Bent over naked in the middle of the dormitory, standing in an ever widening pool of Master Jim's piss seeping from my backside, there's absolutely nothing I can do except stay where I am. That had been the order.
I know they wish they could help me, but my three fellow slaves know it's not allowed. They can only stand and wait with me, getting their feet wet in the pool of piss. Beautiful, almond eyed, black Christian allows me, as a comfort, to gently suck the black cock he recently fucked me with. Handsome, dark haired Terry strokes my back and the boyish looking Gary with the close cropped fair hair fondles my prick. They all step away quickly as Master Charles and Master Jim enter the room.
"I see what you mean Master Jim. Is he incontinent?" Master Charles speaks first.
"Wouldn't be at all surprised. Probably still wets the bed." Master Jim knows it's a lie and Master Charles probably knows the real reason.
"Well, we'll have to do something about it." Master Charles pronounces.
"All of them, don't you think?"
"Oh, yes indeed. Time to move onto stage two of their training. We made a mistake thinking they were even schoolboys. You carry on."
Master Charles leaves the room.
"Stand up slave." Master Jim lashes my bottom with his strap. "All of you use your pyjama jackets to soak up this mess. You won't need them again. Sleep naked."
Master Jim stalks out leaving us to clean up his piss. Hoping we'll be spared any further action during the night we share beds to keep warm. Christian with me, Terry and Gary together.
In the morning after we shave, clean ourselves out and shower, Master Cliff escorts us to breakfast. We're all completely naked as we sit eating Master Eddie's version of gruel. Oliver would not have asked for more! Henry joins us, but as we're forbidden to speak I can't find out how he fared during the night.
"Enjoy the rest of your training boys. I'm off back to town." Master Cliff said.
A great pity as far as I'm concerned. He's really sexy and, after my own Master, the Master I'm ever ready to obey. As Cliff leaves, Master Charles arrives and we all stand to attention. With him is a tall, ruggedly handsome and hefty, red haired guy. He's wearing a white hospital type uniform with short sleeves showing off his muscled hair covered arms. Master Charles introduces him.
"This is Master Grant. He will be in charge of your next stage of training. Obey him without question or I warn you he is an expert in the use of the paddle. He is a qualified senior nurse and his speciality is nursery nursing. If you don't grasp that point, let me just say you are no longer schoolboys, you are infants. They're all yours Master Grant."
Master Charles leaves. Perhaps because I'm nearest to him, Master Grant takes my hand and leads me upstairs to a room opposite the dormitory. On the door is a small sign 'N is for Nursery'. I feel secure and even more submissive than usual as this big man, who towers over me, lifts me up and lays me down, face up, on a high table. It's a sort of medical room, all chrome and white.
"What's your name boy?"
"Ian Sir."
"Right, that's the last word you speak. Sounds you can make, but not words. Nod your head if you understand?"
I nod. He lifts my arms up above my head and spreads my legs apart. He feels my balls, rolls them around in the sack of skin. My prick springs erect. He pulls back my foreskin and rubs my purple knob with his thumb and then with the palm of his hand. I squirm. This is pure ecstasy. His hand, lubricated by my pre-cum, skids around. He moves his huge hand down, wraps it around my erect prick and starts milking me. I join in, energetically moving my hips up and down, pumping myself into his hand. His long, thick and greased index finger pushes up my arsehole and begins finger fucking me. I'm whimpering aloud and gasping as I rush to orgasm in an explosive torrent over his hand and my shaved groin and chest. Master Grant smiles and feeds me my own semen from his hand. I lap at his hand again as he scoops up my spunk from my belly and drips it into my mouth. Content, I lick my lips, eager to retrieve every morsel. I'm surprised when he lifts me up and kisses me ardently on my lips. His tongue is deep in my throat and his hand is under my naked bottom. This is wonderful. He moves his lips to my ear and whispers.
"You've been a naughty little boy Ian. Didn't you know you're too young to cum? Turn over and let me see your little bottom."
I turn over and spread-eagle myself. Without any warning I receive a resounding smack from what I can feel is a paddle. He places a hand on the centre of my back to hold me down and proceeds to paddle my arse. Wow! The pain quickly becomes unbearable. I try to cover my bottom with my hands, but he grips them together in the small of my back and holds me down firmly. Kicking up my legs makes no difference. I squeal and start blubbing.
"That's it boy, cry little baby, cry. Soon be over."
