The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Milk Bar—Chapter 51

The sounds of deep breathing crept into Blake’s consciousness. He opened his eyes in the dim twilight, breathing quietly, trying to determine whether he was waking or sleeping. Then he heard Frank’s soft snuffling beside him and reached out to softly and tenderly touch his sleeping form. Frank stirred and rolled over, placing his arm over Blake’s chest. Blake whimpered softly, clutching Frank’s arm and pulling him close. This feeling of tenderness and passion that he felt for Frank was so strange to him; he’d never even felt like this for a woman. How was it that he felt this for another man? Why did his tired, sore cock begin to throb with the feel of Frank’s warm body drawn close to his own? Was it because he understood that body: the hard muscles, the rigid cock, the low-slung balls, the firm chest?

Frank murmured in his sleep and snuggled closer to Blake, nuzzling his chest and placing his mouth over Blake’s nipple. A flood of feelings swept over Blake as he lay there. He looked down and saw Frank’s blue eyes, lighting up in the darkness, looking up into his. “Blake,” Frank whispered. “Frank,” Blake whispered back. “Blake will you? Do you?” Frank stammered. “Ssshhh,” Blake placed a hand over Frank’s mouth. “We don’t want to wake the others.” Blake rolled over onto his back, pulling Frank on top of him. “Fuck me now, right here. I want you in me.” Frank raised himself and looked down at Blake’s shining eyes. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” he whispered. “I’ve never wanted anything more. Fill me now. Make me whole Frank.” Frank smiled “Yes Sir,” he said and spitting into his hand, slicked down his cock and slid it up against Blake’s eager hole. Blake, feeling the heat and pressure against his pucker, pushed down to open himself to what he wanted so much. “Come on lover,” he said. “Bring it on home.” Frank cocked his head slightly and smiled. “You got it... lover,” he said and pushed. Blake gasped and groaned as his sphincter was stretched by Frank’s phallus. Frank stopped and waited for the ring grasping his dick to loosen. When it did, he moved forward, waiting again when he felt the flesh resist. But he knew Blake wanted it bad because all the while he was gasping “Take me. Take me. Fill me up. Give it to me Frank.” Finally, Frank felt his pubes hit home and he began a slow pistoning in and out of Blake’s chute. Blake reached up and grabbed Frank’s pink tits and twisted and tweaked them, pulling a gasp from Frank. “Oh God,” Frank rasped out and began to fuck harder. For an untrained, erstwhile hetero, Blake was amazingly talented at taking Frank’s dick up his ass. Blake clenched his ring, squeezing the man-flesh filling his chute and filling his soul. The talent arose from pure lust. “Oh God, Frank. Fuck me, take me!” Blake said in a hushed voice, pulling himself up using Frank’s tits as handles. Frank groaned and pounded harder, his cock throbbing and jerking in his lover’s ass. Blake took a hand off of Frank’s tits and covered his own mouth with his upper arm, stifling his cries and moans. Frank was grunting through clenched teeth, lost in desire but not so far gone as to forget himself. What the two man-cows were doing was plainly against Milk Bar rules. But neither of them could deny what they felt. Their muffled moans and stifled cries were very faint above the breathing and snoring of the rest of the herd, but one pair of ears picked them up.

Greg was lying awake in the stall next to the two cops. He’d been awakened by the memory of his and has his Master’s parting. He felt a pang in his chest and a rising in his groin. But also hovering there in his mind was his memory of Burt and the look he’d given Greg just before he left the Milk Bar. There were so many feelings in that look: anger, menace, lust and want. Burt’s eyes haunted Greg and kept him awake. So he heard the rustling in the straw in the stall next to his. He could tell from the whispers what the two men were doing and he smiled. He’d been disturbed to think that Frank and especially Blake had been brought to this by him, even if he was acting under hypnotic orders. But now he knew that it was right, regardless of the “rightness” of it. Blake and Frank had been thrown together but had found one another and they clearly had chemistry. It had to have been more than the Milk Bar conditioning that got them to rutting in the middle of the night. No, there was something else there and it was good.

The Milk Bar—Chapter 52

The next morning, Harry came to fetch Frank and Blake for further training and conditioning. When he arrived at the stall they occupied and looked down at the two sleeping cops, he smiled. It was unusual for man-cows to sleep together in the same stall, but Burt had given those instructions yesterday before the blow-up with Delaney and Harry saw the sense in it. When they’d inducted Blake into the herd, they were fairly sure he was straight. But Burt wisely intuited that if you could bend a straight man’s mind to identify with his companion’s body and make him want to give the other man the pleasure that he wanted for himself, you were halfway home. Furthermore, if you could throw him into a traumatic situation and push him together with his companion and find a source of comfort and solace with his buddy, then you would bind them together emotionally and you’d be most of the way there. That line of reasoning appeared to have worked pretty well in the case of Lt. Blake Thompson, who had indeed found a source of comfort, solace and pleasure in Officer Frank Clark. For there they were, lying entwined in one another’s arms and Blake, with dried cum on his rosebud, smiling as he snuffled softly in quiet sleep. Harry felt a throb in his heart as he looked down on these two men who were so obviously bound together. The trick now would be weaning Blake away from Frank, at least enough to permit him to be exploited as a very desirable man-cow who could bring in a great deal of money servicing the Milk Bar’s clients. Harry wasn’t at all sure how well he would take to giving pleasure to men he wasn’t bound to.

Harry moved into the stall and nudged the cops with his foot. “Up boys. Time to get started,” he said loudly. Blake and Frank groaned and stirred, disentangling themselves from one another as their morning hard-ons fenced with each other and bobbed. “Now boys. Assume the first position. On your knees, hands behind your backs, legs spread, heads bowed.” As quickly as they could, the two cop slaves scrambled to get themselves into the position they’d been instructed to assume. In a couple of seconds, they were satisfactorily arranged: on their knees, their legs spread, heads bowed, arms clasped behind their backs. Their cocks, still hard with the need to piss, bobbed and dipped. Harry examined them for a moment then placed the toe of his boot between Blake’s legs, and pushed them further apart. “Spread ‘em!” he said. “let that milk bag and teat hang free and swing!” As Blake shuffled his legs farther apart, Harry commented “That’s better. Good boy! Now slaves, we start with your physical transformations. You each will receive enhancers prescribed by Mr. Delaney to improve the quantity and quality of your cum. You’ll get your enhancers twice a day when you’re here and we’ll give you some to take home with you. When you’re here, you’ll display your gratitude and desire to get your enhancers by begging for them as is appropriate for a slave: you’ll mount your handler’s leg just like a dog and turn your head up and open your mouth. Your handler will drop your pills in and massage your throat to help you swallow them. Is that clear?” “Yes Sir,” the slaves answered in unison. “Yes Sir, what?” Harry demanded. “Yes Sir, thank you Sir,” Frank answered. Blake, following Frank’s lead repeated “Yes Sir, thank you Sir.” “Good boys,” Harry smiled. “OK boy,” he said, looking at Frank. “Since you’re the bright one here, you get yours first. Crawl over here and beg for your enhancers.” Obediently, Frank went down on all fours and crawled across the hay to where Harry stood. Then he knelt up and moved forward until he was straddling Harry’s leg, his cock and balls pressed against Harry’s knee. He leaned his head back and opened his mouth as ordered. Harry dropped several pills into his open mouth and then rubbed his throat as he worked to swallow the pills. It was a little difficult because his mouth was dry, having had no water to drink since the night before. And having his handler massage his throat for him made him feel profoundly humiliated, as though he were a dog who couldn’t be trusted to take his medicine. But that sense of humiliation went straight to his dick and made the already stiff organ surge all the more, making it flex in rhythm to the stroking of his throat. Harry emphasized his humiliating arousal by pushing his knee against the man-cow’s throbbing cock and balls.

When Frank had swallowed his pills, Harry patted his head and ordered him back to his position beside Blake. He crawled back, his cock slapping up against his belly and wagging back and forth like a forward-pointing tail. “Now you,” said Harry. Blake, in his turn, went down on all fours and crawled to his handler. He mounted Harry’s leg and begged for his enhancers. When he felt Harry’s hand on his vulnerable throat, a thrill of humiliation and degradation swept over him as well. And like his buddy, he responded by growing even harder than he had been. When the pills had gone down, he expected a pat on the head and to be ordered back to his place beside Frank. He wanted to be back with Frank; Frank was his rock. But Harry slid his hands down his neck and onto his shoulders and massaged him. Then he reached down to Blake’s nipples and began to knead them hard. Blake moaned and closed his eyes. “Look at me boy!” Harry ordered and Blake lifted his eyes to look at his tormentor’s face. His mouth fell open with groans as Harry worked his nips. Then Harry let go with one hand and pulled his fly down, releasing his cock from its confines. It sprang out thick and hard, only about six inches but two inches in diameter. Harry slapped Blake’s face with it and then placed it on his lips. “Take it slowly,” he ordered. “Just take the head in your mouth and let it rest on your tongue. If I feel your teeth, you’ll get a whipping you’ll never forget. “Yes Sir,” Blake answered and opened his jaws wide to take the plum-sized head into his mouth. He had to work very hard to keep from scraping the warm hard flesh with his teeth but he managed. “Good boy,” Harry said. “Now take it in all the way. Take it until you feel it on the back of your throat, hold it there for two seconds and then back off for four seconds. Repeat that but let it touch the back of your throat for four seconds, then back off for four seconds. We’ll increase the time by two seconds on each repetition until you reach half a minute. Then I’ll let you rest. You can watch the clock on the wall over there.” Blake swallowed, breathed deeply and slowly moved forward, impaling himself on Harry’s thick cock.

Harry held Blake’s head, murmuring to him the whole time. “Good boy. Make it feel good. Suck on it like it was your own. That’s it. Take it down boy. Make daddy feel good. That’s my boy.” Blake was completely unaware that Harry’s words were specifically scripted to trigger a hypnotic response that would make him transfer his own lust into the cock in his mouth and seek to pleasure it to the best of his abilities. Once he was able to swallow Harry’s cock and keep it down his throat without gagging, Harry took over. He grabbed Blake’s ears and began thrusting in earnest. “Breathe in as I withdraw; breathe out as I come in. That’s it; that’s a good boy. In, out, in out. Now press my cock with your tongue. Good boy. You’re going to be an ace cocksucker. Good boy!” The sounds of Blake’s attempts at “Thank you Sir,” which resulted only in garbled guttural vocalizations and wet smacking sounds echoed across the stalls. The members of the herd who were still there knew exactly what was going on; each of them had been indoctrinated into the techniques of giving a blowjob in much the same way. Harry intensified his mauling of Blake’s tits, causing the man-cow to work harder on the dick in his throat and Harry picked up speed. Soon his breath was coming in short gasps and he was uttering his own grunts and moans as he reached the brink. His throaty moans turned into cries as he went over the edge and shot jets of spunk down Blake’s throat. Blake could hardly keep up with the flow of hot jism but he swallowed over and over, knowing that he shouldn’t spill any of the man milk his Master was gifting him with.

