There were a few other bottoms chained up like me. We were all naked; bodies hung around the room as cock receptacles. The tops had a great time keeping all our holes plugged. They made a party of us and I must have sucked and been fucked by dozens of different cocks that night. I don’t think I’ve ever been as totally focused on cock being my entire universe as I was that night.

Then the top that had collected us got up and called for the other tops attention. They all finished up using us bottoms and directed their attention to him. He told them that all the bottoms they had been enjoying using were available to be taken at the end of the night and kept as slave holes.

That was my first flash of panic. I thought this was just a weekend scene, Sunday night everybody goes back to their homes and gets ready for work the next day. We’ll all put on our business suits, do our office stuff until Friday and wait for the next weekend when we can separate into tops and bottoms again, right?

The man said that us bottoms would be prepared that night for “shipping”. What does that mean? Then this one of us bottoms was dragged up to the stage. His head was put onto what I’d soon realize was an anvil. A heavy chain was wrapped around the guy’s neck and the ends welded together. The hole was taken off to the side and his new collar shackled a steel beam.

Then a next bottom was unhooked from the wall bolts that we were all locked to. That guy’s head was placed over the anvil like the bottom before him and he got the same chain collar and was hooked to the same steel beam next to the first. The process was repeated until all of us bottoms were chained by our collars to the steel beam. So there we were, a line of naked men hung up like meat in a butcher shop.

Then the man who took me stepped up again. This is when I started to call him MC, the Man in Charge, Master of Ceremonies. I’ll never forget what he said,

“Men, these bottoms became your holes tonight. There is one hole for each man. Choose the hole you want. No fights please (ha, ha, ha) The steel chain collars we welded closed around the holes necks bond your hole to you for its life. Take your hole home with you tonight and enjoy it. Send it off to its pointless job tomorrow and with every move of its head, it will feel its slave collar and remember your cock shoved into its suck and fuck holes. But most of all men, remember you own them”.

So the Masters spent some time talking with each other. One by one us holes were taken into the center and examined by several Masters. We all had our fuck holes probed and inspected. They’d have some discussion until finally one Master would attach a leash to its collar and walk the hole off.

It didn’t take long until all of us holes were held in a Masters hand on a leash. With every Master having his hole and each hole its Master, the evening was a big success.

MC got up said some nice words about how much everybody enjoyed the evening and that everyone here tonight is starting a journey that will lead to the deepest connection that two men can reach and be the fulfillment of his wildest dreams. He urged stay with the program and your dreams will come true. Good night and see you guys soon.

Our Masters led us outside the room. There were three wire mesh cages and a coffin waiting outside it. A few of the Masters had made special provisions for whatever hole that he had taken. My Master took me outside, still naked, and ordered me to get on my knees. He set out my position for me, literally and figuratively.

He told me that he had taken ownership of me and I was now his property for the rest of my life. To celebrate, he’d be using my two holes all night. He would let me go by 7:00 AM so I could get to work by 9:00. I’m an assistant manager at a bank. He said that his deposits were the only one’s I’d think about all week. He was right, but the chain collar helped.

In fact the chain collar caused the first problem of this new existence I was moving into. It was in the lunchroom. It was warm so I took off my suit jacket and hung it on the back of my chair. Hillary, who runs new accounts and is probably the sharpest knife in our drawer started to look at me funny. She had noticed the chain links under my shirt. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I wore my jacket the rest of the day and kept my shoulders hunched to try and hide my collar.

I went back to my apartment. I didn’t know what to do. That guy had welded a big heavy link chain collar around my neck. I figured I could have it cut off, but I would be humiliated to have anyone see it. Maybe I also knew that if I did cut the link and take it off, the link to my soul’s desire would be cut and the door slam shut in my face, never to open again.

So I decided to keep the collar. I wanted to follow the path it is taking me. And I could hide it, couldn’t I? So the next day I wore a white T-shirt under my dress shirt and tie with my jacket on a scorcher of a humid NYC July day. After shuttling through the subway steam baths with rush hour trains so packed that any A/C was unnoticeable, I arrived at work dripping like a drowned rat.

With my shirt plastered to me, the very thick chain links of my collar stuck out in full detail. There was nothing I could do except dry off as best as I could and wrap the collar in paper towels in the men’s room. After everyone having seen my collar in full relief, I spent the rest of the day with a padded neck. I could tell from the way people looked at me and talked to me that my collar was the center of attention.

I got through the day by doing my best to pretend like everything was normal. I was a nervous wreck. When I got home that night it felt like I had come out from a pressure cooker. The cost of my exploring this tantalizing fantasy had just grown enormously. I picked up the yellow pages. I knew there would be no “chain collar removals” listing, so I went to “welding and boilerplate”. There were a bunch but they were all way, way uptown, in the Bronx or Brooklyn.

