Learning to Slave Wrangle Pt. 01

My mouth was already propped open by the ring-gag, but Jean ordered "mouth," which meant among other things that I was required to tongue and swallow the invader as if it were an actual dick. Fortunately for my comfort, Jean was a kind, unassertive person who had to psych herself to dominate me probably more than I had to remind myself to submit to her. After several minutes of gently pumping back and forth, she reminded me to lift my head and straighten my neck, which allowed the head of her plastic protrusion to slip down a few inches inside my esophagus. It felt very strange there, but I soon adjusted to breathing around it as she paused, then began pushing and pulling very gently, all the while fulfilling her role of dominating her temporary slave: "Good Boy," she cooed, as if she were praising her dog (which, considering I was in the doggy position, was appropriate.) "That's it, slut," she continued, talking to me very gently, "use your tongue. Suck my dick." She giggled. "Things I never thought I would ever say. Come on, slave, lick my cock--get it lubricated to go in your rear end."

I made a note to be VERY gentle with Jean when our roles were reversed. She had certainly assumed the dominant role in our sex play but was doing so in such a friendly manner that she made this experience far more bearable. A few moments later, however, an authoritative, slightly-Hispanic voice disrupted our gentle interaction.

*****

"OK, Mizz Scorer," said Francisco. "That's a good start on this asshole. Let me take over for a few minutes, while you go help Geni double-team Hal--over there." Her plastic probe withdrew from my mouth and I sensed her moving away, but instead I was suddenly confronted by a very hard, very masculine, genuine cock in my face! "Mouth, Gringo," he commanded. "We need to give you the REAL slave experience," he half-explained as his dick slipped into my ring gag. I wanted to puke but struggled to both breathe and use my tongue on the very real penis that was occupying my mouth and throat! At least it seemed clean, although his pubic hair tickled my nose.

In case you're unaware, one of the most demeaning aspects of slavery is that the slave's sexual preferences, including heterosexuality and even opposition to adultery and incest, are irrelevant. A slave is a piece of meat, a collection of moist holes and soft skin that is expected to give sexual entertainment to any free adult, regardless of sex or personal preference. During the period of slavery, even marriages are considered suspended, so that a married woman must enthusiastically satisfy all "cumers." I had a similar problem--despite all the societal upbringing against homosexuality, because I was a temporary slave I had to willingly couple with free males in the manner and orifice that those males preferred. Part of my mind realized that Francisco was probably as heterosexual as I, but as an assistant instructor he was trying to push all my buttons and show me just how subservient I had to be.

So I resigned myself to giving him a blow job while trying to gaze upward at his face to convey the idea that I was thrilling and honored to have his dick in my mouth--not only was this gaze the expected behavior for slaves, but I hoped to get him off as quickly as possible by catering to his enjoyment of dominating a slave's moist mouth. His face did not suggest that he WANTED to commit oral sodomy, so the best thing I could do to speed things up was try to increase his sense of sexual power--I had learned that this sense of sexual dominance, at least in males, was often very arousing.

Just when I had forced my mind to accept the role of eager dick-licker, though, I felt two firm hands spreading my buttocks, followed by a syringe of lubricant of some type inundating my colon. I couldn't turn around and look, of course, but it was obvious I was about to get my other hole filled. Just then, I felt the pressure of an apparently latex-covered object against my sphincter. It felt really big, but then ANYTHING pressing into your ass feels huge!

Then I heard, coming from that direction, the irritating voice of Ralph, the one male student in my group who had previous experience because (according to him, anyway), his family owned a pony ranch. Imagine the voice (without the speech impediment) of Barry Kripke on The Big Bang Theory--obnoxious, always trying to make points because he seems unsure of himself. "Just what I wanted, a nice piece of virgin boi-pussy. Are you ready to get your ass fucked, Frank?"

Let me be clear--the only thing I wanted LESS than having to suck a man's dick was to do that while another man butt-fucked me. In addition to all the taboos against homosexuality, I was understandably worried about the pain and possible injury of being shafted like that. If that wasn't bad enough, Francisco made it even worse--he suddenly pulled his dick out of my mouth, unstrapped the ring-gag, and repeated the question.

"What about that, Asshole, do you want Master Ralph to ream you?"