Finally, Harry subsided and sagged down, curling over Blake’s head and wrapping his arms around him. “Good boy,” he gasped. “You’re a good boy. That’s the way to perform.” All Blake could do was suck on the throbbing flesh in his mouth, pulling on it as though it were a straw in a salty milkshake. As he recovered, Harry raised himself off the handsome man-cow and stood back from him, pulling his dick out of his mouth. “Good boy,” he said, smiling. “Now it’s time for food and water. You both will need your strength today, although you’ve had a shot of protein already,” he said, swatting Blake’s ass. “You can use the toilet and then wait at the trough for your food and water. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to get started on the next steps in your training.” “Yes Sir, thank you Sir,” the two cops answered and Harry strode out of the stall. Blake looked at the seatless toilet in the corner and then looked at Frank. He’d been in the service and had certainly been around other men a lot. But sitting on a seatless john in an open stall was profoundly humiliating. Frank understood and commiserated. “I know,” he said, reading Blake’s look of distress. “But I don’t think we have a choice. You want me to hide you? I can stand in front of the stool with my back to you. Would that help?” “Maybe so... Yeah. Do that and I’ll do it for you.” So Frank stood up and faced the front of the stall, partially shielding the toilet from view of passers-by. Blake got up and lowered his naked ass to the rim of the toilet, shivering as he settled on t the cold porcelain. He looked down at the straw and tried to relax his sphincters to release the pressure in both his bladder and his rectum. The pressure was urgent but he couldn’t release it. Then, breathing deeply a few times, he began to relax as he thought of Frank. He raised his head to look at Frank’s round, pale ass with the coppery hair rising toward the melons from the legs below. God he loved that ass and those legs. He loved the man they supported; he loved being with him, even in these circumstances. He smiled at the warmth of his feelings and suddenly realized that his muscles were relaxing and the piss began to flow as the shit plopped into the bowl.

Frank heard the sounds of running water and dropping bombs and turned around to glance over his shoulder at this man he’d come to care so much about. His eyes met Blake’s and they both smiled. “Thank you. I love you,” Blake mouthed silently. “I love you too,” Frank mouthed back and his smile lit his face like a light, his blue eyes shining. Blake finished up and rose and placed his hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Your turn,” he said. “Want me to stand guard.” “I’d like that,” Frank smiled. He’d been a “grunt” all his life so he wasn’t the least bit inhibited about such things, but it made him feel good to have his man standing guard while he attended to business. Besides, he enjoyed looking at Blake’s muscular ass.

As Frank was cleaning himself up, one of the handlers entered the stall carrying buckets. “Breakfast,” he announced and ladled what appeared to be oatmeal with fruit in it into one of the troughs. He turned on the tap and filled the other with water. “How do we eat Sir,” Blake asked him. “On your knees, face in the trough. You’re a man-cow boy and you eat like one,” the handler responded, not unkindly. “But don’t ask again.” And he turned and walked out. Blake and Frank just looked at each other, shrugged and got down on their hands and knees and dove into the cereal. It was warm, but not too warm, and filling. It had been sweetened, not so much for flavor as to give the members of the herd necessary calories and the fruit added to the flavor. All in all, not an unpleasant breakfast. They would have preferred eating out of bowls, but they knew they had no choice in the matter. They’d just finished eating and drinking when Harry walked back into the stall with collars and leashes. “First position,” he ordered and they moved to assume the position. “Now get this straight. I won’t say it again. Down here, when a Master walks in, you assume this position automatically. If he has to remind you, you’ll be punished. And because you’re rookies, everyone here is your Master. Even other man-cows. You’ll get to know everyone’s rank as you learn but it’ll be a while before you achieve any level of seniority, so get used to being on your knees.” Then Harry stepped forward and wrapped a collar around each of their necks, buckling it in place. There was a single metal hash-mark scoring the collar on either side of their throats. “The hash-mark shows that you’re rookies. Anyone with more hash-marks is above you. There’s no one with no hash-marks, except for one man-cow, Ted, but he’s of no concern to you right now. As you learn your skills and show your obedience, you’ll be promoted. I’m sure you know the drill. You just have a different set of skills to learn here. Now it’s training time, so down on all fours and follow me.” Harry snapped leashes to the D-rings on their collars and led them down the aisle. Blake and Frank had to scramble to keep up with him, as they crawled after him, their knees smarting and their cocks and balls bouncing off their thighs and bellies as they scuttled along.

The Milk Bar—Chapter 53

First Harry led them into the bathing room. “First thing is to get you cleaned out. Since there are two of you, you can take care of each other out. Use the hose on the spigot there and adjust the water to warm. Don’t make it too hot or you’ll be sorry. You can lube the tip with some of the soap from the dispenser.” Frank and Blake just looked up at him, not comprehending. “When a Master gives you an order you obey. You’ve both just earned ten strokes. Now get busy and clean each other out.” “Sir?” Frank ventured tentatively. “What is it boy?” “Sir, we don’t know what to do?” “What? You’ve never had an enema? Jeezus, I didn’t think there were such people in the world. OK, I’ll explain it but listen up. I’ll explain this only once.” “Yes Sir,” the man-cows responded smartly, listening carefully to what Harry had to say. “Squirt a little soap from the dispenser onto the tip of the hose. Then, the other slave bends over and pulls his cheeks apart to give a clear view of his asshole. Slide the nozzle in and run in warm water. The slave administering the enema will want to hold the other up with an arm under his waist for support so that the cramps don’t make you fall over. We don’t need any bruised knees here,” Harry said and left the room. Blake sunk to his knees, his backside to the door, his face contorted in embarrassed pain. “I can’t do this,” he whispered. “It’s too much. It’s too humiliating!” Frank sank down beside him and cradled his head against the copper fur of his chest. “C’mon Blake,” Frank whispered. “It’s OK. It’s just you and me. C’mon,” he coaxed. Suddenly, there was a whooshing sound and a whack right across Blake’s butt. Blake uttered a sharp, surprised cry that was echoed by Frank as the strap whooshed through the air and whacked Frank’s butt. Harry had reappeared with a heavy leather strap. “Get to it slaves!” Harry roared. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I gave you an order now do it! That’s twenty more strokes for each of you for disobedience. Get busy!” Blake and Frank scrambled to their feet. Blake took the lead and grabbed the hose. He squirted soap from the dispenser over the tip and held out his left arm. Frank, at least glad that it was Blake and not Harry, moved to him and bent over his arm as he reached back and pulled his ass cheeks apart, giving Blake easy access to his hole. Frank flushed scarlet, knowing that Harry was observing this most private of activities that was being performed on him by his lover. Gently, Blake eased the nozzle into Frank’s pucker and turned on the tap.

As the water began to fill Frank’s belly, he started to groan and sweat while Blake rubbed his abdomen and whispered calming words. “Make sure you rub it well,” Harry instructed. “It helps to disperse the water all through his gut so he’ll be good and clean. We expect our man-cows to be clean as a whistle because our customers hate fucking a slave and coming out with shit on their prongs. Of course, the slave gets to clean off the customer’s dick anyway, so it’s the slave that wants to be as clean as possible. But most of our customers don’t even want the sight, let alone the smell, of slave-shit on them... OK. That’s enough. Turn off the water but make sure you support him. He’s going to start cramping and we don’t want him hitting the deck when it comes.” Sure enough, almost as soon as Blake turned the water off, a wave of cramps swept over Frank and his knees buckled. Thank God he was cradled in Blake’s arm or he’d have had very sore knees from hitting the tiled floor. But Blake was there, supporting him and holding his head and talking to him, helping to distract him from the successive waves of cramps that wracked him. Finally, Harry said “Good enough. You can release it boy.” With a long grunt, Frank relaxed his anal sphincter and dirty water shot out of his hole. After the initial jet, several more shorter spurts were expelled amid the sound and stink of wet farts as his bowels evacuated the water. What Frank noticed was that his cock was responding to the humiliation by rising against his belly and with each clench of his guts, his cock throbbed in sympathy. He hung there on Blake’s arm, half supporting himself with his hands on his knees, moaning as his body recovered. “OK,” Harry said. “Again. It takes at least two, sometimes three rounds to get clean.” Fortunately, Frank only needed one more round to have the water run clean.

When he was finished with the second cleansing, Frank leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, trying to clear his head. “The enemas will make you slightly dizzy, but that only lasts a few seconds,” Harry said. He watched Frank’s eyes and when he saw them come back into focus, he ordered him to give Blake his morning cleaning. Like Frank, Blake blushed down to his toes as he bent over Frank’s arms and pulled his butt cheeks apart. Somehow, this was more humiliating that having sex in front of a group of men perhaps because it was so base. To have another man watch you being pumped full of water till your belly stretched like a ball and then be forced to hold it before shitting it out was the ultimate degradation. It truly was like being an animal. Frank tenderly stroked his belly, pushing the water into all the nooks and crannies, talking quietly to him to try to ease the humiliation. But Blake’s cock knew no soothing and it rose up hard in direct response to the degradation. Finally, Harry told him he could release the water and after a couple of tentative dribbles, his sphincter opened like a faucet and the water and shit shot out of his exposed ass along with the wet farting noises that Frank had given off. Blake felt so humiliated, he was whimpering and there were tears running down his face as his bowels evacuated the mess. Frank tried again to comfort him. “It’s OK baby. It’s alright. Don’t worry; he’s seen this hundreds of times. It means nothing to him. Don’t cry. It’s OK.” Thank God for Frank; where would he have been without him? He leaned against his buddy; his friend, his lover, absorbing his warmth and drawing on his presence for what little comfort he could find. He only hoped he’d be clean after one more enema; he didn’t want another with Harry watching if he could avoid it.

After he’d recovered from the first round, Harry smacked his ass and ordered him to submit to the second cleansing. Again, Blake bent over Frank’s strong arm, feeling the copper wires of his forearm bristling against his naked stomach. Again, he pulled his own ass-cheeks apart to expose his rosebud to the invading nozzle that gently pushed its way into his bowels. Blake imagined that Harry wouldn’t have been so gentle as Frank was and was glad it was Frank administering the enemas. Again, the warm water flooded into his gut and Frank massaged his belly to move it around in his intestines and get all the crap out. Unfortunately, after the allotted time, there were still remnants of shit in the water he shot out of his anus. He was dizzy and was leaning almost the full weight of his body against Frank when Harry indicated yet a third cleansing was necessary. “But wait a minute,” Harry said. “I’ll get the fluid this time.” Harry went to the cupboard and took down a jar from which he poured some powder into an enema bag. As he was filling the bag with warm water, he ordered Frank to help Blake get up on one of the tables. Frank obeyed and guided Blake to one of the nearby tables, helping him to climb up onto it. “All fours,” Harry said. “Head down on your arms; ass in the air. And you get on the other table; same position.” Blake put his head down on his arms and looked back to see Frank climb up on a nearby table and assume the same position. There was an IV stand next to each table and Harry hung the bag from the stand nearest Blake. He’d inserted a tube and nozzle into the bag and, lubing the nozzle, he shoved it into Blake’s ass. Blake grunted and moaned with the intrusion. He’d been right; Harry wasn’t the least bit gentle. He just shoved it home. It had a flared end that felt like it was tearing Blake’s ring of muscles as it passed through. Blake felt a sharp fire as though someone had stabbed him with a knife and he saw stars. Then, as the flared end passed by the protective ring, his sphincter closed around it and held it inside as the pain passed. After releasing the stop-cock, allowing the drugged liquid to flow into Blake’s gut, Harry went about preparing an identical bag for Frank.

