“Right through here, Mr. Murdock,” the stall hand said as he ushered Alexander and his slave into a sizeable barn-like warehouse on the south end of the derby property.
The structure had concrete floors covered in a thick dusting of dirt from the racetrack outside. Alexander sneered as he stepped inside, his newly shined red bottoms instantly smudging as a cloud of dust rose around him with each step. He hated participating in these competitions on an intimate level. In the past, he would merely hire a jockey to take care of the behind-the-scenes business of preparing the slave for the race ahead. However, this trip was not for the mere love of the sport, and if he were going to get to the bottom of these abductions, Alexander would have to get his feet dirty investigating every square inch of the Horse Wrangler’s operation.
Alexander felt a tug on the chain he held in his gloved hand as Cameron slowly stepped into the barn behind him. The horseshoe heels the boy now wore made a clopping sound as he unsteadily made his way into the barn. The heels made his knees tremble with fear and instability. Alexander had not trained him yet to walk in them, let alone run. As if this wasn’t a hamper enough, the boy’s hands had also been fastened tightly in a leather restraint behind his back. The restraints held his arms out straight and forced them together, challenging his balance further.
The only article of his discipline outfit the boy was even the slightest bit acquainted with before the show was the posture collar locked around his neck. It held his head up high and opened his throat for the dildo bit Alexander had forced into his mouth as they had exited the estate. The gag was a sadistic contraption, one Alexander took no joy in punishing his well-behaved slave with, but one that was considered regulation for all runners, nevertheless. It contained a metal wiring that kept the boy’s mouth forced open large enough for a silicone gag to taunt the back of his throat. The dildo was fashioned in such a way that if the wearer were to try to close their mouth by even a fraction of an inch, the long silicone extremity would be forced deep down their throat. Even with prior deep-throating training, Cameron’s bottom lip quivered under the strain of the gag, threatening to snap shut.
Alexander’s heart ached for his slave. He enjoyed punishing his property, of course, but only when it was deserved. His slave had not done anything to deserve such treatment, yet this was their job, and the two were to play their parts accordingly. Regretfully, Alexander scowled at the boy and tugged him forward forcefully. Cameron stumbled, his feet clopping at the ground as he struggled to regain balance. He looked so weak and scrawny standing there, his toned body shaking in the slatted streams of light that poured in around them.
“Keep up, fag,” Alexander commanded as they followed the stable hand.
Cameron let out a moan of compliance. He was holistically incapable of speech now. Just a stupid animal led to its cage.
“He’s a Lil thing, ain’t he,” the stable hand asked as the three made their way down the stalls.
“He’s a runner. He’ll make the cut, and, well, if he doesn’t, it looks like you’ll have plenty up for sale afterward,” Alexander responded cynically.
As they walked, Cameron managed to crane his gaze ever so much to the right, where he could make out the passing stalls. Each housed a toned man in the same attire as Cameron, standing shackled to the wall. Their erect cocks were each encased in clear vacuum-like tubes which sucked streams of white liquid from their heads. Some men stood dead-eyed and slack-jawed, staring forward to a fixed point on the wall before them. Others struggled with the full force of their might against the machines, gagging and screaming for release. The outcome for all was the same. Each male specimen shot endless loads of cum into their tubes, more than Cameron had ever seen produced before. The feet seemed impossible, yet there they stood, their dicks an endless well-spring for the sticky white substance.
Cameron’s cock twitched within his cage as he watched. Would this be him shortly? He hadn’t cum in months and had been told by his Master that he likely would never again. Could this have simply been a joke? Had he meant by the boy’s own hand? Cameron grew more excited with each passing stall, eagerly awaiting his own release.
Soon the three came to a stop before an empty stall. The stall hand stood to the side and held his arm out as if to present the space to the two.
“Here ye’ are. Tube lowers from the ceiling, an’ pills are over to the right. They make the runners produce more to get it all outta their systems.”
Cameron practically jumped with excitement at the explanation. He couldn’t wait for his Master to force the pill down his throat and hook his dick into the suction tube. Perhaps he’d even save some of the cum for Cameron to drink after the mission.
“That won’t be necessary,” Alexander said with a smile as he led his slave into the stall.
“Whatever floats yer boat. Just have ‘em ready in forty-five for the showcase,” the stable hand said with a tap of the side of the stall.
“Will do, partner,” Alexander mocked. The stable hand rolled his eyes and left without saying a word, leaving the two to their own devices.
