Betrayed and Enslaved

Warning: this story contains a lot of cruelty, sadism, a tremendously homophobic dystopian society and other content that may disturb the reader. If you are very sensitive, it is better not to read it.

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The days went by. My life, even in the circumstances I was in, began to become routine: work in the supermarket in the mornings, housework in the evenings. However, something changed deeply in those days. My feelings for David grew stronger and stronger and I had the immense joy of seeing myself reciprocated by him. One morning, taking advantage of the fact that our workmates were inside, we had our first kiss in the courtyard. It was something completely magical. I had already been in love, but I had never been reciprocated, and then I only knew the bitter face of love. That kiss turned my mind upside down and, from then on, I lived for those 15 minutes a day that I spent with my beloved David. We even got to more than one kiss, one day hiding in the cleaning stuff room. We couldn't really do anything, we were too afraid of being discovered, but at least we could feel the contact of our bodies. For me it was like being in heaven. I never thought I could harbor such strong feelings for another human being. It made me very sad to think that we would never be allowed to be together, but, for the moment, it was like an explosion of light in my dark existence and gave me a reason to go on living.

My life with Joe was generally bearable, albeit with ups and downs. He was usually not very demanding as long as I did my housework and attended to his every need. Although, on the other hand, he treated me very differently from day to day, depending on the mood he was in, and so there were days when he would let me eat normal food and sleep in the guest room, and others when he would lock me back in the cage and make me eat the dog food again. I obeyed him punctually in everything and made sure that he was always perfectly cared for. However, he was not happy. He often told me that I had made a lot of progress but that he noticed that I was not happy with him (I guess I was not able, or did not want, to pretend it), and that was - according to him - because I was still reluctant to give myself to him body and soul. And time and again he insisted that he would end up overcoming that resistance and making me totally his.

As part of that strategy, although I could not suspect it at the time, one day he told me that two guests were coming for dinner. I shuddered, remembering my experience with his friends, but he, seeing my trepidation, assured me that they were not Adam or Bruce and added, smiling mysteriously, that their identity was a surprise to me.

I was perplexed and wondering who they could be, while preparing a succulent dinner. I knew Joe loved to be a good host. When the doorbell rang and I went to open it, nothing and no one could have prepared me for what I found at the door....

It was my father and brother! They both smiled at me and my brother joked, patting me on the arm:

-Wow, brother. You look really nice, so shaved and bald, hahaha...

I was stunned at what I saw, what were my father and brother doing there? The truth is that I hadn't thought about them since my enslavement, and I had assumed that they were not allowed to see me. At that moment I was glad to see them, maybe they were coming to help me or at least to see how I was doing. How wrong I was!

As I stood there gawking, Joe appeared behind me and, giving me a hard slap, said:

-What's the matter slave, have you forgotten how to greet your superiors?

Totally stunned I prostrated myself and kissed the shoes, first of my father, Edward, and then of my brother, Pete. They both smiled broadly and my father said to Joe:

-Wow, I'm really impressed. You have really brought him up well....

Those words left me bewildered. Was my father complimenting Joe on his behavior? I stood up, while Joe showed them in:

-Come in Edward. It's so good to see you again-. I saw that my father was carrying an object in his hand that I immediately recognized. It was an old vintage radio that I had in my room at my father's house. I had a certain affection for it as it had been a gift from my mother, who had died many years ago. He held it out to Joe, who took it and informed me: -I was at your father's house some time ago looking at your things, in case I was interested in any of them. At first I said no, but now I thought better of it and asked him if he could bring me this radio, which I like, and while I was at it I invited him to dinner.

When I didn't say anything, my brother asked me, mockingly:

-What's wrong brother, has the cat got your tongue?

Joe informed them about the collar program that prevented me from speaking. And just when I thought they were going to protest such a cruel measure, I found my father saying to him:

-Wow, that's really cool. He always talked a lot more than he should have. I wish I could have done that with him when he was a teenager!