As the his gut filled, Blake realized that the warmth he felt spreading through his body was more than just the affects of the warm water. As his cock began to throb and harden to an even greater extent, if that could be possible, Blake realized that the powder Harry was using probably contained rohypnol, the “date-rape” drug. What else was in there Blake couldn’t imagine but the sense of unbridled lust that swept over him told him that at least the rohpynol was present. And he wondered why? He’d certainly demonstrated his “willingness” to be fucked and he was sure they could see how much he cared about Frank. What else could they possibly want from him? Why was he being drugged again? But soon, the questions faded from his mind, for it was focused elsewhere. Blake’s moans and jerking cock told Harry that his man-cow was now primed for the next step of his training and induction. And his “partner”, Frank, was also ready to go. Their moans and whimpers blended together in a song of lust that made even Harry hard as he listened to the sounds of men in heat.

Harry removed the nozzles from the two man-cows asses and ordered them to hold it while he fetched bed pans. He returned to the tables on which they crouched and, placing a pan behind each of them, instructed them to ease themselves down and back onto the pans and then release the mixture from their guts. Soon the sounds of jetting water and wet farting echoed off of the walls as they relieved themselves. When they were finished, he wiped their asses and slapped their butts. “OK boys,” he said, clipping leashes onto their collars once again, “Let’s go to the Training room.” He headed out of the Bath room and down the hall to the Mind Training room with the two very horny man-cows scrambling along behind him.

Suddenly, Harry made an abrupt turn into another training room. This was the physical training room. “Almost forgot,” he said. “You both need your thirty strokes. Stay while I get some help.” And he left the room. The two cop-slaves, on their hands and knees could only look at one another apprehensively and wait. In a few minutes, Harry came back with Sam, one of the sub-trainers trailing behind him. “Get them into manacles and strung up. I’ll get the tawses. Sam raised each of the cops to their feet, fastened leather manacles onto their wrists and hooked these into chains hanging from the overhead rigging. When he’d buckled both into position, he went to the control panel and flipped a couple of switches, setting the winches in motion, raising the chains and pulling the cops’ arms first to shoulder level, then over their heads and finally stopped when each of the them was standing just on the balls of their feet. “Now,” Harry said, having handed Sam one of the heavy leather tawses, “The next time you’re given an order, I expect you to obey it without question. If you don’t understand, you’re permitted to say so, but never, ever refuse to do what a master orders. Is that clear slaves?” “Yes Sir,” answered the two stretched cops. “Good,” Harry said. “Now make sure you count them. Lose track and we start over.” And with that, he and Sam wound up and let fly. The blows were like shots across the two cops’ asses. “One Sir, thank you Sir,” they both yelled in unison. Again, the wind-up and the pitch with resounding collisions of leather and flesh. “Two Sir, thank you Sir,” came the choked cries. Each blow made the cops’ flesh quake as the force traveled through their asses to their dicks and their globes got redder and redder. They felt like their asses were on fire. Tears were rolling down their cheeks and their sobs preceded each of their strangled counts. But they knew the consequences of failing to count and focused on that and that alone. The blows continued, turning their asses to crimson flame and the drugs flooding their minds and bodies translated each shot of pain into an electric charge of lust that shot through their raging cocks. Then, at last, it was over.

“Let them down,” Harry ordered and Sam obeyed. As their arms came down, they became aware of a new agony as the blood began to flow back and the pain began to flood in. The cops collapsed to the floor and lay there moaning. “Kneel up!” Harry ordered. “This is no time to be enjoying your misery. Kneel up now!” Obediently, the two cop-slaves rolled onto their hands and knees and then raised themselves to a kneeling position, their hands clasped behind their backs. When their hands brushed their flaming asses, each of them hissed and tried to pull his arms higher to get them off the tender flesh. But that position was painful as well because of the strain their arms had been under, supporting their bodies as they had. Tears of agony rolled down each of their cheeks and they did their best to maintain the correct posture.

“Good boys,” Harry said. “You kept count. Now I trust that you will never refuse an order again.” “No Sir,” they rasped out, their throats raw from yelling during their beating. Neither of them wanted to receive a beating like that ever again. They hadn’t know the human body could feel such pain. “Good,” Harry said. “Now let’s get on with your training. We’ve wasted enough time already.” And he snapped leashes on their collars again and pulled them down the hall to the Mind Training room.

Harry led the two cops into the Mind Training Room and ordered them to “Stay!” and busied himself preparing for their next lessons. He picked up the phone and dialed. “Harry here. Could you come over to the Mind Training Room? I have a couple of man-cows that need some work prior to piercing. OK, thanks.” And he hung up. Frank heard what Harry had said and found his cock slapping against his belly in response. He’d always been fascinated by piercing and men with piercings and had thought that he might do it one day. But it appeared that choice was being taken out of his control and today was the day. Harry used the leash to pull Frank to his feet. “Come on boy. Over here. Let’s go.” Harry led him to one of the posts and backed him up against it. Frank hissed and sucked in his breath when his inflamed backside made contact with the post. Harry removed the leash and buckled his collar to a snap hook in the post. Then he pulled up each of Frank’s arms and buckled each wrist into a leather cuff on the end of a chain, holding his arms at right angles from his body but bent at the elbow. With his arms chained up and his neck fastened to the post, Frank was pretty well immobilized. Harry then went to Blake and put him in identical bondage at another post so that the two cop slaves faced each other. Blake arched his back, trying as best he could to keep his ass away from the wood of the post to which he was hitched.

In a moment, the Pumper, attired in his white lab coat, came into the room wheeling his cart. “OK Harry. I imagine it’ll be the right tit for each of them, right?” “Yeah,” Harry answered. And Mr. Delaney’s looking for some enhancement pumping on their dicks as well. He’s looking for them both to be horse-hung. “How about their milk bags? Does he want their balls pumped?” “Just the darker one. He likes the look of a big dick with tight balls for the red-head.” “You got it,” the Pumper replied and began setting up.

The Pumper started with Frank. He wheeled his cart over and extracted two lucite tubes from his box. He coated their flared ends with petroleum jelly. Then he wetted the tip of two of his fingers with mineral oil and reached for Frank’s pink cones. As Frank groaned and wriggled, the Pumper slicked his nips down with the oil. Then, after a sharp twist of each nipple, making Frank gasp, he attached each tube to the end of flexible hoses which were attached to an electric pump. He started the pump and, after checking the suction tubes for the strength of their draw, he attached them to Frank’s erect tits. As the suction drew his tits into the tubes, making them turn darker with blood, Frank continued to groan and his legs buckled. Then he took a larger tube with a pierced rubber seal on the end and pushed it over Frank’s rigid dick. It slid onto his penis until the seal was seated at the root, encasing his cock in Lucite. He attached its lead tube to the vaccum pump and Frank felt its negative pressure expanding his porous flesh as blood was vacuumed into it.

Next, the Pumper went to Blake and after examining his nipples and carefully feeling his ball sac, pulled three lucite tubes from his box, one much larger than the other two which were obviously intended for Blake’s tits. The man in the lab coat performed the same procedure, applying petroleum jelly to the ends of the tubes, slicking down Blake’s nipples with mineral oil and hooking the tubes up to hoses leading to another electric pump. But this time, he also applied oil around Blake’s groin. He switched on the pump and attached the tubes to Blake’s dark nipples, pulling them into the suction tubes. Then he attached the larger tube to a separate hose hooked to the pump. He gathered Blake’s cock and balls and carefully fed them into the larger tube, sliding it closer to Blake’s body. Finally there was a sound of whistling suction and the tube lodged itself against the cop’s groin. His already considerable cock and balls began to swell even further and turned a darker shade as blood was drawn into the tissues, expanding the man-cow’s cock and balls. “There,” the Pumper said, standing back and admiring the body of the man in front of him. “He’s already a fine specimen. Several treatments like this and he’ll be really horse hung. I think our customers will like this a lot.” Patting Blake’s cheek, he turned and left the room.

“Now it’s time for some more indoctrination while the pump is doing its thing. After a half hour or so, we’ll be doing the piercings.” Harry said this all very matter-of-factly, but it made both cops nervous. They were pretty sure what he was talking about but what did it feel like? Would it be unbearable? What, exactly, was he going to pierce? Frank knew something about the leather community and its predilection for piercing, but there was one in particular he dreaded. He hoped they weren’t going to be given PAs. He didn’t think he could stand that. But, since they were securely bound, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it anyway. He was a man-cow and what the Milk Bar wanted, the Milk Bar got. Of that much he was sure!

Harry wheeled computers in front of each of the men, placed goggles over their eyes and earphones over their heads. “OK boys,” he said. “Training time. Just pay attention to your orders.” And after keying in some codes, selected “Start”. Strange sounds were coming out of the headsets and the man-cows’ eyes were immediately drawn to the swirling patterns that flowed across their fields of vision. Words were coming through the earphones. “Relax. You’re very relaxed. You’re so relaxed you cannot move or speak, except to answer questions. You’re completely relaxed. Listen to me. Listen to your Master. I’m concerned for you. I care about you. I only want what’s best for you. Do you believe that?” “Yes Sir,” each of them answered in unison, though they couldn’t hear one another. They were lost to the Voice. “I know you want what’s best for me.” “Good boy. You’re a very good boy. Now listen to what I tell you. I’m going to help you. You will always want to come here because we’re the ones who care for you. Do you understand?” “Yes Sir. I understand. You care for me. This is where I want to come.” “Good boy,” the soothing voice whispered. “You’re a very good boy. Why are you such a good boy?” “Because you care for me and you’re my Master.” “That’s right. That’s very good. Now listen closely. I’m going to give you some important instructions. When you hear the words ‘Rich Man’s Cream’ you will go into a trance, explain that you have to get back to your ‘special assignment’ and return to the Milk Bar. Do you understand? “Yes Sir. I understand.” “Then tell me.” “When I hear the words ‘Rich Man’s Cream’, I will go into a trance, say that I have to get back to my ‘special assignment’ and return to the Milk Bar. “Very good. You learn quickly. “Thank you Sir,” Blake and Frank both smiled. They were happy to please their gentle, caring Master. “Now, for the next instruction. When you hear the words ‘Man cow’ you will immediately strip, if you’re clothed and drop to the floor on all fours, legs spread, cock erect, waiting to be milked. Is that clear?” “Yes Sir, it’s clear.” “Good, then tell me again.” “When I hear the words ‘Man cow’, I will immediately strip, if I’m not already undressed, and drop to the floor on all fours, legs spread, cock erect, waiting to be milked.” “Very good. Word for word. You’re a bright boy.” “Thank you Sir.” Again, each cop smiled. “Now, for your last instruction for today. When someone says ‘Milkman’ to you, you will go into a trance, ready for instructions. Say it back to me.” “When someone says ‘Milkman’ to me, I will go into a trance, ready for instructions.” “You’re such a good boy. A good slave. A fine head of stock. You’ve made me very pleased.,” the Voice quietly exulted. “Now you can sleep. Just close your eyes and sleep for now and dream.” “Yes Sir. Thank you Sir,” they answered, and immediately dropped off to sleep. And while they slept, the voice kept quietly repeating instructions to them, bending their minds further and further in submission to the Milk Bar.

One half-hour later, when Harry came and stopped the program, removed the goggles and headphones from the two cop man-cows, they were completely under the control of the Milk Bar. When the Milk Bar summoned them, they would come. Whatever the Milk Bar ordered them to do, they would do quickly and without question. They were both thoroughly inducted into the herd of the Milk Bar; they knew their place in the order of the herd and happily accepted it. When Blake’s eyes came back into focus, he looked at Harry and smiled, for his Master was smiling at him and if his Master was happy, he was happy. Then he looked at Frank and smiled even more broadly, for this was the man he loved. His training program had been specifically modified to leave his love for Frank in place. And the same was true of Frank; he looked at Blake and smiled at the one who held a special place in his heart. Mr. Delaney had made this concession because he realized how essential it was to Blake’s acceptance of gay interactions. As long as Frank was part of the equation, Blake was safe and comfortable taking dick up his ass or down his throat. The Milk Bar staff would simply make use of that equation by selling them as a couple. They could charge double for them and get their money’s worth because many customers would pay royally for a cop couple.

