My first Master (3): The Warehouse

A report written by slave 437353.

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The next afternoon, Bill took me out to his car. After I got in, He told me to take off my clothes, and he threw my clothes out the window onto the driveway. He told me to put my head in his lap, and he started driving.

His cock was hard, but he didn’t take it out of his jeans, and we drove for a long time. Soon I was fast asleep, with Bill’s right arm resting on my shoulder, holding me almost tenderly. The ride went on and on, and I slept, lulled by the motion of the car.

When I woke up, we were in the city, in a dark side street. The leafless trees on the street looked spooky, and the warehouse buildings seemed threatening, particularly as I lay there naked. Bill reached into the back and pulled some clothes out, and told me to get dressed.

The jeans I put on were at least one size too small for me, even though I was thin. As I put on the white button down shirt, he told me not to button it, and then tied the two halves of the shirt together at my waist. He then gave me a pair of shoes which I recognized as my own, and told me to follow him.

We got out of the car, walked about a block, and stopped at a metal door. Bill rang the bell, and the door swung open. We stepped into what appeared to be a movie set, a larger version of Bill’s basement. Professional looking cameras sat on tripods, and microphones were placed around the room. 7 or 8 men stood around or tinkered with the various pieces of equipment. There were no other guys my age – everyone was around the age of my father. Lights were set up, with beds, sawhorses, hanging straps and chains, and other devices, some of which I didn’t recognize. There was a large metal cage, with thick metal bars, to one side, the door hanging open. Bill walked up and greeted two of the men, then said, “This is my new slave” and gestured to me.

I stepped forward shyly, and felt all the men’s eyes on me. One whistled appreciatively, while another said, “Very nice.” The men in the large room walked closer, and as they approached, Bill turned me around, bent me over, and rubbed his hand down my ass. Then he stood me up, turned me around to face the men, and asked, “Who wants to be first to try it out?”

I noticed, though I was not completely aware of it at the time, but I had just been given a new pronoun. Until that moment, when the men who used me spoke of me, they referred to me as “him” or “he” But now my degradation was complete: I was no longer considered a human male, but instead was referred to as property. I was “it” to men, and I remain “it” to the men who use me to this very day.

The men stepped forward eagerly, and Bill turned and lead me to a sawhorse. He pushed me down on it, and tied my wrists and ankles to hooks in the legs of the sawhorse. Then he stood back and ran his hand down my back and across my ass. Suddenly, I felt something under the top of the jeans, and he cut them off me, the tatters falling to my ankles. The shirt was similarly cut off, the rags of it thrown over my head and down around my wrists, only the cuffs of the shirt keeping it from falling completely off.

For the next several hours, I was whipped, fucked, and whipped some more. The men took turns riding my ass, and I could hear Bill talking to them about his plans for me. I tried not to listen, but I knew he was making plans to film me being used, and to rent me out to men. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the cameras were rolling even that first night, and my debut in the studio was caught on film.

After the men were done with me, I was released by a man I hadn’t noticed before, a tall, thin man in his 30s. He took me over to the metal cage, and pointed for me to get in. Once inside, he padlocked the door, and left me shivering on the metal floor.

I spent days in that warehouse, as I would many other weekends and vacations. That first time, I had no idea how much time passed – there were no windows, and day and night were all the same. I was released occasionally to eat, though I was forced to eat and drink out of metal dog bowls (and photographed doing so). I was occasionally taken to the bathroom, where I would be given an enema, and then once I had been cleaned out, I would be used again. Many men used me: some young and good-looking ones, who were carefully positioned and filmed; and, others who were older and flabby, who were clearly paying for the privilege of using a young slave. I lost track of them, who had used me and who was waiting, who they were. It was all a blur.

The tall, good looking man who had locked me in the cell seemed to have some role of being in charge of the studio. He also took a starring role in the filming that was made, with his huge uncut cock. I could barely get my mouth around the head of it, and was terrified the first time he stepped behind me to fuck me. Fortunately, I was tied down, my legs held apart widely, and I could do nothing to stop him. He could fuck for what seemed like hours, and I remember passing out during some of his more brutal assaults, awakening to find I was still being used by him. When he finally did cum, his load shot in me like a bullet, and I could feel it squirting out of my ass as he pulled his cock out and shoved it back in.

At the end of the time in the warehouse, I was lead to a loading dock. Bill was there, with his car, and the trunk was open. The tall man pointed to the trunk, but I was too weak to climb in myself. He effortlessly swept me off my feet, and deposited me in the trunk. Then he slammed the top, and Bill drove me back to his house. I worried that I might freeze to death in the trunk (Massachusetts winters are very very cold) and fell asleep wondering if I would ever see daylight again.

Suddenly, the trunk opened, and I realized the car had stopped. I struggled to climb out, and found myself back at Bill’s place in Amherst. I saw that my clothes were still lying in the mud and snow of the driveway where they had been flung Friday night, and Bill told me I should pick them up. picked them up, naked in the ice cold wind, he called my name, and showed me a thick envelope. “Tuition” he said. Then he looked at me and said “And no tip this time” I realized that Bill knew about the money I had gotten before.

I was locked in my windowless room, and spent the night on the pile of dirty rags. Early the next morning, Bill took the padlock off the door, and ordered me to make his breakfast. I went out in the yard to relieve myself, made him his food, and served him at the table. Finally, he told me that I could use the hose in the yard to wash myself, and that I better get to class. That was the start of my first day of college.