Diaper Lover From Poland
Last update
2022-06-20 09:01:15

    ''How much time has passed? I wasnt into bondage but that bastard convince me to let him try to change my mind. Uggg, why I let him muzzle and tied me up this easily, he even blindfold me for no reason. Im feeling so dizzy, what the hell was in that drink?!''

    David faints during a pair of hours to awake for some minutes finding himself in a diferrent position without the blindfold and completely naked.

    Wait how much time has passed? And this is not how he tied me at the beggining? Why Im naked? Aggg that fucking pervert!!! I can barely move with this tight ropes and I think I starting to like this, WAIT NO, what I even thinking , I want to be free. Why I even doing this? Im not even a bottom, I really hope that big and handsome dude dont fuck my pussie...., I MEAN MY ASS, what the fuck Im thinking... Uggg Im feeling dizzy again...''

    David pass out and when he awakes he find the leather dom who agree to tied him up and again David is tied again in a diferent way with a leather straigthjacket, gagged and blindfold. The dom touches gently David´s fave with the leather glove.''

    ''Okay David, 3 hours have passed, the drink should have started to take effect, what do you think Jake, are you more into bondage? Feeling more submisive? Maybe I can start your training fucking up that pussie of yours.''


    ''Shhh, there there, Im here, you will soon ready to serve me''

    The dom takes David while tied to a cage and makes him enter laying down to the floor of the cage. When David is secure, the dom takes away the blindfold.

    '' I have to make sure you dont touch that dick of yours boy so I hope you enjoy the chastity belt. Tell me, how do you feel about bondage now? It feels good isn´t? Don´t be afraid, I will take care of you, In return, you will serve and whorship me... I think is a good deal. But don´t worry we have to much work from now on, you will begin your training slave.''

    The dom makes contact with David's face again.

    '' As he touches my face with his rubber glove I feel aroused, why his touche comforts me?, Also, he did mention serve, and training, I knew it that he trained a lot of slaves, but I told him I wasn´t a submisive fag, Im ___ his slave, WAIT, IM ___HIS SLAVE, I ___'_ WANT TO SERVE HIM!!! WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING TO ME?!?!''

    After 6 hours in the cage, the dom comes back and gets David out from the cage and ties he up against the wall.

    '' We are going to start your training and I promise you that with more of the drink I give you yesterday In one or two hours, you will adore me as your master and your only duty will be worshiping me, you will love it, like the rest of cocky brats who come to me thinking they are to manly to be my slaves.''


    David feels his face covered up with a leather head arness with a muzzle while wearing mittens and laying down tied to a BDSM swing.

    After the training, David is located in room, while complete covered in rubber and tied up with a straigthjacket, he remains silent with a ball gag as he wears the latex hood and additional gas mask, were he can breath air and some steam of the drink that the dom give him''

    '' See you soon slave#37, I have to take some equipment for your training''


    So I got cloth diapers in the mail today. Let me tell you they are so much more thicker than disposables. I couldn’t even close my legs and walking……. Well it was more like waddling. Lol. Definitely couldn’t wear these out in public for bed time only. Unless I was told I had to wear these out. I would be very close to Daddy or my Mommy the whole time. 

    The sissy couldn’t even enjoy his predicament. That was the craziest thing. But go back to the beginning.

    For months the sissy became obsessed with entering a mental hospital and being put into diapers. It started when he read stories by a former psychiatric nurse turned domme who talked about her days of taking uncooperative patients in the mental hospital and using powerful drugs on them and eventually ECT and straitjackets to bring them into line. Eventually the creatures became so docile, they had to use diapers and many actually became dependent on them at the end of their stays and struggled to regain continence even after leaving the loony bin.

    Wow, he thought. Imagine. Forced into diapers. Restraints. Made to use your diapers for everything. Pissing. Shitting. And everyone knowing it. Because your family will be counseled by doctors and social workers about your treatment and condition.

    And so he hooked up with a shrink and started talking about how depressed he was and blah blah blah. None of it was true. And he figured even if he did get into the hospital and did get the full diaper discipline treatment, he would be fine once released. And he could go on stroking himself to the memories till the end of time.