In a few moments, the Pumper came back into the room. “I think we should be ready now,” he said. “I’ve brought the tools and the rings. Let’s do you first,” he smiled, looking at Frank. Frank smiled back. He knew what was coming and wanted it badly. The Pumper pulled the suction tube off of Frank’s right tit with a hissing, sucking noise as the seal broke. Frank’s pink nipple was puffed out from his chest a good half inch; an erect, pointed cone. The Pumper wiped it with a disinfectant swab, grasped the distended point with his left hand. Then, holding a needle in his right, he moved the point to the tit about half way back down the cone. “This will hurt but I know you can take it, boy” he said and pushed the sharp point into the flesh. Frank gasped and uttered a short, strangled cry. Then, as the Pumper pushed the needle through, Frank grunted and moaned. When the point emerged from the far side of the nipple, he cried again and fell back against the supporting post. “Still a bit more pain,” the Pumper said and pulled a gold ring through with the needle. At last, it was finished. The Pumper put super glue on the open ends of the ring and closed it with a pair of pliers. “There,” he said. “Done. We’ll show you how to keep it clean and free of infection and how to ensure the hole scars correctly. When we’re ready to move you up to a larger gauge ring, we’ll just cut this one and put the new one in. But that’s up to Harry and Mr. Delaney. You OK, boy?” he asked Frank, placing his fingers against Frank’s neck to check his pulse. Frank nodded and looked up at the man in the lab coat. “Yes Sir. Thank you Sir,” he said, swallowing the salty saliva that filled his mouth. “Good boy,” the Pumper said, stroking his cheek, smiling. He did enjoy working with these man-cows, even if he couldn’t afford to hire any of them himself. At least he got his quarterly privilege when Mr. Delaney granted him the service of two of the man-cows of his choice. Maybe this time he’d pick these two. They were certainly a hunky pair.

As the Pumper moved to him, Blake’s eyes opened wide and then shut. He knew what was coming: he’d just seen his partner receive his piercing. But Blake wasn’t so eager as Frank had been. Frank had thought about having his nipple pierced before they’d been taken by the Milk Bar. Blake had never considered such a thing and he wasn’t eager now. But he accepted it as inevitable. His Master required it and he would submit without question but without enthusiasm. He felt the tube being pulled from his nipple and winced when his distended flesh was disinfected and grasped between thumb and finger. He gritted his teeth as it was stretched away from his chest and rolled his head backward, bracing himself for what he knew was coming. There was a prick and then a fire shot through his chest. “Aaaahhhhhh,” he gasped and clamped his mouth shut again, determined not to cry out a second time. The fire increased and then, another sharp flood of pain and he felt the flesh on the other side of his nipple being punctured as the needle pushed through. His head rolled forward, aware that the man piercing his flesh was talking to him. “Good boy,” he was saying. “Just a bit more and it’ll be over. Hang on now.” Another bolt of fire as his pierced tit was stretched and the ring was pulled through it. Then his nipple was released and he felt a heavy object thump against his chest. He managed to open his eyes and saw a gold ring dividing his nipple. The Pumper closed it with a pair of pliers and dabbed at the blood and placed an adhesive bandage over his newly pierced tit. “That’s a good boy,” he said quietly. “That’s just fine. Harry will show you how to care for it. You’ll probably find your tit’s more sensitive once the wound heals. Most man-cows do. And our customers insist on having milk cows with pierced nipples for them to abuse and play with.” Blake did remember his manners: “Thank you Sir,” he rasped out, trying to push down the fire emanating from his wounded nipple. “Good boy,” the Pumper said and turned and left the room.

“OK boys,” Harry said, releasing them from their bonds, “you’ve had a little nap, but it’s time for a rest before we get you ready for tonight’s activities. Back to your stall for some food and rest.” He snapped leashes on the newly pierced, utterly obedient man-cows and led them back to their stall where he fed and watered them, cuffed them together, face-to-face, their arms wrapped around each other’s bodies and left them to sleep. With their new nipple rings pressing into one another’s chests, they looked into each other’s eyes, kissed and fell into a deep sleep.

The Milk Bar—Chapter 54

The noise and lights awakened Blake. He jolted back to awareness, trying to sit up to take in what was happening. His natural alertness and years of police training and practice had ingrained an “instant on” manner of waking up in him. But trying to sit pulled him immediately back to reality because he was held down by the body of his partner around whom his arms were cuffed and whose arms were, likewise, cuffed around him. But his sudden motion awakened Frank who also had acquired a rapid wake-up state. “Uhhh,” Blake grunted in the moment he tried to sit up and found himself hindered. “Wha? Uunnnh?” Frank responded, his blue eyes flying open, looking wildly around. When Blake fell on top of him, he grinned. “Oh, it’s you. Hi baby.” Blake pushed himself up a little from Frank, looked down into his smiling eyes and smiled too. “Hi,” he said. “I’m sorry. I was disoriented. Those dreams... so strange.” “I know,” said Frank, “I was having weird dreams too. But it sure turned me on. Looks like you too,” he said, glancing down at Blake’s rigid cock which was poking up into his ball-sac. “Yeah, I guess so,” Blake said sheepishly. “Anyway, I’m glad it’s you I’m waking up to. Know what time it is?” “You see a watch on me?” Frank replied facetiously, his eyes twinkling. “Oh yeah. Stupid question.”

“OK boys. Time to get going. We need to get you ready for tonight’s show,” Harry said loudly, striding into the stall where the two man-cows lay bound together. He released their cuffs and snapped leashes on their collars as they disentangled themselves. Then he led them down the hall to the wash room where they joined the other members of the herd who were busy preparing themselves for tonight’s activities. No man-cow was permitted to ready himself. This reinforced the training that their bodies no longer belonged to themselves, but to the Milk Bar. There were couples who were shaving one another’s stubble, administering enemas, showering, using grease guns to lube one another’s asses, and so forth. Harry guided the two cop slaves to where Greg stood and ordered the three of them to get one another prepared.

“They’ve been cleaned out inside, so don’t bother with that. Just a refresher to get them smelling good. Then they should be lubed. Check them over for stubble to be sure. And the bandages can come off their tits. Give their piercings a cleaning. You know what you need to do,” Harry was ordering Greg who stood there in presentation position, feet spread, hands behind his back, head bowed. “Yes Sir,” he responded. Harry removed the two man-cows leashes, swatted their asses and pushed them toward Greg. “OK boys, let’s get going. We need to hurry,” Greg said. “Yes Sir,” they answered and stood up. “Present!” Greg ordered and they imitated his earlier stance. He ran his hands over their cocks and balls, groins and asses. He also went over Blake’s once well-furred, but now denuded chest, checking for any offending stubble. When he found some, he used a safety razor to clean it away until he was satisfied they were properly shaved. Next, Greg led them to the toilets where he ordered them to bend and grab their ankles. He selected a musk scent on the enema dispenser and, pushing the nozzle into each of their asses in turn, he let the water flow in as he massaged each cop’s belly. “Hold it,” he order and they mumbled their “Yes Sirs”, grunting as the cramps started. After three minutes, Greg ordered them to sit on the seatless toilets and expel the water. Blake and Frank were both relieved to be permitted to release the fluid and relax for a moment. Then Greg ordered them to the showers where he bathed them quickly. This time, Blake made no motion to stop him as Greg washed his genitals. The training had taken and while it was humiliating to be washed by another man, his mind told him that it was right. This was the life was intended to be. But the humiliation made him hard as a rock. Greg didn’t seem to notice, except as Blake’s hard-on poked into his face and then he just bent it out of the way. While he was on his knees, washing Blake’s butt, he pulled his ass-cheeks apart, thrust his nose into Blake’s crack and inhaled. “Ah,” he sighed. “That’s the right smell. Smells like a man should.” He laughed and swatted Blake’s ass playfully. Blake blushed, but smiled at Greg as he helped him to his feet. He was becoming more and more accustomed to the strange world into which he’d been thrust. Frank was feeling the same sorts of things, the humiliation but resignation, when Greg turned to wash him. His pale, pink dick rose like a flag-pole and once again, Greg had to bend it this way and that to wash Frank’s crotch and ass.

“OK,” Greg said. “Let’s check the piercings. Take the bandages off. Be gentle.” Cautiously, Blake and Frank pulled the bandages from their sore right nipples. There was some swelling and a little dried blood but they didn’t look as bad as they had expected. Greg showed them how to rotate their rings after daubing them with a little disinfectant to keep the wounds clean and help form scar tissue. Blake and Frank grunted as the antiseptic touched the open parts of their piercing but they followed Greg’s directions, including a slight stretching of the nipples, painful though it was.

When they’d finished cleaning their piercings, Greg spoke: “OK boys; now it’s my turn. Do just what I’ve done to you. I need an enema so let’s start with that,” he said. He moved to the toilets and bent to grab his ankles. Frank took a hose from the wall bracket and set the dial to “clean”. Then he lubed the end with a bit of petroleum jeely from the dispenser and, placing his hand on the small of Greg’s back, gently pushed the nozzle in. Greg grunted at the invasion but, of course, made no move to resist. Frank nodded at Blake who turned on the water, then rubbed Greg’s belly as it filled with fluid and became a bit distended. Greg was moaning with gentle grunts as his abdomen filled with water. “Enough,” Frank said and Blake turned off the faucet. Frank continued rubbing Greg’s belly as he watched the clock, every once in a while, feeling Greg’s hard cock against the back of his hand as it throbbed up and down. “Three minutes,” he said and Greg said “That’s enough,” and lowered himself onto the rim of the toilet. When he was seated, he released his sphincters and the cleansing liquid shot out of his ass in a jet, filling the air with the sound of wet farting and his quiet grunts and moans. Finally, he was finished. “OK,” he said. “Give me the musk scent just like I gave you,” and once again, he rose and grasped his ankles. Frank completed the procedure, selecting the correct scent and Greg received his second enema. Frank indicated when the allotted time had passed and Greg emptied his bowels in the toilet.

When Greg had caught his breath, he said “OK boys; time to wash me. You know what to do so let’s get started.” They moved to the shower and Greg moved as Blake and Frank directed him, lifting his arms so they could wash his pits, bending over so they could wash between his ass-cheeks, turning this way and then the other so that they could soap him and rinse him. “Check me for stubble,” Greg instructed. “You can see how I’m trimmed but make sure there are no short, sharp bits growing in.” Blake looked at him doubtfully, but when Greg nodded to him, he knelt and, after a slight hesitation, began to run his hands around Greg’s crotch and back along his perineum, feeling for wayward stubble. Blake was almost used to feeling Frank’s privates, but feeling Greg’s was somehow different. Frank had become his “buddy”, his “lover” but Greg was his colleague and it didn’t seem right. But Greg had ordered him to do so and so he would do his best. He felt some prickliness on the edges of the trimmed bush that Greg wore, as well as along the shaft of his cock and on his ball sac. Blake nodded to Frank who handed him a razor and he commenced his clean-up. Carefully, he lifted Greg’s heavy cock and shaved the underside. Then he stretched the testicles and cleaned up the stubble on his ball sac. His fingers then searched Greg’s perineum and ass-crack and he scraped away the bits of stubble he found there, working carefully and feeling again and again until he was sure that Greg was smooth as a baby’s bottom, except where hair had been permitted. “Finished,” Blake said and rose from his knees. Greg turned under the shower until he was completely rinsed. Then he turned off the shower. “OK. Let’s get dried and lubed and we’re ready to go. Hurry up! We only have five minutes.” Each of them grabbed towels and forming a tight circle, dried each other off. Then one-by-one, they bent over, legs spread, parted their cheeks and one of their mates lubed their asses with a grease gun filled with petroleum jelly. They hadn’t made the connection, but as the lube filled their anuses, their cocks became even more rigid than they had been. A portion of a drug inducing erections was in all of the lubes used by the Milk Bar. It could be absorbed through any skin surface where there was a good blood supply, whether it be cock or ass. With their cocks riding high, the three cop-slaves were finally ready to go. They hurried out of the shower room to report to Harry at the staging area.

