They were tied together for the night.
“You must run.” said Alon.
“Why?” Ad usually shrugged his shoulders.
“You don't know what they're capable of. Next time, it'll occur to them to open your stomach, make a toilet bowl out of it, and think it's fun.”
Ad waved off.
“No one is going to maim the slave, whom you can brag with in front of Firokami’s elite,” apparently the boy knew about his price, but could be it otherwise?
“I don't want you were bullied though, maybe someone from elite will see you and take.”
“I'm not going without you.”
“Yeah, you can't hope for that, you have to run away.”
“But why would I run?” Ad was beginning to lose patience. “You're here.”
“For not to be beaten, not to be indicated where to insert your penis and not to be stuffed in the ass, not have your soul hurt...” Alon broke off, swallowing tears, Ad didn’t understand what was awaiting him. The man sighed and continued bitterly: “While you're still free before you aren’t made a slave, you need to go and live somewhere nice, nearby the sea. I'm a slave; you shouldn't stay here for me. You'll meet a good man and bring him to your house, where you'll live for me, as well.”
Tears still flowed, Alon turned away, so Ad wouldn’t notice.
“You don't want me to meet a good man,” evilly said Ad. For people like him pity and compassion were strangers, and if such feelings found a way to the heart, caused anger.
“I want you to not waste your blooming life on something that has no future. I'll remember you,” Alon added as he could not resist.
“I am your slave. I belong to you,” said the boy. “My life is where you are, I live for your will.”
“Then it's my will that you get out of here and throw me out of my memory.”
Ad lay back, looked up, shook his head.
“I refuse to carry out this order, you can punish me. I can't live without you!”
Alon sighed and pulled the boy closer. It wasn’t good, but Alon felt relief and puppy joy, from the fact that the boy refused to leave.
Stine hardly waited until the morning and burst into the playroom. The couple slept on their litter box, Alon was in Ad, and Ad was serenely smiling, curled up in the grip of the beast. Sleeping Alon looked like a predator, guarding the prey, it seemed, he would rush to the one who would come close to Ad. Stine got angry, started whipping slaves with a chain.
“Who let you fuck, you, stinking goats!”
Ad, instead of falling back, dodging blows, clung to Alon stronger, and Alon covered Ad from blows of the chain. Stine pulled Ad by the chain dragged him along, pulling him from the arms of Alon, pulling him off the beast’s cock. A moan flew from the lips of Alon. Stine dragged Ad out of the room, leaving Alon alone. Alon sat down on the bed, pulled the chain, faded away. Ad was about to be punished for the joy he had given to Alon last night. The man burst into tears; there was no one in the room; no one could see his weak spot, which he tried to hide. What could he do? Even if he went off the chain. Tear Ad out of Stine’s hands? And then? Then he would get killed. And maybe then Ad would escape. But who was going to help him to escape? It was necessary for the boy to escape, and for that Alon would say that he didn't need him. The heart painfully bumped into the chest. But Alon was adamant.
Eternity is so long. It passed before Stine entered the room, took Alon off his chain and led him into the bedroom. Alon was never in the bedroom; slaves were not allowed there. He kicked Alon, pushing him into the room.
On the floor stood a vase full of mess, the room smelled with vomit. Ad was on his all four in front of the vase, buried in his shoulder. Alon looked, understood everything and felt malevolence. He didn’t like Stine. But he had to implement the plan. Alon came over, gripped the hair of Ad, took his hands away and dunked the boy's face into mush.
“Master Stine wants you to eat this. Eat!”
Ad threw up his head, breathing the air.
“Eat, brute, or I'll beat you to death, and then I'll put a funnel and pour it all into your throat,” Alon said evilly, contemptuously, so that the boy wouldn’t have lust, only resentment.
Ad shuddered, began to eat. Stine with a smile was watching this, began to masturbate. Ad ate humiliated, beautiful. But not for long, Ad flinched and threw up. The boy was spitting off. Alon almost threw out himself looking at how the boy was eating the other people's filth. Stine growled evilly, headed for them.
“Make him eat all!” Stine ordered. “Or carry out your threat.”
Ad shook his head. Alon began to whip Ad, periodically dipping him into the sewage. The boy was moaning, screaming, trying to crawl out or, on the contrary, pressed into Alon.
“Can't eat it...” Ad yelped.
“Then I'll pour it in you with force.”
Alon stepped on the hair of Ad, unclenched his jaws, throwing his head back and began to pour the contents of the vase. The mash got into the nose, dripped down the body, got into the stomach. The stomach in disagreement contracted, spewing it all back. Alon was pouring all, making him either choke or swallow. Ad was sick, he spewed mess, and when there was nothing left in the stomach, the smell forced to spew bile. Ad was sick for a long time. He was shaking in the hands of Alon, avidly breathing the air.