    So finally he told his doc he was thinking about suicide. And had made plans. The doctor sent him to the hospital immediately. On his first night he wet the bed. But no diapers. He did it again the second time. No diapers. Then he started acting unruly, threatening staff and fellow patients. Christ, what did it take to get diapered in here? For weeks he stayed in there until finally, one day, three male nurses came in, strapped him into a straitjacket, diapered him up, put a bit into his mouth so he wouldn’t bite his tongue and wheeled him in for his ECT.

    That was followed by those powerful drugs he’d heard about. and more ECT. And forced diaper use by nurses who didn’t want to help him into the toilet. It went on and on and finally he became the docile lamb the staff wanted. Unfortunately…his mind actually went as well. For real. The combination of the drugs and ECT and the isolation and being surrounded by other ill people…something snapped. He disappeared into his mind, not even remembering his fetishes and perversions. Now he needed diapers. For real. Doctors told his parents and sister that they would probably have to be his caregivers “for the forseeable future.” To prepare them for what they were up against, they allowed the family to see him in his room. And what a sight it was.

    Diapered. Restrained. Straijacket, legs sprawled and tied, a large bit in his mouth locked in to prevent “biting the staff.” Drooling. Looking vacantly up at them, vague awareness in his eyes. They smelled what he’d done in his diapers immediately and his sister said, “He shits in them too?” The doctor just sadly nodded his head. They watched him for a few more minutes, watching him shift uncomfortably in his diaper prison and his mom talked about how “she never thought I’d be changing his Pampers again.” the doctor assured her he could get better, both mentally and physically and maybe “in a couple of years he might even regain a bit of control over his bladder and bowels.” The sissy barely understood the words as he drifted off into a drug-induced sleep. Little did he know his dream had come true. He was going to be in diapers, maybe forever. Locked up! And all he had to do to achieve it was turn his life into a living nightmare.


    (Post 7/20)

    As object, there will be times when the object is given an absolutely minimal amount of space to be stored in.

    Face it, an object just has no status, no rights, no privileges and it should not have any expectations of ever being viewed or treated as anything other than a prized yet lowly object. An object can have expectations though… it can expect to be stored. it can expect to remain at the absolute bottom of the scale, it can expect a certain kind and level of hardship and suffering. There’s more that an object could expect but that’s a good base to work from.

    As a rubber pig object, it will remain in its rubber skin at all times, when it’s stored it can expect to be sightless as well. There’s just no need for an object to see anything when it’s not being of service. it will frequently be stored in the smallest cage possible and even while locked inside that, it can expect further bondage and restriction. It’s not about punishment or cruelty, it’s part of the object’s never ending training and the severity of its bondage and confinement is admittedly something that a true object craves and needs deep inside its being.

    an object might not admit to such a need, or even be aware of it, or its depths and true meaning, but its Master and Owner knows. He knows that the object needs to be tightly crated, it needs that security and confinement, it needs to feel the hard steel embrace of its Master. the object needs that constant training and reminder that it isn’t a person, that it can never expect to be an equal and even as its body starts to cramp and struggle under the pain of being so tightly confined, it knows that it’s suffering because it needs to. it needs to be a thing and it needs to please its Owner. Trapped in a cage, unable to see or speak, or even shift around, it knows its place in the world. Far too few people actually know their truth and where they fit in the world, and here… the lowly object, the lowest of the low has been given the gift of knowledge of just that. And that gift comes with a steel framed gift box.

    Maybe eventually its Owner will free the object from being attached to the cage so that it can finally, thankfully at least shift its weight to one side or the other, or maybe curl up in a tight little ball on its side to lie down in its tiny cage. Imagine how grateful that object will be once it can do just that. Then suddenly that cramped confining little cage won’t feel quite as small. At least for a little while, until its knees begin to ache and need to be straightened out. When its neck also aches since no matter where the object is within the cage, it must keep its head bowed.

