March 20th, 2002

Patrick wasn’t sure when he passed out, but when he awoke his arms felt as if they were on fire and his body screamed for release. His first thought was to attempt at breaking the rope again, but as he began to sway he found his strength was sapped. He felt like a ragdoll. “Hey!” He shouted out weakly. Patrick tried jerking on the rope once more, and became suddenly aware of the pipe that still rested in his ass.

Suddenly he heard a door unlatch, then soft footsteps, and his door open. “Quiet down, they’ll hear you.” A girlish voice from behind him whispered. “I am here to let you down so you can have a meal. However, I will have to string you back up afterwards. If you attempt to attack me then the consequences will be fatal. Do you understand, Patrick?” Her German was terrible, but he got the jest of what she was saying.

“Sure, whatever.” He muttered as he tried to turn and face the girl. He didn’t have to do much of the work as she came around his left. She was a Korean girl, with shoulder-length straight ebony hair and high cheek bones. She stood about 5’5’’ and looked no older than sixteen. Patrick watched as she went to the wall and untied to rope from a metal loop in the wall. As she let it slowly move through her hands Patrick felt himself being lowered. He fell to his knees then slipped on his side, too exhausted to hold himself up. She went to him and unlocked the cuffs, letting his arms fall.

“Let me grab your food.” She whispered softly and went to the door, taking up the tray she had left on the step. As she did so Patrick reached behind himself and grasped the metal pipe, intending to pull it out. The girl rushed over and quickly took a hold of his wrist. “No, I was ordered to make sure you left it in.”

Patrick looked at her, annoyance obvious. After a few seconds of debating whether or not to pull it out anyways, and maybe stab her with it, he moved his hand from the pipe and nodded.

“Thank you. Take this.” The girl said, handing him a cup of water. Patrick eagerly grabbed the drink, gulping it down. “And this.” She said, handing him a bowl of chicken soup and four crackers. He sat up the best he could but found it impossible to sit correctly because of the instrument in his ass. He moved to his knees and took the tray.

“My name is Breeze.” The woman mumbled, looking away towards the door.

“I am Patrick.” He replied, eating a spoonful of the soup.

“Listen, I better prepare you for what will happen in the next following days.” She inhaled loudly and looked away, playing with her hair. “They’ll be vicious, Patrick. If you just obey their orders it will go by quickly. They will probably beat you, but not badly if you just submit. And, well, they will use you in every way possible.”

“You expect me to just accept this, to just say okay?” He looked out her as if she were psychotic.

“If you want to survive in this world, you have no choice. I am sorry.”

“So, in long-terms, what happens later?” Patrick said, pushing the now empty tray aside.

“We do not kn-”

“We?”

“Well, yes, there are multiple slaves. But as I was say-”

“How many?”

Breeze rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. It was at that time that Patrick noticed she was wearing only wearing a green t-shirt and matching short shorts. “Eight, including you. Now, let me finish.” She brushed a stray hair from her face. “You could be sold at auction, or if Master Petrovsky takes a liking to you then you will remain at the house and entertain his guests and employees.”

“Is that what you all do?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“Almost every day. Sometimes multiple times or with multiple clients.”

“And you just.. do it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re insane.”

“I disagree..”

“You’re weak.”

“That’s okay.” She took his empty tray and put it on the step in front of the door. “Stand up, please.” Breeze asked politely. After a few attempts at moving to his feet Patrick gripped the wall and pulled himself up. “Move to the middle of the room.” Again he moved, slow of course, the instrument and the cracked ribs made walking uncomfortable. Breeze grabbed the rope and pulled, hard, jerking Patrick’s arms above his head and stretching him out. “I don’t want to do this. I am sorry.” Breeze grabbed the tray and opened the door, exiting the room.

“Hey, what does that mean? Hey!” He shouted, twisting and moving against the cuffs, trying to free himself. A minute later and Breeze had returned, rolling in a cart of assorted items. Patrick did not like what he saw.

