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SM Vacation

SM Vacation
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Mary and the Vet
The Dog
The Trip
Dogboy whipping
Humiliation of a slave
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2:Spike's tales
3:Spike's tales
I was  Cock Cuffed
More:Cock Cuff Training
My Toilet Training
pigs train journey
Story of Xavier
My new Dog Boy
The Florent dog
Death of a Captive
Fiona's Sissy Dog
Personal Accounts
British Pup in Nashville
Story Bookmarks

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Stan’s SM Vacation Nightmare

Part 1 

Enchantment and Enticement

I had seen Internet ads about island resorts for male adults only.  They seemed fishy but one had caught my attention.  Its website included photos of gorgeous females and guaranteed discreet satisfaction for adult males.  I was surprised that the reservations manager had been willing to answer any and all my questions.  Through e-mail, I had established a decor with the agent.  He represented a resort on a small island in the harbour rim of Bogota, Columbia.  I had gotten to be quite friendly with him and we had got to know each other’s backgrounds, interests and fantasies quite well.  He seemed to be particularly interested in my experience in R&D and field problem solving in the oil and gas storage industries.  Talking about the “satisfaction guaranteed” aspect of the resort he probed more wanting me to be frank and detailed about any fantasies.  I couldn’t resist the urge to tell him what would never admit to my friends.  One was to be captured by a tribe of native women and trained as their sex slave.  Another was to disappear forever leaving friend and foe wondering where I had gone.  Another fantasy was to make a deal with an agent of an Arab country to be whisked off to a Persian Gulf colony, forced to become a eunuch to serve the needs and demands of the castoffs from an Arab ruler’s harem.  There was no end of the fantasies I had stored in my mind.  The disappearing idea seemed to be of particular interest to him. 


I never thought I could actually go to such a resort- too expensive for my blood.  Then one day received a phone call from the agent about our conversations.  I was astonished by his invitation to accept a free nine day vacation at the resort.  He added that they have clients from all over the world and I would be at liberty to discuss employment with anyone with the had the right connections to fulfill one of my fantasies.  There were several strings attached though, which he explained.  I would be asked for a testimonial and pose for videos that would be shown on their web site world-wide but, to protect my identity, only outside the United States and Canada.  That would protect me from any embarrassment of being recognized by relatives or friends.  To make the videos, the normal six day vacation would stretch to eight.  To satisfy another of my fantasies (to disappear secretly) they would  make all the arrangements so that I could travel under a false identity.  They would provide a forged passport.  All this would satisfy almost all of my fantasies.  I was too thrilled to think that there might be a sinister reason for them to set up such a fantastic plan to make my disappearance look so real.

That all sounded real good and got me real excited.  Within a few days, the passport and a first class ticket came by registered mail, postmarked Dallas.  Enclosed instruction said I would need no luggage because no clothes are needed other than a plain set of warm-ups and T-shirt- just what I would wear for the trip.  They would provide clothing in case of cool weather and laundry service whenever needed.  Naturally my excitement got even more intense when, in subsequent e-mail he suggested that in order to complete my fantasy of a disappearing act, I clean out my computer of all the messages between me and him and use my imagination to do whatever I might do if I were ever to actually disappear.  I thought, what a great idea and I did all sorts of stuff - such as removing the references in my computer and address books, cancelling my credit cards, and cancelling my bank and phone accounts and placing all of the money and vital papers such as my will and bank books in a safety deposit box paid up for two years.  I sent a letter to a sister saying it was to be guarded and never opened unless something should ever happen to me. I was so engrossed in this ploy that, did everything I could think of to make myself feel like this was a genuine disappearance, never guessing that I was destined to turn out exactly that way.  Another representative of the resort phoned me several times from a cell phone with a Houston number, kidding me about how much he was enjoying going along with what he called my charade and had been instructed to help me in any way he was needed. It all sounded too good to be true but there was no way I would pass up this opportunity.  I was a bit surprised that the ticket was only one-way to Bogota but figured that was to further reinforce my fantasy.  I realized that they thought of everything.  I did ask about the one way ticket and was told that visitors often want to spend an extra few days in the Andes, Caracas or to visit Angel Falls in Venezuela, which would require them to rearrange routes and tickets anyway.  Furthermore they suggested that, on the chance of my meeting a potential employer, I might decide to complete more of my fantasy - that is to disappear permanently.  They (or whomever I disappeared with) would take care of any new arrangement.

Part 2 

Destination, the Resort


The day came and I flew to Dallas.  There, the timing was just right for me to walk from one counter to another for my final flight out the country.  In a few minutes, I was air-born on my way to Columbia.

In the Bogota airport I was met by an attractive woman holding a sign with my false name written on it.  She introduced herself as Olive.  We left the main terminal and walked briskly to a rather remote part of the airport and boarded a two engine prop-jet plane.  One other man was already on the plane, also with an escort.  I was introduced to Mike.  We used only part of an hour to take off, fly to and land on a short air strip on a nearby island.  I thought - so this is where the resort is!  We were picked up by a native driver in a van.  Neither of us had any luggage.  I, mistaken, thought this must be standard procedure for all guests.  In several minutes, we arrived at the welcoming center.  And sure enough, a man came directly to us, introduced himself as the agent who I had negotiated with.  He greeted both of us and our lady escorts.  Except for having developed an assumed friendship with the agent I thought no more about his giving most of his attention to me and Olive.

We were driven by van, accompanied by the agent and our female escorts to row of small semi-open shelters.  Olive and I at the very last house and Mike at the one before in the row along the shore.  After being shown our quarters we were picked up again by the van by the agent and taken on a tour of the resort during which we stopped for a refreshing drink.  The agent reminded us that we were special guests and that everything was included in the package - so we should enjoy it to the fullest.  Mike and I were told we need not worry about searching for a girl.  If we desired to get acquainted with other beauties, our personal guides would encourage us. Their duty was to see that we were taken care of at all times.  Olive nudged me and said she was in charge of me to guarantee that all of my desires would be satisfied, adding “you know what I mean”. With this admonishment we finished the tour and the agent excused himself to go back to his work.


Once I got circulating around the resort, enjoying choices of free women, I got better acquainted with the other “special guest” and learned that we were both anonymous guests.  Not only that, but we seemed to have been treated with above average favor by our more than aggressive guides and oddly not pounced upon by the other beauties.  Our little open cabins also happened to be located at the end of a single row along the beach, slightly apart from the main group of shelters.  We were captivated by our natural instincts with our dedicated hostesses and didn’t take much advantage of the opportunities out there while the paying guests played the field, so to speak.  For six days it was a continuous bash of luscious eating, excessive drinking, too little sleeping and exhaustive love making. 

One day, I was approached by a stranger who introduced himself as the CEO of the national oil company of Columbia.  He dwelt some time, asking questions about my technical knowledge and experience in the oil and gas storage industry.  My immediate thought was that this might be an opportunity to disappear permanently with a lucrative job.  Little did I know how this man was to take over not only my employment but along with Olive the rest of my life.  I was disappointed that he made no hint of an offer but instead only said I might be a valuable man in the industry and disappeared.  This teased my imagination but I was left hanging.  My fantasy of staying in a foreign country was alive but I had no idea about what was to happen or even whether I would see him again.  If I only knew what he already knew I would try to swim off the resort island to get back to the airport or the American Embassy.

Part 3

Rude Awakening

On the final sixth night, for the paying guests, a farewell party was given and the gals took unusually aggressive care of everyone.  With more than abundant drinks and body to body contact, being practically raped standing up, all the guests (including we two who were not leaving tomorrow) seemed to lose track of interest in anyone other than themselves and their escorts.  I knew this not my final night as it was the final fling for the other guests.  The management was making every effort to encourage them to be return customers to generate future business.  This had also been part of the pitch in offering us the free vacation and making the ad videos.  I was overwhelmed by all this special care.  The resort had given us unbelievably good service and the gals were very talented and persuasive.  There was no doubt that this was to be the ultimate night of pleasure for the paying guests and for us two although we knew we would be around for several more days.  This night was another treat. 


Next morning we, who were staying were allowed to sleep well into the morning while the paying guests were aroused, fed a great breakfast and bussed to the air strip for departure.  I thought that if we were to perform satisfactorily before cameras we needed to be rested and sober.  Late-morning we were finally fed and instructed in the procedures and acts for our advertising videos.  A new group of paying guests was already arriving so we were ushered to an enclosed cabin at a secluded spot along the on beech well outside the resort boundaries.  It was at first embarrassing, for me at least, to perform naked in front of a battery of cameras.  Due to my constant exposure, naked much of the time all week, I soon relaxed. We performed with Olive and the other hostess who were also naked for the shootings.  We all carried out our assignments to the satisfaction of the filming director.  I thought these videos could bring in a lot of new business.  We had our meals in the resort dining area but did not stay in the cabins we had occupied all week.  They were occupied by the new crop of guests.  We slept on cots in the cabin, without the girls, a far cry from the luxury we enjoyed all week.  There was no gala party for us on that last night.  Another concern came with news that our flights out of Bogota next morning were cancelled but other arrangements were already made for us.  So, off to bed without the girls.  At that point, I had not been contacted about a job and had no idea what was going to develop if anything- whether I was going home or would have a job offer at the last minute in Bogota which could make possible my fantasy to disappear forever. 

We were, by this time recovered from the excessive drinking all week.  Now it was apparent that we would not be enjoying the last night with our guides.  However, well into the night, I felt the covers peal away and Olive slide up against my naked body.  She took charge.  It was a wild frenzy until I was so exhausted I old hardly move.  I was still breathing hard and her powerful legs were still wrapped firmly around my mid section when I felt a sharp pain in my left butt cheek.  I yipped like a wounded dog.  Olive held on and said it was probably just a nerve twitch from my tension and exhaustion.  Only seconds later I heard a painful gasp from Mike.  Very quickly, something took hold of both our senses and we were soon dead to the world.  I had no idea that Mike and I were soon to learn much more about the strength and capabilities of these two woman.

While we were still sound asleep - literally unconscious- someone quietly entered the building.  This time we never felt another needle being punched into our posteriors.  While asleep from the first sleeping drug, another strong drug took control of our minds.  We were  rolled over onto our backs.  Two women and their assistants slid sharp toothed rings onto our cocks, clicked them tight and locked them.  The six foot long attached chords hung ut on the floor.  We slept on - alone.


