“Kneel—hands on your knees. Don’t touch your dick. Don’t look up. Ass can touch your legs, but not the floor.” Then, I was left in a similar pose as many times before.
Although everything around me was dark, shadows and lights seemed to bounce off of me as I stared at the smooth floor. My knees were cold and sore as they took my weight. My hands were facing up, the perfect position to show my surrender.
It took everything in me to keep my breathing even as the minutes ticked by. More slaves were brought out. One or two passed me, and another shoved to kneel beside me.
Whimpers that weren’t mine reached my ears, but I still didn’t move.
The vibrations hit me randomly, some stronger than others. The tip of the plug hit against a bundle of nerves, and I shifted just enough to dislodge it.
It did nothing to me. My cock was still soft and sad looking, reminding me how broken they’ve made me.
My soul had been mutilated before anyone had gotten their hands on me, so this was just the colossal pile of icing on the cake.
I jerked, almost sitting straight up, as another vibration hit me. This one had been stronger than all the others.
I panted, forcing my body to stay still.
I wanted to pull the stupid device out of me and throw it across the room. I wanted to yell and scream, to beg for these people to just fucking kill me already.
As whatever drugs had been given to me took effect, my body settled, and my cock slowly grew. My body sat back on my heels while a loud voice came across several speakers.
I closed my eyes, willing my body not to respond. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want anything.
Just when I thought I had things under control, my cock hard, yet not demanding, the plug buzzed, zapping everything from me.
“Looks like someone’s excited to be here tonight,” the voice cooed. There was laughter from the crowd that I hadn’t known was there, yet I wasn’t surprised. “Slave number four-zero-nine-one-nine is afully trained slave but has room to grow. Needs medication to get an erection, but otherwise performs activities without fighting back.”
The rest of the words were lost as I had no option but to arch my hips, trying to get away from the plug and its ministrations against my prostate.
A low groan fell from my tightly closed lips. The only thing stopping me from blowing my load was the ring that was tight around the base of my cock and around my balls.
The man loved to play games, and this was one I wasn’t sure I’d win.
It shut off again as the crowd laughed, echoing around the room. I missed whatever joke was said as I panted, trying with everything in me to keep from not just exploding but also keeping the contents of my stomach inside where they belonged.
“I always do love a show,” the announcer laughed. “Bidder number one-three-six-seven, shall we let this slave cum, or keep torturing him?”
I didn’t catch the reply, but the owner of the remote to the plug sure did.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I forced my body to stay in place. My hands flipped over, holding onto my knees with everything in me as the vibration sored, pushing against the bundle of nerves that should, in most times, feel good.
I wouldn’t say it didn’t feel good, but my mind didn’t want this. My cock screamed out to be touched, standing hard and leaking.
My body had a mind of its own, humping against the plug as if it knew what it wanted, what it needed.
I was close, my balls drawing in up to my body. My body wanted to explode, yet my mind fought against each movement.
I panted, dropping my chin to my chest, knowing I had to give in to it. That was the only way to end it, at least for a moment.
With one last rock back onto the plug, I exploded. Strings of cum fell just past my knees, splattering with dots along the floor.
Yet, my body still moved, wanting more, seeking more. It betrayed my thoughts and wishes, just like the men always wanted.
“For such a small cock, he sure has a lot of cum in him,” the announcer laughed. “Now, on to the next slave.”
I sat there, rocking as the vibrations still thrummed, not as strong, but still there. My sad, pathetic cock betrayed me, staying hard and seeking more release.
All I could do was ride the wave, giving over to the feelings and drugs that ran through my blood like a virus.
