Involuntary Man Slut

Technically I was finishing off some research for the publication I worked for. Hence the journalistic exposé cleverly entitled "Involuntary Man Slut". At least I thought it was clever, not prophetic. Officially I was here to either dispel or prove the growing public suspicion that men were being enslaved against their will. In a culture of permissiveness where men and women could voluntarily submit to domination, sexual predation was hard to prove. But apparently some men had escaped to tell tales of abuse at the hands of some unscrupulous females. The woman I was interviewing was one of those suspects. Unfortunately for me, my research had taken on a more personal significance. I was unprepared for the level of curiosity I was experiencing.

According to reports from men who had been held captive for months by female kidnappers, they were coerced into sexual slavery. There was nothing consensual about it. The men were kept naked and trained to respond to various female handlers. Their cocks were locked into chastity devices and could only released by keys the trainers kept on their person at all times, fastened to thin chains that hung between their breasts. Or attached to ankle bracelets for convenience.

Over the weeks and months following their abduction, male slaves were forced to engage in humiliating acts designed to subdue their will and make them pliable for whatever deviant behavior the women preferred. Apparently they enjoyed a wide variety of depravity.

Males were forced to act like dogs, wearing anal plugs shaped like tails. They were required to wag their butts when their owners entered the room, like grateful subservients. They crawled on all fours, barked for treats and came when they were called. Some men were milked like cows in front of an audience of female spectators, who then bought the best producers. The males were often milked multiple times in succession and their sperm used as lubricant for their continued milking or as an anal easement.

The "Sisterhood," as I nicknamed them, enjoyed riding their males from behind like jockeys in fake slut-races. Fake, because of course the sluts ran nowhere. They were tied in place to prevent them from moving. Bound so that their arms were stretched out uselessly in front of them and attached to the far end of the bench the men were strapped to, the arrangement prevented any possible interference, as unlikely as that was. Their chests rested on low, wide benches. Knees were spread apart and asses were raised as high as possible, leaving caged cocks and balls swollen by excessive fondling within easy reach.

They had ball gags fitted into their mouths like bridle-bits. The gags didn't stop them from making any sounds, just from making intelligible sounds. The riders liked it when their mounts grunted and whinnied.

Nothing fake about the riders though. The women found the biggest dildos possible to use as strap-ons and dressed up in jodhpurs and spurs. In selecting a mount, each slut had his balls weighed by many hands. Erections were stroked and compared. Holes were explored, lubricated and tested for elasticity; an easily accessed asshole could give the rider a head start. Riding crops were used liberally to urge their mounts on during the race and to ensure full participation. Shocking accusations, if they were true.

Rumor was that some males were even being given testicle replacements. Supposedly they were kept shackled in cages, their collars chained to the bars in front of their faces, while their knees were secured on either side, so that the captive's legs were spread wide toward the cage door for easy access. The men were kept immobilized on their hands and knees for hours. Weights attached to their scrotums stretched their ball sacks over a period of time to accommodate the enlarged testicles that were transplanted into them. If they looked unnatural, the women using the cocks didn't seem to mind. In fact, verbal accounts of escaped slaves confirmed that female owners preferred the males with bigger balls to the unaltered slaves. These modified males couldn't possibly fit into an ordinary pair of pants anymore, but they were never going to be allowed to wear clothes again anyway, so it wasn't considered an issue.

In response to my question regarding escapees from her training facility, the woman I spoke with denied that anything but consensual sex was going on. She was amused by the notion that her clients would even consider leaving without consent, let alone acknowledge the possibility that it could be done.

"No of course I'm not concerned about him running away," she replied incredulously. "Where on earth would he go? He has no credit cards and no drivers' license. Nothing has been in his name for a long time now. As far as the government is concerned he is my dependent." Yeah, she couldn't imagine why her boy would want to escape. Moreover, she was certain he couldn't. 

"How far would he get?" she reasoned. "I keep him naked with a remote-controlled cock ring locked around his balls." She glanced behind her. 