As morning came, guests for the new week arrived and were welcomed in the main part of the resort but we were out of sound range.  Well past our scheduled departure time we two were startled awake by our guides.  They ordered us to get up and tugged us by our cocks out of the building.  We had no choice but to move wherever our guides (until now our lovers) wanted us.  Now they had become our leaders and masters.  They showed no concern or fear of our resisting. A sharp tug on the chords set our cocks to bleeding. Furthermore, the last injections had sedated us and we were obedient to their commands.  We were led by our hostesses (now masters) five feet in front of us with our cocks stretching forth, held by the line in the women’s hands.  I could see bits of blood caused by the rings being pulled, I thought by design to impress us that these people meant business and we had no choice but to do as we were told or be pulled convincingly by the cock.  At this time, still sedated, neither of us was in any mental condition to object to what was happening to us and it did no good to wonder what was going on.  We just did what we were told.  Since we were first ordered to get up, hardly any words were spoken to us.  They were not needed.  The women led us as directed by what reminded me of a Marine drill sergeant’s signals.  We were force marched side by side and guided into one of the resort vans.  Our ties were long enough for us to sit on the seats, tied to our respective mistresses in the seats beside us.  We were bussed to the airstrip to a plane a plane positioned at the far end of the runway where we could not be noticed by anyone at the resort. 

Part 4

Whisked off to the Mainland

We took off and flew the short distance to the main Bogota airport.  There, we taxied directly into a hanger and the doors were immediately closed behind us.  We were taken off the plane and stood, still naked and still tied to our mistress.  With no chance of being observed, we were loaded onto a van which departed through a small side door, driven across the airport to the military area.  There, we were led by our bloody cocks onto a military transport.  Each in a separate seat now with our ever-present mistress beside us, and still with no word being uttered to us.  The very few orders given by the “drill sergeant” to our mistresses seemed to be well practiced and automatic so that I suspected this was not a unique occurrence but part of a repeated and casual operation. 

The fact that we were two of about twenty five guests at the resort obviously meant there was something unique about us.  Possibly (probably) we were the only ones who would not be missed with suspicion being thrown on the resort and/or there was something valuable about us that distinguished us from the others - perhaps both were considerations.


The doors of the aircraft were secured, the standard airline safety procedures recited, seat belt were fastened and the plane taxied out onto the apron and then to the end of the runway. The twin turbo-prop engines were wound up, we took off and headed southeast.  Instead of being flown to Dallas or other airports to go home, we flew over the coast line and continued inland an hour or so before landing at what was obviously another military airfield, surrounded by a jungle atmosphere with frequent tall trees.

During the flight from Bogota the sedatives wore off in each of us.  I became troubled about all of this being so involuntary.  I remembered what was said in my early correspondence with the agent about my fantasy of disappearing voluntarily.  None of this had any resemblance to being offered a lucrative job but it did look like an induction to being used as a slave but hardly a sex slave..  These were not women with a program of forceful seduction, this was the army.  I thought wait a minute, this is just pure and simple bold and forceful kidnaping.  A feeling of wanting to get out of this began to take root in my mind but a remote jungle miliary camp did not look like the kind of a situation I could just walk way from.  I didn’t know the geography of Columbia and it was too remote to walk to civilization.  There being no place where I could run to escape was obvious.

The crew led us off the plane, stood us in front of the drill sergeant and to our great relief, the girls unlocked and removed our painful cock rings. An officer who, by nature of his uniform and medals, looked like he must be the C.O. of the base came out of the building.  He was saluted by the crew members in unison, including the women.  Then the crew, all except the drill sergeant and the officer, marched into the building.

In a sharp voice, the officer welcomed us to the service of the president of Columbia.  So there was a method to this madness but to what ends was still a mystery.  He added that our applications for service have been evaluated and accepted.  (What applications I asked myself.)  He continued, saying they will be happy to process us to our duties and assured us that we both will enjoy the challenges. 


The drill sergeant led us into the office and turned us over to our mistresses who by now we were well acquainted with.  We were happy to be in the building, out of the blistering hot Sun.  Fortunately, the week at the island resort had produced a deep tan on every part of our bodies.  The girls sat down in front of us at desks arranged along one wall.  Each of them was handed a folder by the officer.  I was astonished to see the folder handed to Olive to whom I had been attached since my arrival in Bogota ten days before.  The folder had my name and a large 38 written in the upper right hand corner.  Ultimately, I would come to realize that I had been selected from the beginning to be “her project” as my fellow prisoner had been the project of his mistress.  Olive had controlled me constantly from the moment I got off the plane when I first arrived in Bogota.  Then she had me stand at attention while she used a wide-tip indelible marker to write the number 38 across my chest and again across my right ass cheek.  I wondered whether I was the 38th kidnap victim to be processed through this camp? I would never know for sure.  Again, I had to wonder why, except for our technical skills and experience, we were important enough to be kidnaped to a country that has unlimited cheap labor.  Besides that thought, I could not understand why they had used such drastic tactics to get me here when I had been willing to disappear from the world voluntarily.  All I would have expected was a good salary.  Were they so cheap or poor that they intended to use us for no cost above food and water?  Or were they so sadistic as to make me a slave? 

Many detailed questions were asked by the women.  By now I realized they were highly trained agents themselves.  Much was known from early phone conversations, e-male messages, travel papers, and friendly talk while in the resort.  While the girls asked more routine questions and wrote our answers on the forms the officer came by to interrogate us further and added more individual data on us.  It was obvious that agents had thoroughly checked our backgrounds.  I had to presume that all the other men who had been kidnapped before us had been invited as free guests of the resort as we had been.  They must have come voluntarily and secretly as I did.  There would be no awareness of any of us being absent from our homes and no problem in making any of us disappear. 


That evening we were showered and our bodies sheared and shaved of all hair from the top of the head to the bottoms of our feet.  In spite of this unthinkable situation, the increased level of nakedness turned me on constantly.  It also left our bald heads exposed to tomorrow’s sun- provided we were to be exposed to its rays.  Finally we were fed a good meal.  Then, as I assumed all previous prisoners had been, we were “entertained” by our mistresses.  Since, in her interrogating me, Mistress Olive had confirmed to her satisfaction much about what they had already recorded including my SM fantasies. She was prepared with basic equipment to begin working on me, taking advantage of my submissive nature to become her non-consensual “boy”.  She knew I was a push-over whenever she demanded it.  My surrender of any resistance made it much easier for her to control me.  In topping me she was relentless.  She took advantage of this weakness, exploiting it in conditioning me to respond involuntarily do her will.  Knowing I was already under her almost total control she obviously relished my helplessness.  By morning my body was raw from the sting of her flogger, crop and a reed that served in lieu of  a traditional cane.  I was helpless to resist her dominance.  She turned me into a pain puppy that night.  I was so totally exhausted that I could hardly walk to breakfast. 

Obviously they had not taken me merely for the purpose of exhausting me sexually.  I could only guess why they had taken me in this bazaar way but my submission overwhelmed my urge to escape.  Any slave games that I had played back home were strictly consensual and it was always easy to recover quicky and go about my normal routine.  However, I was now constantly a non-consensual submissive- her boy and her toy.  In this condition, it didn’t yet dawn on me that Mike and I were new center pieces in a larger picture with no idea about how all of this was intended to play out. 

After downing a good breakfast, each of us captives was ushered, one at a time, into an area in a corner of the room.  When my turn came, Mistress Olive led me to a large table and told me to lie face down on it.  She and another attendant cuffed my wrists and ankles, stretched me out in the shape of a cross and tightened a heavy strap around my hips so that I could barely move.  Mistress Olive watched as a tattoo artist permanently copied the number 38 on my left ass cheek in four inch numerals, copying what Olive had inked on my right.  Then they loosened the strap enough to roll me over and re-secured me face up.  The artist continued tattooing “38" across my belly and finally in tiny numbers, conspicuously on the front my cock.  Returning to Mistress Olive’s desk I was again interrogated in a different way.  This time privately by the officer in charge with Mistress Olive listening and recoding my answers.  I thought surely this guy was a shrink, playing mind games with me. Although it would have made no difference in the outcome, I and Mike were about to begin a miserable month long mental reprogramming.  We were then separated and I never saw Mike again. My fears intensified when I overheard the officer remind the mistresses that- to be successful the prisoners had to be first “broken” before they could be “broken in” and become useful. 


Part 5

Being Broken

In was about to enter and follow their proven program.  In a preplanned series of situations, prisoners were offered a frustrating series of choices, each beginning a new phase to eventually but ultimately break their potential resistance.  The psychology was to offer the prisoner a pair of choices in which he would have to choose one of two options.  For each set of options the knew that from the way each was planned and worded how the prisoner would make his choice.  The prisoner was set-up and manipulated to make what appeared to be the obvious least undesirable choice.  That choice would lead him inevitably into a worse situations with terrible consequences.  When his first choice had proven a disaster, a new pair of choices was designed to make him feel that he could improve his situation but as before, that obvious choice would again drop him into a worse situation.  Eventually he would make so many bad choices that he hit rock bottom in total frustration, despair and submission!  They had made it a game that they used on all prisoners-  first to break down all resistance and destroy their determination to escape- then to achieve their main purpose in capturing the man- to gain free access to his knowledge and experience.  When finished with this game which had become fun for them they had psychologically destroyed prisoners mentally and emotionally and then exploited them for their skills.  Although each prisoner had his particular professional qualifications to be exploited, his line of choices varied only slightly from the basic plan. 


The initial program for me was about to unfold.  Another man arrived by military jet from Bogota.  He was Dr. Sanchez, an engineer working for the national gas bureau, the same man who had visited with me at the resort bu t failed to offer me a job as I had hoped.  Now, here he was gain. I was brought before him and required to sit in the office, naked as always, about to be interviewed again.  His approach was like a salesman wanting to sell me a rusty 1929 Ford.  He said he had a great opportunity for me, much better than some of my fellow guests.  They had decided to accept me as a volunteer where I could use my experience and talents in the service of the president of the country.  He continued that I knew much about the hydrocarbon storage industry.  He claimed he was offering me the chance of a lifetime.  I could live with him in Bogota and in addition to accompany him in his work, busying myself solving company problems.  I immediately protested that I had come to the resort willing and hoping for an opportunity to get a pleasant and profitable job but this so called “opportunity” did not sound pleasant- or profitable.  I asked him to arrange for my release and added that I would promise to remain mum about what had been happening to me.  He said that he could never take that chance.  That made me realize the gravity of the situation I was in.  He continued saying that I might, at times meet foreigners and might be tempted to identify myself- I must learn immediately that I am not allowed to speak to anyone other than him unless he told me to do so. -  If I ever revealed my “former” identity I would be severely punished, perhaps banished, or even executed! 