    How long would it take for the frustration to mount, for the object’s body to fidget and shake as its frustration with its confines continues hour after hour? And when the Owner keeps the object in that ridiculously small cage overnight, or for days? It’s a struggle just to pee in a bottle in such a tiny space, drinking its fluids and nutrition through a tube gag when it can’t raise its head or unfold any part of its body. Knowing all the while that “it can always get worse” and that the object must remain silent and obedient, never whining or whimpering through its gag, never trying to plead or bargain to be released because it would be all too easy for its Master to once again apply more bondage to the object, to attach it once again to the cage and preventing the object from all that excessive and apparently wasted freedom to shift around inside the cage.

    No… the object knows better. its constant training ensures that it knows better and so even though its body struggles in its rubber skin to adapt to the cage, it is grateful to its Master for keeping it at all.




    Simple truths


    Once sealed in rubber and locked in and gagged it hardly could do anything anyway. So why to try to fight or protest? Would that be useful? No, Master does not need to notice those anyway. So object would just waste its energy for nothing. So, this is how it will anyway.

    “Look in the mirror, baby.” Her tone is firm. Uncompromising. Unquestionable.

    Yes, Mommy. Yes, I- I see… I see myself-

    “See that naughty little girl? That’s you, baby. You’re the naughty little girl who needs Mommy to discipline her.” So matter-of-fact. So calm. So certain that every word she speaks is the truth.

    Yes, Mommy… discipline… punish…

    “You’re going to look at yourself, honey. You’re going to sit there and listen while Mommy tells you exactly what you’re seeing, and what you’re going to see.” That’s also the truth. She says so, so it must be truth. And I know there’s nothing I can do to change it.

    “What’s around your little neck, baby?”

    A sudden shiver sweeps over me in a wave of gooseflesh. “A- a collar, Mommy…” I falter, feeling it snug against my throat as the words rise to my lips.

    “Yes, it’s a collar. A collar to show that someone owns you, baby. Your collar shows that you need someone to care for you, and control you, and discipline you when you've been bad.”

    Oh, yes, Mommy. Mommy, how do you know what words to say to set my trembling self alight with groveling, humiliated desire?

    “What’s on your hands and feet, baby doll?”

    “C-cuffs,” I falter. Obediently. Blushing. Feeling their weight on every limb seemingly double as I speak the word.

    “Yes, baby. Those are cuffs. Cuffs to control you and bind you and restrain you from doing things you shouldn’t. Cuffs are what Mommy uses to teach you to be a good girl.”

    Oh, Mommy, yes- Yes, make me a good girl-

    “And what’s that you’re wearing around your bottom, baby?”

    Of course she’s going to make me say it- “A- it’s a- a diaper,” I quaver. Feeling it hot and tight around me. Twitching at the sensation of its cottony bulk against my sensitive princess parts.

    “It’s a diaper,” she says, as if my shame-filled words were too silly and incoherent to even understand, let alone to matter. “Only babies wear diapers, honey. Only babies, and girls whose Mommies are training them to be babies…”

    Yes, train me, Mommy. Please, train me- take away my potty training-

    “Watch, baby,” she tells me now, even as my naked chest heaves and I shudder with longing and humiliation. “You’re going to watch in the mirror now as Mommy takes charge. You’re going to watch that naughty, collared, cuffed, diapered little girl, and you’re not going to look away. Watch as Mommy takes this bottle and forces it into her mouth… like this.”

    I would gasp, but my mouth is suddenly full of shame and silicone, my tongue muted with a coating of milky humiliation. And still I gaze into the mirror, quivering, as Mommy’s voice continues.

    “Watch as the girl drinks her bottle. She’s learning to be a good baby, and good babies drink what Mommy feeds them.” I will, Mommy. Me good baby- Gulp, gulp, gulp- “And you’re going to sit there and watch as the baby girl’s tummy fills. Mommy will make sure she keeps drinking until she’s completely, totally full.”

