Perverts 'R' Us
Kenji, Boy-Slave
By Cyberboy ( M/b, rape, pedo, anal )
"Good day to you, sir...my name is Kenji, 8-years old, a 2nd grade elementary schoolboy. I hope you will be pleased with me." I bark out the words with typical Japanese schoolboy crispness and enthusiasm...even though I am very frightened. This is because I know for the very first time in my young life that I am going to be raped. That you are a Man and you have directed everything that has happened to me so that you can rape me.
It will be my very first time serving a man as a boy, and I know it is to be full of stress. But I must do everything you say and be good and skillful and prove myself worthy of being a boy. I must show to you the great sexual pleasure of a boy. I must prove my value as a boy the very first time in sexual service to you, or else be found unworthy of boyhood and so to be beaten and tortured with great and deliberate slowness towards the most terrible and agonizing of deaths.
And I know that I would deserve it. It is so that a boy who cannot be enjoyed for the sexual pleasures of men does not deserve the gift of boyhood and life.
It is very true that I know what it feels like to be beaten and tortured. It is my history that I was sold by my step-father to men who desired to force me and train me to become a sexual slave for the pleasure of men. Since then I have been beaten and tortured many times. The men who have done these things to me would always ignore my shrill screams, uncontrollable crying and plaintive tears, insisting to me that I must be trained. I would earnestly beg them to stop hurting me, but such pleadings meant nothing to them except in that it would excite them to greater exertions towards my helpless suffering. Unnn...It has been very hard. I have tried to be brave like a boy, but mostly they have made me cry like the littlest of girls, and so proved to me that I was always in need of more training.
They have made me feel many terrible things. There were six men assigned to teach me the lessons of boyhood, and they all have slapped me across the face with great force every day. Both of my eyes have been blackened numerous times. My hair has been pulled and my ears twisted. I have been throttled and choked around the neck quite often, and my slender arms jerked behind my back and bent sharply and held until I cried. I have been gripped helpless and then punched hard in my stomach.
These are the ways in which I was beaten. When I was brought to the lonely and desolate house where this all took place, it was by my step-father. He had never liked me and it was now made known to me that he had only married my mother to advance his own position and wealth in the corporation owned by my family. He told me that I was in his way and he would no longer tolerate this...and so, he told me, I was to become a sexual slave for the pleasure of men, locked away from normal society so that I might be put to constant, daily use by men of great wealth and the darkest of passions towards the sexual molestation of very young boys.
I was only 8 years old then, and did not understand fully what my step-father was telling me. My ignorance did not last for long upon arrival to the house. I was introduced to a man who would become my lead trainer. At first, I was dressed in white stockings (my shoes having been removed upon entry to the house), white shirt, tie, dark school blazer, and matching school shorts. I also must wear big, round glasses because my eyesight is poor. My school was private and expensive, but I was used to such things as a boy of wealth and privilege. I have also always been a fine student with top marks. So of course I was not used to rough treatment and was shocked as my step-father held me firmly at my shoulders while this strange man unbuckled my shorts and slid them down my smooth and slender legs. Tossing them aside, I stood revealed in my brand new, silver-and-blue, bikini-brief underpants which were size 8 and fit me snugly. I struggled fiercely but to no avail as he continued to undress me, and in very little time I was naked but for my skimpy underwear.
The man was pleased with my appearance, saying that the images which my step-father had provided did not do me justice. He caressed my slender chest and stomach. I felt very small and helpless as the two adults towered over my meager height of 3'9" tall and barely weighing 50 pounds. My step-father held me without difficulty as the man in front of him jostled my glasses to stroke my face, and rifled his fingers through the bangs of my lush, dark hair. Every part of my almond-toned flesh was then explored by the excited, heavily-breathing man.
His hand took special interest to fondle me through my underpants, rubbing my small penis and round testicles and feeling behind to my bottom and especially rubbing and feeling up between my legs. Though I understand nothing about sex for I was only 8 years old and a second-grade schoolboy, I trembled and cried and was very scared and ashamed. It did not take much longer before I wet myself from my anxiety, peeing right through my brand-new underpants, which made both my step-father and the man laugh at me. The man got quite a lot of it on his hand and fingers and palm and quickly brought it up to my mouth and with several slaps across my face with his dry hand, forced me to lick it off.
My step-father spoke up then, urging the man in his understanding that my training was supposed to be particularly severe. "I do not want my little step-son simply to be fucked by men who desire boys," he said, "I want the sex he must endure to be particularly vigorous and strenuous. I was specific about that. It will please me greatly that though others of the family will think that little Kenji was killed in a terrible accident, that *I* will know instead that he is every day forced to experience...ahhh, how did you put it?...the most exciting and thrilling adventures of rape and torture that a boy can know.."
Though again I did not understand the full meaning of these words, I was terrified at their sound. I began to plead with my step-father to take me away from here and promised most sincerely to be a good boy and always to honor and respect him as my father and to do whatever he wanted of me from now on. He put his arms around me and gripped me tightly, then reached a hand down to fondle me further in a way that made me cringe through my moist underpants and he told me how I was going to do just exactly what he wanted me to do from now on anyway.
"And that," he said to me, "was to cry and scream every day for the rest of your miserable life."
"Yes, my little puppy," the man before me giggled, "You'd better get used to the life of a sex-slave. A boy your age and where you're going...a boy has to feeeeeel so very much. We have a special drug we'll be giving you, it will keep you young and small and pretty and weak and...so very defenseless. You will never grow older, you will remain a little 8-year-old boy so that men will want to use you for their pleasure for the rest of your life. mmmmm...And there is nothing you can do about it."