Now, the choice of options game started.  To give me the opportunity of making up my mind to accept this opportunity, whether to serve him or not, I he described a second option that I might enjoy with a great passion.  Before I could realize I had a choice to work for him, I had the opportunity of experiencing the alternate choice- beginning immediately and would enjoy it for three full days.  He added that it will give me brief periods of extreme and exhaustive pleasure and excitement.  This excitement would be very intense and I might choose it over serving him which would include yielding to his needs and desires.  If, after these three days, I choose to continue this pleasure, I would experience it daily for as long as I wished.  However, any time I changed my mind I could always ask to see Mistress Olive and tell her that I’m ready to be sent to him in Bogota.  Mistress Olive escorted me, naked to an out-building and turned me over to two burly men.  She departed with the assurance that I was going to love this but she would be back in three days to see how I am enjoying my pleasure. 


They took me by my arms and laid me flat on my back on a warm cushioned metal top table and secured my hands above my head at 45 degree angles and wrapped a wide strap snug around my chest.  The upper part of my body was thus immobilized while everything below was free to move.  They slipped a strange flexible garment onto me.  It reminded me of loose, old-fashioned girls’ gym bloomers.  They fit tightly, half way up my thighs and round my waste.  My ankles were then fit with heavy padded leather cuffs.  A pair of light cables were lowered from overhead pulleys spaced two feet apart, one snapped onto each ankle cuff.  When a small motor was turned on it shortened the cables and thus lifted and spread my feet in the air, high enough to barely lift my hips off the table.  One asked “How does that feel old man? - Comfortable enough?”  I had to admit “yes”.  The precision with which this operation was conducted convinced me that it had been routine for other prisoners although I was never to see any of them, even Mike who had been taken with me.  Having heard about Chinese water torture, I further deduced that this was going to be a step in a physical and psychological conditioning program. Physically, I was completely under their control but mentally I was free and alert.  The front of my bloomers had a short tube fitting with a tight closure.  In my position it was now directly in my view.  The clamp was removed and one of the men said I was about to be introduced to the famous Jungle Itch Ant- and I would love it!” 

With my bloomer gap open the cap of a liter size bottle was carefully removed and its exit tube slid snugly into the bloomer tube.  When the bottle was lightly tapped, I felt a stream of perhaps a hundred ants sliding down over my genitals, some grabbing onto the skin as they fell.  They promptly begin to crawl all over my hairless flesh as if looking for an escape.  They began to give me a wild, sexually invigorating sensation.  It increased in intensity as the ants covered every square inch of my exposed area  until I broke out with sounds typical of a woman in orgasmic release.  But unlike orgasm, this was constant, without ceasing and caused me to thrust my suspended hips in all directions.  It was such an exciting torture that my wiggling motions soon began to exhaust my body’s strength.  After about fifteen minutes I was almost completely exhausted and was about to fall into unconsciousness.  The bugs were suddenly vacuumed out, my legs lowered and I was allowed to rest flat on the table.  How relieved I felt to be allowed to rest, but after about an hour, my respite ended.  Soon after I had begun to appreciate the rest, having stopped quivering, I felt my legs being hoisted up again and another batch of ants dumped into my bloomers.  In no time I was back in ecstatic excitement like a large fish just pulled out of water and allowed to flop on the pier with the hook still in its mouth.  And just like the fish, I was quickly drained of strength almost unable to thrash about.  With each hourly up and down ant introduction, my endurance was more quickly sapped than the previous hour.  After five hourly cycles I began to notice that I was more and more exhausted and less and less able to feel and experience the excitement.  I was approaching the point of just hanging there making little motion at all. 

When I had reached this point and my feet lowered to the table, its back was tilted up to about 45degrees.  My hands were released, I was allowed a sanitary break and fed.  I was again strapped to the table by my chest and allowed to doze.  At the end of eight hours I was put back in another series of five hourly ant treatments followed by the feeding and a sanitary breaks.  I found myself on a routine of four eight hour shifts, each including five tormenting ant treatments.


I realized that they intended to keep me on this program of repeating cycles until I was completely worn down both physically and they hoped psychologically- until I eventually wanted to escape to Bogota and Dr. Sanchez’s repulsive plans for me.  The thought of being in this slowly exhausting environment was taking its intended toll on my psycho.  I realized that I would soon go crazy if I continued under this program.  When this had gone on for three days and three nights Mistress Olive showed up as she had promised.  I reluctantly asked her take me to Dr. Sanchez. 

Part 6

Breaking me Further,  the Fire Ants

Mistress Olive had discussed my progress with my “handlers” before she appeared at my side just as I was recovering from one of my routine states of exhaustion.  She allowed me a few minutes to be sure I was able to recognize her and react semi-intelligently to her questions.  She was very friendly, asking how I was enjoying the excitement and asked whether I was learning to love my ants better than her loving SM care.  Then in an almost cruel voice she asked whether I was enjoying the sex-sational excitement too much to go back to Dr. Sanchez to take advantage of his offers to work for him and go further into bdsm.  Although I knew I was hooked on being her sex-slave, I had some lingering fear of what Dr. Sanchez meant by my opportunity of living with and serving him.  It seemed like I was to be a slave to both of them.  After a minute or two, thinking how much I had come to crave the intensity of the ants, in spite of realizing that I was slowly being emaciated, I said that I wanted more of the ants.  Mistress Olive smiled and said that she would be back in another three days.  She knew that it was just a matter of time before I would be weakened so much that I had no choice other than to ask to submit to Dr. Sanchez knowing he was gay. 

Three days more of the ant routine did weaken me tremendously.  I could hardly hold a spoon to eat.  I hardly noticed Mistress Olive when she finally came to talk to me again.  When she asked whether I was ready to see Dr. Sanchez, she could hardly understand my weak voice saying “yes” and had me repeat my answer several times.. 


She had the men released me and she led me back to the office in the main building.  Dr. Sanchez greeted me warmly and asked whether I had enough of the fun and was now able to make a definite choice between the regular ant itch and making use of my technical experience working with him.  Of course I knew I had no choice but to say I wanted to work with him.  I thought that more of the ants would eventually kill me drive me nuts.  At this point, I would choose anything but more of the ants. 

All of this humiliation and torture on top of Sanchez’s demand that I become his whore, had sparked a determination in my mind to somehow escape.  I figured that my best chance was to gain a position of trust and possibly be allowed to work with American contractors.  He proceeded to remind me of his previous warning about me revealing my former identity and of the serious consequences of any violation.  He said that this rule was so important that I must experience a very small sample of the consequence of a violation.  I nearly panicked when he asked Mistress Olive to take me right back to the laboratory.  I was already too weak to protest.  She turned me over to the two brutes and left.  They put me trough exactly the same routine on the padded table top.  With my feet again stretched up in the air I thought I was going to have to endure more of the same ant treatment and figured that I might not be able to walk out under my own power but be carried back to Dr. Sanchez.  Sure enough, a slug of ants was dropped into my bloomers - but in seconds I realized that this was indeed going to be different.  I felt a sharp sting on the flat of my belly followed by another and then occurring repeatedly and then so frequently all over my bare flesh that I was in intense, constant pain.  I went ballistic screaming.  Thrashing about did no good and because of the pain, there was no way my body was able to tolerate it.  This exposure lasted only several minutes but seemed an eternity.  The ants attached themselves to my flesh so securely that they had to be killed by some sort of bug repellant before the bloomers were pulled off.  I was taken into a shower room where I was hosed down with fast water spay to remove the dead ants.


I was again released to Mistress Olive.  The pain did not cease and I saw myself bleeding from many of the huge welts that had immediately risen from the bites.  I was in such a condition that I was unable to stand up straight.  The men grabbed me by my arms and set me on a wheel chair and turned me over to Mistress Olive.  She added to my misery by snapped a clawed ring similar to the one I wore after my abduction onto my bleeding cock and attached a leash.  She wheeled me back to Dr. Sanchez.  This time his greeting was not at all pleasant.  He asked whether I would remember the consequences of violating the identity rules and made me mutter the obvious answer.  He continued by described once more his wish to have me serve him in Bogota and on trips to inspect gas and oil storage facilities in various refineries in Columbia, Venezuela and on some of the Caribbean islands.  He continued by referring to his being gay and that I would be expected to respond actively to please him.  In inviting me to work with him on a permanent basis he would expect me to learn to yield to his gay lifestyle desires.  This was what I had feared when he first sent me to my sensational ant treatments.  At this time he thought the fire-ant treatment had surely eliminated any residual resistance to his desires.  I agreed, as I was now in no condition to refuse.  I was now going to undergo a short training period designed to bring about basic changes in my attitude and would not only accept a new life style but crave it.  I hid the thought of submitting to that kind of activity as being nauseous to me.  Being startled again I immediately said “No way” but quickly changed my tune, knowing it was wiser to play my cards right to finally gain a position in which I would have a chance to escape.  There was no way I could escape at this time.

He retorted that (as I had now come to realize) in every step of my “re-training” I have and would continue to have alternate options to choose between steps forward and steps backward.  By this practice they could always maintain that the prisoner had volunteered to progress through all of steps that had brought him to whatever position or situation he had happened to “achieve”.  I swallowed realizing that the “progress” that I had now chosen was to accept the opportunity to develop into a gay whore.  I knew that to decline meant to go back the fire ants or perhaps worse. 

Dr. Sanchez expressed pleasure that I was accepting his offer to work at what he called a privileged professional level and a fulfilling life style.  He claimed that everyone has inherent, although unrealized “kinks”.  He went on to say that for me to be absolutely sure I was making the right decision, I would be required to make one more decision between the option of pursuing the position with him and a as career farmer.  I was first going to be introduced to the nations farming business, then be given the final option of working on the farms or working for him.  I knew, by this time, that he was springing another opportunity of choice that was designed to further break down my resistance that he could see still remaining in my mind, having had the nerve to say “no” to him a few minutes before.  Determined to squelch my attitude in saying “no way” he asked Mistress Olive to summon a driver to take her and me for my next “opportunity” - a visit to the farms.  I sensed that I was about to learn to be one of the field workers and live at their level.  While there, he suggested I might meet men who were permanent workers there having had rejected opportunities to improve their lives.  My obvious options were to go permanently to the fields with other slaves who had not qualified for or opted for a better life OR to accept the opportunity to come back to him.  I knew that I was about to endure another ordeal designed to blot out any possible resistance to becoming his “boy”.  And off I went with Mistress Olive on what I knew was, as always, going to be another lesson in persuasion.

