GayBondageFiction

Captured black cop Abel spends some alone time with Carlotta before he is rented out to a group of horny men.

This Little Piggy Went to the Market – Chapters 14 & 15
by Horny Old Fag
Series: This Little Piggy Went to the Market

CHAPTER 14

Carlotta lounged across a black velvet kidney-shaped bed in her brightly colored matador jacket and usual jodhpurs. She tapped a riding crop against her thigh-high boots. “Kneel before your mistress, swine.”

Despite standing a good foot taller and having at least a hundred pounds on the bitch, Abel sank to his knees. If he took her hostage, he might gain momentary leverage, but would eventually get taken down, and very likely jeopardize his family’s safety. Besides, surely, she was armed.

“Wise decision, Nigger Pig. You’re not as dumb as you look.”

Carlotta rose to pour herself a shot of tequila and light a cigarette. She retrieved a small hand-carved wooden box from her desk and removed a syringe. “You look like you could use a boost.” Grabbing his left ankle, she injected his foot. Within seconds, he felt a thousand times better. Aside from taking morphine for a bullet wound once, the strongest drug he ever imbibed was caffeine. He wondered what he was on now. He sure enjoyed the sensation.

Carlotta logged in to her laptop and opened a folder labeled NP. She played a video of his home in South Shore. Destiny and Indigo stood on the front lawn, arguing over a game of jump rope. Kaila shouted at the girls to get inside.

“As you can see, your family doing just fine without you.”

Abel brushed aside a tear. The bitch clicked open a news article from the Tribune. The headline read, “Corrupt Cops Flee Murder Scene.” He scanned the copy. Two police officers had murdered two guys and fled the city. By the time he got to the end, he realized the subjects in question were he and his partner.

The corners of Carlotta’s lips curled in an enigmatic smile.

Abel read the article again. The bodies of a black man and a Mexican illegal had turned up in an abandoned warehouse on the east side. Ballistics had matched the bullets that killed the black man to his weapon and those that had ended the Mexican’s life to his partner’s gun.

“Jiggy and Pancho got greedy.”

He finished the last few paragraphs. A spokesperson for the Chief of Police confirmed the alleged murderers had known dealings with drug cartels, which was a blatant lie. Why would the guy sell them out like that?

“We always cover our tracks.”

“So my family thinks”—Abel struggled for words—“You bitch.” Carlotta drove the sharp toe of her boot into his nads. He squawked and doubled over.

“You should kiss my feet, Nigger Pig. Letting those bitches go free is costing me a shit ton of money.”

“Is that all your care about?”

“Gotta pay for this lavish lifestyle somehow.” Carlotta indicated the sparse room with a sweep of her arms. “No, seriously, I loathe chotas like you.”

“I tried to help those girls.”

“You signed their death warrants, you self-righteous prick. Now, you’re gonna put that plump cocksucker and fine booty to work making up for their loss. Refuse and your family pays your debt.”

Abel sighed and stared at his knees. From what he had witnessed, Carlotta was more than capable of delivering on that threat.

Rosa flounced inside. “Mama, I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Now, Rosa, really?”

“I’ll be quick. Juan’s taking me to a party tonight.”

“Since when?”

“Mama,” Rosa whined. She had her mother’s eyes.

“I don’t like you hanging around that boy. He’s trouble.”

“You think all boys are trouble.”

“What’s your point?”

“Just because you hate men doesn’t mean I have to, you know.”

“I don’t hate men.”

“Are you serious?” Rosa raised an eyebrow at Abel.

“This chota? He’s not a man.”

“My papa was a cop.”

“Your papa was a wife beater and a rapist.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Carlotta slapped her daughter. Rosa slapped back and ran sobbing into the bathroom. Carlotta settled against the back of the loveseat to massage her temples.

“She’s beautiful,” Abel said.

“Touch her and you die.”

Abel threw up his arms. “I would never–.”

“See you don’t.”

“You love your daughter very much. I can see that. I love mine, too.”

“Are you serious? You think you can win me over with some sob story about your sow and piglets?”

Abel swallowed hard. It had been foolish to try and reach the stone-cold bitch.

Rosa stormed out of the bathroom and stomped down the hall. A door slammed.

Carlotta sighed. “Lie down.”

“Why,” Abel asked. “What are you going to do?”

The bitch screamed and whaled his backside with her crop. “Don’t ever question me again.”

He had never hit a woman in his life but longed to punch the bitch. Instead, he crawled up onto the sofa. She cuffed his limbs to the legs and took off down the hall.

“Open the door, Rosa. Right now. I mean it.”

“Go to hell!”

Rosa and Carlotta shouted back and forth for several minutes before the girl finally allowed her mother inside. Their argument continued behind closed doors.

Abel grew paranoid he might get sold and carted off in the trunk of some pervert’s car or worse, shot and dumped in the desert. He struggled with his cuffs until his wrists bled.

Carlotta returned. He sobbed for his life. She laughed. “Why the hell would I kill you? You’re worth much dinero.” She opened her wooden box and removed a syringe. “I think you need another fix.” She injected his other foot this time.

Within seconds, he realized he had overreacted and everything would be fine.

Rosa strutted out buck naked and waved two different outfits in her mother’s face. “Which one shows off my tits best?”

Carlotta screamed. “Put some clothes on girl.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Rosa winked at Abel and flounced back to her room.

“That girl will be the death of me.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Don’t try to get on my good side, Nigger Pig,” Carlotta said, “because I don’t have one.”

CHAPTER 15

Abel shuffled into line and cupped his palms over his crotch. His nerves tingled electric. He scratched his right foot with his left toenails. Logan stood alongside, grumbling under his breath. Sweat drenched the lean fed’s spare chest and flat gut.

Manny flogged Santos and ordered the tall, muscular Asian trooper to tuck his dong back between his legs and parade before the lewd mob. The humiliated kid shuffled along, eyes downcast, head bowed, knees-knocked, feet together, like a huge, awkward geisha.

McGee dashed around the courtyard, shouting for help. Manny and Herman tackled the rookie and leashed his scrotum to the fountain.

