TRAINING THE MARINE - Part 7
By Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
The following morning on my way to the office I stopped by to see how the Marine was after his induction to being sexually dominated.
As I went in, he failed to fall to his knees! Instead, he came up to me and went to kiss me!
He did look very desirable, I have to admit - he had showered, having found out how to use the knobs on my control panel, and his body looked appealingly fresh. He looked as if he had freshly shaved, too (although I must remind him about that - I like a swarthy appearance on my personal slaves, and a day's growth of beard is somehow more exotic, I think: it reminds you, as it scrapes across sensitive areas of your skin, that you are in bed with a real man). He had the vestiges of a morning hard-on still, and his cock was in that nicely plump state that shows it's just waiting to rear up at the slightest provocation. But he couldn't be allowed to take such a controlling action himself.
He was smiling, and as he got within range, I casually lashed out at him, striking him quite a hard blow across his face with the back of my hand. He staggered backwards, more in surprise than pain, I think (I deliberately used my hand without the ring on it, as I did not want to risk any damage to his skin and a possible scar that would diminish his value). I shouted out simultaneously
"On your knees, slave! Have you learned NOTHING?"
He did as I commanded, and as he knelt there, forehead to ground, I continued
"How dare you! All your lessons have taught you that you must show the mark of obedience and respect when your master comes in to the room. So why did you approach me this morning - it looked as if you might be trying to kiss me"
"Master... I.... I thought that after last night...."
"After last night?"
"Yes, master. After we had made love like that, and we had been so tender with each other, and kissed and enjoyed each others' bodies, that you would want to continue and kiss me this morning...."
"Silence! I wish to hear no more of this nonsense. You have misunderstood what went on yesterday."
I had been cross, but now became more patient as I wanted to bring home this lesson quite clearly to the slave. I continued:
"We did not make love. I possessed your body. I fucked you, for my own pleasure. I did kiss you, and allowed you to kiss back, but that is because I enjoy feeling the beat of a strong man's tongue inside me. And I like the slave I am with to respond fully and forcibly to my caresses, by showing that he is aroused and excited by them by holding my body intimately in return. But that is not making love: that is the slave doing what he is supposed to in order that MY pleasure in the encounter should be maximised. I don't care whether the slave enjoys it or not, I don't care what the slave thinks about it at all. All I am interested in is that my own pleasure should be at the maximum."
"You NEVER, and I repeat, NEVER, initiate any kind of physical act with me. I will, when I choose, fuck you again. And when you are working in my spa and sauna suite, I will also allow my close friends to fuck you.
You will respond, fully and dutifully, to me and the other men who I let use your body. But that is all. There is none of this 'love' involved at all - how could there be, as you are a slave and I am your master? You seem to forget that I own your body, so I have a right to use it as I will."
"Of course, as a man, I do 'love'. But I 'love' men who are my equals - strong masters, like me, who I can respect and where we mutually understand our needs and abilities. For slaves I feel only the duties that any master has towards lesser beings: you are an expensive possession of mine, and so I need to take reasonable care to ensure that you are well fed, kept in good health and not prone to diseases and injury, and generally that your body is properly exercised and maintained so that my investment in you is protected. And that's all - I do have some regard for you, and feel the need to ensure that your training continues so that you can be easy in properly fulfilling your role as a slave."
"Now", I continued, "I am leaving. My visit here his morning has not been pleasant. When I return this evening I will expect to see a properly obedient, humble slave greet me and that all your silly expectations have been put aside. I want you to continue to exercise your body - hard - so that it is pleasing to my eyes. And ensure you do so inside the caged area, and not out here on the carpet: it is only in there that the UV lights play, and it is important that the tan that you are acquiring gets improved: I like my slaves to have even tans, and there's still the signs of those ridiculous shorts and shirts that you wore in your former life."
I did not give him the chance to say anything more, and left him kneeling. I suspect that I should have made him stand up, as I know he had expected a lot from this morning's encounter, and it would have pleased me to see if his face properly reflected the misery and rejection he must now be feeling. This is all part of the process of correct slave training - his mind must be bent to yours, as well as his body.