The Milk Bar—Chapter 55

“Good, you’re here,” Harry said, nodding to the three man-cows as they approached. “Now listen up! Here’s the opening scene for tonight. We’re calling it ‘Vice Squad—Good Cop/Bad Cop’. You two,” he said, motioning to Greg and Frank, “are the bad cops. These two man-cows will join you,” he said, indicating Tom and Billy, two of the other man-cows belonging to the herd. The four men nodded at each other and Harry went on. “You four will wear uniforms. You’ll be joined by a couple of customers we’re putting in uniforms. You’re going to bring in two guys, civilians, you’ve rounded up for ‘interrogation’ at a local porn theater. One of the two is a special customer of the Milk Bar’s; the other will be Don here,” he nodded to Don Parr.

Glancing at the good-looking man-cow with the chiseled, pale Irish features with the sexy cleft in his chin and bright blue eyes, Greg remembered the man who’d been his client but wanted, no needed to be dominated. He’d volunteered, begged, to be made part of the herd at the Milk Bar and Delaney had finally complied. Now, a collar with two hash-marks sat around his neck above his chest which had once had a light covering of soft brown fur that swirled shape of his pecs but left his nipples bare, with the fur stopping a quarter of an inch from the edge of the aureoles. The fur was shorter now, having begun to grow back after his initial shaving and you could see it already growing in the sweeping pattern as was its habit when it was permitted to grow. Greg thought that the stubble made him even sexier than before. And naturally, his nipples were much more pronounced than when Greg first saw him and a ring pierced the right one, as was true for every member of the Milk Bar’s herd.

Harry’s voice snapped Greg back from his reverie. Don was smiling at him, his eyes twinkling and he grinned at Greg’s momentary distraction and gave him a wink. Greg smiled and winked back and turned his attention back to Harry. “So you’ll bring the two guys in. They’ll be cuffed already but fully clothed. On stage, you’ll see the set-up. We have a raised platform across center of the stage. You can walk around it, as you’ll see. There’s a pipe spanning the platform at about three feet. It runs through uprights at either end. You’ll also see that there’s sets of leg stocks below the pipe with the holes facing down. Obviously, that’s where the ‘prisoner’s’ feet go. You stand them up, move their feet forward so that their ankles are in the half-holes and then close the back half of the stock behind them. Just like a pair of wooden shackles. Now here’s the deal. You’ll haul the ‘prisoners’ up on stage and strip them. Make it rough but take it slowly to get the audience really heated up. Then, when they’re stripped, put each of them, one at a time, so that you can ‘control’ them, up on the platform with their feet in the stocks. Push them over the pipe and put them in the wrist/ankle restraints so their wrists are bound to their legs. The pipe will help them to balance so they don’t fall over. Then tell them what you’re going to do to them. You picked them up for indecent behavior in a porn theater and now you’re going to teach them a lesson. Then there’ll be a noise from off-stage. Tom and Billy, you come out and ‘discover’ Blake. He’s the ‘good’ cop. Drag him on-stage. Blake, you protest that they’ll never get away with this, that you’ll see them brought up on charges. You guys just laugh at him and tell him that when you’re finished with him, he’ll be too humiliated to tell anyone what happened because he’ll be your pussy-boy. Then strip him, throw him over the pipe and put him in the restraints. Get the scene? You’ve got three guys hanging on the pipe, asses and mouths available, see?” “Yes Sir,” the man-cows responded in unison. “Good,” Harry said. “The next thing to do is find some ‘help’ in teaching these guys a lesson. So go find some ‘help’. Off-stage, you’ll find two customers who’ve paid well for the privilege of teaching these guys a lesson. They’ll be wearing uniforms too. Bring them on-stage. There’ll be some toys there for you to use on the ‘prisoners’ to get them warmed up. Greg, as senior man here, you can decide when’s the time to start the ‘real lesson’. That’s when each ‘prisoner’ gets his tits clamped and both ends plugged. You can let the customers decide whether they want to fuck or be sucked. You man-cows; you’re job is to string the customer along as long as you possibly can, whether he’s in your mouth or your ass. The first customer to come gets the use of whichever man-cow he chooses for the rest of the evening, free of charge. Clear?” “Yes Sir,” they all answered. “Good. Get your uniforms on then. Your ‘prisoner’ customer is already waiting off-stage.

Blake followed Frank and Greg as they went to their lockers to pull out their uniforms for the evening. He was so attached to Frank, he didn’t know how it would feel to be used by anyone else. But he also knew he had no choice and wouldn’t have done otherwise if he had had the choice, because the Milk Bar had ordered him to do this. Still, he was nervous and his hands trembled as he pulled his uniform shirt over his shoulders. A chilly shudder ran down his back as his thumbs brushed his erect nipples and he felt the unfamiliar smoothness of his denuded chest. He sucked in a quick breath and buttoned the buttons. He didn’t notice Frank watching him but was suddenly aware that Frank was standing right in front of him. “It’s OK baby. You’ll be fine. I’ll be there with you the whole time. Just know that I’m there and do your best.” Frank gave him a quick kiss and turned to leave. Blake reached out for his shoulder and held him. When Frank turned, Blake smiled. “Thanks,” he said and let Frank go. “Anytime,” Frank smiled back and walked out of the room in his blue uniform.

When Greg finished dressing, he looked around the group. “Everybody ready?” he asked. Already, the sounds of the crowd were beginning to make the place vibrate; it would be a hot night tonight at the Milk Bar. The other guys nodded. “Yeah, ready,” a couple of them said. “OK, let’s go,” Greg smiled and headed up the stairs with his band following him. When they reached the top of the stairs, they found three guys waiting for them with Harry; two in blue uniforms and the third in street clothes. One of the “cops” was bearing down on the customer in street clothes, whom Greg recognized immediately. His blue eyes darted nervously around the room, and seemed to refuse to meet the steady gaze on the man “interrogating” him. He looked to be around fifty with creases around the corners of his eyes and a good deal of grey sprinkled through his once dark hair. He was good enough looking, but not spectacular: just another of the multitude of American men who made up the vast majority of American manhood. Not a beauty, but not a schlumpf either. “Mr. Farrington!” Greg exclaimed. “Good to see you again. I guess you’re one of our ‘victims’ tonight?” “Yes,” the man hesitated, glancing up at the “cop” who was seemingly trying to overwhelm him. “I guess I am. Sh-should be... fun.” Mr. Farrington said, swallowing hard.

Greg turned to the man who was the source of his discomfort. He was medium height, about 5 foot 10, medium build and around forty-five, Greg guessed, but with an air of authority and power that made him seem larger than he was. Closely cropped salt-and-pepper hair, a handsome face and shining green eyes. “Mr. Carrothers. How good to see you again,” Greg smiled, albeit a bit strained. He recalled his last session with Mr. Carrothers who had tortured and milked him four times to see how much he could get out of the man-cow. He’d treated Greg to rolfing, sanding of his body hair and electrical torture. Greg shivered at the memory and his cock and balls shrank up into his abdomen a bit with their own memory of their agony. Carrothers turned his attentions from Farrington to Greg. “Well, well,” he said. “Lt. Barber. It’s so good to see you too. I hope I wasn’t too hard on you the last time,” he said, smiling a smile that reminded Greg of a shark. “No Sir, not at all Sir.” “Oh, that’s too bad,” Carrothers looked disappointed. “I do like to give my man-cows a good workout when I’m here. Well maybe we’ll get another chance, what d’ya say?” “Anytime, Mr. Carrothers. I look forward to it,” Greg lied through his smile. “Yes, I’m sure you do,” Mr. Carrothers smiled back, his eyes glinting. Carrothers was a sadist, plain and simple, and while Greg had gotten into very rough sex, being tortured for the sake of pain and nothing else was not his idea of a good time. “And perhaps you and I can get better acquainted later,” Carrothers said, turning back to Mr. Farrington. “I might be able to incorporate a new ‘boy’ in my life, huh?” Mr. Farrington barely glanced up at Carrothers. “Yes Sir,” he murmured meekly. That worried Greg. He knew what Carrothers was capable of and he knew what Mr. Farrington was not capable of. He worried that Carrothers would take this mild family man with a bit of a kink and turn him into his slave, turning his world upside down. He’d have to remember to mention it to Harry and see if the Milk Bar could somehow intervene. Greg looked over at Harry and saw, to his relief, that Harry was taking this in and understood perfectly well what could happen and that it wouldn’t be in the Milk Bar’s best interests to allow it. Greg relaxed a little, realizing that Harry would deal with it on his own. Carrothers excused himself and went down the stairs.

Greg remembered the other customer and turned to give him a quick smile. He was about 5′11″, with dark blond hair, cut close on the sides and a bit longer on top, and bright blue eyes. He had strongly chiseled feathers, a broad forehead from which the hair was slightly receding on the sides and a prominent, but not too large nose. Thin but smiling lips sat above a square jaw, overall making for a very good-looking man. “Good evening Sir, I’m Greg.” Greg said, assuming the appropriate position of subservience. “Good evening boy. Yes, I know who you are. Your reputation precedes you. I’m Chas Winslow.” “Thank you Sir,” Greg answered. “I trust your evening will be up to the Milk Bar’s standards.” “I’m sure it will,” Mr. Winslow said, smiling. “It’s looking good already.” And with that, he reached for Dan’s nipple through his shirt, and gave it a hard pinch and a twist. Dan gasped. “Thank you Sir,” he said, never forgetting his manners in spite of his surprise.

Carrothers came back up the stairs and Harry turned his attention back to the group. “OK, gentlemen and man-cows. We’re ready to begin the show. Cuff the ‘prisoners’!” Greg and Frank each grabbed a pair of hand-cuffs and pulling the prisoners’ arms behind their backs, cuffed them. Harry, seeing that was taken care of, continued: “OK. Get into your characters, raise a little ruckus and let’s get going!” “Right!” Greg said, grabbing Mr. Farrington’s arm. “Take him Frank,” he ordered and Frank grabbed Farrington’s other arm as Carrothers and Winslow grabbed Don. Tom and Billy each took the feet of one of the “prisoners” and hoisting them off the floor, began yelling as they carried them onto the stage. The prisoners were playing their parts as well, yelling to be put down, that they hadn’t done anything. They dumped the prisoners unceremoniously across the heavy two-inch pipe that straddled the uprights, just as Harry had described it. “Now,” Greg said. “It’s time that scum like you learned what’s proper public behavior!” He pulled his service belt from around his waist and began thrashing the two men’s asses as they squirmed and cried out. Carrothers immediately followed suit, whaling them from the other side. Their cries started with calls to get their lawyers but soon turned into wails of pain as Greg and Carrothers worked them over.