Part 7

Off to the Coca Fields

The trip to the farms took a full day.  We drove farther out into the low hill country.  I was suffering the terrible discomfort sitting on my bleeding welts left by the fire ants and with a leash attached to my cock ring.  Our arrival had been expected.  I saw an antenna on a shack that revealed radio communications, probably between this farm headquarters and Dr. Sanchez.  We were met by Ms. Chu, the very black, muscular native farm supervisor who recognized and welcomed Mistress Olive.  I was yanked out of the car by my leash and told to stand at attention.  Ms. Chu looked me over, head to toe and simply said “fine we can make use of him and teach him the work routines on several of our farms.  Dr. Sanchez says this one has a rebellious streak in him.  That makes him all the more exciting for me to break”.  Then moving just out of hearing range she said to Olive- “Sanchez told me that he needs humbling and his mind conquered so he will submit to being totally mastered and used by him”.  Chu said that she had assured Sanchez that one of her fortes was behaviour modification which she had studied at the University of Bogota.  She told Mistress Olive that for difficult cases like this one, to satisfy his demands, she wanted two weeks instead of the usual one.  In two weeks the results would carry her standard unconditional guarantee of total submission.  Sanchez had already agreed to the two weeks and I she had promised to keep him informed of progress every day or two. 


She told Olive “Alright she would take me from here- unless Sanchez sends you back with another one of these sad gringos”.  Ms. Chu grabbed the leash and led me briskly into an opening in the trees where a group of her trainers were in the process of fastening the hands of slave worker to a line of individual posts.  Ms. Chu told Olive that these were slaves who had committed punishable offenses such as disrespect to a trainer, being lazy, having a reputation of rebellion, etc.  These men were all tattooed as I had been with numbers ranging from 7 to 18 indicting that they had been here for varying lengths of time.  One sarcastically welcomed me to the daily whipping session and asked what kind of job I had refused.  Ms. Chew said that I had arrived just in time to receive my first submissive behavior lesson.  She called the trainers to gather round and introduced me as “another new one” to be disciplined and trained in farm work.  With my number appearing plainly on my ass there was no need to consider names.  She handed my leash to one of the trainers who led me to an empty post and tied me close to it, close enough so that I h ad to stand, kicked my calves and told me to spread my feet.  She took a set of rusty cuffs hanging on the post, fastened them on my wrists and attached them so that my hands were high above my head.  Meanwhile Ms. Chu signaled for another trainer to report to her.  As she arrived, knowing why she was called, she and all the trainers selected a whip and each stalked her “trainee”, waiting for the order to commence.  Then the “training” began.  I could see an accumulation of scars on the bodies of all he other victims, indicating that this treatment was not a one-shot deal but one that was recurring.  The thought made me tremble as I braced for the first slash and it was soon delivered by a short whip across the middle of my back.  I yelled in pain but except for deep grunts I noticed a strange silence among the other men.  They must have experienced this often enough to be resolved to it and let their bodies absorb it with little or no outward reaction.  I screamed ten times as ten slashes were well delivered to the front, back and sides of my bare body including where the ants had done their damage.

After this beating each of us slaves was untied and led into a pen like enclosure.  Soon other trainers arrived, gave us large baskets and took us in groups of two or three into a field of plants which I recognized as coca, the base ingredient of cocain, having seen it in a market in Peru.  We spent hours picking the leaves, filling our baskets an then carrying them to a collection wagon where we each took another basket and returned to pick more leaves.  My partners, being more familiar with the picking routine filled their baskets much faster than I.  This being observed by a supervisor, I was taken out of the field and forced to lean over a barrel and struck ten times with a cane.  I was told to work more diligently or be punished again and then sent back into the field. 

Next day, they added a regular evening whipping session to my routine.  I had already been exposed to a lot of sun at the island resort, so the long hours in the fields my body didn’t suffer from sunburn but as the days went on, turned almost as dark as the native’s and the marks of the whippings began to blend in.  



Harvesting Sugar Cane


One morning I and all of my morning whipping group were loaded onto a truck bed and driven about ten miles to the sugar cane farm.  There, our routine of twice daily whippings continued unchanged as we learned to cut sugar cane using a machete. Having these potential weapons in out hands, our supervisors were not the whip carrying women but rather, male armed guards. No need to import expensive tractors with so much slave labor available.  With the regular morning and evening whippings and the extra ones administered for any or no reason at all.  I remembered Ms. Chu saying I was a difficult case so I soon  became oblivious to any thoughts other than what the next moment of misery might bring.  In just several days there, all thought of resistance was blurred and I numbly did anything in hope of relief.  Experiencing only the long hours in the sun, the twice daily and extra whippings, the exposure to mosquitos and other bugs, the realization that I was nothing but a hopeless and helpless object, I broke and decided that I would do anything Dr. Sanchez demanded if they would just give me another chance to get away from here.  I feared that he might have given up on me and that my farm days would continue for as long as I stayed alive just like I had learned was the case for most of the other men.  I talked to other prisoners in the whipping routine, and learned that they had resisted and had tried to escape, one by swimming to a foreign oil tanker, one by appealing a to foreigner to help him get away.  Both said that when they were apprehended, they were sent here permanently and expected to weaken and die here.  My thread of hope was realizing that the others had failed to serve the purposes for which they had been kidnaped and for various reasons had been sent here for “disposal”.  My thread of hope was realizing that the others here had failed to serve the purposes they had been kidnapped for but Dr. Sanchez still had plans for me.  Now in total despair, I began to hope that if my eventual attempt at escape failed and I was similarly condemned, my torture would not be long.  I had no hope of escape from here because I could never find my way through the jungle so I realized that I had to yield to Dr. Sanchez and look for a chance to escape later.  All my willpower, hopes, desires, initiative, cares, principles, were disappearing in only the few days I had been here and I was quickly being turned into a nothing. 

At the end of the second week, Ms. Chu came to pick me up and take me back to the coca farm.  On the second morning there, she took me to her shack like office.  There, Dr. Sanchez and Olive were waiting for me.  Ms. Chu told them that, as far as she was concerned, I was ready for them.  Dr. Sanchez greeted me in stern terms asking whether I had made my decision- “What was it going to be, the farms or Bogota?”  I was not mentally able to say anything.  Ms. Chu repeated her statement- “This slave is ready for you.  Get ‘it’ out of here!” 


Olive guided me into the back seat of the car and Dr. Sanchez drove us back to the military base where I was given a pair of army pants and a shirt and told to put them on.  We boarded a twin engine aircraft and were flew to the Bogota airport.  We taxied to the military section of the field.  I followed Dr. Sanchez like a pet puppy at his heel, never beside him.  We were picked up by a driver in military uniform and driven to an office in a nearby gas plant.  I noticed a building adjacent to this office which I learned was a small but well equipped military hospital.  As we entered the building, Olive excused herself with what sounded more like an order than a request for him to take over.  I was soon to learn that when Olive was not on a special assignment her headquarters were in an annexed wing of the hospital.  I also leaned that I had been and was still her special project.

Dr. Sanchez said he was happy that this was where my home was going to be as soon as the final phases of my training was completed.  We went to his private living quarters in the back half of the building.  There, his private quarters included  a nicely furnished living room, bath and large comfortable bed room furnished with a large king size bed and an mis-fitting army cot in one corner.  He said he had that brought in for me when I was ready for it.  What a wonderful improvement from the bug infested huts I had gotten used to on the farms.

Addressing me as slave, he said I would not be using that cot for a week or so.  For my last bit of adaptation and adjustment to enter my new life, I was to first be stationed in a wing of the military hospital, next door. The significance of that statement immediately sounded another alarm in my mind when he added that I was going to undergo several weeks of psychological and physical lifestyle adjustments.  My mind and my body were to be taught to be very happy in my new service.  When I have successfully completed my adjustments I would have earned the privilege of returning to his quarters and to sleep on my new cot.  He ordered me to take off the shirt and pants that I had travelled in and put on the set of warm-ups that he dropped on the floor in front of me.  He told me to walk to the plain door of the hospital building facing his office and enter.  Someone would welcome me.

Part 8

In the Hospital for Treatment


Following the directions of Dr. Sanchez  I entered the building and found myself at the bottom of a long flight of stairs to the second floor.  I walked to the top and was greeted in friendly terms by a dark completed man of about 30.  He wore only silk-like shorts and was bare footed.  He introduced himself as Romano, I guessed perhaps Italian, perhaps French, perhaps Spanish.  He said I must be Stan- and he was expecting me.  His next words were to take off the warm-ups and lay them over the rail above the stairway.  I followed his instructions and walked over to him naked.  He continued saying we both know why I was there.  I was about to start learning things that would at first be strange to me but assured me that as I progressed, everything I learn and practice will evolve into enjoyable experiences for me and everyone living on this wing and eventually Dr. Sanchez will enjoy me as well.  He reminded me that everyone in the hospital knew that I had willingly accepted and volunteered to undergo a radical lifestyle adjustment there.  Not every volunteer who had been assigned there had been able to adapt to it while others welcomed it being gay before they arrived.  Finally he concluded that he hoped I would soon find my new life enjoyable and as the days go on begin to crave it.

After more small talk, he went on to say that he realized I was mostly ignorant of what this was all about but he was sure from experience that little if any force would be needed to take me from one step to another since I had already been conditioned to accept it without question or objection.  Everything they would do to and with me would be “consensual” since I had in fact already consented.  They would begin by striving to arouse my interests to a point where I wanted to interact with them and finally want to take the initiative.

He offered me something to drink- tea, coffee, Coke, lemon aid, what ever I preferred.  I was thirsty so agreed to a Coke never realizing that this Coke or any other choice would have been spiked in advance with a small amount of a drug that would act something like date rape.  It was to produce sexual arousal in me for any and all of the men who I would be introduced to.  With me having no idea what was happening he knew that my conversion was already in progress. 