Alexander immediately went to work. Instead of standing the boy at attention as the rest of the competitors had been, Alexander turned Cameron around to face the stall wall. He then stretched the boy’s legs out to either side as far as they would go without bending. Once Alexander found the boy’s threshold, he locked steel shackles to both ankles, holding his slave in place. Finally, he took hold of the leather binding apparatus that held the boy’s arms in place. Slowly, Alexander fed a chain through the dongle at the end and tied it off. He then pulled upwards on the chain, pulling up the boy’s arms and causing him to bend over, exposing his ass to the stall mate behind him. Cameron gagged slightly and coughed as the silicone dildo was forced further into his throat. His face turned red as the silicone began to block his airway.
Cameron choked out a moan and struggled against the binding.
“Shhhh,” Alexander cooed. “You can handle it. Remember your training. Breathe through your nose. Hold your thumb in your fist.”
Cameron did as he was instructed. His body continued to struggle from the lack of air. He could not bring himself to a calm. He was going to die here. The only witness would be the brain-dead hose-man across the way, watching lazily as the boy’s ass shook and his hole clenched until, finally, it all went limp.
Cameron let out a scream of desperation. Alexander hurried to secure the boy in place. He threw the chain up and slung it over a rafter above. He pulled down tightly, pulling up Cameron’s arms with it and forcing them to hang upright in the air. The position was cemented with a lock of the chain to Cameron’s bindings.
Once he had secured the boy, Alexander walked around to Cameron’s face. He stood there a moment, the slave only able to stare down helplessly at its Master’s grey pant legs draped over now dirtied shoes. How Cameron wished he could be home, sitting on the floor before his Master’s armchair, shining those shoes, licking away each imperfection. He hated being out here amongst others, he hated the stares and humiliation. All he wanted was Alexander, but Alexander needed him to be more.
Alexander placed a firm hand on the crease of his slave’s back.
“Find your center,” he commanded.
Cameron winced and coughed, drool dripping from his lips onto the floor before his Master’s loafers. He closed his eyes and complied. He took a deep breath through his nose. It was a staggered, shaking breath, but it was taken in full and held before releasing. The barn had many smells, but one stood out over the rest. Cameron could make out the faint scent of his Master’s Jimmy Choo cologne. Deeply, the slave inhaled, his nostrils craving the familiar scent. Cameron could feel his body going limp with each search until he lay suspended in his position, a moan produced with each exhale.
“Veeery good,” Alexander said as he squatted down to meet the boy’s gaze. Cameron looked up to his Master, taking in the sight of Alexander dressed in his full business attire. He looked so strong. His arms pulsed against his grey sports coat and his pecs strained against the buttons of his cyan dress shirt. Cameron longed to feel the safety of his embrace. A tear fell from the slave’s eyes as he struggled and moaned in defiance.
“No. Settle. This will be a lot easier for you if you just do as I say. You don’t have to stay this way for long. Another stable hand will come soon and lead you out to be presented before the race. You just have to wait here until he comes.”
Cameron let out another moan, his eyes darting to their corners and his head jerking backward towards the horseman behind him. Alexander looked over the boy’s back and analyzed the scene before forming a smirk.
“What? You’re jealous?”
“I told you the rules when you agreed to this, boy. You’re not allowed to cum unless it comes from that sloppy little pussy of yours. I have learned that a locked cock is the only way to keep a fag well-behaved. And you are daddy’s little good boy, aren’t you?” Alexander took his slave’s chin in his hand and stroked it gently.
Cameron closed his eyes and let out a satisfied moan.
“Yeah. You don’t need to cum. Although, I will say that the pills are new.”
Alexander looked back at the competition across the way. His eyes locked on to the tube, examining it from afar. Out of its tip protruded a smaller I.V.-like tube that ran up to the ceiling and connected with the rest of the stalls before running toward the back and out of the barn. Alexander huffed and stood, walking over to the pill pouch secured on the side of the stall. He reached in and took out a handful of small, blue pills. He examined them for a moment before shoving the batch into his pocket.
“I’ll take a couple for testing back at the lab,” he asserted softly. “Something tells me they aren’t exactly used for the doping purposes our little country yard snake was telling us about.”
Cameron gave a slight nod and moan of agreement.
“Glad you concur, chum. Sadly, I got a good look at all the horses on the way in here. Half of these men are body-builder grade hunks, and all have unlocked cocks. They aren’t owned… yet. But they also aren’t our missing guys. My guess is they’re mostly ex-handler enforcers he’s putting up for sale. I’ve heard rumors of what he does to those who cross him but never thought it was true.” Alexander said this last part with almost an air of envy. Could he truly want something like this?