My cruel step-father jerked my upper body back, causing me to cry out in pain again. "Maybe I'll come visit you from time to time. It might be fun to listen to you cry while men rape you. Ohhh, how I wish you weren't such a miserable little faggot of a boy so that you'd always hate it and cry and beg and always feel the pain and humiliation and degradation of a being a boy-whore. But I bet you'll like it having to be a boy-whore and suck cock and get fucked up your ass every day of your life. But there's more, you little brat. Some of the customers will pay extra for the privilege to torture a little faggot of a boy-whore like you...and there's no way even a queer-boy like you will enjoy feeling whips and racks, beatings and canes and burns and electric shocks. Oh yessss, my little step-son, the life I have chosen for you will be filled with suffering and pain."
I protested that I was not such a boy that liked other boys, because from school I understood at least vaguely what it was to be a fag. Both of the men laughed at me and took great pleasure in mocking me and calling me a "little faggot" and both of them assuring me that it would be much better for me if I were the sort of boy who did not prefer girls.
They kept terrorizing me in that fashion, and I felt all alone and desperate and lost. The man in front of me had never stopped caressing my nearly naked body with his hands, and was now poking me up through my snug-fitting and pee-soaked underpants, testing a finger against my untried, virgin sphincter. But then abruptly he stopped. "No that is in your future, little Kenji. For now, I want to have some pictures taken of you for your new...portfolio. This will be a gallery of pictures which will be posted on a website designated for you so that other men can look at you and decide if you are cute and sexy enough that they will want to pay to fuck you or do other things to you."
He pressed a shiny, bright-red Speedo-bikini into my trembling hand and added, "You will not wear your soiled underwear for these pictures, you will wear this. You will only wear very cute and sexy things like this from now on...when you are wearing anything at all. There are many, very pretty, colorful, little bikinis that will fit you perfectly, that you will wear to pose for pictures that will show off your splendid, lovely, little body so that lots of men will want to pay to use you for their own sexual pleasure. This will take two hours, and then we will begin with your training."
My step-father berated me further, saying how it was my own fault that all of this was happening to me and that I deserved it. I was an entirely friendless boy in this house, and I sniffled and sobbed, despite how they both insulted me for being a coward and the whiniest of worthless brats. My nose ran and I cried real tears as my whole body trembled from the fear and cold and stress and humiliation.
"Brace up, Kenji," said the man who would be my lead trainer. "You must be brave and strong and...cooperate. You're going to find that a stubborn boy simply gets hurt even more then a cooperative boy. All of the men who will train you feel that you are a very cute and sexy boy and are certain that you are really the sort of boy who wants and needs to be used in this way.
Despite that you are only 8-years old and only a second-grade elementary schoolboy, it is as your step-father has said, you are a little faggot of a boy-whore...a blatant boy-slut who desires more than anything to serve men for their sexual pleasure. So since the pictures your father provided of you in the little, red Speedo swimsuit of your school swim-team drew such a big response from all of us...we have bought you an even sexier, red Speedo-bikini for you to wear for your photo-session. It will make you look very exciting and will fill everyone who sees these pictures with the desire to fuck you many times and to fuck you very hard...and also to force you to endure the most intense and exciting of experiences a boy can ever know."
"We know that you cannot wait to for this to happen." he said to me as he stroked my tear-stained cheek and my step-father breathed heavily and harshly behind me. "There is no doubt that you are nothing but a whore of a little faggot-boy who has always wanted to suck the cocks of men and to feel the greatest experience of being fucked up your tight boy-ass, even though you are so small that the powerful cocks of men will surely cause you much sexual stress and pain. It is clear also that you most want to please men with the shrill sounds of your very own, thrilling cries and screams of helpless anguish from being forced to feel the most severe of tortures... we know that you have always wanted your teachers and your coaches and your step-father and all men to use you in these ways. You are so clearly a wanton boy-slut that it is only unfortunate that you had not been raped when you were still in kindergarten. But do not worry, my precious Kenji, for we shall quickly make up for the lost time.
"Now come along, we must take the most sexy pictures of you that we can, while you are still a virgin of course, so that our many clients can see you in your very pleasing innocence and so be compelled to enjoy you for their adult man-pleasure in the weeks and months and all of the many years of the very long life you will experience as a boy-whore."
I managed not to fall after my step-father roughly shoved me forward with a final, mocking sneer and even more cruel comments of my bitter fate. I stumbled and scurried away like the little boy I was to walk beside the other man, despite how I knew that this man and others like him intended to hurt me and fuck me and rape me (though I did not then understand what these things were) and do further terrible things to me. But still, I knew that this man was preferable to my horrible step-father and as I was all alone and so afraid as I was only an 8-year-old boy, I could not stop myself from seeking comfort and leaning desperately with my arm around the man as we walked together towards the modeling room with its bright lights and cameras.
He tsked once and made a brief detour into a bathroom where he tugged my soiled underwear down and off my legs and then roughly wiped me clean with a moist cloth. He told me then to dress myself in the skimpy swimsuit he had given me. He commanded me to tie it snugly so that it would show off in keen detail the parts of my body that were covered by the thin, red nylon. Although the Speedo-bikini is the style of swimsuit I am used to wearing (though never one so daringly cut), I felt shame in wearing it because of the way he looked at me and touched me through it and told me how sexy and desirable it made me look, and how it proved that I was a faggot boy-slut.
