The Sex Slave’s Journal

Editor’s note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

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Will anyone ever read this? I found an old Spell n’ Play, a mere toy, but it has enough memory for me to write a journal. If you ever find this, will it make any difference?

It’s 2023 and the world has changed.

I can see out into the ranch through the bathroom window. It’s changed too. When I was the ramrod, over a year ago now, it was a going operation. We raised 4000 cattle a year. 4000 magnificent beasts roaming the various pastures.

But now it works more like a factory. An unnatural meat producing machine, albeit one that contains all the remaining cattle of the whole world. No regular person out there even knows they’re here. The masses were told that they all had to be killed to save the planet.

I’m not allowed outside anymore, and the old owner has long since been reallocated to a new role wherever the government decided he would be “most productive.”

The new man in charge is a despicable worm who defied the rulers by faking my death and making me his sex slave.

Today my job was to workout as I have to keep my body strong and hunky. Then he had me kneel under his desk sucking his wormy little dick for about two hours while he made reports to his higher ups, or pleaded with his wife, or manipulated his mistress. I think it (my slavery) was his way of rebelling. I don’t dare let on to the outside world, or things wouldn’t go well for my daughter, who still lives somewhere on the ranch.

But I still dream…if he were caught he would disappear too, like so many others. For all their talk of sexual liberty and rights, as soon as they were in power all the gays ceased to exist. No government that priortized the state over the individual ever respected our gay friends. I sometimes think about my friend Smitty, did he find his way back into the closet, or a big ditch? How were we ever so gullible to ever imagine that the rulers would only lie for us yet not to us?

Down there on the floor my knees hurt and my hips cramped up before he allowed me to roll over slightly to ease the pain. He never came, he didn’t even get hard. It was all a stupid mind fuck.

Of course, there are other days when he blows his crappy load down my throat, on my face, or in my bum. I smile and put on a show. Today, however, he just sat at his desk appeasing his own overlords over the phone.

I don’t get to talk to anybody except my master. My existence is a complete secret. I’m sure even my wife must think I’m dead. I pray for her, but deep down I know she must have tried to make her way back here to us, after her reallocation. Surely she, like so many others, would have been shot, trying to oppose her placement.

Day 2 since starting my journal:

I was woken up this morning when Anicio tried to stick his tongue up my ass. Half asleep I remembered the time my dear Jessica did it to me. It was an attempt at a special anniversary present. I loved her for the effort but in the end it wasn’t my thing.

Meanwhile, in the present, I don’t know why a man would debase himself in that way, but Master sure seemed to enjoy himself. Obviously, I let him do it, pretending to like it, pushing my dirty ass back against his lips.

He rolled me over only to deliver a truly great blowjob clearly perfected by years of cocksucking practice. I must have given him a quart. I had my eyes closed so I wouldn’t see his chubby rounded back. Though I didn’t have to pretend when I ground my pelvis into his warm mouth.

Getting up, Anicio announced, “From now on we end every sex act by blowing your big cock. It’s basic operant conditioning. By ending with your orgasms you’ll come to like all of it. In time you’ll beg to suck me off.

Then he went to write some reports, sweating buckets the whole time. I couldn’t let him get….’fired’. From across the room I offered, “They grow faster if you give them a little grain.” Then I lied, “I’m looking forward to your dick growing faster too.” (I can use Operant conditioning too.)

Day 26 (I think)

Anicio’s been spending a lot of time in his chambers, which means I can’t journal often. I think he’s depressed. He barely works; he just has sex to distract himself. He blows me every time, and while it feels great, I still despise his ever wormy little dick. When I swallow his cum I lick my lips with a deceptive smile, adding some compliment on his ranching knowledge. But really I’m trying to teach him without his knowing it. The idiot jeapordizes the entire ranch, and even his very life by keeping me as a sex object, when I could be running this ranch a thousand times better than the beuracratic pencil pusher.

Day 27

I was kneeling in front of Anicio, holding onto his thighs to keep my balance. Soon enough he started to get animated in my mouth when I saw a pair of gorgeous ladies’ legs approaching. I tried to warn him by frantically tapping his thighs but he mistook my signal as me not liking his dick in my mouth.