Cameron stirred as he attempted to look back at his Master. Alexander patted the boy’s ass.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to sell you. Just uh, try not to lose. It’ll be easier to keep you off the auction stage that way.”
Cameron let out a sigh and hung his head back in defeat. The silicone dildo slinked down his open throat effortlessly as he hung there.
Behind him, Alexander reached up to the tube above and noticed something odd. Dangling with the tube on, connected to the I.V.’s above, was a large round bulb that leaked some of the overflowing cum from the pipeline above. Alexander pulled the bulb down and pumped three squirts of lube into his hand from the lubing station in the stall.
“Well, I must go find my seat in the spectator’s box. After all, I paid a pretty penny to watch you run. But don’t worry too much about not being able to play like the other boys. I think I have something just as good for you.” Without another word of warning, Alexander began to insert the lathered bulb into the boy’s exposed hole.
The sensation was a shock at first, but Cameron’s trained hole quickly loosened to allow for an easy entry. Even with how sloppy and loose Alexander liked for his slaves to keep themselves, Cameron still had difficulty allowing the bulb to slip in. It felt as though it was roughly the size of his Master’s fist and offered little closure once fully in.
Slowly, a warm substance began to ooze into the boy’s rectum. Cameron’s knees buckled as the cum of his fellow captivates slithered into him, filling his insides with comfort. Even in his ecstasy, Cameron managed to moan out a thankful cry.
“No problem, boy. I hope you’re as thankful once the guards plug a tail in you and make you finish the race with your competition’s seed in your little tummy.”
Cameron let out another ecstatic moan.
Alexander chuckled. “So, my slave likes being bred, stuffed, and plugged. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”
Alexander slapped the boy on the ass, marking his exit. He left his slave alone to bask in the seed of the long-cocked stallions around him as the boy’s pathetic nub strained against its cage and leaked to the floor below.
Upon entering the luxurious viewing box, Alexander was greeted by a young, naked twink. The twink, a good two feet shorter than Alexander, looked up to him eagerly. Though a broad smile was plastered across the boy’s face, something felt eerily off about the twink’s demeanor. A closer look and Alexander could see trembling legs as the twink stood at attention.
Alexander peered into the boy’s gaze. To his surprise, the boy did not look away as any well-trained slave would. He instead met Alexander’s gaze with a desperate wide-eyed look, the same Alexander had seen many times before from boys with a freeman’s heart who had not chosen a slave’s life for themselves.
Alexander reached to the boy’s neck, gripping the thick metal collar clasped tightly around the twink’s throat. He quickly recognized the device as a remote-controlled locking electric collar. In the past, he had thought of employing such a device to discipline unruly subs but had never gotten around to it. Such devices were more equipped for training large groups of boys; something Alexander hardly had the time or patience for. One person would have to control this collar, and the rest in the facility. If Alexander wished to free even one of them, he would have to find the one who held the key. That is if these boys truly deserved to be free.
With one look, Alexander could tell that the twink now in his service had not been any of the men who had recently been abducted in the area. There was potential, ever how small, that the boy had slipped through The Caped Wonder’s watchful eye. However, it was much more likely that the boy had been a member of the Wrangler’s gang for years before descending like many of the other derby runners.
While the boys kept in the stalls were likely old enforcers based on their broad-shouldered and muscular figures, these boys had more homegrown qualities. In fact, the one Alexander now examined reminded him much of his own slave. They even had identical curly strands of muddied hair. So unmanageable and chaotic. Alexander reached his free hand up to stroke the boy’s locks.
“Mr. Murdock. Do I have to remind you of the rules of the derby?” A voice questioned from the side. “You can look, and you can touch, but that gaze of yours looks awfully attached, and this one isn’t for sale.”
Alexander turned, his phony socialite smirk gracing his lips as he laid eyes on what he considered the most wretched-looking man on the planet. Before him stood the man many have come to know as the Horse Wrangler, a short, pudgy thing who Alexander often saw eating his weight in cold bar shrimp at whatever function the two seemed to be cursed to cross paths at. Thinning brown strands combed over from the side of his head that could still manage to produce hair partially hid his balding scalp. It was times like this that reminded Alexander why he began to shave his dome completely. Not even the man’s clothes were a redeeming factor. Always two sizes too big. He looked like a sewer rat drowning in couture fabric.
“My gaze, Wrangler? You cannot be serious,” Alexander said, almost as if he were holding back a laugh. “I mean, look at this pathetic excuse for a gimp. He’s got the dumb-struck smile down, but he looked me in the eyes. Not exactly a submissive specimen. Besides, he’s not even locked.” Alexander accented this with a slap to the boy’s bare cock.