Abel had failed to defend his own ass, much less protect his young partner and keep his family safe. It was time he let Nigger Pig take charge. His alter ego lifted his head and glared at the lewd crowd. One after another the leering perverts averted their gaze.

Two cocky brothers in black turtlenecks and slacks negotiated over McGee. Money changed hands. The ripped black brutes freed the rookie. The desperate kid punched and kicked and cursed his attackers. Scratched their arms and spat in their faces. Even attempted to bite their fingers. The sick bastards beat the bugged-out kid senseless and dragged his battered ass inside a nearby room.

A tubby Latino with a bushy beard and flabby man boobs requested “the gook.” Pedro wrapped his arm around Santos, grabbed the stunned trooper by the dong with his free hand, and hauled the howling guy off the ground and lugged his floundering ass inside for the fat prick.

Two silver-haired white guys in dark suits studied Logan. Raul shared the defiant agent was FBI. The perverts grinned and handed the smug Mexican a wad of cash. The dogged fed dug in his heels and refused to budge. Oscar sucker-punched his solar plexus. He dropped to his knees. The freaky thug with his necklace of toe bones threw the dumbstruck fed into a headlock and hustled his butt inside.

A husky Latino with shaggy salt ‘n pepper hair and bushy eyebrows eyed Nigger Pig. Nigger Pig glared back, resolved to protect Abel until they were safely home.

“That’s USDA prime pork butt there,” Raul said. The smug Mexican flashed his million-dollar smile.

“Show me the swine’s twat.”

Raul snapped his fingers. Nigger Pig turned around, leaned forward, and pried his buttocks apart. The lecherous fellow finger-banged his asshole for a humiliatingly long while and purchase an hour of his time. Manny and Herman snatched his arms. He shoved the pair aside and strutted after his john.

Herman sniggered and nudged Manny in the ribs. “Horny hog’s hooked on dick already.”

Manny snickered. “Slaving and whoring come naturally to his kind.”

Nigger Pig ignored that last slight and stepped inside.

A heavy wooden chair with the seat carved out rested in the center of the cramped space. Shackles dangled from the wall above a dingy mattress. A wooden sawhorse sat in the corner. A rustic bathroom lay straight ahead, a chest of drawers set to his right.

The husky john shut the door and whipped out a wicked-looking hunting knife. “Kneel, oinker.”

Nigger Pig erupted in goosebumps and sank to his knees.

“Call me, Pig Slayer, oinker.” He flipped the knife in the air and brandished the blade in Nigger Pig’s mug.

“What’s my name?”
Nigger Pig stared at a crack in the floorboards and choked out the words. “Pig Slayer.”

Pig Slayer shucked off his shirt and kicked off his loafers. Dark curly hairs blanketed his broad chest and wide feet.

“You smell like shit, oinker. Go shower.” Pig Slayer waved Nigger Pig off. “Leave the door open so I can watch.”

Every fiber of Abel’s being screamed run. Nigger Pig shushed his true self and strutted into the bathroom to turn on the water. He removed his snout and tugged out his tail. His stomach rumbled. He plopped down on the toilet. His bowels exploded. He peed hard and flushed, slid the curtain aside, and climbed into the tub.

Abel protested homosexuality was a sin. Nigger Pig argued religion was a luxury they could not afford and further pointed out it was Abel and his good intentions that had landed their ass in this hellhole.

He toweled dry and strutted out of the bathroom. His husky john sat on the edge of the chair in a pair of dingy briefs, picking his nails with the tip of his knife. Nigger Pig’s swagger faded. Abel had never done anything remotely gay before getting jumped and raped, which meant neither had he. He had no clue where to begin.

“Show me that twat again.”

“Yes, sir.” Nigger Pig dismissed Abel and his shame and bent over. Pig Slayer finger-banged his rear. He winced and whimpered. The sick bastard poked his asshole with the knife. He squawked and shuddered.

“I could fuck you to death and no one would give a shit. Lie down.”

“Yes, sir.” Nigger Pig’s voice cracked. He crawled onto the mattress.

Pig Slayer crouched over Nigger Pig and pressed the knife against his throat. Nigger Pig peed a little. The husky freak lubricated his asshole and dogged his sore rear. He grimaced and groaned and bit the musty mattress to stifle his squeals. The pain worsened. He fretted the son-of-a-bitch might never stop. The nasty prick pulled out. He whimpered like a lost pup. Warm globs of sticky goo splattered his backside. He groaned.

Pig Slayer smacked his ass. “You’re lucky you got a tight twat—cause you’re a lousy fuck.” The smug bastard dressed and left.

Nigger Pig hobbled into the bathroom and swabbed off the splooge. He plopped down on the toilet to relieve his churning bladder and bowels, scrubbed his ass, and eased his tail inside. Slipping on his snout, he waddled outside and lined up before several new johns.

McGee dashed outside, shrieking and sobbing. The ripped brothers raced after, balls to the wind. They cornered the panicked rookie, and hauled his ass back inside, kicking and screaming.

Logan stumbled outside and wobbled around in circles. Manny and Herman shoved the disoriented agent into line and grabbed Santos when his chubby john departed. A biker gang bartered for the fed and the trooper as a package deal. The rowdy bastards grappled the struggling officers to the ground and raped their mouths and asses right there out in the open. Those bikers without a hole to fuck demanded a hand job. The writhing and grunting lawmen each anxiously serviced four boners at once.

Two thirty-something white guys in starched white shirts and neatly creased chinos hustled Nigger Pig inside a starkly furnished room and hurled his ass onto a damp mattress. The pompous pair dropped trow, ripped out his tail, and took turns humping his sloppy hole. He bit his fist to stifle his squawks. The twisted perverts rolled him onto his side, pitched his leg into the air, and forced their boners through his grotesquely distended sphincter together. “Not too at once,” he stammered. His ears rang, his vision blurred. The sons-of-bitches hammered his overtaxed rear for an agonizingly long while and blew sticky loads in his face.