I’m just a regular guy from Queens with a regular job in a bank that just happens to be considering giving a testosterone charged alpha Master total use and control of my body for the rest of my life. He already informed me that he would be modifying my body to suit his wishes. I’ll be going from serving customers from 9 – 5 to servicing his cock 24 – 7.

What should I do? What do I want to do? Who could I possibly talk to? My old friends from Queens College are all married with kids. I don’t think they’d be much help. My family is still trying to set me up with some friend’s cousin's sister. The people at the bank are causing this crisis. No, I’ll just have to figure it out myself and maybe with my counselor of the last resort, good old Jimmy Beam.

Sometime that night while me and Jimbo were conferring, I remembered something from grammar school that some old admiral said. “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead”. When I weighed my options I just decided, screw it all, damn the torpedoes. And the next day I went into work with my collar clearly showing under my shirt.

It was amazing the bank ran that day with everyone looking at me or whispering in corners. But the remarkable thing was I didn’t care. I had said screw it and I did and I didn’t care. The day after, the interest in me already seemed to be dying down. And on Friday it was even less while my excitement was skyrocketing.

The last thing my new Master had said to me was to meet him back there at 10 PM sharp Friday and that’s tonight. I was told to be there naked and thoroughly douched ready for use until Monday 7 AM. Finally, it’s 9:58 PM Friday and me with all the other holes from the week before were there except one. We later heard that the missing hole had been ‘expedited’ to other use but had no idea what or where that might be.

At 10 PM, it was a very relaxed crowd. A few Master’s held their naked holes on leashes. Another few holes had been chained up around the room while their Masters wandered around chatting. There was one hole chained to its Masters boot. And then the last few of us were just wandering around waiting for our Masters to arrive and claim their holes.

My Master walked in and scanned the room, quickly spotting me. He came right over and with a big smile said he was glad to see me. The group was pulling together around the center, but he took me off to the side. His piercing electric blue eyes looked deep into mine and he said, “You and I will be the best thing that happened to each other. You are my most treasured possession and I will take care of you for the rest of your life”.

Well, I melted with that. All my residual fears and insecurities were just washed away and from that moment on, I wanted to give this man whatever he wants. I knew he was right. I was his property for life. And I don’t think I was ever happier. I fell to my knees and made love to his boots. He clicked his leash to my collar and I never looked back.

He put his strong-gloved hands on my shoulders and said, “I am Sarge Sir. Whenever you address me that is what you will say, ‘Sarge Sir’. If you ever need to name me to someone else, my name is ‘Sarge Sir’. For the time being you are called ‘clipper’, but I will usually refer to you as ‘hole’ or ‘slave’ because it easier to say one instead of two syllables. In all likelihood I'll probably rename you. You will respond to all”.

MC stepped up again and was he hot. He’s a really big well-built guy to start with but he was wearing a sharp cut tunic and breeches uniform in leather. He had some naked hairless guy at his feet polishing his boot as he spoke to the assembled Masters and holes. His other boot was on the slaves back.

He said, “Men and your boys, last week we collared our holes with steel. Tonight we start with the stronger bonds of the mind. It’s time to cut the threads of freedom that bind our holes to resist the freedom of their slavery. And to do that, every hole will be cut off from its former life.

To that end, the holes tonight will be shaved of every hair on its body. And in the nose of each hole will be installed a gold septum ring. The ring signifies its being another man’s property. The use of gold displays its value”.

Oh wow man, this is it. How can I show myself like that at the bank? Imagine me showing up with a hairless head in a suit. With a ring hanging from my nose no less. That won’t be whispers in the corners. It’ll be hilarious laughter on the banking floor. I’ll scare the customers away. I’ll be fired by noon for sure.

So I walked over to Sarge Sir and asked permission to verify that if I go through with this that he would takeover all responsibility for me for life. Sarge Sir replied to me that he would but he wanted it clear that from then on, he would own me. I would be his unrestricted property and he would have complete possession, use and control of my existence. He intends to modify me but will need time to decide how.

But there was one important modification that he will make forthwith. He will be castrating me. He will really enjoy cutting my balls off. He wants to keep my balls preserved in a jar labeled with the details of my castration that he can proudly show off to his friends as a trophy, along with me as his eunuch as well.

Sarge Sir said he has always wanted to own a eunuch. He is excited about owning a slave that he can modify its mind and body. He feels that a slave with genitals is encumbered with useless organs that interfere with a complete bonding between a Master and his slave. The act of one man cutting off the balls of another is an irrevocable act that will bind me as his eunuch to him as my cutter until death do part.

I didn’t think, but just blurted out “Yes Sir”. After I thought about it I realized that was the undercurrent of my desires I was unaware of. And so I said again with emphasis, “YES SARGE SIR”. Well, I have never felt such a rush of pure joy flow from anyone as I did from him. He grabbed me in his arms and said very quietly to me, “That’s my boy”.

End of Chapter 1