Quickly, he led me into the camera room, which had many lights on stands and another man behind a camera. There was a large, very comfortable looking bed, and a bench and several toys set about. They directed me to pose in various ways with yells and shouts and angry tugs and pushes. When they wanted me to do something, they first gave me a slap across my face. They liked taking pictures of me looking scared or hurt or crying. I sometimes held stuffed animals to look cute, even though I was nearly naked and told to pose with my smooth legs widely spread apart, and with my body arced in stressful ways. They took a series of pictures with my wrists tied together with ropes and bound with handcuffs. I was suspended from the ceiling by my arms and my legs were pulled this way and that. The man who would be my lead trainer sometimes held me or gripped me, by my arms or neck or hair, and pictures were taken in such a way to show that I was clearly under the control of a man, but showing as little of him as possible.
It was not fun. They hit me and hurt me and threatened me and yelled at me constantly. I know it was wrong for me to be made to stand and stretch and pose in the ways they were forcing me. They often said cruel and mean things to me and about me because of the way they had made me dress and the way they were making me act. It was not fair. The last pictures taken had me with my arms pulled wide apart above my head, tied to the bed, and my legs spread even further apart and tied to the other end of the bed. The shots showed the man's hands reaching up my legs and then finally tugging at the drawstring of my bright-red Speedo-bikini, loosening the knot and then beginning to tug it down to reveal my entirely naked.
Before they had begun to shoot these pictures, they had slapped me several times to assure that I would cry properly and show that I was afraid. The last picture was just before my meager boy-sex was to be revealed. This, they told me, would be exciting to many prospective customers who would be enticed to tie me up like this and make me be naked so that they could fuck me very hard. I still did not understand, but they said that I had cried especially well and looked enticingly fearful because I am such a wickedly gay and perverted boy who wants very much for men to fuck me very hard. I tried to deny it but they only laughed at me and called me more names. It was like this as they dragged me down to their basement where I would spend so much time during the many long and terrible weeks to come.
My fine and shimmering Speedo-bikini was rudely stripped from me and they laughed some more as I had to dress myself again in my pee-stained underpants. I was allowed nothing else at all to wear throughout the long ordeal that followed, and I wet myself through them many more times. It was like this because it was meant to be a humiliation. They told me this was necessary as I was to lose my sense of pride in the schoolboy which I had been. As I said before, I had been an honor roll student, and fine boy-athlete of soccer and baseball and swimming and diving. I was a splendid and exemplary schoolboy.
They assured me this was a meaningless thing. My past was unimportant, only my future remained, my future as a boy for men. In achieving this future, they told me that the painful tortures that they would inflict upon me were a most necessary thing. They showed me everything that was ahead for me, I was led before the tables and benches and racks and crosses and wall-bolts and chains and harnesses attached to the ceiling...and they explained to me the precise function of it all, taking great pleasure in noting how every instrument of restraint was carefully sized for an 8-year-old, 2nd-grader schoolboy. It took no time at all for me to wish I were back in the room with the camera, only facing that sort of bitter humiliation. I was shown the array of canes and straps and whips and knotted ropes meant to inflict beatings, and the devices for administering electric shocks to any part of my helpless body, the instruments that would be heated for causing me torment, and the containers of water for the forced experience of drowning. There were many other tools of torture and I was shown them all. As though this was not enough to terrify me to tears, they played a recording of boys crying and screaming from the same careful and calculated infliction of pain that I was about to endure.
And then they began. I was at first so desperately afraid that I did not take much to send my senses reeling and cause the room to spin and to lose consciousness. But soon enough, I became accustomed to remaining awake for the experience of applied agony. I was methodically tied and freed and then moved to a new experience and re-bound so that I would be forced to feel it. Fastening the straps or ropes or chains was a ritual never rushed so as to show me each time how defenseless and helpless I was, and how pleading or crying or screaming was to no avail in changing their minds. But while feeling such intense fear was a terrible thing, I learned that sheer, physical torment was much worse. I was strapped and whipped until I could not remain conscious. I would scream from electric shocks all over my body. I have weakly pleaded that I could no longer withstand more roasting over burning coals. I have been racked until I thought my arms and legs would be ripped apart. Each time they would drive me to my limits and I would sob my way to oblivion. Always then, I would be revived for more.
After the first few days of initializing me to brute sensation, a routine began. At the start of each day, I was shown a video of a different boy who would approach a man and offer himself for the acts which I now learned were of sexual pleasure. Happily and eagerly, the boy would kiss and lick the man and the two would touch each other all over, and the boy would take the man's cock into his mouth and love it generously with great skill of the oral sex. Inevitably the boy would also be positioned with smooth, slender legs widely spread and then fucked by the man. I had never seen any such thing before, the erect cock of a man looked so huge to my eyes, and the boy's body and the anus of a boy is so small in comparison. I could often see that each of these boys felt pain quite frequently during the anal-intercourse, though it was true that they never complained. In fact, even with tears in their eyes they most often cried out their earnest pleasure that this was happening to them. Even when they were clearly in the sharpest agonies from the brutal thrusting within their anus, they struggled through their sobs to declare that it was good to feel this, "aaaaAAAaaaa," and how fine it was to be such a lucky boy that is getting to know and feel the vigorous "fahh...fucking" of men.
