"No Limitation on Use" is a hot new collection of 20 short stories written and illustrated by our beloved Amalaric. On this page, a slave is put up for sale, a special ops commando is betrayed, and a young, hunky gymnast learns of his father's dark contract.

No Limitation on Use - Page 1
by Amalaric
Series: No Limitation on Use

No Limitation on Use

It had squatted for several hours each day in the sun, chained like a dog in the humiliating position, for nearly a week without a buyer. Though the sign also offered a rent option, its owner really wanted a sale. Once, it had been Ray Steiner, but that was before mounting debts and poor lifestyle choices had caused the law to step in…and take over. Put up for auction along with any number of other confiscated items in the municipal warehouse, it had seemed a bargain to its present owner and been well-used for the better part of a year; mainly grunt labor in a gravel quarry, sometimes other things as well. Kept naked at all times, its frame was naturally lean and wiry, but also padded with hard muscle from the constant demanding exercise and a carefully controlled diet. Its big cock and heavy balls were certified to be in good working order and breeding was an option if the owner cared to purchase a license. Perhaps it may have come to that or any number of other things but, it seemed, the time had come to move on; its owner, suffering his own financial difficulties, was re-locating to another state and, anxious to make a fresh start, had resolved to downsize. Except for one problem; it simply wasn’t selling. Sure, the economy was bad- had been for years- but there was another problem as well. In his haste to purchase the commodity at the city auction, its owner had failed to obtain a ‘no limitation on use’ clause in the sale contract and, thus, the specified use had to be strictly observed; labor of any sort and (with a license) breeding. That was all. Clearly, prospective customers wanted something more. With a fast grimace and mental shrug its owner grudgingly paid the amendment fee over at city hall and obtained the coveted ‘no limitation on use’ clause in the contract. Within hours it sold for a very handsome price indeed.

no-limitation-2Hidden Casualties

The damn Congress blocked the option of direct intervention in Syria. Never mind that the insurgent ‘freedom fighters’ were blood thirsty fundamentalists, mostly hailing from foreign countries, and massively funded by Wahabis in Saudi Arabia…who hated the West almost as much as they did the Shiite regime and (worse by far) its fucking alliance with Iran; the Iraqi debacle wasn’t enough, it was time for another go…big business simply wasn’t used to having any limitation put on its use of the world’s resources.

Well, at least that was the viewpoint of several top financial and industrial consortiums, particularly if linked in some way to the lucrative arms industry. Since direct intervention was temporarily impossible, there were, of course, other ways to grease the wheels.

Special ops commando Matt Harding had been operating just over the border for several months. Various modes of destabilization were his specialty and he thoroughly enjoyed his soldiering lifestyle. He did miss friends and family back home, however, and found it especially irksome that all forms of communication were forbidden; his presence in the sensitive geo-political arena was strictly top secret…and that, of course, brought him immediately to the attention of the CEO perusing some interesting communications (with photos) provided by well-paid contacts in the military. It helped that Matt was good looking. In fact, that helped a lot and the CEO made a snap decision based on a photo taken surreptitiously of Matt in the nude; over six feet of tanned muscle, short cut auburn hair, piercing blue eyes, an athlete’s proportion…and large, well-shaped cock and balls.

He regained consciousness stripped naked and shackled with steel cuffs and chain in a corner of the safe house. Matt mentally cursed the bogus tip that had led him into the ambush, but it had seemed to come from an impeccably trustworthy source. At twenty six he was lean and fit, with chiseled good looks and a ‘can do’ attitude that never considered surrender. Reading Matt’s cat-like body language, and thoroughly approving of the American soldier’s perfect physique, the insurgent spoke in heavily accented English, ‘Welcome to Syria, dog, and to your destiny.’ ‘What the fuck do you mean by that?’ Matt growled. ‘You have been chosen to amuse one of our top ranking commandos. He will approve of your attitude and will enjoy, I am sure, a period of long and careful training. That will be rigorous, but you are used to that sort of thing…or are you?’ He scratched his head. ‘Your life will never be the same, dog, but perhaps you will find, in the end, that slavery suits you? Whatever,’ he sighed, ‘you are young, strong…and very handsome. Mustafa will be pleased and, if it is any consolation, certain business sectors in your country have now been given tacit permission to operate in Free Syria.’