Suddenly, there was a “Hey! What’s gong on in there?” from off-stage. Tom and Billy rushed out and came back, dragging Blake between them. “He’s been spying on us,” Tom said. “You hold onto those two,” Greg ordered Frank. “all you need to do is hold their heads down so they can’t get up.” Frank followed Greg’s instructions and placed a hand on the necks of Don and Mr. Farrington, quite efficiently immobilizing them. “Well now,” Greg said. “What do we have here? A spy huh? What’re we going to do with him?” Greg looked Blake up and down. “We’ll do him just like we do them. That’ll teach him to spy on his fellow-officers! Cuff ‘im.” Billy pulled a pair of cuffs from Blake’s utility belt and snapped them around his wrists. “Hold him!” Greg ordered and pushing Blake’s cuffed arms further up his back, Tom grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, quite effectively immobilizing him. “So you thought you’d be smart and turn us in did you?” Greg sneered, advancing on Blake who tried to shake his head “No” but could barely move. “Well this is what we do to guys like you,” he spat out and, grasping Blake’s shirt at the open collar, ripped it apart, exposing his chest and belly. “Very nice,” said Greg, running the flat of his hand up and down Blake’s now-smooth chest and twisting his erect left nipple. Then he flicked the ring in Blake’s right tit. “Oooh,” he purred. “Looks like you’re a sub. Are you a sub, little boy?” “Yes Sir,” Blake answered, hardly knowing whether he was play-acting or answering truthfully. “That’s a good boy. I think we can keep you in line quite easily,” Greg said and gave Blake’s left tit a savage twist, causing Blake to gasp in pain. Then Greg put his hand on Blake’s crotch. “Oh yes, you are a sub aren’t you boy? You’re hard as a rock. You like this treatment don’t you bitch?” he said, rubbing his hand up and down Blake’s pronounced bulge. Blake nodded slowly. “Answer me bitch!” Greg shouted, twisting Blake’s tit again. “Yes Sir,” Blake hastened. “And you like being treated this way, don’t you bitch?” Greg continued, tormenting Blake. “Yes Sir, thank you Sir,” Blake shouted.

Greg’s “acting” was a surprise even to himself. He would never have treated Blake or anyone else this way, especially since he was a slave himself and a natural bottom. But the Milk Bar had its ways and Greg had been trained to perform this role well when he was called on.

“Get the rest of his clothes off him and put him in the stocks!” Greg ordered. Billy and Tom ripped the shirt from Blake’s cuffed wrists and then pulled down his pants, allowing his erection to slap against his belly, splattering pre-cum on his belly and chest. While Tom supported him, Billy roughly pulled his shoes and socks off his feet and then pulled his trousers off. Then they maneuvered the naked cop onto the platform, placed his feet into one set of stocks and locked the back-piece in place. His feet being securely bound, they bent him over the pipe. While Billy held his head down, Tom obtained two pairs of double leather cuffs. One cuff went around Blake’s wrist, the other around one of his trapped ankles. The other pair were similarly applied to Blake’s other hand and ankle. He wasn’t going anywhere now. “That’s a good boy,” Greg said, running his hands over Blake’s back and taking his face in his hands. He pulled his face up so that Blake was looking at him. “We’re going to have a good time tonight, aren’t we bitch?” “Please Sir, thank you Sir,” Blake begged, flushing from head to toe. Why did he need this so much? Why did it turn him on so? He’d never felt this way before. Here he was naked, shaved, trussed and helpless in front of all these men and one of his buddies who was verbally abusing him, yet his cock was throbbing and leaking pre-cum all over his lower legs and feet.

Next, Greg turned his attention to Don. “Strip him!” he ordered Carrothers and Winslow. Winslow got behind Don and held him while Carrothers happily complied with Greg’s direction. He ripped his shirt apart, shredding it and leaving that tatters hanging from Don’s cuffed wrists. Then he took his time, feeling Don’s upper body. He dug into Don’s biceps and triceps, squeezing them and pulling at them, making Don groan in pain and try to lift his legs to push Carrothers away but Winslow apparently knew what Carrothers’ habits were and bounced Don to keep his legs from curling up. “Hold still boy!” he hissed in Don’s ear, “or we’ll make it even worse for you.” “Yes Sir,” Don said through gritted teeth as he grimaced in pain. Greg’s arms ached in sympathy; he was well aware of how painful this kind of treatment could be. Then Carrothers slid his hands up and down Don’s belly and chest. He squeezed the slave’s abs and dug into them, separating them with his strong hands. Don shouted out in pain but his shouts lacked power because his tortured abs gave his breath no support. Finally, Carrothers moved to the boy’s well-defined chest; a chest muscled from hard work, rather than from lifting weights in a gym. Carrothers kneaded and lifted them from the ribcage. He gripped the slave’s prominent tits between his thumbs and fingers and pulled out and down, stretching his nipples at least half an inch, dragging a crescendoing groan from Don’s mouth. Greg could see light through the hole in Don’s pierced right nipple and winced in sympathetic pain. When Carrothers let them go, you could hear the flesh snap back into place and the ring smacked up against Don’s chest wall. At last, Carrothers let him go and unhooked his trousers, letting them fall to the floor, exposing his pendulous cock and balls.

“Now boy,” he snarled, taking Don’s genitals in his hand and squeezing, “what, exactly, were you planning on doing with these in that theater?” “Nothing Sir,” Don gasped, “nothing!” “Oh yeah? Well then why did you have them hanging out of your pants? Did you forget to zip up when you left home? Are you always that careless a little boy?” “No Sir,” the man-cow gasped as his tormentor pulled his balls half-way down his leg and stretched his cock right along with them. Some sniggers rippled through the audience. You had to admire Carrothers’ role-playing; he was really getting the scene right, Greg thought. And being a sadist, it made it easy for him to abuse the poor man-cow. “Well, I think we’ll just have to teach you to be more careful with where you leave your little boy’s prick from now on. Because now, they belong to me!” And with that, he pulled up and away, forcing Don to arch his back in an attempt to relieve the tension. Then Carrothers abruptly released him and Don fell back, collapsing into Winslow’s embrace and groaning in pain. “Let’s get him into the stocks!” Carrothers ordered and he and Winslow holding their “prisoner” aloft by his arms cuffed behind his back, leaving his legs dangling and his pelvis thrust forward as he writhed in their clutches, picked Don up, placed his feet into the second set of stocks and locked the back piece into place. Then they roughly bent him over the pipe, slapping his ass hard, making him yell in protest as they manhandled him. They uncuffed him, pulled his arms around to the front, buckled the shackles onto his wrists and then onto his lower legs. He and Blake, both bent, shackled, their asses exposed and high, their cock and balls swinging free, exchanged glances. They weren’t quite used to this level of abuse from Milk Bar customers. Blake was thinking it was his lack of experience, but he could tell from the look in Don’s face and the wincing glances Greg was making that this was rough by any standards of experience.

Then Carrothers turned his attention on Mr. Farrington who shrank back against Greg’s uniformed body. “Please, please,” he was whimpering. “Oh yeah! We’ll give you ‘please’ little man. We’ll give you just what you need,” Carrothers said with quiet menace. “OK,” interjected Greg, trying to get control of the scene and save Farrington’s ass, “Let’s be careful with this one; he looks like he might know somebody...” He was floundering, trying to find something that would keep the scene going but keep Farrington out of Carrothers’ grasp. “Let me take care of him,” he ventured. Carrothers fastened his glittering eyes on Greg. “I think I know how to deal with little boys like him who don’t know what to do with their weenies. You just leave him to me. OK?” He spat out the last and Greg knew that his question held an implicit threat. Greg was still a man-cow and Mr. Carrothers was an influential and wealthy customer. He could have Greg for lunch if he wanted and Greg had already had one experience too many with Mr. Carrothers. “Yes Sir,” Greg whispered. “OK,” he said aloud. Carrothers grabbed Farrington’s cuffed arms and Greg backed away. He felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach; he was abandoning a customer but a more powerful customer had set his sights on the first one and there was nothing Greg could do short of physical interference which his conditioning and training would have prevented.

“Now,” Carrothers was saying, holding the close-to-collapsing Farrington in his grip, “you couldn’t keep your little boy weenie in your pants at the theater so let’s see how you feel about being completely naked.” And with that, he and Winslow began to strip Mr. Farrington’s clothes off him, and none too gently. It was fortunate that Harry had given him a set of clothes for the scene because he’d have had nothing to wear home otherwise (if he ever got home, Greg thought). Winslow and Carrothers were like sharks on a feeding frenzy. They pulled his jacket off his shoulders and then ripped his shirt open, exposing him as he cried out in protest for them to stop; to leave him alone. Mr. Farrington looked much as Greg remembered him: medium height with a trim build and a smooth chest. He obviously took care of himself and worked out, showing good definition in his arms, chest and legs, but by the same token, he wasn’t a gym rat. All the same, Greg noticed a little more bulk than the first time he’d seen Mr. Farrington nude so it seemed that he might, indeed, have begun to work out some. He looked to be around fifty with creases around the corners of his eyes and a good deal of grey sprinkled through his once dark hair. And right now, he looked quite vulnerable and frightened. But his pants were showing signs of a growth that reflected something beyond fear. Carrothers unbuckled Mr. Farrington’s belt, undid the hook on his pants and unzipped them, letting them fall to the floor in a puddle around his feet. His briefs tented out, pushed forward by a very hard cock and there was a smear of pre-cum where the tip of his cock was pushing against the fabric. “No,” he was babbling, “please, don’t. No, please...” But Carrothers grabbed his erect dick and squeezed, drawing a cry from his lips. “Oh my boy. You say ‘No’ but this is saying ‘Yes’, isn’t it boy? Or does it lie? Answer me boy?” “No Sir. I mean yes Sir.” Mr. Farrington cried, Carrothers’ hand still clamped on his aching penis. “You like this don’t you boy? Tell the truth!” Carrothers commanded. “Yes Sir, yes Sir. Please Sir. I like it Sir.” Farrington babbled, his mind overcome by what he was experiencing—something he’d fantasized about but never dared hope would actually happen. And now it was happening. His cock was throbbing, his nipples had become erect cones also, begging for abuse. Carrothers released his grip and reached down to grasp the waistband of his “boy’s” briefs. Then he ripped them apart and let them fall to the floor. Farrington’s cock sprang loose and flew up to slap against his belly, spattering pre-cum on his abdoment. His cock was cut, about seven inches long and big enough around that Carrothers could barely circle it with his thumb and middle finger. “A nice big dick for such a little boy. Well we’ll just have to put it in its place, won’t we boy?” Carrothers snarled and gave it a hard squeeze. “Aaaaaahhhh. Yes Sir. Please Sir,” Farrington gasped. Greg looked around the room quickly and noticed that many of the customers were very much getting off on this scene. Some had pulled their hard dicks out of their pants and were slicking the pre-cum over their cock heads and licking their fingers.

“Now,” Carrothers said, taking Farrington’s tits in his hands, “Let’s get to the next step. Let’s string him up on the rack Chas.” “Right,” Winslow replied. From his pocket, he drew several three-quarter inch wide plain leather straps. He picked up Farrington’s right arm and wrapping a strap around it a couple of times, tied it, leaving a long tail hanging free. Then he repeated the operation with Farrington’s left wrist, then his ankles. Carrothers picked his “boy” up, standing behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and grasping his cock and balls. “C’mon boy. It’s time for your initiation and binding to your Master.” Greg felt a shiver run down his spine and his cock surged in his pants. He knew what was coming and he was afraid and excited at the same time.

