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417 was not wholly prepared for the frame. Bondage frames were easy, standing, kneeling, stocks, all of these had been used in the past with his Owner and were approached with the excitement and eagerness of an experienced bondage slave. The feelings of desperation and neediness merged with that excitement because of his Master's insistence that orgasms -- cumming -- only happened in strict unyielding bondage. The humiliation of never seeing his cock free, feeling always it pulled back as if it was an udder not the dick he spent a decade stroking before his enslavement, always melted into indescribable pleasure as the only man to touch him unlocked did so with expert care.
This was different.
No blindfolds eliminating his sight this time, instead blinders and the collar of the frame restricting his vision to a screen on the opposite wall of the far too small stall where he had been kept the past hour. On the screen played video after video of large men in exactly the same frame, hobbled and restrained as they struggled in their bondage, miserable moans obviously in their expressions as clearly as the dripping of precum dripping underneath their throbbing cocks. They seemed to look straight at 417 with their own three numbers written on their left pec just like his.
And he saw his fate, as each and every video that he had seen in the past hour in the frame proceeded exactly the same: a man, panting in arousal approached by anonymous agents of the same type that had locked 417 upon his arrival of this strange facility. Manipulations hard to see directly, obscured by the angle focused on the men's faces, but plainly causing agitation, frustration and then finally begging in the captives. If there was a relief or release from the agony of the prisoners the video always cut out before that point to be replaced by another man, and another cycle of excruciating denial.
An hour of watching aroused hopelessness, but no sound from any of the clips ever came of his ears. Instead from the installed earbuds white noise emanated into his consciousness that briefly ended at the same time as a clip's end to give hope that the next video might finally include the accompanied sounds. Because the truth of the matter is that 417 even in his bondage and the obvious imminent torture found every single video hot as fuck.
Hot, sexy, and a realization hit him as he knew his own cock was as hard as the one in the next video before the man's ordeal started. The man, too, had begun his trial watching videos on a screen in front of him to turn him on, and it was likely sometime in the future 417's next moments would be replayed for men in the same predicament to watch and get aroused from. 417 couldn't help but moan from the abject humiliation of being turned into just another in a long line of sex toys and his eyes went blank when more precum pulsed from his already too needy nub.
Some indeterminate time later a door opened, not that 417 had any conception as his first realization he was no longer alone was the feeling of having his defenceless hole prepared with some sort of lube. His eyes went wide knowing his turn to suffer was about to begin and a moan escaped his lips before he had a chance to stop it. The actual penetration was light, clinical even, and he felt a generous squirt of the stuff pushed inside him as the sense of violation by an unseen stranger assaulted his dignity.
Something, a cream perhaps and perhaps the same substance that had just entered him was now rubbed into his perineum in a practiced manner by a latex gloved hand. Already engorged from the visual assault on his senses, his taint responded to the stimulation, and he began imitating all those men who had passed by on the screen getting lost in the expertise of their treatments. It hit 417 at this moment how well and truly fucked he would be.
It was like, but not exactly like, whenever his Master forced him to take hits of poppers before being edged. He could feel his body flush and then a feeling of dropping as his mind emptied and all the nuances of what was physically happening occupied every corner of his conscious mind. An itch that wasn't an itch, deep inside his hole and then just as quickly spreading across his taint. Then he heard his Master's voice as the din of white noise changed to the overlapping sounds of men ruthlessly being edged.
《This slave exists to serve and please》
《This slave is a toy for the enjoyment of men》
《This slave's place in life is to listen, wait, and obey》
The dropping feeling, like the beginning of a roller coaster, continued as he reflexively squeezed his hole to try to alleviate the strengthening sensation. He was hot, panting a bit as a building wave hit his brain in pulses each time purging his thoughts and centering all his attention on his hole before receding and replaced by the sounds of his Master's voice overlayed with the sound of lube slick cocks being tormented and tortured. And then another pulse slightly stronger, slightly faster cycled his mind right back to his rhythmically clenching hole. He began to start testing his restraints again, a signal to the waiting technician to begin the next step.
《This slave was made to suffer for the entertainment of superior men》
《This slave deserves no privacy or rights, just duties and obligations》
《This slave will never stroke, just be milked like an animal for its Owner's amusement》
This was just like Master, who delighted in mindfucking his slaves almost as much as being worshipped by their tongues, and certainly not the first time he had felt his dripping cock grabbed out of view with His voice droning in his ears. Whatever the other men experienced 417 knew his Master loved when his slave only had pleasure by His direction, design, and with thoughts of Him ever present in 417's mind. Now it was a small comfort in an unfamiliar setting, with an unknown person touching his less-than-private areas, that all this was another extension of his unconditional surrender. He actually relaxed a bit at this, before another pulse forced a moan from him and his mind away from lucid thought.
