1. A SLAVE'S LIFE


    Date: 3/6/2015, Categories: Anal, BDSM, Gay Male, Author: klammer, Rating: 67, Source: xHamster

    the placing of the sensor cable for the slave collars - you'll get one as soon as we arrive, and it's an update on the technology used to keep dogs in gardens - they get a mild shock when they try to cross the buried sensor wire to make them go back. But if you cross the wire, the shock will kill you! You get a warning jolt if you go within three feet of the fence, but don't try any more. Understand?" "Yes, I suppose so." "Look, boy, if you're going to get on well as a slave on the estate, you'd better start learning proper manners! All guards and overseers are addressed as 'Sir' by slaves, and your only reply to my last question should have been 'Sir, yes, sir!'. Do you understand?" "Yes... " and then I hesitated as I don't like acknowledging that men are superior to me - I never call my boss at the office or anyone else "Sir". But I thought I perhaps ought not antagonize these men. So I added "..... Sir." The guard who had been talking to me turned around in his seat to face me, and leaned over and slapped me! His open-palmed hand hit me hard, on the side of my face, and I fell over sideways with the surprise, and the f***e of the blow. "Look, boy, I don't think you understand yet what you're in for. You're a slave. Slaves are always polite, and always eager to obey and acknowledge masters and guards. So it's not 'Yes' and then very grudgingly 'Sir'. It's 'Sir, yes, sir!" - with vigour and gusto - you really want to acknowledge your master, and you need to show it. Guards ...
    enf***e the house rules with physical punishments, and if you want to avoid them, you'd better start learning now. So do you understand?" I was still reeling with shock from what had happened - the completely casual way he'd been so violent was a complete surprise. But I had the sense to know not to antagonize him further, so I snapped "Sir, yes, Sir!". It was like being in one of those Army films, where all the recruits have to chant that as part of their subjugation to the communal life in the army. "That's better, boy. Remember to answer like that and you'll avoid a lot of beatings!" Whilst all this had been going on we'd pulled up in front of a long, low building that was around the back of a bigger, slightly better looking one - although neither of them was particularly lavish: Whitewashed blocks, and small windows. I guessed they didn't need a lot of glass in this blinding in the hot sunlight. The guards got out, unlocked my ankle restraint, then told me to follow them. Inside it was much cooler than the furnace-like heat of the air outside, and I could tell it must be air-conditioned. In my skimpy shorts and revealing top I even felt slightly chilly. There was another guard inside the door, wearing what I now saw must be their "uniform" - the tight, short shorts, and the white polo top. Like the two who were with me, he looked fit and alert, and he reached up and pulled the "tag" that was still around my neck down, so that he could scan it with one of the instruments ...
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