Carrothers lifted Farrington’s submissive body onto the platform and stood him in front of the uprights in front of the two man-cows who were already bound there. Blake was in the middle of the rack, doubled over, his hands and feet immobilized, so as Carrothers set Farrington on the platform in front of him, Blake’s face met Farrington’s ass. “Stick your nose in there boy!” Carrothers ordered him, “and get your tongue up his ass.” “Yes Sir,” Blake answered and pushed his face into Farrington’s ass crack. Farrington began to moan as he felt a tongue tickling and invading his pucker and pushed his ass back, seeking more. In the meantime, Carrothers and Winslow were lashing his wrists and ankles to the rack, spread eagling him, leaving him completely exposed. Then Carrothers and Winslow each took a safety razor from their pockets. “Now boy,” Carrothers said to him, holding the razor in front of his face, “I’m going to make you mine by taking away your manhood. After this, you’ll belong to me. Do you understand what I’m about to do boy?” “Yes Sir,” Farrington whispered, his eyes wide and fixed on the razor. Carrothers took Farrington’s face in his hand and turned him to look in his eyes. “And you want this, don’t you boy?” “Please Sir, no Sir. Please don’t do this to me. Please Sir.” Farrington had tears in his eyes as he pleaded with Carrothers. “Boy?” Carrothers thundered. “I know you and I know this is what you want. Admit it and beg me to make you my boy. Beg me now or I’ll release you forever. And there’ll be no second chance. Beg me now or lose me forever.” Farrington looked up uncertainly at the man demanding his submission and the tears rolled down his cheeks. Finally, “Yes Sir. I want this.” he whispered. “Beg me boy!” “Please Sir, i’m begging You. Please make me Your boy. Please Sir.” “Do you want to be my slave, boy?” “Yes Sir.” “Then beg for it.” “Please Sir, make me Your slave. I want to be Your slave. I need to be Your slave. Please Sir,” Farrington cried. “Call me Master, boy.” “Yes Master. Please Master. Thank You Master,” Carrothers smiled that shark-like smile and placed the razor against his new slave’s armpit. Farrington groaned, his body suddenly contracting in a shiver of excitement like he’d never known.

Carrothers and Winslow began shaving the hair from Farrington’s body. They started with his armpits, working until they were bare. Then Carrothers ran his hands over his boy’s chest, cleaning away any stray hair he found. Then he knelt and grasping Farrington’s leaking cock, began to denude him of his pubic bush. Swipe after swipe of the razor reduced Farrington’s once heavy bush to next to nothing and then, finally, it was completely gone. His cock now rose from little boy pubes. During this entire operation, Farrington had hung his head, blushing from head to toe in humiliation as the signs of his manhood were removed. Once his pubes were denuded, his Master grasped his balls and, stretching them down, removed the hair that had covered them as well. When he’d finished with that, Carrothers checked his boy’s legs and cleaned the small amounts of hair from them. Then, slapping his boy’s cock with a hard upward swat, smacking it against his belly, he stood. “Good boy,” he said, tousling Farrington’s hair. “I’ll leave the hair on your head. At least for now,” he laughed. Then he untied the straps binding Farrington to the rack and turned him around. “Open your mouth pig,” he ordered Blake who immediately complied. Carrothers moved Farrington to place his cock in Blake’s open mouth and then made him bend at the waist so that he was lying across Blake’s back, exposing his butt. Carrothers ran his fingers up and down his boy’s ass crack and teased his hole, pulling squeals and whimpers of excitement from Farrington’s lips. Then he applied the razor once again, completing Farrington’s unmanning by shaving his perineum and ass crack. When he’d finished, he gave his boy’s ass a resounding crack, leaving a pink handprint on his white butt cheek.

Carrothers stepped off of the platform. “Turn around boy,” he ordered and Farrington obeyed, pulling his sloppy dick out of Blake’s mouth and covering himself with his hands as he remembered that he was being watched by many eyes. “Hands to your side boy. Never hide yourself in front of your Master!” Carrothers yelled at him. “No Sir. I’m sorry Sir,” Farrington answered, snatching his hands away from his crotch, exposing his denuded body for all to see. “Come to me boy,” Carrothers coaxed, holding out his arms. Farrington moved forward and lowered himself into his Master’s arms, collapsing against him in relief and humiliation. Carrothers held him and lifted his face up to look into his Master’s eyes. Then the Master bent his head to his boy and crushed his mouth against his boy’s, ravishing him with his tongue, taking possession of him. Farrington melted into his Master’s arms and gave himself up to be taken. “Stand up boy,” Carrothers ordered and the boy who had been a man stood, somewhat curled in on himself when his Master stepped away from him.

Carrothers went to Winslow who began to respectfully undress him. This confirmed what Greg had suspected; that Winslow was a slave or a former slave of Carrothers’. Winslow unbuttoned his shirt and moved behind him to pull it from his body, exposing that incredible torso to everyone’s view. When Farrington began to lift his head to look at his new Master, Carrothers barked “Eyes on the floor boy. I’ll tell you when you can look at your Master’s body.” Quickly, Farrington dropped his eyes and, almost instinctively, clasped his hands behind his back. As Winslow pulled Carrothers’ shirt from off his shoulders, he revealed strong, wiry forearms coated with soft brown fur. On his chest was a dense forest of medium brown fur flecked with gray that started at his throat and widened down the cleft of his chest. Quarter-sized tits with erect points rode on tight pecs and poked through the mat of hair on his chest. A thick gold ring pierced the left nipple and glowed softly as it poked through the fur. His belly was bare, except for the line of hair that ran from his navel down into his pants. Greg’s mouth was watering just as it had the first time he’d seen Mr. Carrothers’ splendor. Winslow unbuckled his Master’s belt and undid his pants, kneeling to lower them to the floor. Carrothers placed a hand on Winslow’s head to steady himself as he lifted first one foot and then the other so that Winslow could pull his trousers off. Carrothers was wearing a black leather jock under his pants and the size of the bulge in the pouch made many who’d never seen it before catch their breath. Only a trained man-cow would be capable of taking that either orally or anally without a great deal of discomfort and many men breathed a quiet sigh of relief that they were not in Farrington’s place tonight. The new slave boy wasn’t trained nor even experienced but he would most certainly be treated to his Master’s cock, undoubtedly front and rear.

Carrothers stood there, fists on hips; a magnificent Master. He exuded power and the cock of every sub in the place was hard. He fixed his eyes on his boy and finally called him: “Look at me boy. Look at your Master.” Farrington’s head snapped up and locked on his Master. Then he slowly sank to his hands and knees. “Come!” Carrothers ordered and Farrington crawled forward. When he reached his Master, he put his arms around his legs and lowered his face to his feet, kissing them and whimpering. Carrothers freed one foot from his boy’s grasp and placed it on his head. “You are mine. I claim you as slave. I am your Master until I free you. You belong to me slave.” “Thank You Sir, thank You Master,” Farrington murmured over and over again, bathing his Master’s feet with his tongue. By now, many of the subs had nearly come, just watching the real-life scene unfold in the midst of this staged scene. Carrothers reached down and caught his new slave under the chin and raised him to his feet. He wrapped an arm around his boy’s head and crushed his face to his chest, drawing his slave’s mouth to his nipple. “Suck boy,” he ordered. “Nurse from your Master’s teat. Soon you’ll be nursing from his cock and drawing your sustenance from it.” Farrington opened his mouth and sucked on his Master’s nipple like a starving pup, whimpering and moaning as he buried his face in the fur of his Master’s chest. He pushed his newly smooth pubes against his Master’s bush, reveling in the roughness that scratched his freshly shaved, sensitive skin, knowing that his Master had turned him into his boy, his slave and he now only need depend on him for his every need.

The Milk Bar—Chapter 56

After a few minutes of suckling, Carrothers pushed Farrington down. The new slave slid down, holding his Master’s body, his mouth and tongue kissing the skin as he descended. When he reached Carrothers’ leather-encased genitals, he stopped and pressed his mouth even harder against his Master’s body, trying to get at him through the jock. Carrothers reached down and tousled his hair again. “Soon boy. You’ll get it soon enough. You’re a good boy and a Master always rewards a boy when he’s good. But enough: get up on the platform and join your friends.” Farrington started to stand but immediately dropped back to his hands and knees when his Master sharply said “Crawl boy! I didn’t give you permission to walk.” “Yes Master. I’m sorry Sir,” Farrington hastened to crawl over to and up onto the platform where Don and Blake were imprisoned. Unsure of exactly what his Master wanted, he waited on all fours at the back of the platform. “Place your feet into the stocks, slave!” his Master ordered. Obediently, he stood and moved his feet forward into the indentations in the stocks. Winslow moved behind him and placed the back section of the stocks and locked it. “Bend over and grab your ankles!” Submissively, the boy Farrington bent over the pipe and grabbed his ankles. Winslow buckled the cuffs joining his wrists to his ankles, leaving him, like the other two slaves with his ass high and exposed, his cock and balls dangling and his face at just the right height for fucking. Carrothers moved to him and took his face in his hand, grasping his jaw. He lifted his new slave’s face to meet his eyes. “You’re a good boy,” he said, gently squeezing the boy’s jaw and forcing his mouth open, giving him a wide-eyed, wondering appearance. “You’re going to be a good slave to me, aren’t you boy?” “Yes Master,” Farrington murmured, taking in the masculine strength and power of the man who had just made himself his Master. From around the room, a couple of groans sounded as some customers, overcome by the power of what they had just witnessed, creamed in their pants. Man-cows serving in the pipe hurried to them to clean up for them and lick up and swallow their cum.

Harry, at a sign from Delaney that it was time to proceed, took the mike. “And now gentlemen; to continue the scene, you will witness the disciplining of these wayward men.” Greg, snapping back to reality, worked to get back the direction of the staged scene. “OK boys,” he said, walking down the row of prisoners, “it’s time you learned a lesson. Since you can’t keep your little weenies inside your pants, we’re going to give you more than you dreamed of and maybe the next time, you’ll remember to be a little more careful! Behold the City’s finest!” he announced, giving a sign first to Mr. Carrothers, since he was already stripped. Carrothers stepped forward, facing front, legs spread, fists on hips; the image of the perfect Top. Next, Greg gave a sign to Chas Winslow who obligingly began a slow strip tease. He unbuttoned his sleeves and the front of his shirt and pulled it out of his trousers. Through the partially open shirt, Greg could see a coating of coarse blonde hair across a well-defined chest. He had his own method for stripping and rather than removing his shirt, once he’d unbuttoned it, he left it on and went instead to his shoes and socks and then his pants. He undid his belt, unhooked the waist and pulled down the fly. Then he turned his back on the audience and let them fall to the floor before he stepped out of them. When he turned back, he was wearing a white jock with a very full pouch. It was interesting to Greg that his bush was very cleanly trimmed so that there was no hair showing beyond the edge of the jock. That made sense, he figured. Since Winslow seemed to be in some sort of Dom/sub relationship with Carrothers, he was probably required to keep his bush trimmed. Winslow slid his thumbs beneath the waistband of his jock and slowly pushed it down. Since he was still wearing his unbuttoned shirt, his thick cock and golf-ball sized testicles made for tantalizing viewing as they swung in and out through the opening in his shirt. Then he turned his back on the audience again and slipped the shirt off his shoulders. The muscles in his arms and shoulders rippled as he moved revealing how hard he worked at staying in peak form. A tribal tattoo of interlacing vines circled his upper right arm, emphasizing the definition. Finally, he dropped the shirt on the floor and turned to face the audience and stand beside and slightly behind Carrothers. A five gauge ring, matching Carrothers’ pierced his right nipple and glinted in the lights. Greg suddenly had an inkling that Farrington would soon be sporting a similar ring in his right tit too. The coating of coarse blond hair covered his pecs and upper chest, meeting in the middle and running in a line down his washboard belly toward his crotch. His dark bush was indeed trimmed to a neat triangle and he also sported a PA through the dark pink mushroom of his dick.