Not caring, he wrapped his arms about my head really starting to thrust. It didn’t hurt, he wasn’t long enough to hurt. Well, he did jam my lips against my teeth with his pubic bone. Then he groaned, “Take my cum, Boy. I’m gonna feed you.

The first bitter spurt landed on my tongue just when she cleared her throat, “Yes Dear, feed him…It sure looks like you’re enjoying yourself.” His knees buckled – half from the orgasm and half from fright. He crumpled to the ground covering his groin with his hands as if that could hide what he’d done.

“Oh Darling, don’t be so dramatic. I don’t care what you do with your toys. In fact, if it keeps you from climbing on top of me, keep it up.” Looking at me lustfully, naked on my knees, she continued, “But he’s really handsome. Now that I know about him I’m gonna use him too… Actually, from now on he’s mine. You can only have him when I’m around. Now sit down over there and watch while a real man fucks me.”

Day 60

Things have turned up around here. Anicio’s wife only wants sex sporadically and he won’t make me do anything unless she’s around.

On another note, they talk in front of me as if I don’t exist. I’ve learned the ranch isn’t producing enough meat to meet the demands of the rich and powerful. I hinted that I can solve their problems.

Day 61

Celia has started catching up with me later. At least she’s smart enough to ask for my advice when she realizes they don’t know what they fuck the’re doing. But she only talks to me in private and doesn’t tell him I’m the source of her knowledge.

Her first concern was how to double production. After questioning her I was able to explain that they needed to let more of the calves grow up rather than selling them as veal. It would decrease output of veal for a time but in the long term it would pay off. She frowned. Then they should increase the cost of liver, heart, tripe, and marrow by a factor of ten. Tell the elites that it’s a rare delicacy, then that would shift demand away from muscle meat. This peaked her interest. Money always interests the corrupt.

Day 62

Last night in bed I worked on my plan. I had half of it worked out when Celia slipped into bed with me naked. I was already nude because that’s how I’m required to sleep. She reached her hand around, grasping my cock, stroking me till I began to grow.

She pressed her breasts into my back snuggling up real close. She kept snuggling closer, pushing my body as she took over the center of the bed. Her feet felt cold against mine, in contrast I could feel the warmth from her groin.

My cock thickened and rose to its full length while she just squeezed firmly but enjoyably. My body inched closer to the edge, forcing me to use my hands to keep from rolling out of bed.

Just then Anicio stepped up placing his awkwardly bent and twisted, throbbing worm to my lips. Celia’s breath was ragged and hot on my neck as she tangled her other hand in my hair. Cupping the back of my head she used her hand to push my mouth around his hard dick. I don’t think she enjoys sex in the normal way: she seems to get off more on playing with us.

Anicio pumped violently while she frigged herself and me. He was right about Operant Conditioning: I liked sucking his dick now, but mainly because it meant I got to hear her call him every nasty name in the book.

And boy did she love abusing him: “That’s right you faggot, show me how you crave a hot hunky man. I think you like him more than I do. Tell me again how you fuck your face on his cock after you abuse his mouth. Do you like this huge cock in your worthless mouth?” She shook my cock in the air while saying this. Would you suck it after he fucks me? Or would my pussy juices spoil it for you?”

Her humiliation drove him to heights of ecstasy. No sooner had she mentioned sucking my cock than he grabbed my head with both hands unloading a torrent of pent up cum. With three of their hands immobilizing my head I had no control at all.

I would have swallowed, as that’s what he likes, but Celia placed her hand under my mouth demanding that I spit it into her palm. Reaching up, she surprised me by wiping our mixed ejaculate and spit all over Anacio’s lips and face. He seemed neither surprised nor put off. They weren’t just nasty, to me it seemed like they delighted in abusing and torturing each other and others.

On her command he dropped to his knees engulfing about seven inches of my cock which she was again jerking. Only now her hand was slippery with cum and she was jerking me into his mouth. I know he loved it but I still joined, privately, into her fantasy, imagining that my cock in his mouth was a revenge I could heap upon him.

When her fingers flew over her clit in an orgasmic climax it pushed me over the edge causing me to fill his mouth with cum. Then I lost balance and went over the edge with a thud.