Laid out on the top shelf were several vibrators, dildos, and other items Patrick was unfamiliar with. On the bottom shelf of the cart was a large, plastic tub of what looked to be whips, chains, and other instruments of torture. Patrick’s eyes widened and he struggled furiously against the rope. “What are you doing? What are you doing?” He repeated over and over, tears springing to his eyes.

“Following orders.” Breeze replied, not bothering to look up at him. She pulled the tub out and grasped a large, black whip which was more than two feet long. Breeze turned to him, a sad look on her face. Patrick wouldn’t realize it t’ill much later, but she was silently crying. “Forgive me, Patrick.” She whispered before pulling the whip back, allowing it to unravel, and striking.

Patrick jumped, crying out as a streak of welts appeared across his shoulder and down his chest. Just as the pain turned to a dull throb Breeze hit him again, leaving a string of welts across the other shoulder and down his chest. “Stop! Please!” He begged, trying to move out of the way of the next several hits, but to no avail. Breeze walked around him, striking out with each step. Soon enough he felt his back swell with cuts and bruises. Patrick could feel trails of blood leaking down his legs, gathering on his toes, and dripping to the floor below him. Breeze took a step back and tossed the whip off to the side. She headed over to the cart and grabbed a dildo. It was only four inches long but about three inches around. She came back to Patrick, now facing him.

“Open your mouth.” She demanded.

“Fuck you.” He growled, a fire burning in his eyes. Breeze looked hurt momentarily, but quickly regained her cold demeanor. She headed back to the cart, grabbing a whip with metal ball bearings connected on every inch. “Wait! I am sorry! No, no!” Breeze stopped, turned to him and shoved the short but fat dildo into his mouth.

“You are a slave, Patrick. You say no to no one. Not me and not Master. Do you understand?” Patrick nodded, sobbing once more. “Good. Now, don’t let that drop from your mouth.” Breeze walked behind him and grabbed the metal pipe, sliding it out. Patrick bit down on the dildo, muffling a scream. His asshole was tight and not lubricated, causing it to roughly tear at his skin as Breeze worked it in and out. Patrick could not see her but he heard her fall to her knees behind him. Suddenly he heard a hacking noise, as if she were spitting. Then it hit him; she was wetting the pipe in an attempt to give him some relief. Though Patrick was thankful, he still wanted to kick her in the guts.

He looked up at the ceiling, towards the dim light above him. He did not know how long she worked the object in and out of him, but it felt like an eternity.

At one point he felt the pipe leave him completely, and for an instant he believed it was all over. And then, just like that, it was quickly shoved into him again, causing a new wave of tears to rush down his face. Breeze became more violent, pulling it out completely and then shoving with all the force in the world. But, finally, it was over and she was moving away and over to the cart, dropping the discarded pipe onto the top shelf. Patrick did his best to hiccup back the sobs, but the pain was unbearable. “Master will be in here later to speak with you. I suggest you obey everything he tells you.” She removed the dildo from Patrick’s mouth and grabbed the whip she threw on the floor. She stacked it onto the top of the cart and left the room, leaving Patrick weak and desolate.

“Can I get you anything? A magazine, or maybe a book from the library? Or are you thirsty?” Dazzle asked Basil, sitting on the edge of the younger boy’s bed. “I think there is some soda in the fridge. Do you want Pibb or Coke?”

“I am fine, Dazzle. Just tired.” Basil muttered, throwing the quilt over himself, up to his nose. Dazzle reached down and touched the back of his hand to Basil’s forehead.

“Your warm, you feeling well?” Dazzle asked, worry-creases appearing on his forehead.

“Of course not!” Basil shouted, irritated. “I was just fucked by over twenty men yesterday! Gimme some space!”

Dazzle drew back, hurt. “Fine, Basil. Fine.” He rushed from the room, down the hall, and straight into Mistress Demi.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” She screeched, smacking him hard. Dazzle reached his hand to his red cheek, unsure how to proceed.

“I- I..” He stuttered before dropping to his knees before her. “Forgive me, mistress.”