After I quickly drank it down he asked whether I had ever been kissed by a man.  I said “Hell No-”.  He allowed the drink start to take effect with small talk then slowly moved closer to me and asked whether I had ever wondered what it would be like to kiss a man.  I said I guessed I had but had always put it out of my mind.  He edged closer and gently put his hands on my shoulders.  He drew me close to him and told me to describe any warm internal feelings.  I had to admit that I thought I felt strange but I didn’t understand why.  He placed his hands behind my shoulders and drew me close against him so that my naked body was in contact with his, separated only by his silk-like shorts.  He told me to relax all of my feelings and thoughts as he came tightly against me and slid a hand around my lower back in a massaging motion.


Part 9

My Gay Reactions Probed and my first male to male kiss

As he rubbed against me I felt my cock swelling.  He lightly worked one hand lower on my back and finally gripped my ass cheek and drew me tighter against him as I felt my erection against him.  He slowly brought his face close to mine, continuing to ask how it felt to be held close to a man, knowing full well that my being naked in his arms with the effects of the drug I was now in his control.  He kept repeating “Relax. Relax” and I soon felt his lips brush my cheek and finally touch my lips.  I then felt my heart start to beat faster.  He gave me a few brief kisses, backed away and asked whether I realized that I had discovered my natural desire and need for the love of another man.  I had to say “Yes it did”. 

Romano continued, diverting my attention away from what he as doing, asking a lot of questions about me and my interests including the sex that I had been treated to on the island.  This made me relax to a point where I began to talk about it and feel at ease in his arms.  I had already accepted being in this condition of sexual arousal in his arms, in his control, feeling his passion for me- involuntarily  surrendering to him.  I had not been there more than an hour of what Sanchez implied might be a week of conditioning.

Romano eases my anxiety


I asked Romano how he knew about the island.  He answered that he had been there on one of his annual vacations and had learned the secret of relaxing, letting himself fall into the spell of a woman’s passion and finally her control.  He, like I, had revealed hidden fantasies of disappearing forever and had also made it impossible for any of his acquaintances to guess what had happened to him.  That reminded me exactly of the process I had gone through.  We both had let ourselves submit to the spell of alcohol and sex and surrendered to hot women.  We both had done the filming bit and been taken to the remote military base for preliminary processing.  At that point began the great divergence in our conditioning.  His female mistress, in a similar position as my Mistress Olive, had fallen in love with him and had him brought directly to the hospital where she continued keeping him as her lover.  Knowing he also had a gay side she developed him for his current position and kept his identity secret from Dr. Sanchez.  Thus, there was no record of his previous occupation or profession and it seemed that nobody had cared.  He performed well on the hospital staff to help train slaves like me in the gay lifestyle.  Contrary to Romano’s experience, my extreme suffering had brought me to this final moment, near ultimate surrender.  I had little remaining ability or desire to resist letting myself go with the flow.  So here I was, submitting to the spell of a drug and control of this man.  I let myself relax as he untied the bow of his shorts and let them slide to the floor.

I willingly let myself relax and he slowly coaxed me to lie down on his bed.  While his hands roamed freely over my upper body he resumed kissing my lips, then my neck, then all over my chest and mid-section.  Beyond any level of self control I found myself responding to it and offered no resistance whatsoever.  It was nothing like the thrill and excitement of hundreds of ants swarming over my genitals but I was beginning to feel a similar intense arousal.  Rather than proceed farther in his expert-like game he got off me and went back to talking as if nothing had been going on.  Leaving me feeling abandoned by his breaking off the game, I asked what I had done wrong.  He said I had done nothing at all wrong but that I had already shown him the basic qualities of a toy that a gay man could want to play with.

Part 10

First Hospital Dinner- Meeting the Staff

“Lets have some dinner, you must be starved.  Meals are served in the main hospital dining room.  It’s a short walk from our wing.  They always serve a good meal.  You will meet some of our staff there.  We eat with all of the other hospital staff so this is the only time we are expected to wear clothes.”  He handed me the warm-ups and shirt that I had worn to walk the few steps from Sanchez’s office to the back door of the hospital. 


When we arrived in the informal dining room Romano had me stand next to him and announced to everyone that I was the new patient to be treated for a behavior disorder.  Practically everyone broke out with a broad smile.  I thought to myself that they all must know what my behavior problem was- I was not gay- yet.  Then he introduced me as “our new project” to about a half dozen men and women seated around a large table at one end of the room.  From the matter-of-fact manner in which I was announced to everyone in the dining room and then introduced to the obviously select group, it dawned on me that I was the latest in a series of candidates for promotion to “gay-technician” in the gas and oil industry of Columbia.  I wondered where all my predecessors might be- except I knew of one who had been rejected and condemned permanently to the farms.  I wondered further about the responsibilities of this small select group and guessed that they had some routine duties around the hospital in addition to focusing on me.  I knew quite well that I was something special and not just another toy to be destroyed for the pleasure and entertainment of Sanchez and his fellow gays.  Sanchez had made it clear what he intended for me.

Practically everything about my spirit and character had already been stripped away but I still retained a deep level of resentment and internal resistance to the process of being made to surrender to all the pervasive manipulations I sensed were in store for me there, perhaps including more torture if I didn’t succumb and cooperate.  With practically all resistance having already been tricked or beaten out of me, I had now, for self preservation, surrendered and had quickly (with the aid of unknown drugs) already become  familiar with sleeping naked and being hugged and kissed by the first gay man I met.  I was terrified, realizing that I would now be broken- to accept any and all of the pleasures that these people were prepared to use my body for.  I sensed that my fate was already known to everyone in the Sanchez wing and most likely many of the remainder of the hospital personnel.

As the meal was served, Romano involved two athletic looking men in personal conversation with him and me.  Romano casually said Bill and Jack will help me adapt to my new life around there.  No question remained in my mind.  I immediately grasped the meaning of those words.  Bill and Jack were assigned to lead me through the next step in my introduction to the depths of the gay life style through what I termed “on-the-job training” although there was no talk of why I was there.  No words were needed.  It was obvious that I was about to be “taken-in-hand” by Bill and Jack. 


Romano did say that I was already scheduled for a physical exam the next afternoon to detect any problems that may have developed during my weeks in the jungle and any possible infections in the marks and tattoos.  He had visually checked me over during the previous night while I was sound asleep, still under the influence of the drug.  The physical was to take place in the main hospital labs.  Mistress Olive would come by to take me there for my 11 o’clock appointment.  While being discrete, everyone in the wing knew what I was there for- and that I was beginning my slow but sure progress as a patient on my journey of transformation from masculine male to a collective, intimate, mostly submissive sex slave, trained by the Sanchez wing male and female medical staff.  All of this, instead of eliminating my last bit of reluctance, further intensified my fears and secret determination to escape. 

Rec Room, Video and Exposure


After dinner, with a hand on my shoulder, Romano guided me into the recreation room in the Sanchez wing with Bill and Jack close behind.  All four of us sat on a long soft couch with me between Romano and Bill with Jack seated on the floor with his head between my thighs.  A large screen TV was turned on and the lights dimmed. A video started playing.  It was a mild gay porno program with many scenes of gay men and also women in indoor and outdoor physical activities.  Around the room I could not help but notice men with men and women with women, who had paired up doing a lot of hugging and kissing as though it was casual and normal to them.  It obviously was.  I quickly found myself engaged in the same with Romano.  As the show progressed, pairs of partners quietly got up, headed toward the door and disappeared.  As the scenes got hot and sexy, I welcomed the feeling of all three of us lounging so comfortable and cozy.  Romano, sliding closer to me, placed one arm around my shoulder and kissed my ear while Bill slid his hand up under my shirt along my chest and gently massaged me up and down and around.  Jack, not to be left out, parted my knees further and drew my legs over his shoulders.  As he slid his head back between my thighs he reached up and took hold of the sides of my warmup pants and started pulling them down.  Being absorbed in the fun and flirting on the TV tube and Romano’s caresses I became passionate and responded almost to a point where I had the urge to become the aggressor.  Being aroused by the movie scenes and the massaging and kissing, instead of resisting I raised my hips so Jack could pull the pants down under his head and shoulders thus completely exposing my lower body.  I could not resist closing my highs around his head.  Finally Romano said he was tired and had to go get some sleep for an early in the morning staff meeting.  He told me to enjoy the rest of the movie and the night with Bill and Jack. 



Threesome with Bill & Jack


Now I was alone with Bill and Jack and helpless in their grasps.  While Bill removed my shirt, Jack turned over and finished removing my pants.  With Bill now having his arms gripped around my body under my arms, hugging and kissing me, with my body still being weakened by the beatings I had taken on the jungle farms, I was powerless to move even, at this point, if I had wanted to.  With my torso pinned by Bill, Jack wrapped his arms around my legs at the knees and began kissing the insides of my thighs.  This aroused me so thoroughly that I could not resist beginning to thrust my hips every which way.  With me under their control, Jack worked his lips and mouth, kissing and sucking my thighs until he finally had access to my genitals.  He had my cock and balls ready to be kissed, licked and finally taken into his mouth.  I went ballistic and groaned loudly as the first orgasm I had been allowed since the last night at the resort, quickly erupted.  To avoid messing up the couch Jack held all my fluids in his mouth temporarily.  Rather than swallowing he let it out in small squirts all over my belly and chest while they both vigorously spread it around like it was body lotion.

Part 11

Teased and Tasted by Two


When I had calmed down enough to be able to stand and walk they led me naked to Romano’s wide bed.  They spread a rubber sheet on it and told me to lie down on my back, stretch out and relax.  They both stripped off the items they had worn to dinner and laid down, one either side of me, their bare flesh engulfing all of my exposed parts. 

They said that, due to ocean breezes in the Bogota area it normally gets cool during the night but we would be warm close together.  There was however a thin blanket on the foot of the bed which they later drew up over us.  After a few hugs and kisses we all relaxed and feel asleep.  I slept solidly, having had an exhausting day driving from the farms to the jungle office, flying to Bogota with Dr. Sanchez, having my first love session with Romano, a hearty dinner, a sexy movie, a massive sexual orgasm and now warm bodies on either side.


My rest was disturbed at about four A.M. when I felt my cock being hand massaged to hard erection and then taken into the mouth of the man on my left who I realized was Bill.  All the while, Jack’s hands roamed over my body, again stimulating every nerve to excitement. Then I felt wonderful, being sucked off the second time within a few hours period.  And I liked every moment of it especially when Bill brought me to another orgasm.  By seven o’clock they had, to my utter delight, taken turns bringing me to orgasm several times. 