Day 70

I snuck out last night. I’ve never been locked in, they simply knew they could hurt my daughter if I ever ran away. I wanted to look for her but since it would take days to visit all the residences on the ranch I didn’t have time.

I did have time to initiate my grand plan however. Heading first to the food lab I found some of the mRNA altered Clostridium Botulinum III cultures and started growing a huge batch in the back of a little used fridge. Normally it’s just used as a control to test for the toxin but I could change that.

Then I made my way to the packaging facility where I rewrote the code so the machines would stop using preservatives and nitrogen when wrapping the meat.

After that I rushed back to my quarters, stripped off my clothes and jumped into bed still wet with nervous perspiration.

I made it by the skin of my teeth. The door squeaked open: I pretended to sleep face down into the pillow. I waited for Celia wondering only if we would be alone or if Anicio would join us. I hoped I didn’t smell bad or my excursion might get discovered.

Entering from the foot of the bed I felt her crawl up, uncharacteristically kissing my muscular thighs, making her way to my ass.

Unexpectedly, it was Anicio coming for a secret rendezvous. This was a ritual he hadn’t enjoyed since Celia moved back. He must have known she wasn’t around to catch him.

He started whispering, “Wake up Puppet. I want you. Ooooh, I’ve missed your smell. It’s better than I remember!” Saying this he stuck, first his nose into my ass, then started rimming my sweat-slicked hole.

I’d forgotten what it felt like. It didn’t seem so bad now. I secretly delighted in the knowledge that he was licking my asshole, not knowing I had been running around the compound working up a sweat. I promised myself that, from now on, when I took a dump I wouldn’t wipe too fastidiously.

I lifted my ass (he expected it). He pried my cheeks apart with chubby fingers trying to get equally chubby cheeks deeper into my crevice. His tongue swiped my sphincter then poked at it seeking to enter. He spent enough time lapping my bum that I finally relaxed, even noticing the sensual effect it had on my body.

By the time he licked up my spine my balls were drawn up tight under a firm erection. I was expecting him to roll me over for what he called ‘auto-irrumatio’.

Instead he pulled out a little baggie, which I knew from experience contained a small lump of butter. This was my least favorite activity as he always seemed to last forever.

One would expect him to rub the butter all over my asshole, but as usual he just pushed the little plug of butter inside me before climbing on top. Was he being inept or cruel?

His soft tubby barrel chest rested on my back. He bit my neck, then fumbled around lining up his naked dick with my barely greased opening. (It didn’t feel wormy when he sodomized me, the intrusion gave his dick gravitas it otherwise lacked.) He would wait a moment, until he was absolutely sure the line of attack was right, then he would plunge in rapidly in one quick painful thrust. When I could, I would beat him to the moment of penetration, fucking myself back on his little blade, only slower than he would go if he had his way.

When I succeeded, like tonight, we both knew he had been deprived from expressing his anger, but we never acknowledged it.

His weight on me made breathing a chore. As I wiggled my bum into his pistoning stabs I tilted and shifted my body so I could more easily take in air. Anacio seemed to interpret my actions as a complimentary passion.

He fucked me faster and faster. The butter wasn’t sufficient to keep it from burning. I gritted my teeth resting on my elbows until it was over. He was wheezing now from the exertion. Soon enough, within another ten minutes, he would be out of breath, and give up, or dribble his little spurt in my rectum.

It was worse when he gave up. On those days he would bend me over a sawhorse which was set up in a corner, continuing to finger-fuck my sore ass, while he jerked off. Luckily today, he rose up on his palms pushing hard into my shitter as if hoping to penetrate just one more inch, then with a groan he left his seed behind.

I didn’t move: listening to him patter across the floor to the door without saying a word. I wiped myself off with more thoughts of revenge. Not so much a personal reprisal as a counterblow on behalf of the helpless many.

Day 73

I was doing sit ups in my room naked with the door open and I could hear them whining angrily in the next room. Anacio was practically crying, “We’re getting reports from all over of meat spoiling after only a few days. What the fuck is happening?”

Then Celia’s response, “I don’t care what the fuck is happening! Replace the meat before we end up butchered and stuffed inside little packages ourselves! Then make sure it never happens again or your butt goes first!”