It was a prominent, hanging member that swayed like a pendulum from the force of the strike. If the boy had been his, Alexander would have locked his cock in the most diminutive nub cage possible so he could never see the full glory of his sizable member again. But the boy was not his. He was not even sure the boy had the heart of a submissive. He just needed to piss the Wrangler off enough to get him to show his hand.
The Wrangler scowled in annoyance first at Alexander, then to the boy. The boy’s demeanor changed instantly, his smile dropping to a panicked frown. He opened his mouth to plead his case, but before he could, the Wrangler reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small remote. He aimed it at the boy and pressed. Instantly, the boy fell to his knees. His hands reached to grip the collar, and his teeth chattered from the current. He squirmed and writhed in pain at Alexander’s feet.
Alexander looked up from the sight to examine the room around him. On the couches ahead, men in business attire stopped their play sessions to look back and observe. Alexander knew some of these men; he had worked with them intimately, both as fellow dominants and business partners. He believed many were good, upstanding men. But horror took Alexander as he saw smiles cresting each and every face.
Some shouted and hollered for more, while others slapped the fearful boys before them, threatening the same if they did not meet their standards. It sickened Alexander to see them take such joy in this boy’s pain, for there was no lesson for the boy to learn, no rule he had broken. Only the sadism of a sick man in power.
“That’s enough,” Alexander’s voice bellowed. His fists clenched as he stared the Wrangler down intently. They locked eyes, neither threatening to relent. It was a dangerous game for Alexander to make enemies with the Wrangler, especially with Cameron now under the man’s thumb, but this was a risk he was willing to take if it meant ending this boy’s needless suffering.
After a moment, the Wrangler sighed.
“Fine,” he said in a bored manner.
His cracked brown nail once again clicked the button. The boy’s body went limp, his glistening chest heaving as he gasped for air.
Alexander reached out his large hand to the boy. The boy winced, fearing a strike but took the dominant hand in his when none came. His hand was small in Alexander’s. It was smooth to the touch. He lifted the boy to his feet with ease and pulled him close, wrapping his thick arm around the boy’s thin waist. The twink hid his face in Alexander’s chest. His body quaked in the man’s arms.
“Oh my, Mr. Murdock. Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft on us.”
Alexander gritted his teeth at the statement, then looked around at his former colleagues. Each looked back to him with disgust, some turning back to their boys and resuming their fun. Alexander’s face went flush as the realization of his actions set in. He had allowed himself to become too invested, essentially blowing his cover. It would take time to regain the acclaim he had garnered as a Master. Hopefully, this setback would only be momentary.
“That’s enough. Boy, I don’t think you’d want another shock, do you?” The Wrangler shook his controller in the air.
“N-no, Sir,” the boy said as he broke away from Alexander’s embrace, the same forced smile returning to his lips. Yet, this time, his eyes did not meet Alexander’s. Instead, they sat fixed blankly at the man’s chest as the boy awaited further instructions.
“Not soft. I just recognize good training when I see it,” Alexander finally retorted. He stood tall and straightened his tie, his features growing stern as he turned his attention back to the Wrangler.
“Well, this one’s not exactly what I’d call a slave at heart. Then again, I rarely ever get those. You seem to be luckier than I in that category. Didn’t I hear you have a new boy running in today’s race? He looks a little wimpier than your last.”
“I’m working on him,” Alexander snarled. Cameron’s body was perfect in his eyes. A God-given gift to him. He would not ever wish to change it.
“Very well. As am I, as you can see. I guess we both like ‘em thin.”
“Thin and toned, perhaps. Not emaciated,” Alexander argued, referencing the frail body of the boy before him.
“Can you blame me?” The Wrangler rolled his eyes. “The boy was a junky when I enslaved him. Owed me quite a bit of money. We detoxed him and got him right into the system. Not a bad business if I do say so myself.”
The Wrangler ushered the two forward. The boy gestured for Alexander to precede him. Alexander obliged for the purpose of etiquette but made sure the boy was close behind. He grabbed the boy’s limp cock, pulling it along with him. He would not lose this one. No matter how the Wrangler tried to separate them.
“So, that’s what this box is now? Men that owe you money?”
“They’re hardly men anymore, Alexander, and they certainly don’t owe me money anymore. They’re paying with their service.”