[If you're wondering, Francisco wasn't really insulting me; "Asshole" was slang for any male slave, precisely because he could expect to be used like this. This was all part of trying to induce obedience in slaves.] Did I want him to ream me? The real answer, of course, was HELL, NO, but as a temporary slave I was expected to service and please any free person. So now, not only did I face sodomy but I was expected to BEG for it from the most obnoxious fellow-student in my group, for Chrissake. This had been my worst fear when we started this exercise, but because I had contemplated this happening, I had decided in advance that the only possible response was to stay in character and try to get it over with.

"Yes, Master," I said, with a complete sense of helplessness. All I could do was tell my large colon to defecate, which (we had learned) would relax the sphincter and make entry as easy as possible. I added the standard slave mantra: "I beg you to ram your huge cock up my asshole."

A split second later, I felt someone, presumably Ralph, pressing that condom-wrapped, warm, real live cock into my butt. At least he went slowly, pausing every inch or so to allow me to adjust. After a full minute of this slow, relatively-gentle invasion, I felt his cold belt buckle against my stressed rear end--he was literally balls deep in my ass! He paused again, then began slowly pumping in and out. I couldn't really tell how far into me he was, but I did sense a drop in pressure as he pulled back and then renewed intrusion as he pressed forward again. Crap. Literally crap. (OK, because I had a lot of nerve endings down there, there was some pleasure involved, but I was both disgusted and frightened by the action.)

All this time I had been looking straight down the barrel, so to speak, of Francisco's equipment. Now that I had somehow accommodated the asshole invading MY asshole, he reminded me to wrap my lips around my teeth, after which warning he again thrust into me.

The two guys probably only spit-roasted me for a few minutes, but it felt like hours as I struggled to breathe, all while blushing furiously and feeling more defenseless and violated than I could ever imagine. Eventually, though, Francisco called a temporary halt; both cocks stayed inside of me but were motionless for a moment while I heard the instructor talking to another person.

"Mizz Scorer, could I ask you a large favor? Gringo here has been a very obedient slave, but I don't think he's enjoying his spit-roasting very much. Could I ask you to use your hands and perhaps your mouth on his genitals?"

Jean went way up in my estimation when she readily agreed, and I could hear the sympathy and compassion in her voice. A moment later, I felt warm breath on my cock and balls, after which she gently fondled the latter and--wonder of wonders--wrapped warm lips around my dick! (In case you're wondering, I had started to lose my erection under the humiliating invasion of two males, but this brought me back up to full salute.) The two guys resumed their violation of me, with Ralph making crass comments about what a fantastic ass-fuck I was, as tight as the finest piece of pony tail he'd ever screwed, but I almost tuned out their voices and even their intrusions. (Only later did it occur to me that the average pony's butt must be stretched out from regularly wearing a tail plug there.) I know it doesn't make any sense, but somehow I connected the sensations on my own penis with the invasions of my mouth and butt by other penises, almost as if I were somehow giving sexual satisfaction to myself. Bless that woman; she made a humiliating and uncomfortable experience actually pleasurable. A few minutes later, Ralph loudly announced that he was coming and I began to moan, which Jean correctly interpreted as meaning I was about to shoot off (it's difficult to speak when's you're getting the famous Johnson & Johnson injections). The soft lips withdrew just before I unloaded a huge load of jism, all while her soft hand continued to manipulate my scrotum! It's embarrassing to admit, but one of the greatest orgasms of my life came while I was being double-teamed with two strange pricks inside me.

At that moment, I thought to myself that I had experienced several of the offensive clichés that guys commonly threw around--I was actually sucking dick while getting the shit fucked out of me, all while blowing my load after a fantastic sucking.

Just at that moment, after Ralph and Jean had both withdrawn from me, Francisco shot off into my mouth while reminding me that I had to hold at least part of his load on my tongue. Like a dutiful slave, I stuck out my tongue to display the disgusting slime he had just given me. After a pause, I heard him say, "OK, Gringo, you can swallow it. Congratulations, you're now officially a cock-sucker! Don't forget to thank Mizz Scorer for her generosity towards you."

"Thank you, Mistress; Thank you, Masters, for fucking this worthless slave." I dutifully said, still tasting the horrible goo I had just swallowed. At least I was sincere in PART of my gratitude--she had made the worst experience of my entire life almost enjoyable!