My father's words stuck in me like daggers and I understood that I could expect absolutely nothing from them. However, I still wasn't the least bit aware of how far my father's infamy was going to go that night.

They sat down at the table and I began to serve them, as they began to chat animatedly. My father praised the food and, when he learned that it was me who had prepared it, told Joe that he had no idea I could cook so well, that I never lifted a finger at home and that I was lazy and useless. Again, he congratulated him, tearing my heart out, for the work he had done with me. They went on talking about me, generally criticizing me, as if I were not in front of them, for quite a while. You can imagine my feeling of humiliation and helplessness at not being able to say anything in that conversation in which I looked so bad. At one point, Joe asked my father if he knew before that I was homosexual (well, he said "faggot", of course). At my father's affirmative answer, Joe inquired why I had not been reported. I could have been his slave. My father seemed to hesitate a bit and said:

-Well, he is my son. I don't know if I could have done such a thing to him. Besides, I don't think they would have let me own my own son.

-That's where you're wrong -Joe replied-. I have an acquaintance who had a really rebellious teenage son. They didn't know what to do with him anymore. Well, he reported him, even though the boy was not a homosexual. It was a time when they were not yet strict about proving the accusation and his word was enough to convict him. His son became his slave and, thanks to the collar, he was able to subjugate him completely and make him a docile lamb to his every desire. Moreover, he so adopted his role as master that the last time I visited him he told me that he had almost forgotten that the slave was his son, and in fact he treated him like a dog, even making him sleep outside the house in a kennel.

The story gave me chills and, involuntarily, I imagined myself being my father's slave. Would he treat me like that too?

At another moment during dinner, Pete, surprised, asked Joe if I didn't eat anything, and Joe answered:

-Normally slaves never eat with their superiors. They do it later, in the kitchen or elsewhere. But since you are family, today we can make an exception -he turned to me, and said: -Slave, go get your food... -he paused and smiled slyly-, and I mean your... special food, and bring it here to dine with us. And... -he added-, I want you to serve it here, so all we can see it.

So that's what it was all about. He wanted to humiliate me as much as possible in front of my family. Red with anger and shame, I went to the kitchen and came back with the bowl and the can of dog food. I put it on the floor, opened the can and poured it out, starting to eat kneeling on the floor. I knew that was what Joe wanted, to degrade me to the max. Naturally my father and brother were perfectly aware of what kind of "food" it was.

-Bufff, what will that taste like? -said my brother. And bending down he took some of it in his hand and put it in his mouth, immediately spitting it out in disgust: -God, that's disgusting! How can you eat that?

-Because it's the only thing I allow him to eat -Joe answered-. Remember that he is no longer a human being and doesn't deserve to be treated as such.

My father's face twisted a little. It was the only time all night that he seemed to be a little displeased with my situation, but he replied:

-Well, at least his upkeep will be very cheap for you...

When they finished dinner, Joe invited them to have coffee on the sofas in the living room. They sat there while I served them coffee. As soon as I did, Joe asked my father if he would like a foot massage. Although this did not surprise me and, unfortunately, I was expecting it, I couldn't help but my heart skipped a beat. My father, a bit puzzled, agreed and, at a signal from Joe, I had no choice but to kneel down and barefoot my father, who looked at me as if hypnotized. His feet were rough and very large, for my father was a tall and stout man, like Joe. I began to massage them with all my might.

-Use all your techniques, slave -Joe ordered me. I knew what he meant and, resigned, I began to alternate my fingers on my father's feet with my tongue. My father was completely astonished, but immediately, thanks to the magic of my hands and tongue, he went from surprise to absolute pleasure.

-Ummmmmmmm, God, it's incredible, how lucky you are to be able to have this every day! -he moaned. And, to my utter desolation, he added: -The truth is you are right, if I had known I could enjoy this, I would have reported him and made him my slave... ummmmmmm...