Perhaps you can understand that at first I responded with disgust at such an unnatural proposition. In my pride as an 8-year-old schoolboy, of course I did not wish to be such a boy who would know and feel the fucking by men. My trainers said nothing to me about it for many days. We would sit together and watch the video which usually lasted for about an hour, and then without a word they would take me from the video room down to the large basement for the rest of the day's sessions of beating and torture. The sessions were three hours long and I was given three of them each day. I should not suggest that the men were silent during these times, as they abused me with words constantly while I cried and begged and screamed.
I was called many names: fag, whore, brat, bitch, faggot, queer-boy, slave, cocksucker, dick-slave, leather-boy, suck-brat, cum-lover, and others, most often with the word 'little' in front of them. I was assured that I deserved everything that was happening to me and that I would never be rescued by my mother or anyone else who no longer cared for me anyway, and that I'd better get used to being a boy-slave to be sold and used for the sexual pleasures of men for the rest of my life. Through desperate tears, I often denied that I would ever do this and so begged them to stop hurting me so.
Finally, at the start of the second week, two of the men, wearing the leather outfits they always wore to torture me, sat at either side as the video played thorough the vigorous sexual use of another boy. They talked to me this time and told me that all of these boys had been either kidnapped or sold unwillingly like me. They had been chosen or accepted because they were particularly good-looking boys, pretty and cute, that men would most like to fuck. Slender, smooth-skinned boys, gracefully athletic, sturdy and capable of enduring much, all just like me. They were also, I was told, all of them little faggots like me.
Both of the men laughed as I at first bowed meekly because I did not think I could say anything without being hit. Although it is so that they have never suppressed my ability to talk or ever make such sounds like crying or screaming, in fact they have mostly encouraged me to express myself. Perhaps statements such as, "Yell as much as you want, brat, it won't do you any good." or "Maybe if you beg good enough, I would turn the voltage up any higher...." are not meant to be all that encouraging...but it is so that they have never said that I was not allowed to speak. Finally, I did manage to stammer that I was not such a boy as they said I was...and so I would not be as good or pleasing as the boys in these videos.
They laughed and called me such a little fag who desires to be the whore of all men that it was no use to deny it. My life, my boyhood was a precious thing and not to be wasted by the confusion of a stupid little brat. They would teach me what was true. I would soon bring pleasure to hundreds, if not thousands of men during the rest of my life, which they said would be spent as a boy and as a whore. They then turned my attention back to the screen and made me watch.
I was touched with actually gentle strokes and tenderness as I watched the video of the boy as he grimaced and gasped as the man's cock first forced its way deeply inside him, and then as the boy recovered, he pushed back and encouraged the man with a pained expression and yet wide-eyed eagerness to fuck him harder and deeper. This, I was told, was how it was to be for me. I was to become a boy sexual slave. They said quite a few boys learn to like it, as they felt I surely would for I was such a blatantly gay, little faggot of a boy who yearned to suck a man's cock and be fucked by all men. And certainly, they told me, it was so that any boy would prefer the performance of sexual acts to being beaten and tortured.
Despite the looks of pain that often flashed onto the video-boy's face, I felt certain that this must be true. For often enough there was also the display on the boy's expression that he truly did enjoy the thrusts of the adult-erection into the tightest confines of his boyish anus. I could tell that he was not always insincere when he would say such words as, "Ahhh, the spirited fucking of your enormous cock within me fills me with intense joy. Please Sensai, fuck me harder for I am a boy and must be used for the pleasure of men." Certainly as well, I felt this must be better then the constant beatings and torture which I had been daily made to experience and which surely I received no sense of pleasure from that. And finally, to be truthful as a boy must always be truthful. My own boy dicklet had stiffened fiercely in my dirty, soiled underpants at this most arousing display before my eyes. Perhaps also, their kinder and more sensual touching of me was also arousing, for I have learned that a boy must always respond to the sexual desire of a man with a desire of his own.
And so, though I then did feel mostly sick-at-heart from doing so, I nodded my shy agreement to the men beside me and offered that I too would rather suck their thick and long cocks and to be fucked manfully by the both of them than have to experience another day of torture. I was surprised that these were not pleasing words to them as they both said no, and how it was not so, that they did not feel that I was properly sincere. Even though I attempted to fall to my knees before them in demonstration of my earnest willingness, they assured me that a man can tell when a truly brave boy is willingly giving of himself, and when a cowardly boy, such as myself, merely wishes to avoid a mere beating. They promised that I would awaken to my destiny of becoming a wanton boy sex-slave for men's pleasure...but only after I understood fully that this was the best thing for a boy to be. They said I must truly want to be such a boy, that I must eagerly please men. And so they lifted me up and dragged me with my naked feet scuffling the floor and steps...all the way down to the basement. And the day's beating and torture was even more severe.
"Hai, Ojiisan.. Please let me suck your big and thick cock and then fuck me with vigor as the boy in the video. I wish with all my heart to be a boy like him and to please men with the performance of sexual acts. I know I will enjoy it tremendously and perform splendidly well for you."
I exclaimed all this with as much smiling eagerness as I could muster after the newest video had been played several days later. By this time, it seemed to me that I even possessed sincere desires to know the fucking of men by the way my penis now always stiffened during the viewing of these sexual images and the arousing stroking of my little boy-dicklet through my underwear by the strong and muscular men who sat beside me. They constantly insisted that I was a boy of great, gay-sexual feelings, filled with the deepest passions to suck the cocks of men and to be fucked repeatedly by men. They demanded I admit I had impure desires to touch my fellow schoolboys while dressed in only our underwear in the locker room, and to suck the thick cocks of my school teachers at their desks, and to be bent over my school desk and to be fucked by my teachers' thick cocks...and how even the troubles of my home-life stemmed fully from my deepest desire to lie upon the bed in place of my mother and feel the powerful hardness of my step-father fucking me over and over.