As soon as they left, he limped into the bathroom, and tugged off his snout. He rinsed his mouth, plopped down on the toilet to squeeze out a painful dump, and staggered into the shower afterward to scrub his flesh raw. Even stuck a bar of soap up his sore butt to cleanse away the come. After toweling dry, he shoved his tail into place, which hurt like hell, popped on his snout, and dragged his ass outside to line up for another round.

By the time he got shoved inside his hogsty hours later, he had endured a dozen rapes. He dragged his excoriated butt under the tin roof and puked his guts out, setting off a chain reaction. McGee heaved, Logan barfed, and Santos spewed.
CONTINUE THE STORY:
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Breaking news from the Roman Empire by artist Cavelo.

Press Release: Gaul
by Cavelo

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[WB]-GAUL (News)/L

ROME Reports […]

Seth Porter is forced to strip naked in front of the audience then attached to the “Flexi-Frame” where his angry ex-wife and an electro prod wreak havoc on his dangling testicles.

Selling Tough Love – Part 11 […]

Disgruntled dads get their chance to inflict some punishment in Tough Love Productions’ newest show “Man’s Hands”.

Selling Tough Love – Part 11 (Page 5)
by Kronmire4
Art by Amalaric
Series: Selling Tough […]

Dave’s virgin ass is fucked by a massive dildo machine simultaneously milking him of his loads.

24 Hours – Chapter 21: The Darkest Hour
by Amalaric
Series: 24 Hours

‘Damn!’ Bobby exclaimed, ‘You are […]

Dave is bound to a bed while all of the night’s participants recover from the festivities.

24 Hours – Chapter 22: Dark Dreams and a Ray of Light
by Amalaric
Series: 24 Hours

3:30 AM, and two sets of dreams swirled around the quiet corners of the sprawling ranch-style pile that the Hascombes called ‘home’. Well, maybe four sets of dreams if one considered the racing reflections or wild fantasies of the pair of players who remained awake. Roberta lay, sprawled on a divan in the darkened sun room; stripped naked, she casually masturbated imagining herself impaled on Dave’s hungry cock. She had often entertained fantasies of rape- but never envisioned herself as the victim. A slender finger lay buried to the second knuckle in the wet cleft of her silky mound, working slowly around the small knob, scratching an itch that never seemed to go away. She sighed and removed the finger, unable to match vivid imagination to its delicate touch. This would do for Brent’s worm-like appendage but not the artillery riding between the legs of my big marine. She laughed and, exhaling deeply, sank back into the fantasy. In her mind’s eye Dave lay stretched beneath her on the floor, hands bound over his head, legs jacked wide. Though gagged, his big blue eyes betrayed every thought; a potent mixture of terror, disgust and undisguised lust as she straddled him, hips grinding, savoring every unwilling thrust of his rock-hard rod that filled her to the brim…ahhhh, now that’s better!!! When had she picked up the empty bottle of merlot? No matter, its long neck was nearly the right size. She sank back on the divan, eyes half closed, and shuddered.

Bobby was also awake. Alone in the living room he casually surveyed the evidence of the evening’s carnage and grinned. He selected a Chris Isaak cassette and put it in the player. The melancholy music filled the room- Driving slowly, watching the headlights in the rain./Funny how things change. Thinking of good times, wishing you were still with me/the way it used to be- Graduation Day. Watching the stars fall/million dreams have all gone bad… The pale green sofa was streaked with drying blood, it’s back mottled with dark spots of still-damp semen. Admittedly primitive, but effective, toys littered the carpet; wires and whips…kittens with whiskers. Oh! These are the things… He burst into laughter and rubbed his crotch. What a night it had been, and Bobby still had so many plans! Hascombe, of course, had been right- the buck needed a rest (sigh). OK, but not too long. He envisioned Dave, stripped naked and tied spread eagle on the bed upstairs, blanked out from sheer stress and physical exhaustion. Brent had said not to disturb him for an hour…but Bobby was sorely tempted to tip-toe into the darkened room and wake the big stud up. How should he do it, he wondered? Maybe gently in order to bring him back slowly to resumed horror- a salted finger wormed surreptitiously up his abused asshole? Perhaps. Or something more jarring? Bobby considered the effect of paraffin, brought to a near boil, on taut skin covering work-hardened muscle… Reaching a decision, he turned toward the door and was surprised to see the banker standing at the threshold silently watching him.

Hascombe had slept for a while after shutting the door on his slave’s weary agony. Property needed maintenance and he didn’t want to ruin the boy with too much use. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep but, after changing out of clothing splattered with the crazed buck’s semen, he sank into an armchair in his study, a warm glass of Laphroaig clutched in one hand, deeply inhaling the bitter alkaline stains in the discarded trousers…and dozed off. The banker dreamed a disjointed symphony of hoarse, masculine pleas, golden muscle and flying sweat. Oddly, though, it was the sense of smell that pervaded the dream and gave it urgent substance. His rasping breath caught tendrils of naked fear on the still air and he wasn’t certain of the source. Heart pounding, he searched for distraction and buried his face in Dave’s hard chest- Ah! The pounding pulse of my tall, bound slave…his fear; not mine, not mine- sucking up the heady spice of the muscle-bound boy, a hint of drywall plaster, musty male potency harnessed and helpless. Hascombe snorted Dave’s scent as eagerly as the cocaine in his office drawer. He woke with a start, what was that??? Fading images all jumbled up left a bitter taste of anxiety in his mouth. His heart was pounding; a thought raced like lightening across his mind- where was Bobby and what might Roberta get herself up to if left to her own devices? Dave was his property, dammit!! I own him, and that thought, strangely comforting and oppressive at the same time, motivated Hascombe to jack his bulk out of the chair, set down the crystal shot glass of whiskey, and go exploring to…ah…make sure everything was in order.