At seven, they woke me out of my slumber, led me naked into a small isolated, countered room in the Sanchez wing to have breakfast.  I was happy when Mistress Olive walked in, dressed in a light gown and served herself breakfast.  She sat next to me at the counter enjoying her cereal and milk.  She asked Bill and Jack what they had done, not to me but for me.  To my embarrassment, as if giving her a technical progress report, they described every detail of what they had done since the video viewing the evening before.  Olive said that she had come into the rec. room for a while and watched how I had reacted to my Phase 2 initiation.  The phase numbering system startled me.  Was I progressing ”by the numbers” and had I already, in less than 24 hours, gone through two phases.  My life was full of wonders and now I wondered how many phases were coming and how much repetition I was to experience in each phase?  I had already had five orgasms in phase 2. 


As Mistress Olive finished her milk, she reached her hand over and grasped my naked cock.  She said to Bill and Jack- “I want you to watch as I check him out to compare how he reacts to a woman’s hand and mouth with how he does to yours.  This is my simple preliminary test of a new initiate’s dormant gay tendencies.  She led me back to Romano’s rubber sheeted bed and started out by giving me a sensual back massage before motioning me to turn over and used her hands to excite me.  These moments prompted me to ask out of curiosity, how many ‘phases’ are included in my ‘treatment’ and how many repetitions will I experience advancing through each phase?  She told me to forget such questions and let myself relax and concentrate on what she was doing to me.  She fondled me expertly, took me in her mouth, stroking me in and out until she slowly brought me to orgasm.  Then she told Bill to take over and to imitate what she had just done.  When I had ejaculated for Bill she ordered Jim to take his turn.  All of us including myself observed that the men had more quickly brought me to orgasm than she had.  She said to the men “there you have the evidence of his potential, develop it”!  She observed it was almost time for her to take me to the medical labs for my examination, tests and treatments.  That set my mind to wondering “treatments?” Mistress Olive had been my escort, my lover, my captor and my driver all the while since she met me when I first arrived at Bogota.  Now I realized she was now residing in the Chavez hospital wing.  I had seen her at dinner the night before but dared not approach her then but it was now evident that she had been close-by ever since she met me at the Bogota airport.



I knew from our growing experience together that she was expert at dealing with and handling captives but I still delighted in the attention she had given me from the start.  She handed me a standard hospital gown and told me to put it on.  I followed as she walked briskly through the dining room into the main hospital where clothing? was required.  Rounding several corners and descending one flight of stairs to the main floor we went under a sign in Spanish that I could not read and entered the exam and lab areas.  There, we were met by the female doctor in charge of that area.  She sat down behind her desk looking at a folder which I could see contained my medical and interrogation records accumulated before and since the day I was first taken into captivity at the island resort, including all the hand written information (in Spanish, naturally) that had been accumulated since I was spied on back home and the phone conversations with the agent who offered me the free vacation trip.  How she got this folder was a astonishing to me.  They were very well organized and knew everything about me. 

The supervisor called a duty nurse and handed her a list of hand written instructions for my examination.  Mistress Olive and I followed her into the examining room where the nurse circled behind me, untied the neck and waist gown strings, flipped it off me and hung it over the back of a chair.  “Don’t forget to put it back on when you leave” she said with a bit of sarcasm.  So there I stood naked again in front of Mistress Olive and a women I had never seen before.  This was nothing new as there had been very few days when I had needed or been allowed any clothing whatsoever since I arrived on the island.  I got all the basic checks- weight, height, pulse, blood pressure, stethoscope listening for lung noises etc.  She examined every inch of my body making notes on all of the many marks and scars left by the whippings I had received at the farms. 



Part 12

Abused by Mistress Olive




Finishing the basic routines and skin damage survey the nurse said- “Looks like you were a difficult case and required a lot of persuasion. This indicated tome that she had examined others like me.  Now the enema she said!  Come over here to the bathroom.  Lean over this narrow table and put your arms down over the other side.”  She fastened cuffs around my wrists and quickly snapped them to a lower bar of table as if she knew what my reactions were soon to be.  She apparently did not know how thoroughly I had been drained of almost all reluctance to submit to or object any abuse from anyone given charge over me.  Little pain, only a bit of humiliation but that was nothing compared to what I was used to.  With my butt high and exposed she lubricated the opening and inserted an enema tube.  In a few seconds a seeming large quantity of liquid was pumped inside my bowels.  Then she inserted a butt plug and inflated its inside end to reduce the possibility of anything coming out prematurely.  With me in this miserable position she massaged my gut area to make sure the cleanser reached everywhere.  Finally she had Mistress Olive release my wrists, had me limp to the toilet, removed the but plug and told me to expel everything.  I was greatly relieved but she had me lean over the table again, inserted the tube and did what she called a final quick rinse.  After expelling that, she told Mistress Olive that I was now prepared for her to introduce me to then next phase of my training.  I was told to lie down across a padded examination table with my thighs hanging down over one side and my arms hanging over the opposite side.  Cuffs were again attached around my wrists and secured to the lower cross bar of the table.  Mistress Olive thanked the nurse and applied another glob of lubricant around and into me.  Instead of an enema bulb, this time Mistress Olive first strapped a long dildo around her bared hips, walked in front of me to show me close-up what was about to be shoved up my behind and said that over the next week or so I would learn to enjoy and hopefully crave this toy inserted by women of the staff and also the men- who had no need of such a device.  Simply, I was now beginning my preparations for Dr. Sanchez.  She casually walked around behind me and began fitting the instrument into me in slow but sure advance and retract motions.  The pain being intense caused me to scream out so loudly that the nurse tied a thick pad around my mouth to quiet me.  Mistress Olive, enjoying the action of subduing another hapless and helpless male made grunting sounds simulating a man asserting his power and control over me.  Having an inherent inspiration to induce this pain in me she finally voiced her own cries of satisfaction.  She knew what pain I had born at the farms and knew also how I craved her flogging me but this was a radically different situation.  After cleaning me and herself in the shower Mistress Olive checked me for bleeding, inserted a bit of antibiotic cream, had me put the gown back on  and walked me back to the Sanchez wing.  I flopped on the bed in agony.  Mistress Olive told me to get some sleep, left written instructions for Romano to let me rest until tomorrow and disappeared. Romano arrived, read the note, ignored me and went to bed.


Part 13

 My Date Rape, Witnessed by All


Next morning, Mistress Olive returned and conferred with Romano.  I was to be left alone until evening time but then I was to continue in my Phase 3 initiation.  Right after the evening meal, Mistress Olive led all of the Sanchez group men and several women to Romano’s room. She remained the rest of the evening to observe me being abused in Phase 3 by Romano and this eager bunch.  When Romano approached me I stood erect to greet him.  He said he was thirsty and went to a table and poured several glasses of juice, but from separate pitchers.  He handed one to me and asked whether I had missed him the day before.  He said he had missed me and wanted to kiss me.  While all the while thinking I’d rather be kissed by Mistress Olive, I responded cooperatively.  As he wrapped  his arms around me he sensed my distraction and asked whether I had not missed him also.  Being able to think fairly clearly, I said that I had been most of the morning in the medical department and could hardly take my mind off Mistress Olive’s use of me there.  I also confided that I had been trying to anticipate what to expect as a result of assuring Dr. Sanchez that I was willing to be trained to serve him loyally but was puzzled about how yielding to other men and women could bring me to dedicate myself to Dr. Sanchez.  He said not to worry- whores are always ready for anyone at any time.  “Whores”?, I asked myself. 



Sensing that I was about to be raped again, in my total confusion, having no ability and only a waning desire to resist, I asked why they were doing all this to me.  He had no obligation to tell me anything but did say that this being only one day after beginning Phase 3, what Mistress Olive had initiated, would now be repeated while I was still clean inside.  He admitted it would be painful but less so because I was being kept “submissively dormant”. The drink was taking its toll on my awareness of what was going on around me.  Romano added there were probably a lot of silly thoughts like that in my head but for now I should just stay calm and let things happen.  I was told to lie down on my back, relax every muscle in my body and let myself yield to the warm feelings growing in me; allow myself to feel what was physically and emotionally happening to me.  Then having dropped his garment he laid down naked beside me.  As I tried to relax, he proceeded to massage my neck and back as he worked around the bed to gain access to every part of me.  Someone close-by spread oil all over my body while Romano massaged my neck, chest, belly and between my thighs.  Finally relaxed I soon began to warm up to the point of breathing a harder. 

I felt Romano draw our bodies together, grip my hip and roll me over onto my face.  As more oil was slowly dripped on my shoulders, on my back, on my waist, on my ass and on the back of my thighs all the way to my knees his and least one more pair of hands worked the oil into my skin into every contour and crack.  I was naked in the hands of this smooth and now very slick operator.  I felt my sexual desires coming to life as many hands massaged me all over.  I knew I was helpless and increasingly horny in the hands of a half dozen hungry men and women. With one arm around my abdomen and the other around left thigh he slid my body over the bed crosswise with my thighs hanging off one side down toward the floor and slowly stroked my sides from neck to hips and ass musing at my intense erection.  Again, he laid down next to me and then on top of me.  He slid his body forward over me and kissing my ass cheeks, back, shoulders and neck as he slid. The slick nature of the oil increased the oneness sensation.  Knowing that I had agreed  never to resist I wondered why I saw a pair of wide velcro cuffs pulled out of the drawer of the headstand being and attached one to each wrist.  Short straps fastened my wrists tightly wide apart to the bed frame.  Now, with my thighs against the other side of the bed, I was totally immobilized.  While all this was happening to me I never noticed Mistress Olive had motioning the half dozen people, including Bill and Jack to closely encircle the bed.  They all crowded close, some on either side of the bed.  They contributed to my excitement by lending their hands to Romano’s in massaging me everywhere they could reach and several leaning over and kissing my neck and upper body.  Under such an intense barrage of attention, I was soon gasping with excitement and hopelessly out of control.  Mistress Olive then worked around and was standing beside Romano, one on each side of my knees.  To ease my imminent initiation of rape she applied a generous handful of warmed lubricant around and inside the cavity that Romano was about to invade.  Then, as Romano got into position my “audience” began to “awe” and “oh” with the excitement of witnessing my ultimate initiation and humiliation.  The inevitable stretch being greater than that of the dildo that I had felt just a day before caused a higher level of pain and caused me to lose my resolve and begin squirming and crying like a baby.  Nevertheless my audience, having witnessed this ‘ceremony’ performed on other ‘patients’ before me, all cheered and said- “Welcome to the club, new slut!”