And so, feverish from watching a boy who looked enough like me to be my twin experiencing the energetic sexual-efforts of three men, I confessed my earnest belief that I was such a boy. "Hai." I enthusiastically agreed. "I am the most gay of little gay boys. If only my step-father had fucked me...it is what I have always wanted. If only all of my teachers had molested me. It is so that I have also secretly wanted my soccer coach to take me to his home that I might suck his great cock and to spread my legs that I could feel the deepest penetrations of his thick and manly erection. I admit it is also so that I enjoyed greatly to see all of my boy schoolmates in their underwear and sincerely wished they would all allow me to kneel before them all and show them the pleasures of oral sex that I could give them. It is as you say, I am the biggest of little fag-boys. I am a boy-slut and a whore. Please enjoy me for your manly sexual pleasures."
However, this did not deter them from their painful exertions against me that day, nor the next day nor the next. When the week had finally ended, I imagined my impassioned pleas to be repeatedly and forcefully fucked by all of them would be rewarded and I would begin my new life as a little-boy-faggot-sex-slave. I did not understand when they said, though regretfully, that I needed to be beaten and tortured even more.
The next two weeks were harrowing. In every experience they forced me upon me, they yelled at me questions and shouted at me instructions. Between crying and screaming I begged them to fuck me and to let other men fuck me many times. I assured them that I had always wanted to suck dick and be fucked up my tight, little fag-boy ass. I had no use for girls because I have always been a little faggot. Over and over I said what they demanded of me to say, until I would say these things without their bidding. And they must have been true things for me to say for what boy who does not have desires to feel gay-sex and the fucking of men would say them? I pleaded to be dressed in nothing but a collar and to be brought forward to serve men in every conceivable way which would be pleasing to men. I assured that no act was beneath me if it would please men. I vowed that I would dedicate my life towards nothing but the pleasure of men accepting that I had no value other than as a boy-slave for sexual use. It is so that they tore from me any sense of pride in the schoolboy life which I had once lived.
Then they built up my pride at becoming a boy sex-slave. They taught me to take pain and not scream, or even to cry for as long as I could. I was to be brave and withstand it, and they would show me gentle touch and encouraging words as a reward. I learned to love these men, I truly wanted them to fuck me and so to prove my true value as a boy. At first they would threaten me with the most severe pain if I did not get a stiff boy-boner as I made me vows to serve them or to remain hard with breathless excitement as they described how it would be to be fucked by men. As the days passed I would always and quickly become erect at their stroke or promise of boy-fulfilling man-sex. Even the promise or threat of pain, or pain itself when properly applied, could arouse me to the hardness of my boy-dick.
Everything hurt as much as before. It was only that I was stronger, braver...much more of a boy. Inevitably they could always make me scream, always cause tears to flow and always make me cry and beg and plead. To be small, to be forced, to be unable to save myself, to be helpless...that is all part of being a true boy. For two whole weeks of breathless experience, I howled my devotion to boy-sex slavery until I believed it utterly with every fiber of my being.
My life is to be filled with man-sex. To fail is to face a session of torture that will not end until I scream my last scream and perish for the final pleasure of men. But I know I can please men, I know they will like and enjoy me. And I know that I will be a devoted boy to their pleasure and that I will enjoy it as well...enjoy it as much as a I can, and for the rest, to take pleasure in serving men. I know also that some men will enjoy hurting me, and therefore experiencing acts of sexual-torment will always be a part of my life as a boy-sex-slave. But it will not be all the time and that is good. And I stiffen as I also realize that this will make it even more exciting because it is good to serve men always, even if only with screams and suffering.
At last, I was ready to be a true boy.
And so I stand before you now, wearing nothing more then a brand-new, shiny, skimpy, snug-fitting pink bikini with the kanji for "boy fag" in front in bold, black brush-strokes, and my name on the back over my firm, round bottom. I am well tanned except for where I have worn this bikini, and I believe myself beautiful to Men...which is all that matters. My straight hair is half down my neck, bangs in front, thick black and luxurious. My eyes are dark and exotic and though my face is soft and pretty, I assuredly look like a boy and not a girl. My skin is silky smooth and warm.
I am two inches shy of four feet in height and weigh less than sixty pounds. I know I am slender but finely toned and I know that men want me. I see the hungry look of desire in your eyes as I walk towards you, striding forward with no hint of self-consciousness that I am nearly naked and that you are fully dressed. And I have been taught to walk and stand and pose in ways that suggest my own boyish sexuality...because I want to be fucked as well. I know this is true, that I want more than anything to be fucked by men.
Finally, you smile at me and your hand reaches out and strokes up the inside of my creamy-brown left leg from my knee to my thigh and then up further to the leg openings of my tiny brief. It is not a swimsuit and it is not underwear...it is all the clothing a boy such as me will ever wear. There is no reason for me to wear anything that does not entice a man to feelings of sexual desire for me. Now your other hand grips me higher up at my side, drawing my closer. With a gentle extension of the fingers of your first hand, you then touch my small, boy-dicklet and you demand of me to tell you and to show you how much I want you to fuck me.