Roberta was nowhere in sight, but the banker found Bobby easily enough fondling his toys in the living room. He read the fat man’s body language, guessed his intent, and felt the pressure of rising rage behind the fragile levy of his self-control. Bobby turned toward him, grinning, and the taxed levy was breached. Hascombe exploded. ‘You miserable son of a bitch!! Where do you think you’re going?!!’ Bobby’s mirthless smile remained fixed to his broad face. He shuffled (was he blushing??), narrowed eyes as black as ink, and replied, ‘Don’t know what you mean, Brent…’ ‘Ah, FUCK, Bobby!! You know exactly what I mean. Going upstairs for a little surreptitious fun? Seems to me you’ve had ALL THE FUN,’ his voice rose to a mewling shout, ‘and you haven’t even contributed a NICKLE…and, let me tell you (sputtering), slaves like Dave don’t come cheap!!!!! Could have ruined him an hour ago with your damn bazooka shoved up his ass- my investment, my boy. Who the hell do you think you are; waltzing into MY house, acting like the lord of the fucking manner???’ Bobby picked his nose and used every ounce of self-control trying to remain calm. Hascombe, teetering on a precipice all evening, had clearly toppled over the edge. ‘Seems like you’ve had a little fun yourself, Brent.’ His voice was far colder than the still, pre-dawn air outside. ‘GET OUT!!!!!!!’ Hascombe screamed and pointed a shaking finger at the front door. Bobby felt his own anger rising and, besides, there was still so much yet that he wanted to do. He imagined the tall, naked man bound to the bed upstairs. ‘Listen, Brent, not so fast,’ his carefully maintained smile disappeared. ‘How about if I spread the word about some of those internet sites you frequent? Or,’ he paused for effect, ‘maybe go home and get on the telephone to a few of your big shot society friends and let them know what you’ve been up to today?’ He was utterly shocked when Hascombe burst into laughter. More disconcerting by far was the apparent calm that descended like an inverted storm on the passionate outburst of seconds before. The banker matched Bobby’s cold tone then lowered the temperature further, ‘You do that, my young friend, and you…die.’ ‘Make me leave and…I’ll call the cops!’ Bobby’s voice cracked and he hated himself for it. He was stunned seconds later as Hascombe strode across the room and grasped him by the balls through the damp denim of his black jeans. The banker adjusted his grip and twisted hard, laughing again as Bobby yelped. He leaned close and a hoarse, whiskey scented whisper filled the fat man’s ear, ‘Let me tell you something, big boy; half the cops in this town belong to me and the other half would line up outside that bedroom door. Now, you go home and,’ he sighed as if regretting unaccustomed generosity, ‘maybe I won’t make a few special phone calls myself. Hurry, before I change my mind because, if I do, your ample guts will be spread over a ten-mile radius like bright red bunting on the Fourth of July.’ Bobby squeaked assent and a tear navigated the zits on his cheek as the banker released his balls. He glanced at his toys scattered around the room, reconsidered, and headed for the door. Hascombe watched impassively, relishing the cocky bastard’s humiliation. The door slammed behind Bobby’s waddling ass and the old banker sighed, feeling better than he had, oh, maybe since the afternoon when he seared a flaming ‘H’ between the spread thighs of his slave on the picnic table…and that reminded him…

Roberta remained strangely incognito, which was slightly disturbing. Hascombe shrugged and giggled. Out of sight, out of mind…but there was someone upstairs very much on his mind. Time for a wake-up call.

Dave sank into exhausted sleep almost immediately after being bound to the bed…and dreamed. Fighting monsters (hadn’t had a dream like that since he was a kid), running for his life; rearguard action as something breathed down his neck in red fog under a twilight sky that special color of blue when the sun had set but it wasn’t quite dark yet. Such a beautiful color…so beautiful… He stumbled and the Beast was on his back, raking wide, bloody furrows and he knew that it was trying to get inside him, way down deep, to eat his soul. He could hear his mom and dad calling, but they were far away. ‘Stop!!!’ he screamed- not to the Beast, he knew that would be pointless- but to his folks. The dark thing could hear them, could tell where they were and its appetite was insatiable. The pain seemed unbearable and his fear sat like ice in the pit of his stomach, spreading a numbing lassitude outward, slowly paralyzing arms and legs…unshackled? Why did that surprise him? He wrenched free of the thing’s grip and felt sticky blood running down his back, soaking through his tattered tee shirt. Still surprised that he could move hands and feet, Dave knew an unreasoning rush of pure joy and the fear fled, well, almost, and in its wake he discovered a righteous anger kept since boyhood for special occasions in a tightly locked golden box. The monster hesitated, just out of sight behind a slow-moving cloud of black flies, but Dave knew it hadn’t given up, was merely considering and would quickly move in for the kill. He understood that his hope lay in the box and the fear rumbled back as he searched frantically for the key and couldn’t find it. ‘What the hell?’ His old gunny from days in the Corps stepped around a tumble of boulders. Hal Dawson’s dress blues were the same color as the sky. ‘Looking for this, grunt?’ He held out a bright key…

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

A dutch sailor has been brutally interrogated in Breaking News from 19th century China!

Press Release: China
by Cavelo

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(WB) PROTEST TO CHINA OVER […]

Breaking news from the Canadian frontier by artist Cavelo!

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by Cavelo

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A powerful, hunky but embarrassingly under-endowed CEO has a humiliating experience when he accidently books a nudist resort for his company retreat in this fun story by new author Hom with illustrations by […]

After checking into the resort, the CEO has no other option but to strip naked and reveal his deficiencies.

Downfall of the Big Boss – Chapters 2 & 3
by Hom
Art by Amalaric
Series: Downfall of the Big […]

The CEO decides to shave off his pubes to de-emphasize his shortcomings with undesirable results!

Downfall of the Big Boss – Chapter 4
by Hom
Art by Amalaric
Series: Downfall of the Big Boss

CHAPTER […]

The captive pigs are given a chance to clean up and forced to shave before they are subjected to an intrusive medical exam and milked of their cum.

This Little Piggy Went to the Market – Chapters 12 & 13
by Horny Old Fag
Series: This Little Piggy Went to the Market

CHAPTER 12

Dawn rose. Abel struggled onto his haunches and peed through the barbed-wire. His stomach cramped. He tugged out his tail and farted filth through the fence. A guard in the watchtower aimed his way. He wiped his crack on the ground and stuffed the plug back into position.

McGee twitched and sniveled. He patted his partner on the shoulder. The rookie recoiled and turned his back.

