“You need to run,” Alon whispered again.
Ad and Alon were left by everyone on their chain, in the game room, for the night. Yesterday, Alon slept by the bed of mistress, and Ad, hit upon the idea to run away from the master’s bed and came to Alon.
“Don't want to sleep, as a human, sleep like a dog. With a dog,” said Stine with annoyance, “and you will eat the same way.”
Food was another sore spot for the masters. It had been two months since Ad was enslaved. For all this time they managed to feed him no more than a few times. The boy arrogantly refused the scraps, turning the plate over. He was whipped to the scarring, but the boy refused to eat. When Alon was ordered to force Ad to eat, anticipating a beautiful scene of humiliation, maybe with tears, it turned out that the boy can quite easily eat leftovers. Then they began to bring the same mess to him, the boy obviously didn’t eat and, occasionally, in the rage throwing food in the masters. They beat and raped him for it mercilessly. Then suddenly the boy began to offer his portion of leftovers to Alon. The man ate trying not to make the masters angry, the boy sometimes asked for something from Alon’s chewed food or hysterically claimed that he was hungry and started to suck to Alon. Once Stine spied on it, he got angry, and instead of breakfast, lunch and dinner began ordering Ad to suck. Ad never sucked for more than ten seconds. But he never told Stine he was hungry. They continued to give an enema to Alon after each meal. Always in front of Ad, sometimes making him suck to Alon at that moment.
Ambivalent emotions tore the beast apart. Ad once remarked the hassle of the man, smiled to himself, and since then with the very first caresses immersed Alon into some drug ecstasy, so that the beast didn't notice other sensations. No one could see the difference; it’s no big deal, the emotions of the slave changed; nobody watched. After the enema, they made Alon defecate, also publicly, in a transparent hollow for everything to be seen. Sometimes Alon was forced to eat his faeces, sometimes it was Ad. Always through the order of Alon, masters thought, it was more humiliating. Ad looked at Alon receiving the order, always slavishly desperately, hysterically shuddered from the sobbings tearing the soul - his God was so beautiful. The boy often cummed, fulfilling the order.
Yesterday Gene came to visit in a relatively good mood. The sadist was smiling at the masters, patting Stine under his chin.
“Oh, what do you have here?” he asked bored.
“Doesn’t devour, little bitch,” Amir spat. “eats only from the hands of the slave.”
“Ah, yeah, yeah,” Gene said, looking at Alon caressing Aletta and tied Ad, in front of a plate of slops.
“Well, why?” Gene responded manneredly-nervously.
“Obstinate bastard,” agreed Amir.
Gene rolled his eyes.
“Oh, well ... why when I come in, Alon always sucks and licks and can't satisfy me, and I have to wait…”
“Faster, slave, master is waiting for you,” hissed Aletta, “you won’t go away until satisfying me, but if you hesitate, master Gene will punish you, do you want it?”
“Oh, well, you’re...” Gene dialled a number, ordered food from a restaurant. “How long he hasn't been eating?”
“Two days,” Amir shrugged his shoulders, whipping the boy. Ad, as usual, involuntarily shivered.
Alon started to rush, changed his pace on the harder, closed Aletta’s eyes with his hand, so she wasn’t distracted. The woman moaned and cummed. Pushed Alon out and wrapped herself in the arms of the slave. Gene smoked. Soon Andy brought the order into the room, and Gene called Alon to himself.
“May I, mistress?” asked Alon.
“Huh? No! I don’t want,” flirty capriciously said Aletta, listening to herself, wondering if she was sufficiently satisfied, sighed. “Go.”
The woman slammed Alon's ass when he got up.
“Eat,” Gene was smoking, pointing at food, and with a gesture inviting Alon to the table.
“Make Ad eat?” didn’t understand Alon. The whole world now was spinning around Ad, and his world, also.
“No, just eat.”
Alon hesitated for a moment, sitting down in the chair. It seemed like some kind of a kinky trap. The man began to eat, he didn’t get such food often. Gene silently watched, as if found something interesting in that how Alon ate.
“Bring it here,” called Gene. “I don't like him being tied up.”
Amir, expecting kinkies which Gene so seldom made real in front of someone, untied Ad, kicked him to the table. Ad clung to Alon.
“Feed him, skunk!” Amir shouted excitedly. Stine watched, with a grin. Gene made up to something, and that meant the show would be bright. Alon pulled Ad to himself, clenched his jaws, unclenching them and spitting out chewed food to the boy's mouth. The Gene clicked his tongue, with a gesture called the order of Amir off.
“No, you just eat,” Gene briefly smiled.
Alon ate. Gene stood up, opened a medicine box for the slaves, looked over them, took some pills and dropped them into the glass of wine of Alon stirred with his finger. Alon fretfully thought it was probably a laxative, Ad would again have to eat the excrements, and Alon would have to defecate in front of everyone. Alon finished his meal. The plate was empty. Alon got an intestinal disorder; it made him sick. "Nauseam..." came to Alon's mind. The man jerked to stand up and threw up on the table. The room got a characteristic smell.
Ad shook, embraced himself for shoulders, the excitement was unbearable.
“Oh, you’re an idiot!” Aletta rushed to Alon, Gene stopped her, Alon again shook with the retching, when the content of the stomach was completely out, the man fell exhaustedly in a chair. Ad was warily looking at Gene, but the sadist wasn’t looking at him. Gene waited for Alon to catch his breath.
“Sorry, master, I'll clean that up,” dully said Alon.
“Don’t,” sharply smiled Gene and turned to Ad. “Kiss him.”
The boy hugged Alon, pressed his lips against Alon’s, licking with the tongue the mouth of the man. Ad was trembling. Alon groaned, realizing what Gene had come up with, shuddered, felt the erection. Ad will do that, and what a glorious pleasure it will bring to the masters... and to him. Do people such things for the whims? Ad reluctantly pulled away Alon, but he needed to breathe deeply. The arousal prevented to breathe.
Gene didn’t order Alon to force Ad; he looked at the man waiting eloquently.
“Eat,” quietly said Alon. Embarrassment mixed with desire. Ad thoroughbredly shook his head, the boy was pulled to the feet of the man, and now he was looking up at him. Alon sat him on his lap. “Eat,” said Alon louder.
The boy gulped, looking into the eyes of Alon, lowered the heavy eyelashes, blinking off the tears that immediately ran with crystal paths in the face, opened the clouded with bliss eyes, continuing to look at Alon.
“Don't make me repeat,” Alon quietly growled.
Ad staggered back, moved his head again.
Aletta, Stine, and Amir were stroking, and slaves, using the fact that nobody looked at them, too.
Alon poked his face into the plate by his hair, painfully excited flesh rested in the sphincter of Ad, the beast moved and entered him.
“Eat,” ordered Alon.
Ad woundedly began to cry, started to eat, lapping up the content of the Alon’s stomach, chewed up mush mixed with bile and saliva of the beast, the boy ate with guttural rumbling, hysterically-composedly moving on Alon. Gene admired the voluptuous humiliation. Ad was crying, loudly sobbing; finally, the plate was empty. Ad looked at the mess left on the table and the floor, cummed, and shook his head. Alon gathered a medley with the palm from the table, brought it to the lips of Ad. The boy closed his eyes, leaned down and began to eat from the hands of Alon, licked his palm, licked himself…
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