Alexander’s blood boiled, his thoughts racing as he thought of Cameron. The month of detox the boy went through was a grueling hell, one Alexander had witnessed daily. The shakes, the vomiting, the tears. It broke the boy. But Cameron had someone to rely on. No matter how odd their situation may have seemed, Alexander wanted nothing but the best for the boy. He was just lucky Cameron had chosen to stay.
The Wrangler led them to a reclinable armchair in the front row of the box, directly seated in front of the window. From here, Alexander could see out across the entire lot. Before him stretched the round, dirt-laid track, the boys would soon compete on. Emptied stands surrounded the track. Tonight, the facility would be used for more private matters, and anyone who could pay for such an event was already in the box.
Alexander took a seat in the armchair, his legs spreading for the twink to kneel and nestle into his crotch. The twink went to work, his mouth teasing Alexander’s hardened cock from the outside of the man’s grey dress pants. Alexander threw his head back in glee as the twink’s tongue ran up and down the outlined shaft of his cock.
“Of course, I do apologize for the misunderstanding earlier, Mr. Murdock. I’m sure you’ll find this boy to your liking. If not, I have some veterans I’m sure could trip your fancy.” The wrangler smiled.
“This boy is fine. What he lacks in discipline, he makes up for in how he treats a cock.”
“Perhaps it’s because he can play with his own.”
“Doubt it,” Alexander grunted as the boy massaged the Master’s head with his lips.
“A difference of opinion. Good luck to your boy today,” the Wrangler said with a tap on Alexander’s shoulder. “If he doesn’t win, I have many fine steeds for purchase. Then you can take one of those home and lock their dicks up in those little cages you love so.”
“Heh, will do, old friend,” Alexander said with a smile. “But my boy’s going to win. I have good money on it.”
“That, we will see.”
The Wrangler took his leave, leaving Alexander alone with his new pet. Almost immediately, the smile fell from Alexander’s lips. He reached down and, with one hand, grabbed the boy by his cheek, forcing him up and into the chair.
“You don’t like sucking cock, do you, boy?” Alexander whispered into the twink’s ear.
“N-no, S-sir. I-I- like g-girls, Sir.”
Alexander’s face contorted. A straight freeman. Nothing sickened Alexander more than the thought of rape. He walked a fine line in his work, but every action he took was to help subservient boys realize their true potential. The freemen were whom he strived to protect. He never wanted harm to come to them, let alone by his hand.
“Ok, kid. Do as I say. You’re not going to suck my cock, but you still have to play your role for the cameras until the race ends. Nod if you understand.”
The boy nodded, his face falling into the man’s shoulder blade. He was tired. Alexander patted his head soothingly as he had to Cameron during his first sleepless nights in the dungeon. He will never forget how the boy fell asleep in his arms, his jittering limbs growing still and breathing steadying just as the twink did now.
“You’re going to be safe. I will get you and the rest of your friends out of this. I just need you to bear with me a while longer.”
“Because I need an opening to get the device that controls your collar away from that perverted prick.”
“No… I mean, why help me? Aren’t you like him? Y-you said y-you wanted to lock my cock up. What makes you any different? H-how do I know you aren’t some sick dude just trying to take me for himself.”
Alexander’s hand tightened around the boy’s hair. He hated the insolence of that statement. He was nothing like the Wrangler, nothing like the men who attended these gatherings. He was a civil servant to boys everywhere and a hero to the freeman. How dare such a worthless twerp call his actions into question. He wanted to throw the boy to the floor and show him what it truly meant to submit, how it could feel to be truly broken. But instead, his grip loosened, and his hand began to stroke again. Doing any of those things would just prove the boy right, and if The Caped Wonder was to be the hero the world needed, he needed to start proving them wrong.
“You can trust me because I have a slave already. I’m not looking for another. He’s a slave of his own free will, serving me because it’s what he was born to do. This was not the role you were born for, and I will fight tooth and nail to make sure that it isn’t one you die for. Can you trust me?”
The boy’s body shivered once again before his head gave a faint and startled nod.
“Goo-,” Alexander stopped himself. The twink was not a slave to be trained with positive reinforcement. He was a victim pushing through his fear to extend a gift. “I mean, thank you. Just stratal my lap and pretend you’re sucking my neck. You don’t have for long. Give yourself breaks and just nuzzle into me and breathe. But be sure to switch sides every once and a while, or someone might get suspicious… I promise this will be over soon. You have my word.”
The twink did as he was asked. He sucked gingerly on the stubble peppering the Master’s neck as he ground his pelvis into the man’s chest. Alexander’s hand rested at the boy’s waist firmly. He held the boy with each thrust of his hips, a reassuring pressure being all he could offer.