The boy

"Come here boy." A boy of about 18, pale skinned, naked, dark hair tucked behind his ears, with his hands cuffed behind him emerged from the shadows. He stood dejectedly beside his handler and stared forlornly at the floor. A gleaming metal cock ring, securely fastened around the base of his shaved genitals caught the mid-afternoon light streaming through the windows. The boy stood trembling beside the woman. She kept glancing toward me, eager to see my reaction as she presented her toy. With the index finger of her right hand she traced a line from one of his nipples to his navel. Her sharp fingernail left a faint pink line etched on his skin. The boy shivered in anticipation.

"He is being punished for disobedience, she explained." As though some rationale beyond her perverse pleasure was required for his totally irrational circumstances. "He is teased practically all the time, but not allowed to cum," she continued. "If he wants relief he needs to please me." She smiled and ran her hand down the boys' flank, cupping and squeezing his ass, like any livestock owner would I guess. I must have looked skeptical.

"And yes, because I can see the question on your face, I do control that." She took a smooth, palm sized remote out of her pocket and gently slid the control lever forward until the boy moaned. She increased the current slightly and his cock began to stiffen. 

She hardened him quickly and had him begging in no time. But then she let him hang there, unable to relieve himself. He had no real choice but to wait for her to decide if he could cum. The kid looked tired, like he was used to disappointment.

But his cock stayed hard for a long time, all through her explanation of why her pet would never run away. It didn't really matter much what he wanted anymore, only what he could endure.

"He never knows when I will make him cum, so he gets horny every time," she grinned. "I'm gonna have to milk him soon, and provide some release before he explodes. I think just satisfying his addiction to cumming has become his only goal in life," she said pensively. "Sad, really. But shouldn't every boy want to please his owner?" She played casually with the erect cock beside her, tapping it, tracing its length back and forth with her fingers, then looked at me. "I mean, wouldn't you want to please me if you were in his situation? I would certainly hope so, gratitude is paramount in my estimation of a man's role." She searched my face for signs of revulsion or indications of fascination, but she had guessed correctly that I would not be sitting there at all if I hadn't made up my mind by now.

"I let him cum just enough to feed that addiction and stay reliant on me. About once a week now, unless I'm feeling generous," she smiled. "But only if he earns it," she said softly. Her eyes followed the outline of the boy's body. Her fingers smoothed over his muscles, squeezing, teasing him until he shivered. His erect cock oozed precum and she spread it along his erection with slow fingers.

"It's been fun," she murmured, like a cat playing with a toy. "We found out he can have multiple orgasms if he's forced. But who cares. He stays hard for as long as I want, and keeping him horny makes him an enthusiastic participant." 

I must have looked vague regarding her reference. She stared at me, amused by my naïveté. 

"Enthusiastic participant, you're pondering?" Her eyes twinkled. I nodded. 

"I mean he licks me like his orgasm is at stake instead of mine. How pumped is that? Plus his cock stays hard the whole time and he can fuck for a good 20 minutes after I cum. Which I sometimes like to do," she grinned somewhat shyly, almost confessional, for a woman who took pride in using men in unusual ways. 

She was certainly not on anyone's list of coy people. So admitting to liking straight up old-fashioned fucking was almost an embarrassment of normalcy for her. But she recovered quickly. She had a reputation to maintain, after all.

"Of course I usually just use him and let him clean up while I go out. But occasionally I enjoy a relaxed, easy fuck after I climax." She stretched in her chair, flexing. 

He's good for that," she purred, and reached out to cup the boy's balls in her hand. His cock twitched and started to swell again. 

"Not yet pet. Wait for our company to leave, you bad little slut," she admonished him in that tone of voice reserved for willful children or hapless puppies that pee on the rug. Or for the new category she had invented for him: Bad Sluts.

I watched fascinated as his cock became even harder than it had been. Obviously hearing her refer to him a slut in front of a complete stranger stiffened him. She made him recognize what he was. He was her tool now. All he could really do about that was to be a good tool. Of course she knew that just accepting his role would make him feel like even more objectified, even more her whore. 

She released his balls and thumbed the slide up on the cock ring control mechanism. The small electrodes embedded in the metal collar fired into the discomfort zone and the boy's cock hung semi-erect almost instantly. The boy moaned in frustration. 

