Breakdown Motel Part 2 (Gay BDSM Erotica) by Ty Marton

soldered around
the necks of the other slaves. He was one of them now. He looked
like them and he behaved like them. He’d picked up the unspoken
rules of submission, learned how to please his masters and avoid
punishments. He was everything that Mason had said he would be. But
Jeff refused to be reduced to a number. He had seen Danny at his
absolute lowest, a shell of the man he had once been, an empty
slave devoid of hope or humanity. And even though Jeff had believed
him when he’d told him he was starting to feel like Danny Major
again, not just “X,” Jeff also believed that the dark place Danny
had been in before was very, very real. To Jeff, that was the true
threat, not the abuse and torment he was enduring daily. No, the
true threat was becoming what Danny had become, sinking down into
that darkness as if it were a pit of tar, slowly engulfing him and
filling his lungs.
    So, Jeff had trained himself to take
pleasure in his workouts. The race in his mind was drawing to an
end – the finish was in sight. With a few final reps of the
machine, he brought himself and his teammates past it: a narrow
victory over a rival school. Jeff couldn’t help but smile. His
jubilation was brief, though; he quickly squelched the small
celebration, the smile disappearing from his face. Cautious
discipline was of the utmost importance to him. He couldn’t afford
to let his guard down, to ever betray the secret fact that he
stubbornly refused to be completely broken down. He was playing a
role, the role of a complacent slave, and if Mason or anybody else
at the motel suspected that he was really something else – that he
was still, in his mind, Jeff Kenton – he knew that his chances of
escape would diminish exponentially.
    The majority of this fear stemmed from one
simple fact: Jeff hadn’t been branded yet. It was the one obvious
remaining characteristic that distinguished him from the other
slaves. He remembered the day Mason had Dwayne fuse the collar
around his neck. He had expected the branding then – “XI,” perhaps
– but it never happened. Now, weeks later, the absence of scar
tissue across his backside left him uneasy, as if Mason were
reluctant to trust his submission as legitimate. And although he
knew far better than to question Mason on the subject, he was
secretly desperate to have it done, to get it over with, to have
his captors mint him as an official piece of property. He wanted it
badly, a vote of confidence from his masters, a confidence that he
would hopefully be able to exploit…
    At least, that was what Jeff constantly told
himself. He hated admitting it to himself, but he couldn’t deny the
nagging fear that he was deluded, that his eagerness for the brand
was really just that: eagerness. He was quite honestly terrified
that his machinations of gaining Mason’s trust only to break it in
a brilliant and daring escape were, in reality, the fantasies of
denial, the misguided workings of Jeff’s increasingly indoctrinated
brain as it struggled to grapple with the cognitive dissonance of
life as a slave, an involuntary defense mechanism designed to trick
him into accepting his fate. After all, there were times – most
notably on the days when Mason would bring Danny down to room X and
order him to fuck Jeff senseless – when it was a fate that Jeff
seemed to crave, at least subconsciously…
    Jeff came to an abrupt stop on the machine,
the rotor quickly slowing to a halt. Gus’ wiring detected the
slowdown, and sure enough, Jeff felt a sudden burning jolt of
electricity begin to pour into his lower body. He clenched his
teeth and growled quietly, bearing the pain, punishing himself for
letting his mind spin into such a destructive orbit. Self doubt was
a luxury that he simply could not afford.
    “I’m not losing it…” he muttered under his
breath, a slight tremble in his voice from the electricity. “I’m
not crazy…”
    After a few more seconds worth of shock
treatment had Jeff biting his