At last the paddling stops and I'm sobbing my heart out. He applies a soothing cream to my bottom and rubs it between my legs and into my anus. He easily lifts me and turns me over and continues applying the cream to my balls, prick and groin. I begin to harden up again until he flicks my prick and it flops down. Now he sprinkles powder over me, uses a hand to clasp both my ankles, lifts my legs, powders my bottom and rubs it between my cheeks. I forget the pain in my arse and enjoy the humiliation of what's happening. I'm not entirely surprised when he lays an adult size diaper under my backside, drops my legs down and fastens the padded panel over my genitals. He fastens the side panels and I lie there, an adult male, diapered like a baby.
"Good boy. Isn't that nice?" Master Grant smiles down at me.
I'm not allowed to speak. I'm tempted to coo to express my appreciation, but he might not approve. He lifts me up in his arms, kisses me on the lips and carries me through to an adjoining room. I snuggle up against his hairy arms and kiss them. The room is similar to the dormitory, but instead of beds it has what I can only describe as a large playpen. He deposits me inside the playpen and sticks the teat of a litre size baby bottle into my mouth. I hold it to stop it falling.
"Drink it all baby. It's good for you."
Master Grant taps me affectionately on the cheek and goes back to the other room. I slump down to the floor and, as ordered, suck on the teat. It's milk mixed liberally, I think, with some sort of spirit, perhaps vodka. I suck greedily. It's the first real drink I've had for days. I begin to feel drunk and lie down still guzzling from the bottle. Some time little a diapered Christian is deposited next to me. He's given a bottle and my empty one is replaced. By lunchtime, Terry, Henry and Gary have joined us. We all lie sucking at the teats of our bottles. I'm on my fourth and couldn't stand up even if I wanted to. The others are not much better. Master Grant leans on the side of the playpen and watches us. I'm absolutely desperate for a piss and I try to indicate to Master Grant I that need to go to the toilet. He laughs, leans over the rail of the playpen and feels the crotch of my diaper and then shrugs. I get the message and in my drunken wooziness just let go, wallowing in the pleasure of the warm dampness I feel. At intervals the others follow suit. The pervading stench is akin to a filthy public urinal. Master Grant opens a gate on the playpen.
"Crawl out on all fours boys. Time for lunch."
We follow him on our hands and knees. Master Charles and Master Jim wait at the bottom of the stairs and we're urged into the kitchen by their lashing canes. The table has been pushed aside and the usual bowls of soup are on the floor. I'm wondering how we're expected to eat without spoons when the four Masters squat or kneel down next to us on the floor and start feeding soup into our mouths with spoons. Master Charles feeds Henry, poor Christian and Terry are both fed by the obnoxious Eddie, Gary by Grant and me by Master Jim. After all the milk and vodka it's good to eat even Eddie's soup, but one spoon quickly follows another as they shovel the soup in. It overflows on my chin, onto my chest and down into my crotch. I feel and I'm sure look a mess. The others do too. The Masters stand up and survey their handiwork, grinning and laughing at us.
"Look at them," says Master Charles, "they're a disgrace. More animal than human."
"That's how they deserve to be treated," remarks Master Jim.
Master Charles said, "You're right. Take them into the yard and clean them up ready for stage K."
In the yard Master Jim stands ready with a hosepipe as we line up. Master Grant rips off my diaper, rubs the inside of it over my face and drops it in a waste bin. Gary, Henry, Terry and Christian receive the same treatment. As a statement of the stage we've reached in our training as slaves, it seems appropriate. Master Jim opens up his hose and a powerful jet of cold water washes us down, back and front. I'm thankful it's a warm and sunny morning. Master Jim switches off.
"Back on all fours you animals." Master Jim shouts.
We drop down onto the muddy ground. Master Grant walks behind us and applies a lubricant deep into our arseholes. Master Jim follows on and I feel a large dildo being pushed hard and painfully into my arse. Glancing along the row of slave bottoms I can see it's not simply a dildo. Attached to the end of each one, and presumably my own, is a thick furry stub. Now we're dogs. Our status is confirmed when the Masters share the task of fastening leather dog collars around our necks.
"This way dogs." Master Jim shouts.
We follow him to the end of the yard to a low doorway with the sign 'K is for Kennels'. Now the meaning of S, N and K, the letters I'd heard Master Charles using when he spoke to my Master, are transparently clear. The five of us have been degraded from adult schoolboys into adult diapered babies and now into dogs with tails. All quite ludicrous unless, like us, you are at the receiving end. But of course as slaves we've accepted it all. If the others feel as I do, and I'm sure they do, the knowledge that I've submitted myself to my Master's wishes is far more important than the humiliations I've endured. And in fact, when I reflect on those humiliations, I feel such a sexual and emotional lift, my dog slave prick hardens up fast
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