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Eric and Kurt were not the only ones who found the latest stage in their status of slavery as a shock to the system. They felt that they had been to a certain extent been able to compartmentalise their slave status with that of owning a townhouse in a desirable part of North London. No more they were slaves on call 24/7 and there was no opportunity for them to present as anything else.
For John it was possibly even worse, he had become on employee of Master knowing that to refuse would have meant homelessness, at least by submitting to Master's control he could go home at night even if it meant having to watch his husband get fucked by the latest big dicked man he had picked up at a Sauna, or on Recon. His husband had even changed his profile name to CuckmyHusband in an attempt to attract the biggest meanest Bulls in the area. John's relationship with his husband had been reduced to felching him after the Bull had finished. Now as with Eric and Kurt his movement and life was all controlled by Master.
It therefore came as a shock when a fortnight into the new living arrangements Master announced that John had to get his nose pierced, spend two hour lifting weights, and go for a two mile run every day. Master hired a Personal Trainer, to ensure that John was developing at a good pace. PaId of course by being able to use John's holes on demand, with the threat of physical punishment as encouragement. John was given a progress target each week. Two weeks in Master agreed that John would spend three days a week with the trainer, to ensure that targets physical and sexual were met. This meant that punishment could be focused into a short defined period, any infraction incurred in the week accumulated with the final day being devoted to punishment
The gym selected was one of those found under a railway arch, frequent but burly bodybuilders and deadlifting bears.The punishments could range from being forced to ask each punter to spank him a dozen times, to being used as a punchbag (good for developing the abs said the trainer) being a urinal, or as happened on the fifth week, having to clean the changing room floor with his tongue. .
As a result he was getting increasingly muscular and stronger, the extra bulk meant that the runs were getting harder. The rest of us at this stage had no idea why Master was doing this or why he had chosen John. Master's seriousness in turning John into a muscle slave was that the quality of food was far better, almost carb free on most days, steak chicken protein shakes It was interesting to observe that at times he found eating a whole roast chicken for lunch caused him as much agony as eating dog food did for Mike.
John's developed quickly, I am guessing that hormones and steroids also played a part. Every single muscle was three times the size as it had been, except for his dick. Every Monday morning Master would take off the cage to measure it. Getting smaller John, he'd laugh as the steroids took their toll. John now only wore a training vest and either a pair of baggy grey gym slacks or a skimpy pair of shorts. These had to be worn everywhere, all the time.
Two days ago Master came in during breakfast to announce that John was now divorced. In fact it dated to that final night that John had spent at their home before moving in with Master. His now ex-husband had started the process more or less around the time that he became a slave. John dropped the whole chicken that he had in his hands. Oh and he's getting remarried on Saturday
Master then explained why he had been subjecting John to such a rigorous regime. He was to play an important role in the wedding. John and the rest of the slaves would all have important roles.
Friday night we were all taken to a country hotel in Scotland. Secluded with a main venue with dozens of converted outbuildings joined together by miles of country paths. When we arrived John's personal trainer led him away. The rest of us were each allocated to one of the outbuildings, where we were expected to serve the overnight guests.
Master warned us that we might not get much sleep but we were to report to the reception area by 8.30 the next morning where we would be provided with instructions.
I spent the night serving two middle aged skinheads, tight jeans, bellows protruding under their white T shirts, and red 20 hole DMs. They took great pleasure in kicking, stomping and standing on me. Grinding their boots into my face as I lay there on cheek on the floor. It had a few hours beforehand, and one of them went outside turning with mud and grime over his boots and in the tread.
That's your dinner mate. Get eating. They sneered and laughed as I liked the mud off the leather, and sneered some more as I licked the mud from between the treads.
It was about midnight when they finally got tired of me. I was to sleep in the bath. Before they went to bed they both pissed on me.
There will be more of that before you get up tomorrow. My fitful sleep was disturbed at least five times during the night, as the skinheads emptied their bladders. When one of them sat on the toilet and had a shit I began to worry that I'd have to end up cleaning his arse too. Thankfully it was limited to having to chew and swallow the final tissue he used to wipe. A faint trace of shit, humiliating but I could just about swallow without feeling the urge to puke
I was tired and hungry when I met with the other slaves in reception. We had not been given any instructions on what to wear so we had all somehow taken that to mean we were to report naked. The cool morning air meant that our shaved bodies showed off the goosebumps more than we would have had we still had a semblance of body hair. The size of the bruises we were all sporting also indicated that we had all suffered at either the fist or the boots of our overnight owners.