*****

A minute later, after the two guys had departed, I became aware of Jean releasing me from the frame, all the while talking to me quietly as if I were an obedient pet who had pleased her--standard procedure for slave handlers, but it was still comforting to hear a woman praising me. Once I was freed, she helped me stand (I was dizzy after my prolonged bondage), cuffed my wrists again, and walked me over to the nearest pee grate. Once again, that marvelous hand took firm control of my dick to direct my urine spray. After my bladder was empty, she wordlessly held a sample bottle of mouthwash to my lips, allowing me to get rid of most of that horrible taste. Only after that did she walk me over to the "slut wash," the combination showers and animal wash that the Longhorn operated to reduce the stickiness of its inventory.

There were already four naked slaves, all female, with their ankles tied wide apart and their hands, cuffed behind their backs, pulled upward by a ceiling rope that forced them to bend over, torsos parallel to the ground, to avoid dislocating their shoulders. Three wore the purple band of slave grading for otherwise free people and one the red band of a genuine pleasure slave, poor woman. Although I was deep into slave mind after being spit roasted, I couldn't help noticing that those eight breasts, dangling below their restrained bodies, were both large and well-formed. My wilted prick immediately began to rise again; I guess my involuntary double-sodomy hadn't turned me gay!

Just as Jean walked me to the edge of the tiled area, one of the three purple bands was freed and her slave wrangler took charge and marched her away. The two rainsuit-attired attendants who had just finished washing this woman walked over to meet us. Based on the top-heavy bulk of their chests and the ample posteriors in their pants, these two were female, one of whom had a height, face, and body shape that resembled a slightly-younger version of Florence, the oversized but shapely African-American who had assisted in my student orientation.

This smiling Black faced clone of Florence briskly asked Jean, "OK, what are we doing with this slut?"

Jean seemed over-awed by this large, aggressive person, but pulled herself together to say, loudly, "Usual slut wash--he's just been spit-roasted and needs to be cleaned out."

The two attendants found that very amusing; by this time my face felt sunburned from the constant blushing and humiliation. I hardly had time to think about it, however, as these women took me by the arms and frog-marched me over to the wash bay that had just been vacated. The Florence-clone, whom the other one addressed as "Mo'," gently tapped on the inside of my ankles to spread my legs, while the other woman bent down and used Velcro straps to tether my legs in that exposed position. Before I had even registered how vulnerable my balls were now, Mo' hooked an overhead pulley system somewhere on the cuffs behind my back, quickly lifting me up and forcing me, like the three other victims in the wash, to bend over, upper body parallel to the ground. Talk about exposed--my junk, butthole, and mouth were just as available as they had been on the rack where I was spit-roasted, plus either of these women could easily fondle or attack my cock and balls. It was very uncomfortable, not to mention exposing every part of my damp body to a rubber strap or a taser. I naturally decided that I had to be VERY obedient and respectful!

For the next five minutes, my erection grew larger and harder as the two women washed and fondled me EVERYWHERE, including thumbs inside my mouth and anus. The sensation, being more gentle than my spit-roasting, was enough to give me a rubber fetish. In the process, they repeated what were apparently familiar jokes about how much fun it was to bind and fondle "little white boy slaves." Once they had my outsides cleaned and my prick and balls completely sensitized, Mo' gleefully held a large, penis-shaped nozzle in front of my face while she smeared lubricant all over it.

"Guess where this thing is going, slut?" She asked me.

"From the looks of it, Mistress, you intend to shove that up this slave's ass." I responded, trying hard not to tremble at the thought.

"You figured that out all by yourself?" She inquired, pretending to be surprised and pleased. "For a guy dumb enough to let himself be collared, there may be hope for you yet! At least this way I don't have to tell you to 'bend over'--you already have." So saying, she disappeared from my contorted view. A moment later I felt her thrust something large, hard, and sticky into my exposed colon, followed soon thereafter by a flood of (thankfully warm) water into my intestines. I began to feel very full and started to cramp a little down there; I couldn't see her, but it felt as if she had one hand leaning/idly fondling my rear end while the other one held that large intrusion inside me. Having been corn-holed by Ralph only a few minutes earlier, it was almost a relief to be washed out like that. At first, anyway. Then, as I became increasingly full, it became uncomfortable, almost painful.