    Fill me, Mommy. Force me, make me- “You’re going to watch as the baby girl loses control,” Mommy murmurs above my frantic suckling. “You’ll watch and see her diaper turn color and fill and swell between her legs. That’s part of her baby training.” She pauses. “And then, you’re going to watch as Mommy takes her wand and trains her baby girl. Baby girls need to learn to cum in their diapers…”

    Please, Mommy, please, yes- Make me, pleasure me, train me- I’m drowning now in a sea of regressed arousal, intent only on Mommy’s voice and the humiliating prospects before me. Mommy’s going to train me, control me, do anything and everything she wants with me. And I must watch and listen, gazing helplessly into the mirror as she molds my submissive self like putty in her persuasive hands…

    Image Credit: @abdreams (feat. @lilbabyfae)

    Please don't remove my caption or accreditation, okay? Oh, and check out my Patreon here if you want to read more of my short stories!



    Tales of power, mindlessness, obedience, peace and so much more about the choices we make, ones that transform our lives in unforeseen ways.


    “Yes, dear. You heard me right.” The counselor’s words were quiet, firm, as cool and uncompromising as granite. “You’re here with me now for as long as we need you. As long as it takes. As many weeks and months as the program requires until we’ve met our goal.”

    Wide eyes filled with questioning her choices and terror.

    Lots of panic. She had definitely not been ready for this. Her fantasies had gotten hold of her and now were the consequences.

     A stifled whimper. The pacifier in her mouth.

    The straightjacket snug around chest, pinning her arms.

     A desperate shaking of the head. 

    All these spoke volumes, screaming out in a way that the young woman’s pacifier-swollen mouth never could. She wanted out. She had to escape. She didn’t want to do this anymore.

    It was a fantasy. This was too real.

    “And you see, it’s not so easy to back out now,” the counselor went on, almost as if the hapless patient shivering before her had found a way to voice her frightened protests. “All the forms have been signed. All the proper human subject paperwork, and monitoring and consent forms, and waivers of liability and non-disclosure – they’re all signed and sealed and notarized. You know this. You’re our test subject here, of your own free will. You’re receiving generous compensation, and 24/7 housing and food and medical care, all in the comfort of this comfortable apartment we’ve provided. You’re supported entirely by the program – and with that level of investment, we simply can’t allow any sudden changes of heart.”

    Shame crept into those eyes as they lowered to the ground. The counselor words were true, and Amelia knew it. 

    She’d signed ever so many forms: so eager, so willing to do anything to secure that incredibly generous pay…

    To give into her fantasies and become fabulously wealthy in the process! It had been too much temptation for her.

    “So lest you have any more doubts about how this program will proceed,” the counselor  resumed, lifting the patient’s head in her hands and gazing coolly into her quailing eyes, “Let me be absolutely clear about what you’re likely to experience these next few weeks and months. Perhaps you won’t like what you hear. That is fine. You don’t need to like it. You just need to listen and understand that this is what will happen. You will Obey. You signed away any choice to resist.”

    The Counselor cleared her throat and continued. “You already know our project: to explore the benefits and limits of regression, play, and other non-standard methods of therapy on the individual. You have already had stressors from your adult life removed: communications devices, work obligations, social relations, clothing, and even toileting needs. Your mobility and your dexterity have been limited. You are being transitioned to a high-nutrient, low-stress diet even now. Your instinctual behaviors of suckling, crawling, and playing are being encouraged, and your speech and motor skills are being inhibited. Your sleep cycle is being shifted to that of a young child, with further alterations dependent on your progress…”

    Seeing the confused questioning in those eyes, a frightened child, the counselor went on, a subtle smile playing on her lips. “In practical terms, you will simply become diaper dependent. You already are for our purposes, of course – but thanks to our conditioning you are likely to lose significant, perhaps even total control. Your meals will be fed to you regularly as liquids or soft solids, typically in bottle form. Your main activities will limit as much as possible your need to use cognitive abilities; you will play, crawl, and toddle at most, sleeping frequently and at intervals we define. Your life will essentially revolve around eating, drinking, soiling, and sleeping. Your mind will gradually empty and quieten as we remove stressors from it and eliminate your need to process language or use higher-level cognitive faculties. And by the end of the program, I suspect your life will have become a soft blur of napping, and drinking, and soiling, and allowing your counselors to care for you. You’ll be lying there, gazing out with those pretty, wide eyes at a world you no longer understand…And it will make you happy.”