A sudden crackle rang out over the intercoms of the viewers’ box, causing the boy’s body to stiffen.
“Gentlemen and Masters, welcome one and all to the all-star derby,” an eccentric voice boomed through.
Down in the center of the field below, Alexander could make out the impish figure of the Wrangler. Atop his balding head sat a gaudy ringmaster’s top hat between his outstretched arms. In one hand, he grasped a lion-tamers whip curled tightly; a prop Alexander could hardly ever imagine the old pudge actually using. It was merely a decoration to fit the man’s delusion, but Alexander’s eyes nonetheless stayed trained on the device. He would be damned if he let such a barbaric instrument be used on his boy.
“Tonight, witness the racing prowess of some of the finest slaves in the state. Many Masters and agencies have submitted their strongest meat for the test, but only one will reign supreme. Gentlemen, give it up for tonight’s competitors!”
The box boomed with excitement as the dominants leaned forward in their seats to catch a glimpse of the humiliated slaves below.
Alexander grumbled as his grip on the twink’s waist tightened, signaling him to cease his gyration. The twink’s head tilted. The bridge of his nose connected effortlessly with the dominant’s neck. He huffed. His breaths were shallow and exhausted at first but began to deepen with each intake. He could rest for a moment. No one would fault him for it. His body went limp, snuggling into Alexander, who wrapped his arms around the boy’s chilled flesh.
Around him, the men in their distinguished suits continued to holler like animals, their cheers only increasing at the sight of the first boy as he exited onto the field below. Alexander’s heart stopped briefly as he inspected the slave from his seat. He had hoped it be Cameron, that he would see his slave and instantly know he was ok. But it wasn’t. Instead, a bulky muscled stooge led the precession. His dick was long, and drooped to his knees. It swung aimlessly as the slave’s hoofed backless high heels clopped forward onto the field. He led in another man, the two connected by a line of chain that seemed to stretch back to the rest of the contestants.
One-by-one, the zombified slaves trudged forward, their eyes glazed over with exhaustion, and their dicks beat red from the machines. One after the other with the same silicone dildo bobbing in and out of their throats as the slaves tried desperately to keep their locking jaws fixed open. Every once and a while, the wrangler would hop with glee as he lashed his whip out to the slaves’ behinds. Each time, the slave would get a burst of energy. It would struggle against the chains and charge headlong towards the slave in front of him. He would, of course, be tugged back into place, but the discomfort this caused seemed to give the Wrangler some satisfaction.
Alexander watched the crowd intently. Soon, a figure emerged who was unlike the rest. This slave stood taller. His walk was more trained, regal even. This was not a character Alexander had observed in the stalls. The slave himself was covered head to toe in what the Master could only imagine calling a gimp-horse outfit. A custom-fitted shining suit stretched over every inch of the slave’s body, culminating in an atomically corrected jet-black horse head that concealed the slave’s features.
The slave’s posture was impeccable. Each step in the chains was a stride as he made his way onto the field, never faltered by the speed of his competitors or the backless heels. His hoofed hands were held out before him, wrists limp. Still, one significant difference was most notable in this true stallion. Outstretch before the slave wobbled a hardened cock so long it threatened to poke the competitor before him. The cock was not only impressive in size and girth but had also been fashioned in that of a horse, even culminating at a flat tip.
A prosthetic, Alexander wondered to himself as his eyes traced the prominent veins in the appendage. Whatever it was, it was quite impressive and would indeed work to hamper the contestant’s abilities on the track. Most of all, it was humiliating. Alexander’s cock became hard under the pressure of the twink’s ass as he imagined what kind of man could train a boy, no, break a boy so holistically. This stallion walked as a slave with every step, his freedom never coming into question. It was something Alexander wished to instill in his protege. Perhaps he’d meet the man who broke this steed one day and learn his secrets.
Then, as if in stark contrast to the competitor before him, Cameron stepped out onto the field. His head hung low, and his feet visibly shook in agony as he struggled forward. Alexander gritted his teeth. He knew they should have spent more time in those damn heels. After this, he’d be forcing the boy to run a mile a day in them as punishment for the embarrassment he caused his Master. Still, Alexander could not help but feel slightly relieved. His boy was safe; his tight little hole plugged with a fine black tail that Alexander could not wait to see flutter in the wind. Of course, this was a mission, but the two of them could still have a little fun.
“There he is,” a voice called out from Alexander’s side.