"He's getting used to it, aren't you boy? Come closer. Let my guest look at you." 

The boy crept closer to me, anxious to please and afraid to disobey. He stopped about two feet away from me, hesitant, like prey approaching its predator.

"Closer," she snapped at him like he should know better by now. I wondered how many times she had used him like this, as an exhibition of her handiwork for some other prospective client. His semi-erect cock hung on display within easy reach but not in my face either. The boy shuffled closer until he was less than a foot away.

"Shall I make him hard for you?" She seemed eager to display her control over him. The boy moaned.

"Please Miss," be begged. "Please let me cum." He began sobbing. She ignored him.

"Does he have a name?" 

"Yes, his name is boy." 

I smiled. She smiled back. "Would you like to understand how he got himself into his current situation?"

"Maybe. I think I would. That depends what do you mean by "understand?" 

"You know, or you wouldn't be beating around the bush about it." She smiled and thumbed the remote in her pocket. The boy moaned and stiffened beside me. Still watching me, she increased the intensity in the boy's cock ring. He sobbed louder and begged her to let him cum. 

"Don't you want to know for yourself what that feels like?" She asked. She leaned closer to me. "I'll never know, but you can."

I watched the desperate boy hovering beside me. His erection twitched and bobbed, his hands fought hopelessly against the restraints and he moaned continuously. My mouth felt dry. My mind raced to find a way out of this decision, but in the distant background of my dilemma I heard the boy still pleading to be allowed to ejaculate, still desperate for release. 

"Ever wonder what it feels like to finally cum after five days of being edged nonstop?" she drawled. Without breaking eye contact with me she slid the selection indicator forward on the cock ring controller. The boy's face contorted. Grunting uncontrollably he shot a pent-up geyser of cum into the air, right on cue. She dialed the selector back down. The boy kept squirting until he was empty.

The boy sank to his knees weeping. Relief and gratitude spread across his face. She flicked the cock ring controller off and allowed him to go soft. He collapsed on the floor, exhausted and finally spent. Her eyes never left mine. 

"Take your pants off." She spoke quietly, with authority, and held my gaze. It was a challenge. We both knew it was up to me now. She had shown me she wasn't going to fuck around. We both knew what we wanted. Now it was my turn. Play or walk away.

Did I want to be like this poor wretch, sprawled naked on the floor with my wrists handcuffed behind me, whimpering with the intensity of his release. Maybe. No! Except, something about all this was making my cock hard. 

She knew. Somehow she knew I wanted part of it. The part where the insatiable need to cum, erased any sense of autonomy I imaged I had. What would it feel like to be so horny there was no room in your consciousness for anything else but the drive to satisfy that need? She knew I wanted to know the answer and there was only one way to know what that felt like. I had to submit to her authority or walk away.

I stood up and undid my belt. She settled back into her seat, looking forward to the show. The smile playing around her lips told me she knew she had already won this round. 

My jeans came off, and I slid my underwear down to my ankles without being told. Might as well be proactive. My thick cock flopped heavily into view as I stood up and I saw her smile deepen and her eyes light up.

"Mmm, that's gonna be mine soon," she promised.

"Step out of your underwear and take your shirt off. Get naked for me! Now!

She wasn't angry, just strident. She was excited. She was a woman in charge of a male subservient. She was telling me she expected immediate obedience and was not accustomed to waiting. She was Dominant and she was establishing the parameters of our relationship. At least I hoped that's what was happening. She also sounded annoyed that I wasn't more prescient, like I should have anticipated getting naked, and done so for her without being told. But maybe that was just my anxiety driving my paranoia. Or maybe I was a quick learner.

"From now on you will wear nothing unless I instruct you otherwise, got it?"

I stood in front of her completely naked, relaxed, hands hanging loosely by my sides, cock not yet completely hard but it wouldn't take much. Being semi-erect in front of a Dominatrix was dangerous enough without a full boner announcing my enthusiasm.