“Strip, slave.” Without hesitation Dazzle stripped his clothes, laying them in a pile. “Lay out on your back.” Dazzle again performed this order. “Now stroke yourself, slave.” Feeling great shame and humiliation, the slave took hold of his long, however thin, dick and began to move his hand up and down. “Remain in this position until I return. Do not stop. You better not fucking cum before I return.” And with that Mistress Demi left him in the middle of the hallway, stroking himself just on the brink of ecstasy.

“Where’s Rusty?” Pink asked Lotus as she flipped through the channels on the television. Five-hundred channels and nothing decent.

“He has a client at four. I think he left with Jack already.” Lotus replied, glancing at the door suspiciously. From the living area you could easily hear the screams of Patrick as Breeze violated him. It was hard not to take notice.

“It’s hardly ten o’clock, why would he be leaving that early?” Pink asked, acting oblivious to the shouts from below.

“Out of country, from what I have heard. Some heiress or something.” Lotus shrugged.

“Man, they sure do like Brazilian boys, huh?”

“Yep, lucky us.”

“What do you mean?” Pink asked, glancing over at him.

“We’re European, and in Europe. Clients here are used to our type, they want variety. Why do you think Breeze and Rusty are asked for more than us?”

“I have never asked, Lotus. But what are you?”

“Polish.”

“Basil?”

“He is from Sweden.”

“Dazzle?”

“French.”

“What about Fauna?”

“She is Romanian.”

“Her features are much different than our own, even if she is European.”

Lotus looked at Pink as if she were dumb. “Yes,” he drawled. “But getting a pretty Romanian girl is easy. Brothers are selling their sisters. Fathers are selling their daughters. Even if they are virgins, a Romanian man is always willing to sell.”

“Did a family member sell Fauna?”

“Probably.”

“She never told you?”

“I haven’t asked? Does it look like were best friends?”

“Well.. no. But she has been here almost as long as you, I figured you two would share your stories.”

“Fauna hates me, Pink.”

“Do you hate her?”

“Of course not.”

“Do you love her?”

“What’s with all the questions?”

“Do you?”

Lotus became silent, an unwilling participant of this line of questioning.

Pink smiled knowingly at him before clicking the channel to BBC, where some science-fiction shown depicted a large, mutant snake chasing a young beauty through a dark-lit forest. “Can I ask another question?”

“No.”

“How did you get here?”

“Free will.”

Pink stared at him, confused. “What?”

“Free will.”

“You chose this life?” She asked, mouth agape and eyes wide.

“No, I did not.”

“But you ju-”

“I know what I said.” Lotus looked at her, serious. “There was an ad in the newspaper. ‘Personal assistant for hire’. I had just entered college and I needed a job. So, I called and I met with the employer. His name was Jack Cavanaugh. After that meeting we hit it off and I was told to come back and begin the following week. He had me sign a confidentiality agreement because his work was private. This agreement included me not speaking to any relatives or friends about my job, or what or who pertained to it. I thought nothing of it.”

“So, when you began..”

“They threw a bag over my head, cuffed my hands together, and led me to the basement where I remained for three months. That’s how I got here.” Lotus gritted his teeth together, frustrated. While Pink thought his irritation was with her, Lotus was more upset with himself than anyone else. His ignorance and desperation for some sort of income prevented him from thinking clearly. Telling his story, for the second time since the five years he had been here brought back all the emotions he had buried since leaving that basement more than four years prior.

“Three months? But.. we, well on average, stay in there for no more than two weeks.”

“Before Master Petrovsky came to Denmark he lived in Belgium, not sure where. But anyways, I have heard rumors that a slave escaped and went to the local police. His home was raided and eighteen dead slaves were discovered in the basement. A few more were found upstairs, apparently force fed cyanide. Master Petrovsky escaped, and needed to start out new. He kept me in there for a very long time to work out his anger because of what happened in Belgium.”

“So.. would you ever, I don’t know, consider escaping?” Pink knew she was taking a big risk asking this particular question, but her curiosity always beat out the fear of punishment.

Lotus looked at her, silent. “You ever,” he began several minutes later. “Speak of escape again and I will be forced to inform Master Petrovsky.” Lotus sighed, brushing his hair back. “Now I will have to punish you. Damn it, Pink.” He murmured, obviously annoyed with her. “Lower your panties and get on your hands and knees.”