Alexander turned to see a familiar face walking down the steps to his seat. Demetri Poindexter was an RND lead at Alexander’s firm, the Allegiant Corporation. Alexander let out a huff under his breath. He had never much cared for the man, always finding him too nosey and a slave to the opinions of others. He was always so quick to please those around him, the worst offender in corporate brown-nosing. However, unlike a slave, Poindexter was a freeman through and through, making his character flaws all that more pester-some to Alexander.
“That’s your boy down there, isn’t it,” Poindexter questioned as he sat next to the man.
The twink in Alexander’s lap began to shake, attempting to push upwards and begin his act again. Alexander held him tight and still, not allowing him to rise. Poindexter was many things, but a snitch was not one of them. He could be trusted for the most part.
“It is,” Alexander confirmed hesitantly.
“That sounded like a question. Trouble in paradise?”
“No, everything’s fine. Yes, that’s him. The blonde one,” Alexander clarified.
“You sure he’s good down there? There’s some pretty stiff competition, if you catch my drift.”
“What are you doing here, Poindexter?” Alexander rolled his eyes.
He would not entertain the man’s silly puns, especially outside work hours. He had to deal with them often enough in their day-to-day interactions.
“Enjoying the show, of course. What can I say, boss? You’re a real inspiration. After seeing how you commanded Jackson and now… well, I mean, it’s kinda hot. Clearly, I’m not the only one who thinks so,” Poindexter said.
He then turned to look at the two’s colleagues who lined the room’s sofas, eagerly shouting and playing with the slaves at their disposal.
“There’s more to it than ‘being hot.’” Alexander corrected through gritted teeth.
“Oh, I mean, sure there is. But you gotta give us a break. Before you, we didn’t even know about boys with… a proclivity to serve,” Poindexter said.
He reached other to the twink in Alexander’s lap. He gently stroked the twink’s shaking thigh, moving his long fingers towards the boy’s cock. Alexander did not protest. He simply held the boy, silently promising not to let go.
“They make it so easy. But, sadly, I could never.”
Poindexter took his hand back and placed it in his lap. The twink unclenched his muscles, his breathing returning to normal.
“I’m mainly here for the show. I would love to maybe buy a boy at auction, but we both know I don’t get paid enough for that. Besides, I’m sure you’ll be bringing yours around the office soon enough for us to have some fun with. His name’s Cameron, isn’t it?”
“He has no name,” Alexander grunted. “That question alone shows that even if you could afford a boy, you don’t deserve one, Poindexter. A slave is an object. Property. He is not a person. At most, he is a pet. You must never, under any circumstances, refer to him as that again. Not now that he is locked. Do I make myself clear?”
“Sheesh, boss, totally,” Poindexter said, dramatically holding his hands up in the air. “No name for the slave. Gotcha. Is that what went wrong with the last one? He ran away cause we called him ‘Jackson’ at the office?”
Alexander’s fists clenched into tight fists at the mention of the name. His arms tightened around the twink, causing him to squirm.
“My previous slave is none of your concern,” he finally stated. “But I’ll give you this: I went wrong in many places with that boy. My training was weak, and I allowed too much of his freeman spirit to stay in my home. The fag I own now has no such spirit. He is a blank slate and a permanent fixture. He will not be going anywhere. That, I can assure you.” Alexander glared over at his employee to cement this statement.
Poindexter just sat smiling back, his eyes coldly locking with Alexander’s own. It almost seemed as though he were attempting to challenge him somehow.
“We will see, I suppose,” he finally said, turning back to the show ahead.
Down on the field, the final boy had exited onto the track. All slaves stood in a single file line that stretched down the arena. They were arranged facing the box as handlers came around to unfasten the holding chain from each slave’s collar.
Cameron stood lamely next to the stallion. His frail body struggled against the bindings as he attempted to stay aloft. The subtle twists of the boy’s shoulders were almost cute to Alexander if it had not looked so unprofessional compared to the slack-jawed compliance of the other slaves.
“Now, take a good look at your prizes, men,” the Wrangler spoke as he descended from his podium onto the field. He walked forward to the slaves, weaving in and out of the rows as he inspected each one. Every once in a while, he would give a smack to their dick to make them jump. This was typically followed by cheers from the crowd.
“Today, these slaves will race for better lives. Winners of this hoof race will consist of first, second, and third places and will become personal foot slaves to yours truly. The remainder will be auctioned off after the show, initially priced by place. Want a good home, boys?” The Wrangler asked his slaves.
Each let out the only feverish moans they could muster through the gags. Some even choked as their jaws clenched, causing the dildo to plunge down their throats. Cameron stood taller here, his gag reflex wholly trained out of him. Of this, Alexander was proud.