It was only an hour later that Anacio was down on the packing floor and Celia was in my room asking what to do. I lied: “I was just the Ramrod. I know all about steers but the packaging is beyond me. Still, if I were you I would ship everyday instead of once a week, and shorten the ‘use by’ date so it only gets eaten the same day it arrives.”

She spun on her heel, huffing off, but also spun a story to the elite so they would do just that. Nevertheless, my masters had no choice but to enact my suggestion which increased cost and exacerbated the shortage. All according to my plan.

Day 75

I overheard Anacio on the phone yelling at the vet. He had removed about five percent of the cattle from production. On top of the shortages caused by my masters’ incompetence, plus my own interventions, there were going to be some very powerful assholes who had only vegetables for dinner for the first time. Millions of the little people could only dream of actual vegetables. Bug meal was the most common staple.

Day 77

I entered the bedroom from the Gym only to see Celia lounging in a chair while Anacio lay on his back on my bed. Celia jumped up snapping her fingers, “Just in time.” She climbed on top of the worm-man grinding her cunt onto his face in a reverse cowgirl. “Fuck me, Slave!”

I walked up behind her pulling my meat to get it hard. I could smell her arousal but also could tell she hadn’t washed in a few days.

I had to pretend I actually liked her or I wouldn’t be able to get it up. I grabbed her lithe shapely waist, putting the head of my cock against her smelly pussy lips to gather some natural lube. As I started to enter she shook her long shiny black hair across her back, “Pound it hard. Make sure your balls rub across the spineless sissy’s nose every time.”

I was happy to comply. Abusing them was one of my few joys and I’d never met a woman yet who wasn’t at least uncomfortable when my big bat pounded her in this position.

I’m sure she knew my gym schedule and I’m sure she was counting on my nuts being very ripe. True to my expectations, she grunted painfully each time I bottomed out against her cervix. He was licking her unsavory puss and my balls but when she started deriding his “stumpy” erection I knew he was loving it.

Celia produced a little five inch leather whip with multiple cords and started abusing Anacio’s dick and balls. With each strike she snarled, “This is for not being a real man! This is for getting us stuck on this hateful ranch instead of the plantation! This is for having a wormy dick!” (I guess she did listen to my random chatter when we fucked)

Despite the pain she bounced on my pole. I assume it was so she could smash into Anacio’s face. She kept up her tirade while misusing his face and genitals, “This is for not meeting the shipping quotas?” I heard the whip sting, nearly feeling a moment of compassion for the man who raped me so often.

I didn’t plan to unleash the next part of my plan yet, but at this moment it just felt right, “Aren’t there a couple bunch of bison in the old national park?”

They kept fucking furiously as if they didn’t hear me. More likely they didn’t understand. “Doesn’t bison taste just enough like beef?”

The realization of my words hit them simultaneously. In an instant they both jumped up running out of the room still naked, dripping, and for Anacio, with welts on his shrunken penis.

Looking out their office windows I saw a caravan of trucks leave the ranch about a half hour later. I figured the bison would make it to the packing floor within five hours. Meanwhile, walking up to Anacio’s computer on the wall, I opened the controls for the packing equipment. It only took me a minute to reconfigure the settings. I smirked thinking that they probably didn’t even know the machines could be set from up here.

That night Celia was in a great mood. Anacio never re-entered his office. Presumably he was supervising the packing operation all night. She approached me wearing a slinky negligee – as if she needed to, or could, seduce me.

She stood in front of me caressing my chest, “Make love to me, Henry.” I was shocked. I didn’t imagine she could make love. I never considered we would ever engage like that. I never even dreamed she knew my name.

I didn’t forget I was her slave. I calculated: there was a tiny chance my plot would be discovered. There was a tinier chance she would be the one to figure it out. This could be a distraction. I would submit to my master. It would seem to her like we made love. But I could never feel a positive emotion toward her or any of our subjugators.

Celia dropped her negligee. She was stunning in her matching red bra, thong, suspenders, and stockings. I took her in my arms. I kissed her shoulder. I stroked her neck tenderly – but really I was thinking I could choke her right then and there.

I guided her over to the bed gently nudging her with my hand on her hip. Laying her down on the bed I hovered over her sexy body looking into her beautiful, brown, but evil eyes. I resumed kissing her delectable body. Which was actually truly lovely.