I then continued with my brother's feet, who seemed to enjoy immensely my degradation. I felt at that moment as if my life had become one of those recurring nightmares where you are forced to do the same thing over and over again. And that feeling seemed to be further corroborated by the next thing that happened. My father stood up and asked Joe to go to the bathroom. My blood ran cold in my veins. No! It couldn't be that Joe was so inhuman! I turned to him with a terrified look that clearly begged, "Please don't, don't." Of course, it did me no good. Joe, I think enjoying it even more as he saw my terror, smiled and said to my father:

-In this house the usual urinal is the slave's mouth.

My brother snorted, incredulous:

-No, he couldn't possibly do that! Really?

-Check it out -Joe answered. And snapping his fingers, he pointed to the floor in front of my father, in mute command. I obeyed dejectedly and knelt down, my face just inches from my father's crotch. I waited a few seconds, hoping that my father would react and refuse. He couldn't allow that infamy!

I was wrong. My father remained silent and still, expectant. I guess he didn't quite believe what I was going to do either. Resigned, I unzipped the fly of his pants and pulled out his cock. I had never seen it before in my life. I foolishly thought it was a good size and really nice. I put it in my mouth and waited. My dad concentrated, it was obvious he was having a hard time starting to pee with so much anticipation around. He finally managed to relax and a small stream of smelly urine, which in a few seconds turned into a powerful stream, spilled into my mouth. I swallowed quickly, feeling humiliated as ever - my own father was pissing in my mouth! It came to my mind the fact that that cock that was defiling my mouth was the same one he had done to me 30 years ago....

My brother, meanwhile, was almost jumping with glee:

-God, he's really doing it, I can't believe it!

My father finished and I carefully returned his cock to its place, closed his fly and he sat back down satisfied. Naturally my brother wanted his turn too and, while I was drinking his disgusting piss, he became interested in my collar and asked Joe about how it worked.

-I'll explain it to you -he replied-. And you can try it if you want. Look, it's operated from this remote -he took it out of his pocket. I was perplexed, wasn't that remote control in the possession of Roger, my boss? No doubt Joe had retrieved it at some point, which confirmed the suspicion I had had for some time that the whole encounter had been meticulously planned by him. He went on to show my brother: -See, you press here. The longer you press it, the more the slave gets a shock.

My brother took the knob and pressed it. A jolt shook my body. He pressed it a couple more times and again the collar discharged into my poor neck, making me writhe in pain.

-Wow! This is really fun -Pete laughed-. Do you want to try it, Dad? -he held out the remote control.

-Sure -my father readily agreed, taking it in his hand. And immediately, cruelly and mercilessly he started to press it again and again, while I was shaking from side to side, going crazy with the shocks.

-Hahaha... -my brother laughed-, What a dance you're giving us, brother!

I saw my father's face and he looked like he was having the time of his life.

-This is fantastic! -he said to Joe, who was looking at everything, tremendously pleased-I wish I had had this at the time to educate this little boy, hahaha...!

Apart from the pain of the shocks, that was completely destroying me morally. How could he be doing something like that to me? I knew we didn't get along, but I never imagined that my father, the person who was supposed to love me the most in the world, could enjoy watching his son suffer in such a way.

He continued for a couple of minutes, during which he even deliberately gave me a couple of shocks so hard that I almost lost consciousness. At the end he handed over the remote control to Joe, but the infamy of that night was not over yet....

-That's great -he said-, but where there's a good spanking to educate... I would have liked to have given it to him, but at that time it was frowned upon to spank one's children. Too bad, I'm sure that if I had done it, he wouldn't have turned out like this.

-Well -said Joe, and his next words sank me into the most absolute misery: -you don't have to stay with the desire-. I saw that my father understood and his face lit up.

Suddenly, I don't know where from, the paddle racket appeared and Joe ordered me to undress completely and lie down on my father's knees. Feeling like a naughty child again, I obeyed, and immediately my father began to firmly smack my ass. I realized, however, that at least he was not using all his strength. My father was a big, powerful man and could have torn me apart at any moment if he had wanted to. Still, the pain was considerable, though nothing comparable to the pain I felt in my soul. The sense of humiliation and shame was such that I just wanted to die.