“Heh, alrighty then,” the Wrangler said as he approached the stallion. “And who do we have here? I hope there’s a regulation gag under that hood.”
The Wrangler placed his hand on the stallion’s snout but quickly removed it. He looked to his hand in astonishment. The Wrangler’s palm was covered in a black goo that trickled down his wrist.
“What the hell?” He asked.
Before he could say anything further, he fell over in pain. He gripped his wrist tightly in his opposite hand. The goo snaked from one palm to the next, weaving itself through the man’s fingers and multiplying as it continued its coverage. The Wrangler let out a pained yell.
Alexander shot up and pushed the twink from his lap. He ran to the window to watch helplessly as the horror unfolded below.
Before anyone could act, the stallion turned to the slave to his left. He took the muscled man by the neck, and immediately, the same black goo trickled down the slave’s naked body. The slave kicked and screamed through the gag as the goo wrapped around his body the same as it had the Wranglers. The stallion dropped the slaves contorting body to the dirt, allowing the organism to take over its unwilling host while he sought new prey.
Guards rushed to the field, firearms in hand.
“No!” The Wrangler screamed out through his pain. “They’re worth more alive. I’ll put a stop to this.”
Through the aches in his hands, the Wrangler reached into his pocket and pulled out the small shock remote he’d used earlier.
“Say nighty, n-night.”
He clicked the button, and instantly, every slave in the complex fell to their knees. The ones on the field struggled against their arm bindings, wanting desperately to claw at the collars locked around their necks. The boys in the box whaled as their would-be dominants threw them to the floor to sputter uselessly on their own.
The men in the box all stood and rushed to the window to watch alongside Alexander. There, they saw the stallion below, standing amongst his fallen contestants unscathed.
“Holy shit,” Poindexter said.
The men in the box muttered frantically. Some asked if this was a part of the show. Others offered that the group should leave before the cops were called.
Below, the stallion clopped forward. He was slow and methodical in his movements, much like the Caped Wonder himself moved when he knew that his prey was trapped. The Wrangler scurried backward, kicking up dust as he tried to push away. The goo was traveling up the sides of his face now; however, he still fought to flee.
“No, no, you can’t do this.” He screamed.
On the field, Cameron struggled to his feet, the shock collar still in full effect.
Alexander pounded the glass.
“You stupid faggot, stay down!” He screamed.
The men looked at him, shocked. He didn’t care.
The stallion loomed over the Wrangler. He stopped moving, his body stiffening under the control of the organism.
“W-why?” The Wrangler managed to stammer as the goo flooded his mouth.
The stallion did not answer. He only lifted his hoof and planted it down swiftly on the man’s head.
The viewer’s box erupted in hysterical screams. Men rushed for the exit. Only two remained, Poindexter and Alexander, both transfixed by the pool forming around the Wrangler’s corpse.
“Dear god,” Poindexter said, his hands rushing to cover his mouth. “I’m going to be sick. We- we have to get out of here. That thing is going to-”
Poindexter stopped short as the two witnessed Cameron launch into a full gallop. The boy trotted forward at full speed until his body collided with the stallion, knocking both him and the beast to the dirt.
“No!” Alexander screamed, his fists banging on the glass.
“Sir…,” Poindexter attempted, reaching out to his boss, but it was too late.
Blind with rage, Alexander whipped around to the rest of the viewer’s box. It was empty now, save for the unconscious slaves which littered the floor. His eyes scanned the room, searching for something he could use, anything. In the corner of the room, he spotted a steel serving trolly. He rushed over, taking the cart by its handles and pushing it forward into place.
“Shut the fuck up, Poindexter, and clear these men out of here.”
“Don’t you mean boy-.”
“No. They’re men. Every last one. Victims of the Wrangler. Help them out of here and get them somewhere safe. I’ll deactivate the collars when I can.”
“Do this, or you’re fired,” Alexander commanded.
Poindexter’s mouth zipped shut at the threat. He started by picking up the boy that had danced for Alexander. He held the boy bridle style and made a b-line for the door.
Once he was sure Poindexter was gone, Alexander unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the latex garment beneath. He abandoned his outer clothes and reached back into the fold of his cape, fishing out a small latex mask. Quickly he pulled the mask over his face and then gripped the cart handles firmly.
Below, he could see the stallion rising. It looked dazed at first but then turned its attention to Cameron. The boy lay there, struggling to regain his footing, unable to push himself up off of his back.
Alexander took a deep breath and then launched into a determined sprint towards the window, the trolley sputtering before him.