"Got it," I replied. I had heard about enough male training over the past few weeks to know that the only way to understand what I wanted to know was to dive in. Even though I wondered exactly what "from now on" meant.

"Come here." She settled into a comfortable chair and beckoned me to her with her finger. "Come and stand beside me. After all, that's what you want isn't it? You want to stand close to me so I can play with your cock, isn't that right?" She looked almost innocent. Her eyes held my gaze; open, inquisitive, compelling, and waiting.

"Answer." One word commands meant immediate answers. I already knew that much.

"Yes. Yes that's what I want." I walked to her and stopped beside her. The right arm of her chair was conveniently at crotch-level. The short, curt demands continued.

"Spread your legs apart and hold your wrists behind your back." I obeyed. I was beginning to feel the rush of abdicating control. My cock hardened until it ached. Fuck the appearance of still being in control, I wanted nothing more now than her hand on my boner.

"Ah, I see you are already appreciating the opportunity being offered to you." She fished the stimulus control out of her pocket and slid the scale up. The boy on the floor beside her began to moan almost immediately. I saw him struggle to his knees across from me, beside her.

"Watch my boy. You are about to take his place and I want you to know what is expected." She leaned back casually like she was turning on her favorite TV show.

While I watched, fascinated with her audacity, she reached down and wrapped her hand around the boy's erect cock and pulled him toward her on his knees. She took his face in one hand and held it in place while she forced his lips apart with her tongue and French-kissed the boy's open mouth. Her boy's cock stayed hard in her other hand, clearly trained to respond to her touch, with or without the cock ring.

His submission fueled her desire. The need to dominate, the lust that she used this boy to replenish, was only intensified by his need to be used. She stopped kissing him long enough to slap his face. Then she drove her tongue down his throat again, like she was fucking it. Through it all, the boy remained submissive, erect and eager to please. She kept his cock erect all through the long kiss, his arms hung by his sides, ass slightly extended as though he expected it to be used, regardless of what else happened.

When she finally released him he sank onto his haunches beside her, ready to be used again later. She looked at me, searching for my commitment.

"I expect you to take his place this afternoon. You need to indicate to me that you understand what you are doing. I'll accept a grunt as confirmation of my dominance over you for as long as I say. Grunt now."

I am embarrassed to say I grunted on command. How else was I going to have the experience?

She keyed a code into the palm control in her hand and and the cock ring around the boy's genitals clicked open. She held the devise in the palm of her hand and looked into my eyes.

"You're standing here naked, legs spread and erect, still by your own will. Once I lock this onto your balls, I will own you and believe me, your cock will do whatever I tell it to do. Last chance to pull out."

I said nothing.

"Turn around. You can still back out anytime, right up until the metal cock ring is snapped into place. But I don't want any last-minute grabbing, so I'm putting my previous boy's cuffs on you, understand?"

I swallowed. I nodded. "Yeah got it".

"What part of 'turn around' didn't you understand?" She still sat while I turned. "I cannot reach your hands from where I'm sitting. Get on your knees." I knelt and shuffled backward, my wrists crossed, anticipating. I felt and heard the cuffs being ratcheted into place, making any last minute thoughts I had of physically intervening on my own behalf impossible.

"I expect better obedience from now on. Are we still on the same page here?" Before I could answer she said, "You can refer to me as Miss now. You will be called boy. Stand up." I stood. She glanced down at my predecessor.

"Oooh!" She sounded genuinely surprised. "I guess I've been keeping him stimulated for too long." Fatigue had finally overcome her boy. I turned to see that he had collapsed into a naked little pile at her feet now that the cock ring wasn't controlling his libido.

"Oh well, is it bad to say that I won't be needing him anymore anyway?" She sounded genuine, if not a little psychotic.

"At least you're looking forward to spending time with me aren't you," she said, but addressing my erection instead of me.

"Come closer new boy. Bring my cock here." I stepped forward until I was a foot away from her hands.

"Good boy," she cooed. "I see you understand that everything has to be at its best and biggest for this thing to fit well." She snapped the cock control ring around my genitals in one fluid movement. The feel of the metal, the click of the lock made it all real somehow.