“Bring him some water,” Stine ordered.
Alon released Ad, poured a glass of water standing there in the bedroom. Handed to Ad, the boy weakly pushed the glass. Alon evilly clenched Ad’s hair and poured water into the throat of the boy. Ad with a hysterical sound spewed the water back out. The stomach, fearing the recent torture, hysterically refused everything that had been given. Stine realized that the boy had a disorder.
“Make everything clear with him,” said Stine, sat in a chair and started flipping through a magazine.
Alon started to drag the boy along the floor. Ad was helplessly whining, clinging to the hands of the man.
“You like this kind of life?” quietly growled Alon.
Of course, the skin is not a rag, to remove all with Ad, dragging him along the floor, was impossible.
“Master, he doesn't absorb any more. Let me get a rag and clean the floor.”
“Bring it,” said Stine. He didn’t sleep half of the night, dreaming of the humiliation of Ad. “You will wash the floor, and everything, both the rag and the water will pour into his ass. Got it?”
“I understood, master. Pour right here?”
“Sure.” Said Stine without looking up from the magazine.
Alon went off and returned with water and a rag. Cleaned the floor and executed the command of Stine. Ad was desperately quietly crying. Alon felt pity for Ad, his heart was breaking and the soul that had known the soul of Ad was dripping with tears. But if he didn't do this, it would be even worse, and the soul froze.
“And don’t you even think he would once again shit on the floor here. Tonight, will be a party and you’ll definitely be here, but as someone or something depends on your behaviour. Okay?” Stine asked.
Ad, while the men were talking, looked around the vase, darted to it. Alon caught Ad.
“Let me go, let me go...” the boy screamed softly, melodiously, desperately.
“Master Stine didn't allow it.”
“I don't give a shit about master Stine!” Ad was tearing from the hands of Alon, touchingly biting his hands. Alon caught the boy, turned his ass upward, covered with his palm the buttocks of the boy.
“Until master Stine says so, you won't go. But you can ask for permission. If you ask well, you'll go quickly.”
“Why the fuck do we need him...” Ad was whining, “let me go, my God…”
“I’ve explained to you, Ad,” Alon evilly jolted the boy, “I am a slave. And the master here is someone else.”
“Well, this is for you... for me, you are the master...n-n-n…”
Stine was mad, he wanted to hurt Ad...and better Al, to show the abyss of the power over the slave. To show that Ad was looking at the wrong way.
“A slave has nothing, you don't belong to me, otherwise I would have decided for you, and I do not.”
“But I only... only live with your decisions...” bewilderedly whined Ad.
“You are wrong. I don't need you,” rude said Alon. “You’ll be found another owner, the real one.”
“But I don't need…”
“Your owner now is master Stine, and he decides to walk you to the toilet.”
If there weren’t the threat to Alon from Stine, Ad would simply relax.
“Stine!” velvety spoke Ad. Stine felt a warm, pleasant wave running down the back, cheered, flashed a hunch that Ad longed for him, as one would expect, but hid his desire behind the desire to the slave. Alon felt a hitherto unknown rage of jealousy, with that tone people didn’t talk to disgusting rapists, did they?.. Alon shook his head, ground his teeth, Ad would still leave, he would expel him, would freeze him out, he wouldn’t stay with Stine. Al looked up.
“Master Stine,” he gave a cue.
“Well, yes, let it be master Stine, can I go to the toilet?”
Stine was silent for a few seconds, pointed to the bathroom door.
“Go.”
Alon took Ad to the bathroom, put him on the toilet for the slaves. The boy defecated with water and vomit; the rag interfered, half coming out. Stine stood at the doorstep, looking at the handsome.
“Get out,” he said to Alon. “Go to the playroom, pick a four-hundred-gram pendulum, hang it on your balls and wait.”
Alon left, jealous rage didn’t allow to say, ‘yes, master’ or ‘please, don't’. The fact that Stine hadn't noticed caused a new outburst of rage, the tyrant, usually strictly monitoring the performance of the rules was drugged with Ad. The beast went down to the playroom, chose the load and attached to the balls; the pain familiarly licked his consciousness, the pendulum, reacting to the movement, rotating, pulled the scrotum down. Alon was almost happy with the familiar feeling that drowned out the rage. What could he give to Ad? The boy was ripping up some secret strings of the soul, awakening dangerous feelings that were not allowed to a slave, infused with hope that wouldn’t come true, as if he came to mock Alon also mentally, as only physical suffering was not enough in his life, and it wanted to crush him in all sides. Interrupting the physical pain, the pain of the soul flowed in his chest, Alon was once again convinced of the correctness of his decision to send Ad out. It would be best for everyone.
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