    “Then, and only then, will we have reached our goal: of complete regression and a return to stress-free, instinctual life. You, my dear, will be the first to reach this goal – I know it.I have the utmost faith in you.” 

    And then the counselor smiled at last, a true, broad smile full but somehow still Mr. Grinch type sinister undertones.

    In the recoiling face of her aghast listener. “You have no choice. You agreed to this, after all. You will be a very rich little baby. One that will need to be cared for. And we will be there every day, every step, as you grow up to be our little girl.”

    “Your new life, separating your old life to the new can be quite anxious. Its a little bit scary and a lot of bit exciting. I think I love it! and you will too.”

    modified from paddedlittleparadise


    Master i dream about this every time i go to sleep.

    and at times in my dreams it is so real.

    times like know i wish i was like this 24/7

    Master can You help me?


    This was his profile picture. I met him on this website for gay fetishists. I was scared to hit him up, but the picture did it for me, so I sent him a message.

    Me: Hey, I saw your profile picture, you’re a Dom right?

    Him: Heya, yeah I am. What are you into, boy?

    I felt intrigued. The way he typed, it was so… sexy.

    Me: Oh I love lots of things. But my main turn-ons would be leather and bondage. I think I’d love the feeling of having my control taken away.

    Him: Nice nice, you ever tried anything?

    Me: Not really, I don’t really have any gear, I just turned 18.

    Him: Oh. I have lots of gear but no one to try it on. You’d fancy coming over?

    The thought was scary, I wasn’t keen on meeting someone completely random at their door. But then again, I might not get another chance like this.

    Me: Well, uh sure! Let’s meet in town?

    Him: Eh, no. I’d rather be discrete. Take it or leave it. This is my address, meet me at 8 PM, I’ll be home then.

    Me: Hmm alright.

    The thought was both frightening and arousing. I just couldn’t say no.

    I waited out the day. I was nervous but certain. The clock was at 7:30. I had to go.

    I got into my car and followed his address. It was a long drive, into the forest, it was dark too. Eventually I came upon an average sized house. It had two stories and was white. I saw him waiting outside, he was actually very cute when you could see his face and he wasn’t wearing the gear in the picture.

    Nervously, I got out of my car and walked up the stone stairs leading up to his house. Eventually I stood in front of him

    Him: Glad you could make it. My name is David. Nice to meet ya.

    He took his hands out. I accepted it and we shook hands. He had a firm grip, probably stronger than me.

    Me: Oh no problem, and thanks. Nice place you’ve got here. But a bit far from the civilisation.

    David: I like it here. It’s silent and peaceful. Let’s go inside. I’m eager to finally try some of my gear on you, if you’re cool with it.

    Without hesitation, I nodded and went inside with him. Once inside he locked the door and showed me inside his lounge. It wasn’t a big house on the outside but he seemed to keep it nice and tidy so it looked bigger. I sat down on the couch. I noticed a pile of clothes. Something orange and something black? It was a pile on the floor. I didn’t think much of it.

    David: So, you want to start now or sooner? I’ve got all day. Not any special plans on Friday tomorrow either. Tell me what you like. You like rubber, or uniforms? Or just leather?

    Me: Heh, well I guess now. I like rubber yeah, but never tried it. Uniforms are very horny too.

    David: Great. You can start by taking off all your clothes. All of it. Then put it in the bin beside you, I’ll wash it later.

    I did as he told me to. Once I stood there naked he smiled. He walked over to the pile and started digging in it. He took up a rubber catsuit. It covered the whole body except the head. It had zippers for the crotch and the butt.

    David: This is a neck entry suit. So you’re gonna have to put your legs in first.

    I looked at the black matte rubber suit, and then took it as he threw it at me. I examined it quickly before putting my foot in, feeling the tight elastic and smooth feel. My dick quickly sprung up. Suddenly I was encased in it, the only thing uncovered was my head.

    He smiled once again, then he went to the pile again and grabbed a bright orange jumpsuit. It looked like a prisoners uniform. He threw it at me, I could notice his bulge.

