoying Dex’s embarrassment as he turned towards the slave and said, “Get out of the car, bitch. There’s someone who’s anxious to see you.”

Knowing he had no choice other than to obey, Dex opened his door and got out of the car. And as he stood there, on the street where he’d lived for half a dozen years, naked and exposed, he wondered how many of his neighbors, his erstwhile friends, were at their windows watching him and laughing. The urge to cover up his junk was almost overwhelming but Dex already knew that if he did so, Pickens would take the opportunity to punish him - punish him in front of all his laughing neighbors - which would only make things worse. So Dex forced himself to simply stand there passively and let his neighbors see for themselves the depths to which he had already descended.

Pickens took his sweet time getting out of the car, obviously relishing Dex’s latest humiliation, but eventually he did. Then, when he came up to the waiting slave, he picked up the leash. “On your hands and knees, bitch,” he ordered imperiously. Dex’s flush deepened perceptively as he dropped to the ground and started crawling forward. And so it was that Dex Madison, naked, denuded, collared and chained, on his hands and knees like a dog and, like a dog, led by a leash, re-entered the house he had lived in for so many years.

“I’ve got him,” Pickens called out, as he opened the front door.

“Great,” came the answering voice, a voice Dex knew so well. “I’ve been looking forward to this for a long, long time.” And then, grinning like the cat that had swallowed the canary, Tina Madison, Dex’s former wife and the mother of his two sons, strode into the entryway.

“Oh, doesn’t he look cute,” Tina said, as he saw Dex on all fours, “like a little dog, a little bitch.”

“Well that’s just what he is, Tina,” Pickens laughed, “a little bitch.” He looked down at Dex. “Okay, bitch,” he ordered, “on your feet, display position.”

Immediately, Dex got to his feet, moved them far apart and hooked his fingers behind his neck. He could feel himself blush as a loud cackle came from his ex-wife. “Jesus Christ, he looks like a ten-year old boy. You were absolutely right about having him depilated. It was well-worth the money. It’ll be a hoot showing him off to all our friends - big muscle-stud, hairless as a little boy. Still, Wayne, I can’t help worrying about all the money we spent buying him. It was way more than we planned.”

Dex was standing there, almost drowning in the brutal mockery of his wife but also totally perplexed by her commentary. It was almost as if his wife had joined forces with his lawyer to buy him at the auction. Things, though, became a lot clearer when Pickens responded.

“Honey, we always planned on buying him. After all, you wanted to pay him back for all the years he basically ignored you and fucked anything else in a skirt. That was the plan from the very beginning - to make him pay, really pay, for cheati