Now that the “guests” had stripped, the man-cows followed suit, each taking their turn to reveal their wares. Tom was first, followed by Billy, then Frank and finally Greg. Six “cops” with three “prisoners”. You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to do the math. It was only a question of who paired up with which “prisoner”. It was obvious to the man-cows that Carrothers had claimed Farrington for his boy and none would have dreamed to usurping his right to do what he wanted with his slave. Greg ordered Tom and Billy to take Don and indicated that he and Frank would take Blake, then he went off-stage to get some equipment. In a moment, he returned with several items in his hands: leather ball-stretchers, tit-clamps and sucking bits. Each prisoner felt his balls suddenly being stretched almost to the point of pain. Blake felt a pull going up the right side of his groin into his abdomen as Greg grasped his sac and pulled it down, wrapping a stretcher around it and snapping it on. Greg had chosen a three-incher for Blake because he already had a set of low-hangers. Farrington, who’d had no experience with such things previously was wrapped in a one-and-a-half incher and Don got a two-incher. Each of the prisoners was now moaning softly as his bound body was abused. Greg gave Tom and Winslow a sucking-bit: a steel ring with two acutely angled rods on either side designed to fit into the prisoner’s open mouth and force his teeth apart and his mouth open. The ring made an opening into which a cock or a dildo could be inserted and the angled rods fit between the upper and lower teeth, preventing the prisoner from closing his mouth. In addition to the humiliation of having his mouth held open against his will and his captors insert whatever they might choose into it, the boy was further humiliated by his inability to speak clearly, reducing him to guttural noises like some animal. Finally, clover-leaf tit clamps with a quarter pound weight on the chain joining them were applied to each of the prisoners’ tits, stretching them down from their bodies. As the clamps bit in and stretched their tits, each of the prisoners began to moan in earnest from the combined assault to their balls and nipples. Their inarticulate groans filled the air.

“Now that you’re ready boys, it’s time to start your lessons, so let’s get going,” Greg said loudly and the “cops” moved into place. Tom moved behind Don and Billy went to the front. Tom lubed his cock and, taking some of the grease on his fingers, began to stretch Don’s hole to prepare for his entrance. As he pushed one, then two, then three fingers into Don’s widening opening, he pulled on the man-cow’s stretched balls, making the captive squeal loudly and squirm as he was doubly assaulted. Then Billy grabbed hold of his tits and began to twist the clamps, making him throw his head up and howl as his nips were tortured. As his head went up and the howl started, Billy thrust his hard cock into the opening in the bit, plugging the crying mouth. Don continued to cry and moan but the cock filling his mouth stifled his cries, leaving him squealing like a stuffed pig. But then, his cock was hard as a rock and slapping up against his belly. Tom let go of his balls for a moment and grabbed a rubber to cover his cock and catch the pre-cum that was drooling out onto the platform. A Milk Bar customer would pay well to drink that precious fluid. As soon as he’d finished covering Don’s pecker, Tom went back to the man-cow’s balls. By now his hole was open and needy. Tom pulled his hand out of Don’s ass with a plop as the lips snapped back together. Then he placed his hard dick at the opening and pushed in with a single thrust.

While Tom and Billy were preparing Don for the night’s contest, Greg and Frank were working on Blake. Greg opted to fuck Blake and motioned to Frank to take his mouth. As Frank stood in front of Blake, Blake lifted his eyes as best he could, to look at Frank who was looking down at him. If he hadn’t had that damned bit in his mouth, he would have smiled. At least it was his lover that was going to face-fuck him. He didn’t know it, of course, but Blake had been programmed in his training to welcome whatever Frank might do with him. He would accept any other man’s dick, either up his ass or down his throat, but Frank’s he would welcome; Frank was his and he was Frank’s. Delaney had determined that it would best to bind this straight cop to his buddy to head off any possible psychological backlash from a revolted and revolting psyche. Blake had been convinced that he and Frank belonged together as colleagues and as lovers and that the similarities were so great that both things were one and the same. So his mouth watered as he waited for Frank to take his mouth. Then he felt Greg’s hand on his rosebud, pushing in something cold and slick. He knew who was going to be taking his ass and his mind told him that that was OK too; Greg was another colleague and, while not as important to him as Frank was, it was OK for his friend to fuck him because that was what was best. Greg knew what was best. So as Greg pushed his fingers inside Blake’s anus, he wiggled and clenched his ass, looking to have more.

Greg looked over at the last trio and was surprised when he saw Winslow move behind Farrington and Carrothers going to the front. Surely, Carrothers would want to te be the first to fuck his new slave! This was sure different. Farrington’s eyes were fixed on the huge, heavy cock that his Master was holding in his hand, ready to spear his open mouth and he begged for it. Nothing intelligible came out; only animal cries, but the Master knew what his slave was begging for. “Yes boy. You’re about to get what you’ve been waiting for. Get that mouth ready for your Master.” And saying that, he moved forward and placed the head of his cock into the opening. He didn’t thrust all the way in but just let his plum rest on his slave’s tongue. “Just let it sit there boy. Just curl your tongue around it and cradle your Master’s gift to you.” Submissively, Farrington followed his Master’s orders, even though he wanted to swallow it whole had he been able to. But he needed to do what his Master ordered or his Master might punish him by taking it away altogether, and that would be devastating. As the slave warmed his Master’s dick in the cradle of his tongue, Carrothers nodded to Winslow who took a large dildo and greased it down with lube. Then he began to open the slave’s virgin hole. One finger tickled his pink lips, making the slave squirm and squeal with delight. He tried to push backward to get more of that penetration but the apparatus in which the slaves were bound prevented much movement on their part. All he could do was clench his sphincter, trying to pull that finger further inside. Winslow smiled and nodded to Carrothers: yes, this slave was a needy one and his Master would be able to train him well. “So,” Greg thought, “I had it right after all. Winslow’s just getting Farrington’s ass ready. Carrothers will be the one to take the first fruit from his new slave.”

As Winslow pushed more fingers into the eager slave’s stretching hole as the Master pushed more and more of the length of his cock into the slave’s hungry mouth. By the time the Master’s cock-head hit the slave’s soft palate, Winslow had stretched his hole three fingers wide. He pulled his hand out and grabbed the dildo, which was the same size as Carrothers large schlang. Then he placed the tip against the pulsing lips and pushed with one thrust. The slave screamed in pain and fulfillment. This was what he’d been longing for all these years: to be taken and totally possessed by another man; to become a boy to be used for his Master’s pleasure. He belonged, body and soul, to his Master; his pain was his Master’s pleasure. His throat cried out and then, just as quickly, sought to swallow the gift that filled it; his Master’s flesh. In the meantime, Winslow slowly pulled the dildo from the wanting slave’s tortured hole and thrust it home again. Each time the huge cock was withdrawn and replanted, the hole become more willing and open, wanting, needing to be taken. After perhaps a dozen repetitions, it passed easily in and out: the slave hole was completely ready and submissive to its Master’s cock. The slave throat had been milking the Master’s cock, trying to pull it down through its guts to get it where it really wanted its Master to be: in its pussy, filling its neediest part. Carrothers knew the time was right and pulled his cock out of his slave’s crying throat. “Just a moment boy. I’m coming. I won’t keep you waiting any longer.” And he moved around and behind his boy and placed his hot, hard dick against his boy’s waiting hole. “Now boy,” he said, “have your Master’s gift.” And he pushed the plum-sized head of his cock against the clutching lips and shoved it home. Farrington screamed again as he was completely possessed by his Master. But once again, his screams were stifled because Winslow had moved to fill his slave-mouth with his own cock. Farrington didn’t know whose dick was in his mouth; he didn’t care. His Master’s cock was filling his ass and that was all that mattered. Anything else was just an extension of his Master and he would do his utmost to satisfy him.

Now that Carrothers had taken Farrington’s ass, the contest could begin in earnest and the two other trios on the rack began to work. Farrington was untrained as a fuck-slave but sheer enthusiasm and desire to pleasure his Master made him clench the flesh invading his ass-chute over and over again, making his Master groan with pleasure. Winslow, knowing what helped to make a slave a good fuck, reached down and grabbed the chain joining the tit-clamps and rhythmically pulled hard on it, pulling the slave’s tits lower with each of Carrothers’ thrusts. The pain in his chest made the slave grunt and clasp his sphincters even harder, taking his Master higher and higher. Blake wished that he hadn’t had that damned bit in his mouth because he wanted to make love to Frank’s cock and the bit prevented him from doing what he’d have liked. But he did what he could, laving the cock with his tongue, tickling the frenum with the tip of his tongue, running it around the edges of the corona and pushing the warm, pulsing flesh against the roof of his mouth. He sucked the oozing pre-cum from it and teased the piss-slit to try to get more, reveling in the taste of his lover. His ass was doing its work, more or less of its own “free” will. His training had educated his sphincters to massage anything inserted through them and they were performing well tonight, especially since Greg was spanking Blake’s ass cheeks, leaving bright red handprints on his once-white flesh. Each blow made the muscles respond by tightening up. Blake took Greg higher and higher with each moment. But Greg also knew better than to be the first to come. All of the Milk Bar’s man-cows knew that. While it was a “contest” it was also rigged because only a customer would be permitted to win in this instance.

All of the men were breathing hard now, grunting, moaning and squealing; some in pleasure, some in pain. But the audience was enjoying the spectacle of three “prisoners”, stripped and bound, being fucked and “forced” to suck their humiliators as punishment for their misdeeds. There were moans and shouts from around the room as spectators got off on the hot scene being played out in front of them. The noise rose in a crescendo until at last, Carrothers began shouting and pumping hard into his slave boy’s ass. He grabbed his hips, sinking his fingers into the pale flesh and pounding his pubes into the boy’s ass, yelling as his ejaculation shot from his cock into his boy’s anus like a jet. The force of his orgasm pushed his boy over the edge as well. Breathing desperately through his nose, since his mouth was filled with cock, his eyes bulged out and he grunted and squealed a high squeal as he came, shooting ropes of cum from his untouched cock. The vibrations of his squeals reverberating through his cock caused Winslow to come, shooting his cream down Farrington’s throat and filling his mouth. Farrington tried to swallow to keep up but with his own orgasm still shaking his body, he couldn’t and the man cream spurted out of his mouth around Winslow’s hard dick and dribbled off of Farrington’s chin onto the floor.

Finally, and at last, they were spent. Carrothers collapsed across his slave boy’s back and lay there breathing hard. Farrington groaned under his Master’s weight but did his best to hold him up, for if he didn’t he’d be crushed against the pipe he rested on. Carrothers reached down and took his boy’s face in one hand and turned it to the side and nibbled on his ear. “You’re a good boy. You’ve made your Master proud and happy. Good boy. Good slave,” he murmured. “Thank You Sir,” the new-made slave boy answered, pleased that he’d made his Master happy but exhausted from the effort.