Logan lay curled on his side with his bandaged foot propped up, clutching his stomach and moaning. “When my team arrives, these motherfuckers are going down.”

Santos crawled around the perimeter of their cage, checking for weak spots in the construction. “Whoever built this knew what they were doing. We’ll never break out with our bare hands.” He traced his fingers over the dusty earth. “Maybe we can dig out.”

Zane snored so loudly he scared a crow away. The border agent must have gone inside with at least a dozen men last night. Abel admired the way his neighbor kept his shit together. He could not imagine spending six days in this hell hole, much less six months.

Angel marched up, toking on his stogie, and shouted in Spanish. Manny and Herman yanked Logan out by the ankles and shocked the protesting agent on the dong with both their prods. The spastic fed curled up and shrieked his willingness to cooperate.

Juan dragged out McGee. The panicked rookie came up punching. The devilish punk zapped his junk. The stunned kid clasped his groin and screamed, but no sound emerged.

Santos scrambled outside without needing to be told. Oscar shocked the trooper on the knob. He doubled over and blew on his fat joint like that might soothe the sting.

Pedro grinned at Abel and brandished his prod. His lazy eye glanced skyward, like he was checking the weather. Abel ducked the blow. “Okay, okay, you don’t have to tell me twice.” The big gorilla zapped his left heel. He recoiled with a shrill squawk. “Geez! Give it a rest. I’m coming.”

“No back talk.” Pedro shocked Abel on the nads. Pain ricocheted throughout his body. He howled and lurched through the gate. The grinning bruiser hauled him onto his feet and shoved his spastic ass toward the barn. He staggered across the prickly ground and stumbled through the door. The surly gang herded he and his fellow officers to the rear atop a rusty metal grate. They huddled, palms cupped over their privates, cautious to avoid brushing against one another.

Angel removed Logan’s bandage. The wincing fed whimpered. His mutilated toe stump had swollen purple.

Manny and Herman tugged out everyone’s tails. Abel’s guts rumbled but held. McGee squawked and dropped into a squat to expel a huge turd. Logan farted filth down his thighs. Santos peed through the grate. The brutes doused their heads with buckets of tepid water and tossed bars of soap their way.

“You porkers smell like crap,” Oscar said. The dogface thug grinned and fiddled with his necklace of toe bones. “Wash those butts until they’re clean enough to eat.” He wriggled his tongue suggestively.

Abel ignored the lewd gesture and scrubbed away days worth of dust and Lord knows what else. Even in this hellhole, or perhaps especially here, it felt good to get clean.

The boisterous gang sloshed buckets of water in their faces to rinse the suds away, and afterward wrestled their butts over stacks of wooden pallets and buckled their wrists and ankles to the slats. Abel tested his bonds. He was not going anywhere until the brutes said. No wonder no one ever escaped this hellhole.

Doctor Vega shuffled inside with his wife Inez. The fidgety couple glanced at Angel and his thugs. The old fellow cleared his throat. “We must test you for sexually transmitted infections and check your vitals.”

“Who knows where their dicks have been, am I right?” Manny sniggered. “Pigs are nasty creatures.” The gang snickered and nodded.

Inez ran her fingers down Abel’s cheek and whispered in Spanish. Tears misted her eyes. She tapped his lips. He opened his mouth. She pried back his gums and poked around for a few seconds before slipping a thermometer down his throat. She studied her watch for a minute, retrieved the device, and smiled. “Muy bueno.”

Vega pressed his stethoscope over Logan’s heart and scrawled a note. He examined the grousing agent’s lean torso and droopy scrotum.

Inez shined a light in Abel’s eyes. She snapped her fingers to one side and then the other. His gaze followed. She examined his ears and made a note, and then ask his height and weight in English. He shared six-two and two-ten or thereabouts. He had not eaten in a couple of days so he might have dropped a few pounds.

“You allergic to latex,” the doc asked. Logan crinkled his brow and shook his head. The old guy glanced in Angel’s direction and slipped on a pair of gloves. He lubricated his palms and torqued the bucking fed’s joint.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Let go of my dick, old man, or I’ll—”

Angel pressed a Bowie knife against the protesting fed’s throat. “Or, you’ll what, Agent Douchebag?”

Logan sank against the pallets with a groan and closed his eyes.

“That’s what I thought.”

Vega fisted Logan stiff and laid a ruler alongside his erection. “Diecinueve centimetros.” Inez nodded and scribbled on her pad. The gang smiled and nodded.

Manny pressed a Beretta to the quaking doc’s temple and shouted in Spanish. The old fellow leaned over and licked the startled agent’s knob. His cowboy hat toppled onto the floor. The inked thug teased the trigger and snarled in his ear. He swallowed the cursing fed so deeply he choked. His frogged eyes teared, but he kept sucking.
Logan writhed around, moaning and groaning. His bony hips shot into the air. Vega gagged and staggered backward, clutching his throat. Inez drained the screeching agent into a vial, which she corked and labeled. The doc spat into the slop sink in the corner and gargled a swig from his flask. He pitched his gloves into the trash barrel and scrubbed his hands.

Inez examined Logan and took his temperature. She asked his height and weight. The discombobulated agent mumbled six-one and one-ninety.

Vega checked Abel’s heart with his stethoscope and examined his chest and nads. “No lumps. You’re clean.”

McGee bit Inez. Angel rolled his lit stogie over the rookie’s nads. The bitter stench of singed hairs filled the air. Once the screaming kid calmed down, he left the old woman take his temperature and gave his height as six-foot and weight as one-ninety-eight.

Vega slipped on a fresh pair of gloves and greased his palms. Abel braced for an assault. The shaky old fellow pumped his joint. He closed his eyes and thought about car crashes.

Inez checked Santos’ eyes and ears and took his temperature. She wrote down six-three for his height and two-hundred-and-five for his weight.

Vega slipped a finger up Abel’s butt and tightened his fist. Abel sucked in a sharp breath. The son-of-a-bitch massaged his prostate until his joint throbbed.

Manny sniggered. “Horny grunter sure likes getting poked, don’t he?”

Vega measured Abel. “¡Veintiuno centímetros!” The gang cheered and high-fived.