“Lotus, you don’t have to do this.” Pink whispered, upset.

“You’ve forced me!” He grabbed her by the back of the neck and pushed her onto the floor. “Remove your panties, and your shirt while you are at it.” At this moment Pink began to cry. It was one thing to be used by a stranger, but something entirely else to have a person you considered a close friend demand the use of your body. She slowly slipped off her underwear, and then the shirt, letting her perky breasts bounce out. “Good girl.” Lotus muttered before standing up before her and unbuckling his belt. He unzipped his pants and lowered them to the middle of his thighs.

“Hand me those.” He ordered, gesturing to her panties. Pink, shaking uncontrollably, handed them to Lotus. He slipped his boxers down and covered his flaccid penis with her warm and aromatic panties. Slowly, very slowly, he began to stroke himself, using the panties and rubbing them against the shaft and head. After a few minutes Lotus felt himself shake and climax into Pink’s underwear, spewing a large glob right where her pussy would have been. “You love Master Petrovsky, don’t you?” Lotus asked, glaring down at Pink.

“Yes, I love Master Petrovsky.” Pink sobbed as she sat on her knees before him, looking up at the panties in Lotus’ hand.

“And you would never do anything to get him into trouble, right?”

“No, never!” Pink exclaimed.

“Good.” Lotus smiled and leaned down to her before shoving the cum covered panties into her mouth. He turned away from her and grabbed the remote. “They say a remote is the dirtiest object in a home. If that’s not true, well, it will be now.” Lotus grabbed her by the neck and threw her over the coffee table, letting her breast smash against the cold glass and her butt hang over the edge. He gripped the remote, aligned it with her cunt, and shoved quickly, allowing the device to rest deep within her pussy. Pink winced, but refused to cry out. It was at that moment that she knew Lotus could never truly be trusted, and that he was no friend of hers. He belonged to Master Petrovsky, and nothing could ever be done about it.

“Ah, Winter. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I hear you have been a very bad boy.” At first Patrick thought the voice was coming from a nearby room, and that the person speaking was referring to another slave. He didn’t realize until the man came around him that it was him the figure was speaking to that. That he was the one being spoken to.

“My name is Patrick.” He replied, looking disdainfully at the tall, bald man. Unlike Breeze or Jack’s German, this man was fluent in the language.

“No. It is not.” The man smiled. “It is Winter, after those pretty, blue eyes.” The man stroke his cheek fondly before, with one hand, grabbing his face and pushing his cheeks together in order to open his mouth. “Now, you listen.” The man’s smile disappeared and was replaced with a malicious look of evil and enthusiasm. “I am you master, from here until forever. Or until I decide to sell you, then your new master has you forever. Do you understand?”

After Dazzle ran out, Basil spent most of the day in his room, mourning the fact that he upset the love of his life. He didn’t mean to be so harsh, but Dazzle could become so clingy at times. Basil needed his space, especially after the shameful day before. It wasn’t until the evening came around that he left his room, planning to get a decent meal from the kitchen. He was shocked to find Dazzle, completed naked and on his back, farther down the hall, masturbating is hard cock. Although Basil did not intend to, he licked his lips at seeing all that cum which gathered on Dazzle’s hand and pooled onto his stomach. There were specks scattered across the floor and on Dazzle’s face as well.

“Dazzle? What are you doing?” Basil asking, staring at him in confusion.

“Mistress Demi won’t let me stop…” Dazzle whimpered. “I.. I wasn’t supposed to cum, but I couldn’t he-help it.” He looked over at Basil, tears springing to his eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

Basil looked at him, longingly, before rushing over, falling to his knees, and engulfing Dazzle’s member.

“Basil, no! We’ll get caught!” Dazzle moaned out as Basil sucked the cum from his cock, and then Dazzle’s hand. He slowly trailed licks up the older boy’s body, taking claim to the cum that covered his stomach and face. He looked into Dazzle’s eyes, smiled, and kissed him, fully on the lips. They moaned together, content with each other’s tongues in their mouths.