I grin back, at ease now from my nervous apprehension, and I raise my hands to place them behind my head in a pose of submission as my proud boyhood stiffens to 3-1/2" of dagger-hard boy at your touch to demonstrate my eagerness. "Please sir," I beg with bated breath, "though I am an unworthy boy...please honor me by fucking me. Show me the strength and power of your manhood and make me feel it in the deepest part of me. Please fuck me as a boy and so to make me a true boy that I may serve men forever."
My knees nearly buckle and I come close to collapsing as my eyes see the enormous bulge in your trousers grow bigger and harder. You stand up in response, your hands reaching up to steady me...so strong and sure. My eyes do not waver and I lick my lips and swallow as you loosen your belt and undress yourself before me. When the full glory of your manhood is revealed to me, I fall to my knees in homage at the breathless sight of what had been denied to me for so long...the long and thick and incredibly hard cock of a man that is now erect and excited at the thought of using me, a mere boy, for sexual pleasure. My pitifully small and weak body has filled a man with desire so that he will give me the greatest gift of using me to fulfill his own desires. I weep with joy that I am finally considered worthy to serve men in this way, and so without any hesitation I open my eager, moist mouth to begin.
You are too big to take in one swallow and I nearly gag myself. My expression is fretful and I cry more tears, certain that my shamefully inept performance is inexcusable and that no men can feel the best of sexual pleasures from a worthless boy such as me. But I want to serve you with all my spirit and soul, for the powerful twelve inches of your manhood draws me like a moth to the flame. The massive, thickness is overwhelmingly potent to a small boy such as me who has...who has always felt the desires for gay, sexual acts.
And so I quickly resume my efforts, clutching and smoothing my hands across and around your legs and waist, I thrust my head forward to impale my throat upon the head of your most truly awesome man-cock, and then grip around your waist and muscular buttocks tightly to keep myself so positioned, while also bestowing upon you the sensual licking of my tongue and smacking of wet lips. I push more and more, gripping you tightly as I force my head forward to take down as much of your manhood as possible. I can feel it pushing into my neck and it is painful and I cannot breathe, but I prod myself to further efforts though tears roll down my cheeks that are at last from the proper and unmistakable suffering of a boy who will do anything to please men.
My heart soars as you reward me by the gentle placing of your hands against my shoulders, my cocklet stiffening like a dagger from the three gentle caresses you bestow to my gulping neck against the apex of your presence within me. Then you place your hands against the top and back of my head and so...forcefully I now feel the whole of your intense man-sex through my mouth and down my throat, my lips pressed snugly against the pubic hairs which you, in your manhood, have many and I, in my callow boyhood, have none. You hold this position for so long, strengthening the resolve of my boyhood with this exertion, training my throat for acceptance. It hurts me so, the pain against my throat and neck is overwhelming, but I am THRILLED TO SERVE YOu with my pain.. How I worship your man-strength. The sense of shame I feel in being so woefully inexperienced for being an untried virgin is balanced by the great pride I feel that you find me worthy of your training and lesson of sexual performance.
You calm me, you quiet me, you direct me to the proper usage of my mouth and hands, teaching me the skills of sexual boy-service. ohhhh, how I adore you. The hand you place behind my head to draw my lips back and forth against your man-cock feels so good and secure. My tongue, throat, teeth and all of my mouth is yours to direct and command, and I learn quickly and well like the eager, willing, devoted, sexual slave-boy that I am. When you flood me with your thick cum, I desperately strive to swallow it all with a hunger I can not hope to deny.
"Fu...fuck me, sir." I plead as the last bits of your gooey warmth trickle down my throat, feeding me the protein-rich diet that a true boy craves. "Fuck me hard and full and true and make me a boy for real. Guide me into true boyhood, my Lord, teach me what it is to serve men in the most perfect of ways." And your muscular arms lift me up from the floor and place me on the bed beside you. Gradually you slide my bikini-brief down my long, smooth, slender legs, enjoying the sight of my total and inviting nakedness. My dicklet is so stiff...k'soooo, I can barely stand it.
I lie on my back at your command and you lift my legs up and bend me backward so that my knees are just below my chin. The position is uncomfortable, nearly painful, and your firm grip keeps it that way...aaaaaaaaaa, this is how it must be. Leaning down to face me you say, "I know this will be your first time, little Kenji, and you must always remember this day. So this is why there shall be no lubrication of your tender and unused anus, there must be tremendous pain for a boy's first time. You will never forget your first fucking, little Kenji, do not worry for I shall make certain of that. You must always know that in the thrill and the pursuit of pleasure, there must always be pain for a boy. And so little Kenji, my 8-year-old boy, I shall not love you nor merely fuck you, but I shall instead rape you. I shall rape you with all the force and strength and power of a man against a small and helpless boy. Do you understand, little Kenji?"
My breath is coming in gasps as you position the enormous head of your cock against my virgin, untried anus. "Yes, my Lord," I stammer in between hardy breaths, "Yes, I am to be raped. I am to feel the pain of rape. It must be so, I must be raped. I must know what it is to be raped by a man before I can be a boy.. I will cry for you, cry real and bitter tears of agony as you overwhelm me with the traumatic assault of your manly rape upon my helpless boyhood. Please my Lord, oh pleeeese show tremendous violence against me that you may twist the screams of brutal suffering from my lips and throat. I shall be a boy...used for nothing but your intense sexual pleasure...serving you by writhing and crying from gut-wrenching spasms of boy-sex torture. Ohhhhh...rape me without mercy, my Lord, and make me become a boy for real and for ever. A boy worthy to serve men. A boy-slave who will be used every day to fulfill and satisfy the sexual pleasures and desires of men. I beg you to make me such a boy by raping me. It is so that I crave with all of my being to be such a boy..."