Part 14

Guided by Mistress Olive

After we were alone again Mistress Olive continued her instructions to me saying the third phase would continue a few days and phase four would be added to complete my time there.  Then I was to be returned to Dr. Sanchez to adopt myself to his ways and wants and start working into the technical aspects of the oil and gas business which were the basis for their interest in me in the first place.  My duties will be to please Dr. Sanchez but most importantly to learn the nature and magnitude of the problems plaguing their industrial operations and become useful in solving those problems.  During this period she said she would appear frequently to monitor my progress.  Whereas in Phase 1, I was compelled to accept my condition as a subject (she avoided using the word “slave”).  We both knew that the surrender of my independence was necessary for my survival.  She continued that, as long as he lasts, I must advance my technical value back with Dr. Sanchez.  To meet expectations, I must yield to Dr. Sanchez’s personal demands while I prove my ability to bail him out of the many problems that haunt him in the country’s petroleum business.  I began to contemplate myself becoming trusted enough to be given supervisory responsibilities and being able to act more and more independent of Dr. Sanchez.  At that point, considering her words “as long as he lasts” I would still be “hers” and she would broaden my responsibilities and activities.  This all seemed far-fetched but appealed to me as a possible situation where I could make my escape.  While Mistress Olive eluded to me gaining a rewarded long term relationship with her I thought advancing successfully beyond the end of my training in the hospital was worth a shot to eventually escape.  Regardless of who was my master or mistress and how much better my situation could be, escape was obviously my only way to avoid being a slave for the rest of my life.

This woman had just admitted that I had been her charge every miserable step of the way.  And now she is letting me know that I could be her perpetual criminal partner.  She obviously does not like Dr. Sanchez and I suddenly fear being her tool and shield in disposing of Dr. Sanchez.  The disgusting part was having to satisfy Sanchez’s uncontrollable gay fantasies and for now I had no choice.  It was evident that she believed I could be both a willing gay and a technical supervisor.


Part 15

Seeing the Light

Now I saw two possible escape possibilities


1) To grow into a technical position where I could watch for a chance to escape.

2) To grow into a position in Mistress Olive’s capture and enslavement business where I might have even better escape chances.

She told me to lie back on the bed and began fondling my hardening cock so I could only half keep up with her logic.  She continued that, in the process of finding paying guests for the resort, her service agents would continue screening potential customers searching for highly qualified candidates to fill the voids in the country’s various technical branches.  When a contact sounds like he has the desired  qualifications he is investigated to determine whether he can be safely invited as a guest.  Quite obviously, a candidate must want to visit a resort for men-only in secret.  This part is usually quite easy.  No man would tell his wife about his yearning for an adulterous vacation and few would tell their friends.  Her agents dig into the customer’s fantasies and hopefully determine that he wants to keep his mischievous conduct secret before being offered a free vacation.  He is never told that the trip would be “one way” even if he (like I had) revealed such a fantasy.  When the situation is right, Olive then sets up the entire plan.  The country can’t afford the extremely outrageous salaries demanded by qualified experts so they had developed other means to get them.  She reviews the reports and authorizes the agent to invite the man for a vacation, free of charge, at the island resort.  I figured that she was baiting me with the idea that I could become Dr. Sanchez’s replacement as well as help her screen candidates.  She added that if everything worked out right, I would train new “acquisitions” to serve in the gas and oil industries.  That must mean that I would train slaves while still being a slave myself. 

I wondered whether upper management might already be growing tired of losing so many potentially good men and having to virtually dispose of them as useless slaves on the farms.  They must have some idea of Sanchez running a very wasteful operation losing good men who couldn’t or would not adapt to and serve his weird demands.


Mistress Olive was pleased with the skill of the agent she had trained and who I had to agree did an excellent job in dealing with me.  He had completed several general engineering course and was skilled in the art of detecting who was technically qualified, who craved the idea of secret vacations and who could be lured into accepting the free holiday and keeping everything secret.  With my assistance she postulated- there will be less chance of bringing unqualified candidates to the resort and wasting the time and effort involved in developing them.  She suggested that I would enjoy a trip to the island to watch the scene as a man goes through his filming sessions and suddenly learns that he is never going home.  To summarize such a man’s immediate future, the chosen one is brought to the island, devoured in sex, dominated by his mistress, then forcefully moved to the remote inland base and the farms where he learns to obediently surrender in frustration and fear of the painful results of always making bad decisions.  Ultimately in the process of being broken, almost every slave recognizes his state of hopelessness, goes into depression and finally surrenders. 

She envisioned that if I could be in Dr. Sanchez’s place, there would be no more need of a prospect to be assigned as a “patient” in this hospital for gay training but immediately involved in useful service in the petroleum plants. 

However, in my unique situation, she reminded me that pleasing Dr. Sanchez was still not only critical to being greatly rewarding but possibly even to staying alive.  She expressed confidence that I would be the last victim to be subjected to the Sanchez treatment.  However, even if I replaced Dr. Sanchez, I could never be superior or equal to her.  As long as I remembered my place as her submissive, she would take care of me and give me the advantages and favors she thought I could earn.


Part 16

More Agony

My “conversion” continued.  Just like I had been saturated with drugged drinks first at the resort, then my first day in the hospital, my breakfast this morning was spiked with Viagra.  Then, with frequent submission to rape by anyone whose turn it was at whatever time he or she chose, my apprehension of being used diminishes almost to the point were I tolerated and began to be numb to it.  Simultaneously, I had to learn the techniques of being the aggressor in such gay practices. 


In the morning of the third day of this, I was awakened by Romano taking my cock full length in his mouth and working me into passion.  I was as usual completely out of control and helplessly ejaculating with great intensity.  When Romano finished, I was kept flat on my back while everyone else took his or her turn taking advantage of my helplessness well into the early morning hours until every person, man or woman, had brought me to ejaculate.

Then before they left me exhausted and alone, everyone took a turn with a flogger, administrating red stripes over my entire body.  I remembered the fact that they all would have known from my kink history that I was available to them just as well as they knew everything else about me from the files that were amassed on me and every other prisoner.  Next morning, in like fashion, they all took turns raping me.  I was perpetually sore all over, not only with a lot of flogger marks but also from the intense sucking with occasional tooth marks and rectal stretching pain



Part 17

Back to Dr. Sanchez


Finally I “graduated” from the gay training program and was sent back to Dr. Sanchez.  His welcome is not cordial but rather with the implication that I finally got there.  He ordered me to toss away the hospital gown that was given me to walk back across the parking lot.  Then immediately demanded me to show him what I had learned.  Moments like this reminded me of my hate for the man.  He ordered me to my knees dropped hid shorts, grabbed my ears for leverage and shoved his already rampant cock into my mouth.  In his state of rage he could not pump more than a minute before he unloaded into my mouth, then pushing me away with the word “Pig”.  He pulled up his shorts and walked away, leaving me kneeling in bewilderment.  What a bastard, I thought to myself!  After a disgusting top and bottom afternoon he finally remembered he had several technical problems he needed me to work on.  Working for several days on what turned out to be rather simple problems made it easy to progress to a situation of being indispensable to him.  Managing to satisfy him in frequent encounters while he managed to stay awake, I was soon able to find time alone in the office to concentrate on productive work but was expected to be available to please him every night.  That combination proved to be wearing on my ability to perform in either assignment until I found it necessary to take cat naps during working hours.  I was in an awkward position and I got to hate the man more and more.  My napping on the job turned out to be was no problem since Dr. Sanchez was sleeping most of the time during working hours.  I helped one of the technicians develop his trade skills and got him pay raises.  He was dependable in waking me if Dr. Sanchez happened to appear.

At the same time, Mistress Olive had taken possession of a new captive who she wisely judged could be developed as my backup.  I was allowed to interview him to determine whether his technical knowledge and experience matched what the recruiting agent and Mistress Olive had assumed in their contacts with him.  I concurred.  He immediately began the ant and whip treatments to be broken and later to be “broken in” by me- but always supervised by Mistress Olive in lieu of Dr. Sanchez whose departure from that duty had taken place but not yet explained to me.  I was elated to finally be informed by Mistress Olive that my backup had cleared the breaking process and would very soon be available to me.  He was excused from any gay training (due to the disposal of Dr. Sanchez) and would immediately be assigned to me. 


Quite quickly, I was able to help him and many local technicians in their trades in all of the national refineries and gas plants.  Dr. Sanchez never knew that I was traveling to outlying plants taking my assistant along.  Everything was running smoothly and I was soon recognized by upper management through weekly reports from various local plant managers.  Management had been surprised that I was mentioned in these reports but never informed by Dr. Sanchez that he had been sending me to the remote plants.  Dr. Sanchez did not even know what I was doing and apparently thought he could take credit for the absence of problems reported in these reports while continuing to screw around with gays he could call up from the hospital staff.  Suddenly, Dr. Sanchez no longer summoned me to his bedside and when I returned to my cot, he was no longer in the bedroom.  I was grateful for his absence.  Nobody, including Mistress Olive told me that upper management had found out that Sanchez was only rarely on the job while I was doing most of his work.  They had summarily and quietly disposed of Dr. Sanchez to the farms where he was doomed to suffer the tribulation he had subjected me to.  The big difference, as I learned several weeks later, after my own trial for attempting to escape, was that Sanchez was never to return.

This all worked out fine as far as the status quo was in concerned.  I gave Dr. Sanchez’s luxury bed to my backup who I gave the more dignified title “assistant”, ordered a new comfortable bed for myself and disposed of the army cot.  I and my assistant knew that, in spite of our enviable situations, our permanent status was “slave”.  We could not build up nest eggs like plant managers in a free society.  I was careful never to mention to him my deep desire to be free, always as if our perpetual slave situation was perfectly natural.  We chatted about both of us having had fantasies of being bought or caught into slavery and having been really lucky to be in the positions we found ourselves.  The subject of gay training being repulsive I never approached it with him knowing he had never suffered that period of training.

Since Dr. Sanchez was no longer around I had no more exposure to his desires and demands.  I never discussed that nightmare with my assistant.  Not being around, Sanchez was not a factor in the decision to take my assistant with me to various plants to get him prepared for my absence.  That could be any time that Mistress Olive might want me or whenever I got my chance to escape.  Secretly, I began to realize my chance might soon arrive and that I had to be ready to take advantage of it. 