    David: Put this on. It will make you feel having less authority. And I think it will look good on you.

    I looked at it, it made me even hornier. I put it on, waiting for him to zip up the back. He got behind me, zipping it up. I heard a click, but wasn’t sure. I then felt something leathery around my neck. Then another click. It felt amazing, I went up to touch it. It felt like a collar with several d rings around it. It was tight but comfortable. I heard another click.

    David: Good boy. Now stay here. I’ll be right back.

    He left downstairs. I wanted to have a look around when I noticed I was chained to the wall from the collar. I put my hands up to it, trying to unbuckle it when I finally realized what the clicks earlier was. Padlocks. I couldn’t get it off. “Shit!” I thought. I was in his complete control. I guess no turning back now.

    Eventually he came back upstairs. He looked exactly like on his profile picture. He didn’t say anything, just went behind me and taking the chain, dragging it along. He lead me down to his basement. There was a cupboard and behind it was a large metal door with a codelock. He opened it and a waft of chilliness hit me.

    David: Alright. I hope you’re comfortable. Let’s head inside. And make sure to tell me when something is uncomfortable ok? I don’t want to make you endure any kind of pain.

    Me: Yes. This is amazing by the way.

    We went inside, I was completely biased from his kindness and how horny I was to realize that I were completely unable to leave now. Upon inspecting the room it was relatively small but was nicely organized and had gear from A to Z. I saw a cell in the far back. He led me to a open space. Then told me to just stand there.

    I heard another click as he went behind me. I was chained to the ceiling. He went into a small box and digged around in it before he took out something. He told me I wasn’t allowed to see. I looked away. He then came back behind me and before I could react he held my arms straight in front of me and suddenly a black thick straitjacket out of neoprene and leather came into my view. My arms were quickly forced inside of it and I felt the buckles being tightened and locked. I felt so elated. Then my arms went around tightly, and finally the crotch straps were buckled and locked. There was no way I could escape now. My dick was rock hard.

    David: Mmm.. You look great boy. A finishing touch before we call it a day

    Wait, call it a day? He wasn’t going to let me out already was he? He went over to a shelf. There was a rack of muzzles and head gear. He selected a black leather muzzle with locking buckles and went over to me.

    Me: Uh, maybe don’t put that on me. I want to be able to say stop in case it gets too intense.

    David: Hehe.. I don’t care. You realize that from this point what you say doesn’t matter, right? I don’t want to hear your screams, so this will do nicely. Now shut up!

    His kind tone had ended, and his true dominant self came into view. And with that my sudden shouting was quickly silenced by him. I felt a thick penis gag inflate inside my mouth as the muzzle went on. I could only breathe through my nose. The locks went on. I was helpless, I was doomed, I was trapped. He looked at me through his gasmask before taking it off, and putting it on my face slowly, tightening it. He then pressed a button on the wall, a tube descended from the ceiling and he attached it to the gasmask.

    David: You’ve been a good obedient boy. Now it’s time to store you away. Feeling dizzy yet?

    I could only groan into the muzzle. I felt very dizzy indeed. I could barely stand. I was panicking, I couldn’t make it stop and suddenly he stood in front of me with a large leather mailbag. One second I was standing inside of it, the next I was sitting inside of it. My vision went blurry and I couldn’t move anymore. I was confined inside a leather sack, in the basement of a complete stranger, nobody knowing where I am. Then he closed the bag from the top, the tube was still attached and I suddenly realized I was suspended, dangling. Then the moment before I dozed off he wished me a goodnight and left.

    This was my first attempt at a fantasy, if you want to read part two, reblog this post to show that you’re interested in reading more! Thanks! :)



    One of the biggest sources of slaves is of course captured soldiers and rebels in the endless small wars and skirmishes going on around the planet. But increasingly the “fashion” amongst the older and richer owner is for younger, slimmer, less “hard” slaves.  The typical American “high school boy next door” look is much in demand.