My eyes are glazed and I see far-off vistas when suddenly you push and force your way into me, causing my head to snap and my eyes to widen and focus on the only thing that is real to me...you, a man, making use of me...a mere boy. I scream then, for against the onslaught of your overwhelming manhood, I can only cry out...but there is still mixed in with my treble-voice howls of rape, a firm sense of boy-pride at being raped. The pain...ohhhh, the pain of being a boy. You thrust, and then thrust deeper, each intense push driving into me like an iron-spike that is pounded by a sledge-hammer. The thickness goes on forever.
Screaming and crying tears of purest agony, I gasp and beg you that I am too weak a boy to take your invincible manhood. I shame myself most grievously and prove the unworthiness and weakness of boys as I falter against your unimaginable strength. But you are strong in your manhood and have the compassionate understanding of a boy's spindly frailty...and so you boldly ignore me cries and force your way deeper and deeper into my boy-flesh. I can do nothing but yield, your powerful hands and arms push my legs further down and wider apart. Eight inches...gahh. Nine inches...gahhh.. Ten inches...gahhhh... Eleven inches...gahhhhh.... ...I cannot take anymore......
You laugh at me, you are a man. You tell me I am tight and perfect...that your pleasure with me and my delicate body is absolute. I cry and whimper as you assure me that nothing will stop you from going further, that I will feel everything and you will rape me to total boyhood. For a brief moment, you pause to revel in the strain on my slight frame, the tremble and suffering I'm feeling, and the flow of tears down my cheeks with the rictus of my jaw locking in the expression of torture to my face and my high-pitched wails of agony...and then you plunge to your fullest length....
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.... My scream is loud and shrill, pierced all through with the special pain that only a boy can know. I feel your all-conquering man-cock everywhere within me...there is no part of my boy's body that does not feel the ravaging invasion of your mastery. You hold it so for several long moments, making me to understand the fullness and completeness of your power. I am a boy and you are a man. You are everything and I am nothing. Nothing but a boy.
Then you pull back, nearly removing the whole of your length from my callow frame. This is done sloooowly, driving me mad with the hope that it is over, that you are finished with me. Judge me unworthy, kill me, let me die for I cannot endure any more. But no, for it is not your will to leave me, and so you force your way back in, pushing back the resistance of my desperate flesh. You lean down as your steady thrust violates me and you say, "This, my little Kenji, oh, this is rape. It is the ultimate expression of your boyhood, when a man so takes you that you feel only pain while he knows such great pleasure. Indeed, his sexual pleasure will be increased by the sight and sound of you in such clear suffering. You must take it, little Kenji, you must take it and accept it as a part of your boyhood forever."
I feel sick, I feel weak. The pain is so much I do not think I can withstand it. Bright lights flash before me eyes as I endure your passage into me and then your withdrawal. The endless in and out which builds and builds as you go faster and faster. It seems too much and I cannot stop myself from crying and screaming in what must surely by a most un-boy like fashion. Will it always be like this? Oh surely the life of a boy-sex slave is hard. But then I feel that the fiery heat you create inside me drives away the clammy cold that festers in my brain. I realize the warmth growing within, the intense passion of man/boy sexual sensation.
You above me, so strong and forceful...there is no doubting the clear pleasure you receive from fucking me. I have not stopped my cries and screams at the terrible excruciation within me, but I see now how my cries and screams are so very necessary. During rape, it is so that a boy must cry and scream...for that is the will of the man. Etoooouu...I feel it now, the vibration of our two bodies in the pulsations of violent sex. You are a man, giving to me with each thrust the fullness of your manhood with unrelenting force. This is a power that I will never know...for I have been made to be a boy forever. But I can still feel that strength within me, given to me with uncompromising intensity and yes...ohh yesss, it is something I want.
The pounding of your man-cock has found me and made me a boy. "Aaa.." Again and again I feel you thrust and pierce through my pain to make me realize the most perfect of pleasures. "Aaa.. Aaaa.." It is total service, it is utter boy-slavery... My skinny arms reach around my legs to grip your amazing body and I pull with all my meager might. I know I am a boy, you have made me a boy...and I want you to know. I worship you now for you are man...and I am boy.
The vitality of your ramming cock brings my further and further towards total boy submission. I feel the inferno gathering within me, the full mastery of manliness over boyhood is nearly complete. "Fuck me harder..." I beg through a river of tears. You comply and my head snaps back as a greater intensity than I could have imagined impales my tender anus. My slender legs wrap around your back, my feet slide back and forth.
Gahhhh..unghhh..aahhhhh... It is pain...but so painful that it is pleasure. It is pain that is pleasure. It is truly boyhood and it is perfect. "Fuck me forever, oh pleeeeeeze fuck me forever." My own boy dicklet is so stiff and hard...never to cum, never to know the thrill of manhood. I do not care, it does not matter...i am a boy and to be fucked is better. Being fucked is better. My anus is my sex. I am for fucking by men. It is what I want.