Part 18

Inspiration to Escape


Now I was in a position of trust and my assistant was perfectly able to keep operations running smoothly enough so that if and when I disappeared with Mistress Olive or had escaped, I would not be missed immediately.  I was virtually free to go to any of the country’s oil and gas plants either alone or with my assistant.  Occasionally, I was able to talk to foreign engineers and purchasing agents who were there to inspect facilities and the loading of their ships while on their way to or from Bogota to negotiate prices with upper management.  I soon got acquainted with a friendly Dutchman who was visiting supply sources in Columbia and Venezuela.  He was travelling on one of his company’s corporate planes, hopping between islands and mainland terminals.  I told him about my visits to Holland and would really like to make another short visit.  He said I would be welcome to fly with him on his return to Holland but said that flights from Holland were frequent but not regularly scheduled.  I dared not tell him that I would have no intention of returning but said that my assistant could handle things until I returned.  I thought his use of the word “home” meant that he knew nothing about slavery in Columbia. 

Even though I was sure that more opportunities like this would come soon, in my excitement about escaping I boarded the plane bound for Holland.  Allowing my hopes to override better judgement, I had not been in my current position long enough to have thought of all the details I must have fixed in my mind to avoid screwing up when I made my break for freedom.  I jumped on his offer and agreed to fly to Rotterdam with him. My premature thoughts were that when I get to Holland I will be able to walk out of the airport, exchange the Columbian money I had in my pocket, and take a taxi to the American Embassy or consulate, blow the whistle on the entire Columbian slave market operation and apply for a new passport.  Hitching the ride was a snap but there were possible situations that might not be prepared to handle.  What if one of the Dutch executives knew about the slavery and checked me out through his contacts in Bogota?  What if I had to meet oil company executives and someone asked why I had not brought any luggage for a holiday in Holland?  etc., etc.  If they were not aware of the slavery situation and I revealed it to them they might assure my safe return to American custody but I could not be sure.  If I made any mistakes and was sent back to Bogota, there was no telling what the consequences would be. 


When I made my arrangements for the fabulous free vacation at the island resort I had altered and hidden all of my accounts and assets so that only I would have access to them when I returned in person and was secure to surface in a new job.  I was now in charge of technical affairs in the Columbia oil and gas business and with only Mistress Olive keeping tabs on me, she seldom asked questions as to where I went or when I would be back.  Here, I just told the plant manager and my backup that I was flying to Holland with the Dutchman.  No one in Bogota would know that I had left until top management’s weekly reports arrived and they might not even mention my departure at all.  This could have been the perfect escape - except that I had no money, no access to money, no passport. 

Off to Rotterdam

The plane had already been in Bogota so I had a non-stop flight to Rotterdam except for a refueling stop in Bermuda so I enjoyed a smooth ride to Holland talking with the Dutchman about my earlier work in Amsterdam and Rotterdam when I had stopped at Heineken Hoek, the famous corner bar run by the Heineken Brewing Company for a few beers and about craving a good restaurant dinner, etc. etc..  Of course, I had no intention of going anywhere before reaching an American office.  Of course I did not know where the American government offices were but assumed a taxi driver would.


Arriving at the Rotterdam Airport, I exchanged my little Columbian money for Dutch but was immediately faced with a problem.  The exchange rate was so poor that I was broke before I started.  I asked my Dutch friend if he could lend me a few Urals until we met again in Columbia.  Thinking that he might never see me again, he said he would not but would take me to his office where I could get a cash advance.  I realized another of my earlier mistakes.  If, instead of hiding my assets back in America and deposited them in a Swiss or Liechtenstein account I could have withdrawn cash locally.  However, that would also have been a problem since I would not be able to show a passport to prove my identity.  My real passport was stored back home with other items and the passport I had used to travel to Bogota was a fake.  Fear swelled up in my mind and I started to perspire. What if, I asked myself, one of the Dutch executives learned of my arrival and he was aware of and sympathetic with the Columbian method of personnel procurement and put two and two together.  He would have known that the slavery tactic gave Columbia high quality products and the Dutch a good price. 


The Unravelling

I had no choice but to go to the Dutchman’s offices and, as I feared, an officer had to be called to authorize a loan for me.  He grilled me about my status in Columbia until I ran out of lies.  Knowing all about the Columbian labor scheme he told me to turn around and lower my pants.  He saw my Tattooed ID number and the many residual scars.  When I admitted the truth he offered me a choice- that old familiar option to choose again- “Which would I choose? - being turned over to the Dutch police or held quietly until the next company plane made a trip to Columbia?”  I was inclined to say the police because that might give me a chance to expose and blow the Columbian slave racket apart.  I chose the police route but that blew up in my face too.  The chief of immigration police was a good friend of the oil company executive and accepted a bribe to hold me in jail until another plane was to fly to Bogota.  Instead of Heineken’s Hoek I found myself in jail for five days and then taken to the airport in handcuffs and put on the company plane and flown back to Columbia.  I knew Mistress Olive would be at the airport to “collect” me.  During the flight, the crew removed the handcuffs which I appreciated. 

I was in deep trouble and knew it!  For all practical purposes, my goose was literally cooked.  This failure was going to result in dire consequences. 

Part 19

Back in Bogota


On arrival in Bogota, the plane taxied to a remote hanger.  Two husky police officers came aboard the plane.  They made me stand while they handcuffed my hands behind my back before guiding me off the plane.  I was unceremoniously shoved through the hanger side door where I was greeted by Mistress Olive with a friendly “Welcome Back.  I hope you enjoyed your trip to Holland”. I was hauled to the hospital which I had thought and hoped I would never see again.  Up stairs, the officers removed the cuffs and stood by to assure my behavior while Romano had me strip, told me to lie face down on my former bed and had the staff fasten my wrists to the bed frame, one on each side.  Mistress Olive said I would most likely never need clothes again.  Romano added ankle cuffs and secured them to the bed’s corner posts with my legs well separated.  I knew what would happen next.  After a thorough whipping, my position was adjusted so my legs drooped down toward the floor.  Only then did I feel the sharp prick of the needle to sedate me.  As I fell into unconsciousness, all of the gays on duty took turns, enjoying their turn at raping me.  To assure my continued behavior I was kept drugged until it wore off several days later, in time for me to comprehend every word spoken throughout a kangaroo style trial, arranged for me by Mistress Olive.

I faced what you might, for a better local term, compare to a court martial.  My standby (now my replacement) was present, I assumed to impress on him the consequences of trying to escape.  The “judge” was the member of higher management who had decided on the fate of Dr. Sanchez.  He was obviously embarrassed, having personally placed me in charge of the country’s hydrocarbon storage facilities.  One other uniformed officer and one man dressed in civilian clothes (obviously American) rounded out the court.  The well paid American was a psychiatrist who had assisted Mistress Olive in devising the system of breaking and breaking-in slaves.  Mistress Olive, obviously angry and embarrassed having allowed herself to become emotionally charged over me and for allowing me too much liberty acted as my prosecutor.  Contrary to universally accepted justice procedures, no one acted in my defense and I was not allowed to speak.  Under these circumstances I realized the guilty verdict was already known and my goose was cooked.  The only uncertainty was whether I was going to die or be kept alive to suffer the wrath of these people.  A terrible punishment awaited me.  The trial was conducted more like a navy captain’s mast than a court martial.  The major differences here were there were three instead of only the captain and that there were always major limitations on punishments a navy captain was allowed to order without ordering a formal court martial.  Here, the court could order anything- including execution.  I was required to stand naked through the short trial and listen to all the negatives that anyone could remember.  There were no witnesses to attest to my misbehavior, good or bad.  Mistress Olive recited many short comings, some true, some false, as if she were a called witness.  That did not matter in this court.

To determine my fate, the court members deliberated behind closed doors where Mistress Olive and the psychiatrist argued about whether I could ever be retrained to become a loyal slave without major changes being made in or on me. 

Part 20

Justice- Their Way


Finally I was stood at attention in front of the judges table and my fate was finally announced by the senior officer.  He cleared his throat and proceeded to lecture me at length as if that made any difference in his final pronouncement.  He declared that I had too much talent and potential usefulness to be disposed of.  However, I had demonstrated that no amount of the established training procedures had been able to break my intolerable independent spirit.  Therefore the decision of the court, as recommended by the psychologist was as follows.  “You will be confined in the hospital and closely guarded until two weeks from tomorrow when a valued resort guest has completed his annual vacation at the resort.  When he flies back to the Arab Republic of Yemen, Mistress Olive and you will accompany him.  Mr. Singh is a specialist surgeon in the field of Urology and is one of the world’s best experts in behavior modification.  He will remove the source of your problematic, independent spirit.  He assures us in advance that after your conversion, you will be without your former free spirit and be a perpetually willing and well behaved slave- in other words you will be a happy eunuch.  And- as is a fitting part of the punishment for your crime you will not have the benefit of anesthetics during your surgery!  Mistress Olive will be present at all times as a full time witness.  After surgery, under the psychiatrist’s instruction, she will observe your attitude conversion and start training you in your new permanent roll.  And finally, this court will be provided with videos and sound recordings made during your surgery and re-training.  In your new life you will be an enthusiastic servant of Mistress Olive.  You and your former backup (now your supervisor) will continue to manage the country’s oil and gas technology. 

When the time came for my trip to Yemen, to assure my cooperation I was again injected and led to the Saudi plane.  Shortly after arrival in Yemen, I was confined an a secure wing of a hospital.

Part 21

My “Treatment”


Early the first morning I was prepared for surgery.  After the routing shaving and sterilizing, since it was decreed that I must experience all the fear and pain involved in such a surgery, I was strapped down on a rubber padded table and wheeled under the intense lights.  Knowing was happening to me, I began to scream and then cry.  Mirrors above yielded every step in the process- the excruciating pain of the stretching, the clamping, the skillful cutting, the blood clearing, the sight of what I had never imagined seeing, one at a time my parts being held up and dropped into a stainless jar of preservative! As all of this was happening I sank deeper and deeper into a state of depression and sub consciousness.  Finally, it was over and I was wheeled into recovery. 

In due time, I was able to get up and walk to the bathroom and shower.  Even in this early stage of my new level of slavery, my every action was under the direction of Mistress Olive but as she was tutored by the hospital psychiatrist.  Even during her experience handling broken slaves, she had never had a slave so totally in her control.  She had to learn new techniques.  She soon found me to be so boring that she arranged for me to be sold to the local sultan for use by his wife in my doing menial chores in the harem.


Submitted Feb 2010

The Original SM Dog Training Site  | More like this Last changed on:  21 Apr 2010 13:22 +0100

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