no-limitation-3Tommy’s New Home

At sixteen, Tommy felt like he had it all; laid back parents who never seemed to care much about his grades at school but, nevertheless, did everything in their power to encourage his passion for sports. Wrestling, track, baseball, but especially gymnastics made Tommy’s life a wonderland of competitive games and matches, always striving for more and…in the process…honing his young, rapidly growing body into a marvel of pure stamina and physical perfection. At seventeen, when his hormones really kicked in, the muscle followed suit and Tommy happily turned the head of just about every chick at school with his handsome baby face and chiseled, man’s physique. Deeply defined pecs, broad shoulders and muscular arms over tight six pack abs and a narrow waist left the girls feeling lightheaded and wetly guessing what his bubble butt might look (and feel) like or, better yet, what the big package at the front of his gym shorts might contain. Tommy lapped it up and, for wrestling and gymnastics in particular, loved sporting tight Lycra kit so sheer that if you looked real closely (and many did) you could actually make out the head of his nestled young cock through the glistening fabric.

On Tommy’s eighteenth birthday he rolled out of bed, ready and willing for another red letter day. Untroubled by the subdued look on his parents’ faces (dad had only worked sporadically for the better part of the last three years), he planned on partying hard to celebrate the landmark coming of age…when the doorbell rang. Finally registering his parents’ nervous expressions, Tommy asked if something was the matter. His dad nodded solemnly, ‘Have a seat, son, there’s something very important that you need to know,’ and, glancing at his wife, ‘Evelyn, would you tell them to wait for just a few minutes while Tommy and I have our chat?’ His wife, near tears, silently nodded and rushed from the room.

‘Tommy, you know that things have been rough for us financially the last few years and that your older brother Byron’s university fees have simply gone through the roof.’ Tommy hated his older brother who seemed to be his opposite in every way; a real lard ass who got his rocks off playing video games all day…but still managed near straight A’s that landed him a place in a prestigious university. Tommy could give a flying fuck about school and resented the constant carping about money coming from his folks… ‘And so, Tommy,’ his dad intoned, ‘even though we love and are proud of both of our boys, well…’ he sighed, ‘a couple of years ago some men from a little known consortium noticed you at a gymnastics competition and made us an offer that we simply can’t refuse.’ ‘What do you mean, dad?’ More confused than alarmed, Tommy, nevertheless, also began to suspect that his wildest dreams might be about to come true. Some agents have spotted me…maybe even for the Olympics, and there’s big money in the offer. Dad’s embarrassed because he wants a cut. Convinced that this must be the case, Tommy was suddenly giddy with excitement. ‘See, Tommy, we signed a contract back when you were sixteen to sell you into slavery. That’s why you have been encouraged in every way to indulge in sports- in order to insure that on the date of delivery, the day of your eighteenth birthday, that you are in the finest physical condition possible.’ Stunned to silence, the newly eighteen year old suddenly felt out of breath. His father continued, ‘We also exercised the option for a ‘no limitation on use’ clause because, well, it nearly doubled your already considerable selling price. Tommy, thanks to you, this family will never have to worry about money again.’

Three burly men entered the room and motioned to Tommy, now completely freaking out. He considered making a run for it, knew he would fail, and ended up submissively following them into another room. As his parents, not without a measure of relief that the long stressful period of waiting was finally over, looked on, Tommy was roughly stripped and thoroughly examined. After forty minutes or so of being prodded and groped and made to pose and perform in various ways, the red faced, sweating, and sticky young jock was allowed to pull on his briefs and levis but that was all. Shackles on his wrists completed the transformation and Tommy was hustled from his parent’s living room to a waiting van and unceremoniously shoved into a back seat. The van roared to life and drove away; speeding young Tommy, destined to be a cruel and very wealthy man’s sex slave, toward his new home on a secluded estate in the countryside.



  1. chasrn - March 13, 2017, 4:03 pm

    Very hot stories! Would love to a continuation of Hidden Casualties. Great stuff!

  2. Drum - May 19, 2017, 2:38 pm

    Short and to the point – great stuff

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