The Want Ad: The Trek to HQ by Amity Harris

Author:Amity Harris [Harris, Amity]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-06-14T00:00:00+00:00

Oliver’s Night

A fter her promotion to #67, the former #84 strode into Oliver’s cell to begin First Night training. Her own training taught her that First Night is the natural culmination of First Day and she appreciated how full-circle the new boys’ initial introduction to their new lives was concluding. She loved her part in perpetuating the cycle and bringing honor to her role at the Company

Oliver, who would be known as #6-437 for the rest of his life, was crumpled in a fetal position on the cell floor. His ass, violated by a tech boy wearing an electronic fake cock that morning, felt like it was ablaze. His balls, savaged by the Trainer’s electric gun, were almost too sore for him to touch but the thick oval mittens they wrapped around his hands prevented any meaningful soothing. All he could do was hug himself and then flop on the floor trying to make his ass and cock stop burning.

It was a useless endeavor. As Oliver floundered around the floor, #67 marched into his cell and gave the single word command, “Damare!” Her Japanese order needed no translation. Oliver struggled to his feet even though he was not sure what she just said. She smiled slightly that on this First Day, Oliver would respond to her command in whatever language she used. He did not need to understand it; rather, he simply needed to obey.

He was desperate to stroke his balls. On this First Night, he would learn the painful truth that he would never be allowed to touch them again.

Wrapping the goggles around his head and jamming the earbuds in place, #67 pressed the button that started Oliver’s carefully edited video. He jumped when the stereo sound blasted into his ears.

“Boys are fucked daily at the Company during training,” a strong female voice stated directly into his earbuds.

The prescribed Company training for new hires who were renamed with a leading “4” was to overcome their malingering tendencies by converting how they detested having their asses fucked into a soul-fulfilling submission with every part of their bodies to their new owner. Because Oliver was named with a “4,” he was destined to receive daily ass-fucking by anyone and at any time his trainers chose. It would become part of his new life-long experience. And it started right now.

His video opened with a row of boys crouching in front of low tables on which several monitors were arranged. The equipment was first-rate, Oliver noted, and then he saw that none of the boys had chairs. Each was in an uncomfortable crouch with their asses spread but their fingers dutifully typing on keyboards. It dawned on him that was how these men worked. Seatless, uncomfortable and focused.

A woman approached one of the workers in the second row and stood behind him. Oliver watched his fingers slow down from his apparent discomfort of being overseen. Her long black hair hung over her leather vest and almost touched her thong-split ass. Oliver was momentarily distracted by how that thong might make his own burning ass feel a little better.

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