Inspired by the latest artwork by RoyaltyAlterEgo

Becoming a slave: Part two

The concept of time means nothing to a slave; after all, time belongs to his master to be used as he determines. A slave has no need to know the date, which day it is or even the time of the day. There are no rest days for a slave and monotonously, each day is the same broken into two parts; a long period of painful and unrelenting hard labour used to enrich and enhance the master's life and a shorter rest period where he is fed, watered and allow to recoup his strength for the next labour period.

And so it was that, with the absence of a calendar, i neither knew the day of the week nor its date. Becoming a slave meant the cessation of time for me and from now on it was no longer relevant. How long i spent with my captors as they prepared me for sale became an indeterminate period of harsh training and hard, physical exercise to make my body more appealing to any prospective buyers. Personal grooming was important; as slaves, we learned to keep our bodies smooth and free of all manly hair - after all, hirsuteness was a sign of proud masculinity and we were no longer men but mere animals -and even our pubes were removed to better display our genitals. Each day we worked in pairs to groom one another and we were made to ensure that no stray hairs were left in our arse-cracks or to mar the appearance of our puckering anuses. We were told by our handlers our arses will be major selling points when we go to auction and the buyers will pay special attention to the appearance and tightness of or sphincters.

The significance of this wasn't lost on me. In my previous life as a free man i had been heterosexual. Now, as a slave, i am whatever my master demands and and it would appear i am  be introduced to male on male slave sex; a prospect i faced with apprehension and one completely out of my control.

Overtime, i adjusted to being a slave in training and i felt pride whenever my trainers told me i was a 'good boy' and would make a fine slave for some lucky master. i felt proud of my new glabrous, smooth appearance which better displayed my developing musculature. i have to admit that with the proper slave diet and regular exercise i looked good. As slaves, we were trained to take pride in our appearances and told that we were merely the caretakers of our bodies which will the properties of our soon to be masters. We understood that our bodies would be property owned by another man and, as slaves, we were duty bound to care for them as we would with all his other possessions.

Inevitably,the time arrived when the slavers decided we were marketable and a date was set for our sale by public auction and as the reality of this sunk in, i was filled with a new apprehension.

To be continued .........

Artwork by RoyaltyAlterEgo. Text is mine