A slave owners’ conversation with you
I am fucking rich beyond your wildest dreams. I own a large estate that has two farms, one’s a pony farm, and the other’s a fruit and vegetable farm.
All the slaves on both farms are kept naked and work hard or feel the whip. They have a choice of work or pain.
Never been married, or been in love, but I get my share of sex. I fuck all the slave boys I can. However, I want. Whenever I want. I don’t even know how many I own now. I don’t care. I basically see two things in a slave boy. Sex, and money. I have sex with them and sell them or put them to use in ways that make me money. The pony farm makes a lot of money with various means. Locals pay to fuck them, I rent out or sell pony buses, and the power station also helps make a generous profit.
Yes, I’m overweight. I’m disgusting now. I’m in my sixties. Not very attractive at all, but that doesn’t matter. All a slave boy can say is “more sir”. It’s true we have some of the finest ponies in the stables that wiggle their asses and hum as I walk by. Desperate for my cock fucking them. They lust after me due to their sexual frustration and the shape and size of my cock being a perfect one-size-fits-all holes. If I fuck Bodrum Escort them once a month or so, the ass wiggling continues and amuses all the locals who come in for fun.
We have a fine arena down there too. I show ponies in there getting their asses kicked around by our stable hands, and sometimes members of the public. They’re mostly young college lads with good bodies. I have one come down regularly, he has a particular interest in a new pony we have. I think they were friends. There isn’t anything better than a change to keep people coming back. He is going to make a fine trainer one day, after his business studies, or if he becomes unruly outside of the arena, a fine slave. These days you don’t know where future stock comes from.
As an example, I’ve now acquired a bed slave who was a junior stable hand, but he slipped up too many times. I warned him several times that he would have a collar around his neck and be bouncing up and down on my cock quicker than he could say “the slave police are here!”. He fucked up. Two new ponies escaped, and it took two days to catch them, all because he left them in the yard alone as he went for training locks. Bizarre really.
I created the scene. Bodrum Escort Bayan I got him to meet me in the stable office along with the stable manager and I handed him his slave papers. His face went white as a sheet as he read them. I warned him so many times. The slave manager clipped the collar round his neck and began to use slave clippers on his clothes. I was sat on the desk, and I told him to turn around and sit backwards on my precum oozing cock that I had unzipped from my business trousers. My hard cock was dripping with precum as he looked down at it in awe. I slimed it up with some slave spunk I had close by to fuck slaves with.
Nothing more humiliating for a new slave being fucked with lube made of slave spunk for the first time. I grabbed his muscular body and told him to look through the window. I pressed my cock up his ass. I told him to tell me when they were there to register him. Then I said “bounce”. He did as ordered and I spoke to him in a way you only speak to scum slaves to let him know how far they had fallen.
I recalled once ‘he’ laughed at me fucking a pony boy and it pushing back onto my cock, then cumming without even getting any other stimulation apart from my Escort Bodrum cock in its pony hole. “Not fucking laughing now are you cunt!”.
He did begin to moan like a fag boy. I knew in the days to come it will be screaming for more in my bed and pushing back like the bitch it will become.
I didn’t mind the door creeping open for the other juniors to be aware of the fate of someone who makes such a big mistake. Most of my staff had seen me grope the boy in public the week before when I had the two slaves punished and made everyone watch.
The moment he said the slave police were there was the moment I blew my load up his ass. I squirted rope after rope of free man juice up its tight hole. I knew when it went through the courting systym the judge would spot my load dripping from its hole. Something that always made a new slave turn beetroot red.
As they came to collect him, he was cleaning my cock, and afterward he was led away naked to go for his official registration, along with my cream and the slave spunk I used for lube up his once virgin ass.
Now he serves in my bedroom. Keeps the room clean and clothes ready, and his duties are to keep me happy until I get bored. Then I’ll send him to a torture room I know in the Alps. Which is why you are here. I’m already bored. I spoke to your father, and we’ve arranged a price. Here are your papers. Take a look. They are all sealed and signed.
Are you going to strip, or do I need to shout for the stable manager?