Mo's rumbling, slightly amused voice, penetrated my distress. "After all the times that men have tried to fuck ME, there's nothing I enjoy better than spreading some guy's legs and shoving something up HIS butt." It was obviously an oft-repeated line, as the other woman responded only with a polite giggle. Just as I began to feel stuffed like a turkey, she told me, firmly but rather kindly "You hold that water in for three minutes, Asshole; I'll be very unhappy if you make a mess on my nice, clean floor, got it?"

"Yes, Mistress," I started to reply meekly, only to be surprised as she jerked that nozzle out of me without any warning. My lower hole was both stretched and coated with lubricant, so I had to struggle to hold it closed. I THINK only a few drops of water escaped, but I wasn't in any position to check. At least Mo' didn't punish me.

After an eternity of waiting, with my intestines gurgling painfully, the two washers/torturers slowly, slowly released me from my restraints and helped me over to one of the commodes sitting in full view at the center of the slut wash. The sound of me releasing into the toilet bowl produced a huge echo in the room. And then Mo' took me back to her bay and repeated the entire process, after which she wiped me clean while talking to me as if I were a baby who hadn't been potty trained. Only then did Jean take charge of me, leading me by my rigid dick off to an almost empty cage where I and two other male fellow students were each made to kneel in front of two metal dog bowls, one with water and the other with slave kibble. The only way to eat the tasteless stuff was to thrust my face into the bowl, after which (I hoped) the water bowl would wash off any remaining kibble.

*****

By this time I felt as if I had been a slave for an eternity, and in real time the clocks indicated I'd been collared for perhaps six hours. With her hand cupping my buttocks, Jean again walked me over to a door where a vaguely-familiar full-time wrangler waited with a checklist to note that my student handler had taken her temporary slave, "Frankie," home for the night. She peeled down my lower lip to expose the slave identification number (SIN) I had acquired when slave graded two years earlier. The wrangler used a handheld device to scan it in, reinforcing the message that I was nothing but property, a piece of slave meat. On the other hand, I thought, at least this made a record of my departure in Jean's custody. Although she had treated me with compassion throughout the day, I had just experienced the ultimate demotion from free human being to slave receptacle for the pricks of free men, so it was reassuring that someone had a record of my departing, completely defenseless, in her control.

Once we stepped outside, I felt the heat of a late summer afternoon in Texas. Jean stopped me, then pulled a sleep mask over my face. Nude, collared, blindfolded, and barefoot, I had no choice but to obey her pushing my ass across the hot parking lot. She moved slowly with frequent pauses and slight changes in direction, which gave me the sense that I could trust her not to deliberately walk me into something. After another eternity she brought me to a halt, and I heard the "clunk" of a car trunk being unlocked. She freed my wrists and ordered me to climb in and lie down, guiding my hands to the edges of the trunk. Doing that blindfolded was difficult, but again Jean's soft hands intervened to guide me and even to hold my cock so it didn't bang into anything. Eventually, she had me lying face down in the trunk, completely disoriented, with my bare legs bent upwards at the knees. Then she cuffed my hands behind my back and I felt a heavier set of manacles, which I was sure were prisoner leg restraints--one clamped around my left ankle, then a tug indicating she had threaded the chain around the link between my handcuffs, after which the other manacle cuff clamped onto my right ankle. I was collared, blindfolded, and hog-tied, but apparently my captor wanted to increase my helplessness. She quietly ordered "mouth," and when I dutifully parted my lips she pulled what felt like a standard canvas gag between my teeth, then tied the ends together behind my head. The professor had instructed student wranglers to transport the temporary slaves "suitably restrained," and I could hardly fault my "lab partner" for following directions to the letter!

Jean gently stroked my butt while speaking over my prostrate form: "There, all snug as a slave bug in a rug. Don't go anywhere, slave." She giggled a little, but unlike the other people who had "handled" me that day, she didn't seem to be gloating about my helplessness. You might say she was being gentle in anticipation that our roles would be reserved later in the week, but her entire demeanor that day suggested that she was just a nice person--perhaps a trifle TOO nice to be a slave wrangler, even though I benefitted from her kindness.