    Illegal slavers do capture and export illegally a number of this type of free man each year (their families are distraught when a favoured son suddenly disappears, but the slavers are careful to spread their “take” across the country, so no large number of losses are ever seen in one community).  But all this is time consuming - first locate a suitable boy, then follow him to observe his behaviour and family circumstances so that the risk of a hue and cry in minimised - young men taken from poorer families are less likely to cause a major stir.

    One slaver has hit on a fantastic method of increasing the “take” and minimising effort:  he advertises for young men to “model” new trendy ranges of clothes, offering reasonable money for a temporary part-time job but with the promise of “meeting celebrities” and “going to fashionable clubs” during the assignment.  Many young men respond to these adverts, and are invited to a mass audition.  

    We see here the latest batch of young men waiting for interview - they’ve gladly stripped off their shirts as they all know that it’s likely that someone employing a young male model would need to see their torsos. One by one they can then be interviewed about their family background and circumstances, and some will be invited to remove their jeans as they are “strong contenders”.  

    At the end of the day the slaver will have a list (and photos) of the most desirable young men, together with their names, addresses, etc., and will also know which ones can be “taken” with minimal risk of detection.  All the young men will go home and will then anxiously wait for a job offer…. but some will of course soon be on display at a slave dealer in Arabia.  


    Factory outlet, I thought. Who would ever had thought that even slavers did something like that. But indeed, after reaching out a bit, I learned that there was really a way to get in contact with illegal slavers and become one oft he first who could take a look at the freshly captured, unwilling and fully untrained lads. And I must admit…it was a mind blowing experience.

    They lured young men with a false modeling agency. If you had asked me if something like that worked, I would have laughed at you. But the hall I was standing into right then, was prooving me otherwise. Twenty boys, maybe some more or less, I can’t really tell, were displayed there. They all lied fully naked, tied up and gagged on wooden plates while they got fucked by merciless machines which were entering their virgin holes again and again. The view was already mind shattering, but the sound…I didn’t forgot it till today and I’m more than angry, that I didn’t record it back then.

    It was a mixture of moaning, groaning, screaming, crying, begging and shouting. I wouldn’t be able to describe it properly, not with all the words in the world. Some were fighting against their restraints, some were looking around in some kind of unbelieving shock, others were crying and shouting for help when I passed them…the whole scenario was a piece of art.

    A scream pulled me out of my thoughts.

    „WHAT THE FUCK??!!“, came a loud voice from behind me. „LET ME GO YOU SICK BASTARDS!“

    I turned around and saw two of the slavers push in a naked boy in his early twenties.

    He just opened his mouth to scream another vulgar insult when he saw the scenario around him…and stopped for a second. Suddenly his eyes got wide and he buckled against the two men and screamed his lung out. „NOOOOO! NOOOO, LET ME GOOO, TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF ME!!!“

    The men didn’t even think about it and pushed him to one oft he free wodden plates.

    The other boys in the hall watched the whole scene. Some oft hem shouted something behind their gags, some closed their eyes and shook their head in denial but nothing of that could change what was going to happen.

    I stood there and enjoyed the show.

    They pushed the boy tot he plate and quickly secured his hands with some loose rope that was attached to the frame. With skilled movements they had his hands almost over his head and his legs apart to expose his hole and let him feel an amount of helplessness he surely never experienced before. No matter how much he trashed, no matter how much he screamed, he was going to share the fate all the other boys had to endure.

    „LET ME GOOOOPPFFF…“, he was finally silenced when on oft he slavers pushed a bite gag inside his mouth and secured it behind his head. He became a part of the beautiful orchestra I was listening to for already two hours now.

    Bored, the two guards pushed the silicon cock into the fighting boy’s hole and activated the fuck machine it was attached to. Like all boys in that room, he felt a stimulation he didn’t know about before. Music.

    The two slavers looked at me and one oft hem asked: „Found something?“

    I smiled. „Not yet. But considering your stock, that’s more a matter of undecidedness but of quality.“

    They shrugged and walked away.

    I really hadn’t decided yet. But nothing or no one could make me leaving that place sooner than I wanted. And in that moment…I felt like wandering around once more and to loose myself in that overture of helplessness.