Breeze’s words rang in Patrick, no, Winter’s head. He knew what he had to say. “Yes.. Master.”

“You are learning quickly, Winter.” Petrovsky noted. “But I never want to hear you hesitate my name again. You hear me?”

“Yes, Master.” Winter replied quickly, trying to hold back the tears.

“Good. I am going to lower you.” Petrovsky released Winter’s cheeks and went to the metal loop on the wall, quickly untying it and allowing the slave to drop onto the wet, cold floor. He gasped, the pain from his ribs and behind rocking his body. “You will see my personal physician tomorrow, we’ll get you fixed up and run a proper physical. You do not have any diseases, do you Winter?”

“N-no.” Winter whispered, gripping his wounded side.

“No, what?” Petrovsky asked, shaking his head.

“No, master. I have no diseases.”

“Well. Let’s hope so. Onto your feet, boy.” The master demanded. Winter fought his pain and rose to his feet, slightly swaying. “Face the wall.” With aching feet Winter went to the wall, staring at the gray concrete. “Put your hands against it and bend over.” At this point Winter began to sob. “Silence, slave! Master has no time for crybabies.” Winter swallowed back his tears and took the position, revealing his arm. Petrovsky walked up behind him and without pausing, shoved a slender finger into Winter’s ass. Winter’s insides clenched against the probing finger, attempting to push him out. “You are swollen, but I will make do with what you have to offer.” Although Winter could not see Petrovsky, he definitely heard the unzipping of jeans and the sound of them being shucked off. Suddenly he felt the head of Petrovsky’s long and uncut member against his anus, attempting to push inside. Winter clawed at the wall, trying to fight back the sobs that began to rack his body. With a loud and instantaneous popping noise, the head broke through and into Winter’s ass, causing them to both grunt, one in pleasure and the other in pain. “You are so tight, slave. I will make good use of this ass.” Petrovsky thrusted into Winter, his full eight inches sliding into the slave’s rectum, opening new and old wounds.

“Please, I beg of you, master, stop!” Winter finally shouted out, beginning to wail and sob openly.

“You order me?” Petrovsky laughed and slammed harder into Winter, taking full advantage of Winter’s vulnerability. He placed one arm on Winter’s hip while the other slid beneath the slave, grasping Winter’s hardening member. As much as Winter did not want to be effected in a positive way by Petrovsky’s touch, his cock naturally rose, aroused by the warm hand. “You like it, slave. Tell me you like it.”

“I-I.. I like it, master..” Winter sobbed.

“You love it!” Petrovsky exclaimed, jerking on Winter’s throbbing cock.

“I love it, master.” Winter repeated, and quickly climaxed, cumming on himself, Petrovsky’s hand, and the wall. Petrovsky removed his hand from Winter’s dick and shoved it into his mouth, forcing him to clean off the cum. All the while, Petrovsky was pumping the slave’s ass, his own cock beginning to throb.

“Yes, boy. Yes!” Petrovsky cried out as shot after shot of cum entered Winter’s ass, filling him. After a few more thrusts Petrovsky slowed, removing his hand from Winter’s mouth and placing it on the slave’s other hip. Soon enough Petrovsky stopped moving all together, simply leaving his semi-hard cock in the younger boy’s hole.

Winter expected him to pull out, to leave. Petrovsky had other ideas. He through his head back and moaned, beginning to release urine into the injured ass. “No, no! Stop! Fucking stop!” Winter shouted, trying to pull away as his insides tightened, filling with piss.

“Never, Winter!” His master grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back, painfully. “Your cock is mine! This ass,” Petrovsky shoved forward, forcing the piss deeper into Winter. “Is mine! You are mine!” And just like that, Petrovsky pulled out, letting Winter drop to the floor and the urine to run out of his asshole.

His master slipped his pants back on, zipped them up, and walked to the door. “Master Jack will take you to the physician tomorrow. Behave yourself, and I may not ever do that to you again. Understood, slave?”

Winter looked at him from the floor. He was on his side, laying in a puddle of Master’s urine. “Yes.. master.”

---