Finally my father got tired and pushed me to the floor, where I lay there dejected, and then he got up and told Joe that he really appreciated the evening and that it was time to go. Before leaving, he turned to me and said:

-Son, I hope you will continue to be a good slave and thank your master properly for the opportunity he has given you to be something valuable in society. You don't know how glad I am that someone has done the work I couldn't do for you!

My brother also took his leave, kicking me in the side and saying mockingly:

-Goodbye brother. I hope you have a happy life. And know that I have no problem with you being a faggot. That way all the inheritance will be for me, hahaha...

They went out. I stayed there, lying face down on the floor while Joe saw them off at the door. I knew that if he came back and found me like that he would be angry and probably punish me, but at that moment I literally couldn't move. I was completely broken.

Joe, however, when he came back sat down for a moment on the couch next to me and said in a very soft tone of voice:

-I guess you have guessed that I have not the slightest interest in your radio, in fact it is going in the trash right now. It was just an excuse to bring your family here. I know this has all been very cruel to you, but I needed to show you that you don't have anyone out there anymore. Your whole world is now me. The sooner you give yourself completely and become totally mine, the sooner you will be happy-. He got up and before leaving he added: -Think about it and when you feel up to it, pack all this up and go to sleep.

I did reflect, yes, but what Joe didn't know was that his words had exactly the opposite effect on me than the one he intended. A voice full of fury rose up inside me, giving me back, albeit fictitiously and momentarily, my dignity. And, as I got back on my feet, I made myself a promise: "I will never be yours, Joe, NEVER! I will take my own life first!"...

A few days after that and, I guess, following his strategy of humiliating me in front of all those who had meant something in my life, Joe announced that we would again have two guests for dinner that night. And this time there was no mystery, he told me straight out that it was Lou and Albert, my lifelong friends. Indeed, the three of us had studied together, since elementary school, and since then we had been inseparable, although, as often happens, life had taken us down different paths and the bond had loosened a bit. I wondered how Joe could have known of their existence. I didn't think they had ever coincided or that I had ever told him about them. However, in this day and age of social media, I guess it's pretty easy to find someone's friends, if you want to do some research.

The announcement left me completely cold. At that point, I no longer expected anyone to be helpful or caring, but simply to show a minimum of empathy and humanity. Besides, I was totally devastated. Apart from the trauma of being reunited with my family, especially my father, I had received terrible news at work. The first piece of news was that Roger was going to become an instructor at the company and was therefore leaving his position in our store. One of my colleagues was to be promoted instead, Ted or Robert, it had not yet been decided which one. So, in a few days one of those two homophobic, sadistic and completely insensitive monsters was going to be my boss. You can imagine how I felt knowing that from that moment on my job at the supermarket was, with absolute certainty, going to become a living hell.

However, the other news was infinitely worse. David's owner was moving to another city and, naturally, he was taking David with him. In a couple of weeks, we would be separated forever. We wouldn't even be able to write to each other or hear from each other, as Joe strictly forbade me to use the computer or the Internet. So, my only reason to live was gone. After crying and crying, both with my "boyfriend" (boyfriend for 15 minutes a day) and alone in my dark nights, one thing had become clear to me. If I was never to see David again, I didn't want to go on living.

I began to plan my suicide. How would I do it? The easiest way would be to start screaming and not stop until the necklace went up to maximum intensity and electrocuted me, since Joe had programmed it so that the more attempts to speak, the stronger the shock would be. However, I was not sure that I would be able to continue screaming while the collar was shaking me and, besides, even if I succeeded, Joe could think that it had been an accident caused by a malfunction of the collar, and I did not want that in any way. If I was going to lose my life, I wanted Joe to know that I had committed suicide and that I had done it because of him. I didn't think he would feel very guilty about it, for him I was less than a dog, but even the slightest remorse on his part would have seemed to me a tremendous triumph.