Domination Island Part 5

The man who belonged to Serena woke with a start. It was
dark and very warm and he was covered in sweat. Another
nightmare, another recurring hellhole.
These dreams were all the same. Beautiful women running
at him and he was unable to move. And they all had
enormous penises, rock hard and dripping with gleeful
excitation, poking at him, prodding him, filling every
orifice of his body.
It had been nearly two months since his capture and he
was surprised it hadn't got any easier to accept all the
abuse and humiliation. He'd expected to become accustomed
to what they did to him and all the horrible things they
made him do. But it was still as disgusting as it always
was.
He'd been stuck in a time-warp and most of the time he
couldn't think properly and his emotions were always in a
turmoil. It had gotten so bad he'd virtually forgotten
his real name he'd been called his designated name of
Fuckface so many times. They laughed whenever they called
him that. Then invariably they'd do to him precisely what
his name suggested.
Sometimes his nightmares were interspersed with other
types of dreams. Dreams of escape. Wistfully, he looked
through the bars of the small glassless window at the
stars. The shining crescent moon was a few hours from
disappearing.
He shuffled in his chains across to the other side of the
large cupboard, ducking to avoid the low ceiling and
pissed in the bucket for a long time. Serena had used him
as a urinal a lot last night before fucking his throat a
few times. He still couldn't get used to the smell of
spunk whenever he burped.
He hadn't eaten a proper meal since being on the island.
He had found out the hard way the shemales didn't like to
give their slaves food or anything else to drink but
their piss. Serena had long since told him he'd get all
the nourishment he needed from her cock. `It's your meal
injector,' she'd said laughing, `and it's your drinks
dispenser.' Then she'd given him a throat fucking with
such ferocity he'd nearly passed out.