We all looked tired, none more so than Kurt. His handlers for the evening had spent the night smoking cigars and drinking neat whiskey, two whole bottles. When one of them woke in the middle of the night to vomit, he did so over Kurt, and when an hour later he had the need to do it again he made sure he aimed it directly into Kurt's mouth.
Master appeared.
Good , I like to see my slaves naked. You are going to be busy today, and clothes would just get in the way of service. Urinals, ashtrays, tables, foot rests, spittoons. You will be all this and more, Don't you dare spoil an important day. You will be doing this as much for Richard as for the Happy couple.
Elsewhere on the vast grounds,
Wakey wakey, little pony.
What do horses eat? Oats of course.
So here a bowl of porridge for you. The trainer placed a bowl of dried oats in front of him. John took one mouthful, it was obvious it was going to take all day for him to eat it. OK, you can have it wet. He unzipped and pissed into the bowl. Now eat, whilst I milk you . I don't want you spoiling a big day leaking everywhere
Before long John was kneeling on the floor, face down in a bowl of oats, whilst the PT had his finger up John's hole massaging his prostate. Let's get rid of your worthless spunk now shall we. I'm not sure if I'm going to see you much after this, I'm going to be busy and Ed has said he's looking forward to seeing this muscle mass turn to fat. No more exercise but the same amount of food. You `ll be a right porker this time next year. You didn't think Ed was going to allow someone with bigger muscles than him be in his stable did you?
The PTs skilful fingered result in the most intense orgasm John had experienced in months. More than anything he ever achieved during the milking sessions with Master. The PT captured most of it in his hands.
He moved it towards John's mouth . Eat and clean. John obediently ate his own cum from the PTs hand and then licked off the slime from his arse hole.
Ok time to get ready.
Get these on. He threw a pair of knee length leather boots at John. Women's leather boots with a four inch heel.
John struggled to get them on, and struggled even more standing up in them Better get used to them quickly , they won't be off for a while.
John's usual collar was removed , and replaced with a taller, thicker one.
That's enough for now, follow me. A chain was attached to the collar and John tottering on the heel's followed, was pulled along by the PT.
They reached another outbuilding. There stood a horse drawn carriage. There was no horse.
Stand there, the PT said pointing to the gap in front of the carriage. Remember you had oats for breakfast, because that's what Ponies eat, even horses. Of course you don't look much like a horse at the moment. Let's see what we can do. He placed a leather harness over John's head, inserted a ball bag in place of a bridle, and then secured his hands to the carriage.
Let's see, he slapped John's butt Giddy up. Move. It now became evident why John had undergone months of physical transformation. Old John wouldn't have had the strength to have pulled the empty carriage, and he assumed that he would be pulling the Personal Trainer at some stage.
He Managed to pull the carriage a couple of hundred meters when he was instructed to stop.
Ok You were missing one thing. A tail
The PT picked a large thick butt plug from the carriage, topped off with a two foot long fake tail.
He watched as the PT slathered the length of the plug with lube, and then felt the same lube being applied to his hole. He was pushed over and grimaced as he felt the plug invade the hole.
Now you know why Ed liked to fuck you so much , kept that hole nice and loose. This would never had gone up if it was tight
Clean, John licked the PTs hand clean of the lube, he wondered if he would eat anything other than cum and lube that day
That's it for now. Two hours until the ceremony, With that he placed a hood over John's head John lost the track of time, his arms and legs were getting stiff, when he heard footsteps on the gravel.
Hello sweetie. Thanks for such a wonderful wedding gift. The voice belonged to his ex husband. The hood was removed, In front of him in full length Langlitz leather stood the man he had foolishly betrayed.
I've always wanted to be in a horse drawn carriage. The question is are you a stallion or a gelding. He grabbed John's testicles and gave them a tight squeeze. Definitely not a stallion. At least that's one favour you did by being unfaithful, I learnt how to be pleasured by a proper dick.
He climbed into the carriage - two cracks of the whip mean speed up, three slow down. Four stop. Understand. I'm looking forward to marking that back of yours.
The first crack of the whip hit John in the centre of his back.