You bring me to the edge; I can feel the furnace of heat. My eyes widen like saucers as I feel the massive thickness of your man-cock expand even more. It is happening...my small, slender body has fulfilled its promise of giving pleasure to a man. A man is pleased with me...and shall honor me with his potent seed. Aaaaaaaaaaa... I cry out in spasms of wrenching sensation as you splash my guts with a river of rich, steamy man-cum. And at the very same instant of your manly climax, my own boy's body is ripped through by the immature, dry-orgasm of an 8-year-old, 2nd-grade schoolboy, exploding with the unmanageable convulsions of complete sexual experience to my small and helpless body.
I have been raped and so delivered to a boy's orgasm through rape...so it must be that the greatest feeling of climax is pain. Kiiiiiiiiyahh...it is so much more pain than pleasure. The wholeness of my being stiffens as I am fiercely assaulted by the wave upon wave of agonized feeling as I know for the first time the ultimate experience of boyhood. Aaaaaaaaaa..... And it is all driven by the thrusting rape of a man. I am lost in the feeling of thrilling sexual pain. A part of me knows, even in this instant, that it will not always be like this...indeed it will not so often be like this. It is known to me that most men will allow me greater pleasure, will not take me with such force and violence; and so I will know a more joyful sensation at the virile fucking and potent orgasm...by the gracious will of men.
But for now... "Aaaaaaaaaa..." This rape has been so strong and perfect that I could not possibly love you more. I wriggle and squirm frantically to touch you with my hands and feet, and my arms and legs, to kiss you and press against you. I yearn to press spindly boy against strong and muscular man...worshipful and all-adoring. You...you have made me this way.
There is nothing but sorrow on my face as you exit me, and I weep unashamedly. But you do not leave me for long and you show me the generous fucking of a man three more times during this first session together. Ohhhhhh, this is what it is to know and feel a man's love. I man who has tempered me with thrust and pain and tears and found me to be a boy, brave and strong as a boy can manage. It is so that I am yours. I am a boy and I know that to be a boy is supreme. I will be a boy forever. It is the will of men that I never age and so it must be. I must stay as a boy forever to serve men. I must forever remain weak and small, a mere 8-years old, so that I can truly prove the bold strength and noble bravery of being a boy. I will serve all men as a boy and I will never complain or feel any regret for I know that to be a boy is the most perfect thing.
You are well pleased with me and I beam with pride, my small, delicate breast jutting forward with the fearlessness of a boy. I know now that a boy's strength is to please at all times...even through suffering. What a great thing it is to be a boy. You caress me and fondle me and tell me that I am your boy. You will fuck me often and you will also sell me every day to men who will enjoy fucking me and causing me to experience the many sexual acts. I am to be a boy-whore, you say to me...and this fills me with pride for you, a man, are telling me that this is how it shall be. And so I know...what a great thing it will be to become a boy-whore.
I shall be dressed in outfits that will excite the desires of men for me. I shall be fucked every day...many times each day, and I will suck the cocks of hundreds of men. Ohhh, I love you so as you tell me how it shall be. I will know the awful feeling of rape again...often. For there are many men who will pay to enjoy causing great sexual pain to a young boy. My dicklet stiffens with honor as you tell me of the torture I will be forced to feel for the pleasure of men.. Physical pain such as whipping and spanking, beatings, rough, bindings and ropes, painful stretchings, pressure and weights upon my body, fire and heat, water, drowning, choking...ohhhhhh, so much.
And there will be intense sexual pain, the explicit torture of my penis, electric shocks, and the horrific penetration of my tender, always-tight anus and throat by gruesome objects of fearsome size and shape... "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhaahhh..." I clutch desperately at you, gripping you in trembling apprehension and quivering anticipation as you tell me all this and more. I shall also be used to make videos, showing me in the forced experience of unimaginable acts. Ohhhhh...helpless...boyhood...ohhhhh.....
I swoon in my boyish frailty as you describe how it shall be when I am brutally bound to a mounting frame so that my small body may be cruelly assaulted by large animals in sexual heat...all directed to ravage a defenseless, young boy. Ohhhhhh, but men who will never see me, men who will never be able to touch me...these men will thrill with sexual passion at my boy-courage in making these films.
Gently, you prod me to wakefulness and make me stiff-as-a-boy again as I listen intently while you tell me of other boys like me. Ohhhhh, other boys that are young and pretty and cute and daring and brave and strong in their ultimate desire to serve the sexual pleasures of men. To be with such a boy, both of us dressed, perhaps, in the enticing bikini-briefs that men find pleasing...to see him, to touch him, to be with him...ohhhh, a boy such as me. To hold his hand, to caress his cheek, to kiss him and to press my erect cocklet against his and to rub and touch together...ohhhhh, to hold hands and walk forward together towards the men who have paid to fuck us and make us feel so many things.. Fuck us, beat us, torture us together...feeding each other the strength and bravery of boyhood to endure the awesome tests. Yessss, ohhhh...tests and trials and adventures of pain and torture to prove the fearless bravery and strength of boys.
Yes...I will struggle each time, I will writhe and endure and, it is so, I will finally cry and scream. I am only a boy and the tests will always prove to be too much for a boy to withstand. I have not the strength or spirit of a man. But it is so that I have a boy's truest heart and soul and so I never give up trying. A man can do things...but a boy can only try. But I will always know that no matter how hard or fiercely a man may rape or torture me...it is so that it is from the great and towering love and care that a man must have for such a boy as me. Yes, it is that I will always work hard and do my best to make men feel the greatest of pride in me...proud to know that I am worthy of their fucking and the fulfillment and use of their most powerful sexual desires. Yes, for I am Kenji, 8-years old, a boy sex-slave forever.
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