Herman snatched Inez by the hair and slapped the sobbing woman so hard he bruised her cheek. She leaned forward and swallowed Abel.

“No, please, you don’t have to do this.”

Inez muttered in Spanish. He might not understand her words, but the sadness in her eyes told him she had no choice. She gummed his throbbing shaft and wormed a fat finger up his butt. He shuddered and closed his eyes. His nuts burst. She replaced her lips with a vial and drained his load, labeled and filed his sample, and puked into the sink.

Vega took a long pull on his flask and shared his booze with his wife. He examined McGee, jacked and measured the rookie, and sucked his load into a vial. His wife labeled the sample while her husband spat into the sink. The doc assessed Santos. His wife blew the kid, labeled and stored his sample, and emptied her husband’s flask down her throat.

Vega examined Logan’s mutilated foot. His brow furrowed. He disinfected and bandaged the grimacing fed’s stump. Inez swabbed the scabbed Road Hog scar on Santos’ chest with a pungent antiseptic. The squirming trooper winced and whimpered. The old couple treated their wounded soles and massaged a mentholated salve into their swollen feet.

Inez drew blood from their arms, while Vega injected their thighs with antibiotics and painkillers. The old couple tossed their trash, washed their hands, and glanced expectantly at Angel. The earless thug nodded and stoked his stogie. The relieved pair grabbed their things and scampered out the door.

CHAPTER 13

Taking drugs and getting blood drawn on an empty stomach had left Abel woozy and nauseous. He peeled his tongue from the roof of his mouth. If he did not get sustenance soon, he might faint, which would not only be embarrassing, but potentially fatal. God only knows what medications Vega had injected into his system.

Manny passed out straight razors and Herman handed around cans of shaving cream. Oscar and Pedro set a bucket of water beside Abel and each of his fellow officers.

Pedro lathered Abel and shaved his lip and chin smooth. Abel dared not budge for fear of getting his throat slit. Oscar whisked his armpits clean and trimmed the few stray curls around his nipples, while Pedro sheared his crotch and shaved his legs. Pedro unbuckled his left ankle and pinned his leg back while Oscar manscaped his ass.

Abel’s fellow officers got shaved and given crew cuts. Pasty white patches mottled their sunburnt torsos and hairless groins.

Pedro unstrapped Abel. He stood. His knees buckled. The bruiser hoisted his ass over one shoulder and lumbered outside. He got shoved inside his hogsty, which was what the brutes called their cage. His fellow officers tumbled in after.

Two stout Mexican women trudged over from the compound lugging slop buckets. The older snapped in Spanish and nodded toward the opposite end of the row. The younger waddled down the line. The women ladled sticky clumps of beans and rice and several ears of corn through the barbed-wire of their hogsties into one side of a galvanized metal trough and filled the other side with water.

Captive officers up and down the row shoved their snouts into their troughs. Abel scooped up a handful of beans and rice and took a whiff. The glop smelled fine. He stuffed a bite into his mouth. Bland but edible. He liked the fresh corn better. He slurped water from his cupped palms and ate his fill. Logan and Santos stuffed grub down their throats as well.

Abel wafted corn under McGee’s nose. The rookie turned his head aside. He had not eaten in days. He needed nourishment. Abel said as much, but his partner ignored his pleas.

They all four huddled beneath the tin roof for shelter from the blazing sun. Logan groaned that his foot burned. Santos cursed his old man and swore to get even one day. McGee broke down and sobbed so hard his shoulders shook. Abel rubbed his partner’s back. The rookie shrank from his touch.

Pedro and Oscar dragged he and his fellow officers from their hogsty. Manny and Herman roped their scrotums together, Abel first, followed by Santos, Logan, and McGee. Juan shocked their calves. They staggered toward the courtyard, flinching and squawking. 

Rosa lay sunning on the roof in her bikini. The brutes trussed their wrists to the eaves, without the iron spikes beneath their heels this time.

“You pigs are first up tonight. You need to look sharp.” Raul flashed his pearly whites. “We always attract a good crowd when we offer fresh pork butt.”

Rosa climbed down and slipped inside the compound. 

“Let’s get the swine ready,” Angel said. He lit a cigar.

Manny settled a square black case with metal trim at Abel’s feet. “Let’s drain some hog balls.” The grinning thug popped open the lid and pulled out a silicone cylinder, which encased a rubber sleeve. Plastic tubing connected the cylinder to the box. He slipped the sleeve over Abel’s junk and flipped a switch.

The cylinder adhered to Abel’s groin and the sleeve suckled like no mouth he had ever experienced. Not that he had much to compare with. In fact, he had only gotten two blowjobs in his life. One on his wedding night and the other on their fifth anniversary. The pressure intensified. He shot forward on on the tips of his toes as far as his restraints allowed. His nads ached for release. He gritted his teeth and whined.

Manny thumped his strained scrotum. He squawked and spewed. The voracious machine syphoned his nads dry and kept on slurping until his skinned joint stung. He screeched and spurted a watery second load. The force abated. He slouched in spasms and whimpered despite his resolve to stay strong.

Herman drained the trap on the machine into a vial. “Five milliliters.” The gang nodded and murmured their approval. The hatchet-faced thug scrawled NP on the vial and stored the sample inside a cooler.

Manny hooked up Logan. The pressurized cylinder suckled the squiggling and squealing agent for a long while. His flapping dong finally stiffened. The machine syphoned his nads dry and continued tormenting his withered joint until he delivered a few more drops.

Herman drained the trap. “Three-and-a-half milliliters. You need to do better than that, Agent Douchebag.” He punched the screeching fed in the junk, labeled the sample AD, and stashed the vial in the cooler.

Seconds after Manny flipped the switch, Santos blew. The moaning trooper produced two more loads before getting freed. “Eight milliliters,” Herman said, which did not sound like much, but the gang cheered. The vial got labeled RH and stored.

Despite his protests to the contrary, McGee surrendered a load and collapsed in sobs. “Four milliliters,” Herman said. “Pitiful.” He scrawled P for Piglet on the vial and stored the sample.