《This slave needs its Master to tell it what to think》
《This slave's obedience is its pleasure. This slave's pleasure is its obedience》
《This slave needs its Master to tell it what to do》
417 loudly keened when he was finally able to process that the technician had been using a lube on his dick with the same consistency of what was causing the sensory overload coming from his asshole. It was enough, far more than enough already! He continued to test the limits and durability of the restraints and a low growl of frustration connected him to the loss of humanity he had watched over and over on the screen. Aroused men to captured men to agitated animals to defeated livestock each and every time and no chance to do anything at all but react to each new attack on their awareness. 417, despite having seen it happen at least a dozen of times and with time to prepare, had proved no more capable than all the rest of resisting the subjugation of chemical bliss.
《This slave is meant to be kept in a state of denial, chaste and aroused for the benefit of its owner》
《This slave needs to worship its Owner's feet, cock, and asshole》
《This slave accepts and needs to be displayed, trained, and controlled for its own good》
Sometimes, in the more banal acts of service he performed for his Master in the past, his mind would wander to more extreme scenarios of deprivation, to stricter tighter bondage. Fantasies of less than the obedient compliant reverence of a slave worshipping and more of the captive forced to comply with the threat of painful correction. Scenarios he had no interest in living but every interest of imagining as he served as an owned sex toy. This torture now was too similar to some of those fantasies, he thought with the bits of conscious processing power the experience was living him with. Rising in heat, eyes rolling into the back of his head, the pulsing from his cock expertly synchronized with the pulses from his hole to eliminate respite. And he wasn't even being touched.
And he wasn't even being touched!
《This slave is a hole for use》
《This slave loves to be restricted》
《This slave's opinions don't matter》
417 felt a small rod enter his hole and he yelled in the futile helplessness of being unable to avoid it. The rod rested firmly against his prostate and began to vibrate prompting 417 to laugh. This would break him. Master was going to break him! This person, unknown and unseen, was going to break him! It was too much, too much, too goddamn much! He started softly repeating "please... please... please..." but it didn't matter as against his perineum he felt another smooth rounded object press firmly right on the other side of where his prostate lay. It, too, began to vibrate and did so unlike any other times his Master had idly pressed a magic wand against taint. Whether it was the angle, the impact of the vibrations coming from the other side, the combinations of speed and frequency, or just simply the impact of the unknown cream, 417 would never know. All he knew now was sex. Sex, and denial, and bondage, and frustration, and always his Master's voice.
《This slave owes its Master immediate submission and obedience》
《This slave must let its superiors use it as they please》
《This slave deserves to be denied the freedoms others get, to be desperate and aroused without relief or release》
When the technician grabbed his cock from behind, pointing it down and holding it firmly in a strong grip, 417 felt faint. He would cum. Of course he would, he was sure that he was going to after just a few moments of the vibrations. An inevitable consequence of Master so ruthlessly bringing a fantasy to life that 417 might have registered surprise that it hadn't already happened hands free if such things were still able to register. As it was the slow mechanical feel of the stroking up and down, up and down, up and down, prompted the automatic vocalization that 417 made every time he got close.
"Mm mm mm mm mm!"
"Mm mm mm mm mm!"
Through long experience of his Master's indifference to ruining his orgasm and the punishment polishing that invariably resulted from unauthorized release, 417 has been programmed to warn anyone touching him far further from the edge as to barely see the cliff at all. The technician didn't know the prearranged signal trained into him, didn't know 417 as anything other than anonymous cattle, and continued to slowly and deliberately stroke up and down, up and down, up and down, always pointing down, always pointing down directly to the floor. 417 was going to cum. It was going to happen. He was too far gone to care.
《This slave is an extension of its Master's will》
But he didn't cum. He didn't get closer. And as the buildup reached its peak and stubbornly refused to tip past the edge into a crescendo of orgasmic relief 417's keening, panting, and moaning collapsed into a cacophony of unabashed pleasure and frustration. There was nothing in his mind but Master's words looping over and over as the technician's indifferent milking maintained its pace. The words please and cum and no and things that weren't words at all spilled from 417 as he was thoroughly robbed of his humanity. He couldn't know what this would do to him, he couldn't know a thing at all living in each individual moment with each moment lasting an eternity of hell and pleasure. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Would it ever end? Or even if it did would the effects of the cream last longer than what would surely be the most intense orgasm of his life? Why couldn't he cum?
In that moment distinctions between 417 and livestock ceased, and he became one of many creatures producing precum into a container located directly below the frame. What they did with that the Master did not know nor cared to know. All he knew was how this would break his poor pet and how many cuddles 417 would need when he was finally released.
"If he was finally released," the Master mused as he reviewed the very reasonable weekly rates charged by the facility. His hand reached down to his lap and pressed gently on the slaveboy suckling his cock to spur him to increase the pace. And, as his own uninhibited orgasm rushed closer, he sighed and continued to watch the torture of his denied animal in the frame.