Rosa sashayed out carrying a tray with four syringes. Juan took one and winked. The girl giggled. Pedro pinned Abel’s foot to the ground. The devilish punk injected a vein. The thugs repeated the procedure on the other three.

Abel’s heart raced. Everything would be fine. He and his fellow officers got lowered from the eaves and passed around the yard. Rough hands mauled their tingling bodies. The boisterous gang chattered in Spanish. Abel replied in English, even though he had no clue what the thugs were saying and laughed out loud. Groping fingers teased his joint stiff and bound his junk into a tight bundle.

Carlotta poked her head out. “Bring me, Nigger Pig.”

Anxiety tempered Abel’s elation. Angel marched his ass over to Carlotta’s room and ordered Manny and Herman to stand guard outside the door. He stumbled inside and stared at his broken toe, fearing whatever lay in store. Carlotta might be small, but she was mean as a snake. He hoped he had not unwittingly crossed the bitch.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Amalaric has written the final chapter of Kronmire4’s series and illustrated it with a ton a manips! In the first part….Stripped naked and chained up, Marty Stiles is humiliated in front of the studio and […]

Local hooligan Jed Kaspar is the next star of the show and he suffers the effects of another new product, the Pro-prod Deluxe Joy Stick!

Selling Tough Love – Part 11 (Page 2)
by Kronmire4
Art by […]

Rob Murray is in serious trouble with the law and unfortunately for him, the State of California has contracted his punishment out to Tough Love Productions. (More to come!)

Selling Tough Love – Part 11 […]

A hairy-chested man suffers torture admirably.

POW tortured in this scene from the film Hanoi Hilton.

The cops’ brutal treatment continues as the customers begin to arrive…..

This Little Piggy Went to the Market – Chapter 10
by Horny Old Fag
Series: This Little Piggy Went to the Market

CHAPTER […]

Abel and his fellow captured officers witness even more cruel, humiliating treatment from their cages in the barn.

This Little Piggy Went to the Market – Chapter 11
by Horny Old Fag
Series: This Little Piggy Went to the Market

CHAPTER 11

Abel feared he might never see Kaila and the girls again. He should think positive, but after getting jumped, beaten, humiliated, starved, threatened, sodomized, sold, transported across the border, tortured, branded, and caged like an animal, that was not easy.

Floodlights illuminated the desert. Salsa music blasted from the courtyard. Armed guards manned the watch tower. Men in suits and shades even though the sun had gone down patrolled the grounds.

Logan rested back on his elbows, with his bandaged foot propped against the side of their cage. “This is fucking bullshit.”

Crouched, legs splayed, Santos fumbled with the knotted twine binding his junk. “These freaks are bonkers.”

“Oh, my God, this has got to go.” McGee leaned forward and tugged on his tail.

“No,” Abel said. “They’ve set their sights on us.” He nodded toward the watchtower. “Amy’s pregnant. You’re gonna leave your wife to raise your unborn child alone?”

“Who are you kidding? We’re never getting out of this human cesspool alive.”

“Trust me, son,” Logan said. “My team will find us.”

McGee heaved a sigh and hugged his knees. “I keep thinking I’m gonna wake up and find this is all some twisted nightmare.”

“It’s a nightmare, all right,” Santos said, “but you’re not asleep.”

A couple dozen other naked guys outfitted with snouts and tails huddled inside pens to either side of their cage. Some groused, some cursed, some whimpered, some argued with themselves, some stared shell-shocked through the barbed-wire. Creepy did not come close describe the appalling scene.

A car arrived. Moments later, a pickup truck pulled up and parked, followed a bit later by a van and two more cars. Carlotta and Raul greeted their guests and accepted wads of cash.

Angel and his brutes wrestled seven guys from their pens and hustled the grousing lot down to the courtyard. The bumbling fellows lined up and got injected in their arms or feet. The lewd mob manhandled their bodies and wrestled whoever they chose inside the compound. Shouts rang out, followed by shrieks and sobs, peppered with an occasional burst of laughter.

Abel and his fellow officers huddled in silence, horrified they might get chosen next. Abel prayed for strength and guidance.

An RV rumbled up. Four old white guys in flashy suits and sunglasses emerged, cackling like fools, and slapped one another on the back. Raul rushed out to welcome the rowdy bunch. 

Manny and Herman hustled past their cage wielding cattle prods and chattering in Spanish. The chortling brutes drove a scruffy white guy with broad shoulders and leathery flesh from a pen near the opposite end of the row. The big fellow was so gaunt his ribs showed. A stout brass ring pierced his septum. A similar ring decorated the fat knob of his pendulous dong. His curly tail wiggled as he crawled.

“What the bejesus,” Logan muttered.

Santos shook his head. “That is some seriously fucked up shit.”

Abel agreed. He did not understand how anyone could treat a fellow human being with such contempt.

A second rail-thin white guy around the same height and age crawled out. A bushy brown beard covered his ruddy cheeks and chin. His snout had gotten smashed, his tail bent. Rings pierced his thick septum and stubby joint. He wobbled into line.

“We gotta get outta here,” McGee said, “before we end up like them.”

“Patience, son,” Logan said. “When my team arrives, the shits gonna hit the fan.”

A bug-eyed Latino of indeterminate age with rings through his nose and foreskin slunk out and scurried into line. The slight fellow appeared at least a half a foot shorter than the first two, perhaps five-eight or nine. Gray strands peppered his thick black hair.

Logan’s jaw dropped. “How many more men can there be?”

A pale, chubby kid of perhaps twenty with a mop of dusty brown curls and a scraggly beard wriggled out and waddled into place. Rings pierced his nose and knob. Although shorter even than the Latino, his hands and feet were huge, as was his joint.

Abel flushed. He did not make a habit of studying other men’s junk, but when faced with a crime scene, he had a duty to note all the facts. Sometimes the slightest detail was all it took to tip the scales of justice. He might be just a wee bit curious how he measured up, too, but he would never admit that out loud.  

Herman snapped a steel chain to the brass ring piercing the lead guy’s knob and yanked his dong back between his hairy thighs. The grimacing fellow yelped. The hatchet-faced thug hooked the free end of the chain to the next guy’s schnoz. Manny tossed his buddy another chain. Herman stretched the wincing second guy’s joint longer than God intended and chained his knob to the rat-faced Latino. He clipped the whining Latino’s strained foreskin to the pug nose of the chubby kid bringing up the rear.

“Let’s go, swine.” Manny clipped a leather leash to the lead guy’s nose ring. “Your favorite johns are here and looking to play.” He shocked the lead guy on the dong. The haggard fellow screaked and lumbered toward the courtyard. The others scrambled along behind. Their tormented joints strained like rubber bands ready to burst. All four whined they needed a spike, whatever that meant. A rash of red bumps covered their filthy limbs and feet, likely insect bites from the way they scratched. The chubby kid struggled to keep pace.

“Given everything those boys have gone through, I’m surprised they’re still alive.”

Abel peered around. A hairless white guy with a mahogany tan, sporting a snout and tail, but no piercings, whispered through the slats of the next cage over.

“Those poor blokes were here when I got brought in. Except the fat punk. He only arrived last week and has already gotten on Carlotta’s bad side.”

“Does Carlotta have a good side?”

“That bitch goes from bad to worse to wish you were dead in seconds flat. Got a temper like a pissed off rattlesnake.”

“Tell me something. What’s a ‘chota?’”

“A snitch or dirty cop.”

“So, they’re all law enforcement, too?”

“Bloke in front is Detective Brock West, LAPD. Behind West is Mike Smithers with the DEA. Following Smithers is Fernando Diaz, a prosecutor out of Mexico City, and the fat punk is Deputy Sam Austin from Humble, Texas.”

“That is so messed up. When did the brutes grab you?”

“About six months ago I got ambushed while patrolling the border south of Yuma.” He sighed. “Name’s Younger, Agent Younger, but call me Zane.”

“Robert Abel, Chicago PD. My wife Kaila and I got two girls, Destiny and Indigo. I bet their losing their minds. I know I am.”

Younger picked at a scab in the crook of his elbow. “I’ve got a wife and kids, too. Knowing they’re safe keeps me going.”

“Roger that. I’d do anything for my family.”

“Take my advice. You’ll wanna escape, but you can’t. I know. I’ve tried.” He lifted both feet. His toes were mere stumps. “I’m not gonna lie, it won’t be easy, especially at first. I’ve gotten assaulted so many times I’ve lost count. Probably bought in a hundred grand or more for the cartel.”

“No way. That’s insane.”

“It’s a blatant violation of international human trafficking laws is what it is. But, if you want to survive and keep your family safe, you’ll do what you’re told, when you’re told, where you’re told, with whoever you’re told.” 

“So, the cartel is behind this shit show?”

“Los Zetas to be precise. Those savages got no regard for anyone but themselves. A couple months back they brought in this bounty hunter named Cosmo. No matter how many times they beat him, or which body parts they cut off, or how brutally they raped his ass, the big bloke refused to submit to their twisted shenanigans.”

“Good for Cosmo.”

“The savages raped and slaughtered his entire family—wife, kids, parents, in-laws, two brothers, a sister, an uncle, even a pregnant cousin—right before his eyes.”

“That’s pure evil.”

“There’s more. Raul sold Cosmo to some big game hunters. Carlotta showed us pictures of the big bloke’s naked corpse afterward, stuffed and mounted and sporting a giant woody. It was obscene.”

Abel curled up with a groan and covered his ears to block out the debauched goings-on over at the compound. He tossed and turned on the hard ground, surprised by how cold the desert got at night. His broken toe throbbed, his pierced heels stung, his overtaxed asshole burned.

A scorpion skittered across his shin. He recoiled with an unmanly shriek. The venomous crustacean scrambled through the barbed-wire and skittered away. He wondered what other nasty surprises lurked in the desert.

Manny and Herman tethered the pierced officers to the fountain by their noses. The old farts whipped the screaming fellows and demanded they squeal like pigs, which they did loud and clear. The yowling prosecutor floundered so violently he ripped out his nose ring. The sadistic pricks lashed the hysterical fellow senseless, yanked out his tail, and raped his ass into the dirt.

Raul shot the stupefied prosecutor in the face. A husky white guy in overalls handed the sinister Mexican a wad of cash and violated his corpse. Manny and Herman lugged the body out behind the compound afterward.

Abel dry heaved. The prosecutor’s family would likely go to their graves without ever knowing what became of their loved one and maybe that was for the best. Were he to suffer such a shameful fate, he would never want Kaila and the girls to find out.

Pedro and a gang of surly thugs lugged five officers back dripping wet and stuffed the barely conscious fellows inside their cages. They dragged out six other guys to replace those, including Zane in the next cage over, and marched the agitated officers over to the courtyard to get injected. A mob of licentious perverts groped the squirming officers and hustled whoever they chose inside the nearest room. Anyone who resisted got his ass kicked. The dazed officers staggered outside afterward rubbing their butts and got back in line.

The squat, beefy officer with the bushy black curls and beard who had gotten assaulted the prior afternoon for failing to get an erection got kicked out for biting this time. The panicked fellow swore it was an accident. Pedro bounds his arms behind his back while Manny sprung a steel spider gag inside his mouth. His fat lips flattened back in an absurd grin. The rowdy mob choked the slobbering officer on their joints until he puked and raped his hairy rear inside out. 

Using wicked-looking sex toys, the old farts from the RV sodomized the remaining three pierced officers and teased their junk to orgasm. The overwrought fellows begged the bastards to spare their assholes, even offered their mouths instead. The chortling pricks punched their fists inside the yowling trio. The spazzed officers hugged the fountain and screeched soprano; twitched and shuddered like they were getting electrocuted and beat their feet against the ground.

Abel clamped both palms over his mouth to stifle his sobs. For the first time it hit home he might die in this hellhole, or worse wish he had.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Ppatrao47 provides detailed illustrations on a unique method to display your slave’s cock.

Way to tie the genitals of a slave, when we want to put it on sale.
by ppatrao47
Visit his blog BDSM Male Drawings.