Later that morning I was meeting with my senior strategists when out of the corner of my eye I noticed the "most secret" light blinking on my phone. Dismissing them, I answered it and it was my confidential PA telling me it was a 'Lieutenant from the marines, calling from Washington.' He knew, of course, that if the man had phoned the special number that I would take the call eventually, but it was not always convenient and so I employed a small staff of highly discrete men to monitor the line all the time. My PA said that the man had refused to say what the call was about - a lot of the requests that come in on this line actually do not require my personal attention, as my PAs have the authority to spend up to $M10 to satisfy any requests made by callers to whom I have given the number in return for some special favour or respect they have shown me.
I took the call, somewhat intrigued by what the lieutenant would have to say, and remembering that I anyway had to tell him the 'news' about his men.
"Sir? Sir.....?"
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
"Sir.... You told me to call this number if ever you could do something for me......"
"Yes, Lieutenant. And I promised you I would find out about your men. I have news for you, and would have initiated a call myself later today. So who goes first?
"Please, sir... News of my men..... Please tell me where they are."
"I'm sorry", I said, lowering my voice and sounding as sad as I could. "But three of the four perished when they fought bravely against my King's troops shortly after they had been landed. I think there was a failing of your intelligence services, as the King's men were waiting for them." I had decided that I would bend the truth a little - the men were dead (or as good as dead, in the case of the one sent to the Brazilians) - and there was no point in upsetting the lieutenant unnecessarily. Best to let him think his comrades died bravely.
"In spite of putting up a strong fight", I continued, "The King's men captured the fourth marine when he had exhausted all his ammunition. In spite of fighting on with his bare hands, there were enough of them to subdue him, and he was captured without major damage to his body."
"So he's alive...?"
"Yes. He's alive. Our courts sentenced him to life imprisonment for his part in this illegal invasion. I understand that our King offered to release him to your government, but they denied all knowledge of him.
They are claiming, I am told, that he is not a marine; that he is not even a US citizen. They say he could not have been taking part in a military mission, as you told me, as 'no such missions have been, or ever would be, organised against a friendly nation, a real ally of the USA'. So I am afraid you have a classic 'cover up'. Without an admission from your government that he was in our country, he will have to remain here."
"He's in prison....."
"No. We have a policy of putting prisoners into useful employment. The man is currently in training for a new job that he will have to take for the rest of his life." I thought that accurately summed up what was happening to the slave, in terms the lieutenant would understand.
"But that's inhuman.... "
"Lieutenant, I'm sorry. I can only give you the facts. Without action on the part of your government, your comrade will be working in this country for the rest of his life, unable to leave. And, as I understand it, action is not likely to be forthcoming as it would be too embarrassing to the politicians. You yourself tell me there is complete denial of any mission, or any loss of troops....."
"Yes, sir, that is so. They've even contacted all the men's families...."
"Families?" Now I was interested - perhaps I could find out more about my slave. I did not want to ask him directly, of course.
"Yes, sir. What is the name of the man who is still alive? I could perhaps get a message to his wife..."
"Wife?"
"Yes, sir, all the men were married - like so many marines are."
"I'm sorry, I don't know his name" (obviously I had never asked, as he was just a slave),
"But", I continued, "My informants have described him to me. He's about 5'10", well built, black hair, uncircumcised...."
"Uncircumcised - how did they know that?"
"Well, all prisoners are of course given a thorough medical examination, and allowed to shower before receiving the uniforms they will wear in their captivity..." (or of course no uniforms, and no clothes even!).
"Of course, sir. Sorry! But you do hear terrible stories of what happens to some prisoners in the hands of the enemy. But the moment you told me that he was uncut, I knew you must be referring to Jay Wilson - he was the only uncut one amongst us, and we used to joke about it from time to time."
"Yes, of course, lieutenant, I know that most Americans, like us Arabs, are circumcised ritually shortly after birth. But you say the man is married?"
"Yes, sir. His only relative is his wife - or should I say ex-wife as they were divorced after only a few months. His parents are dead, and his brothers are not very close having moved away to other cities across the nation. He was under my command at the time of his marriage and I advised him against it - he had only known the girl a short time - indeed, before that I had never marked him down as a womaniser - and I thought he was only going through with the ceremony because he thought she was pregnant."
"So he has sired children?"
"No, sir. It was fairly typical of the low life women around here at our base: they see the marines and think they're good husband material. As indeed they are - fine men, with good bodies, well paying work, and serving their country. So they throw themselves at the men, get pregnant, and then demand to get married. Or, as in the case of Jay, they just say they're pregnant to get the guy to the alter! He wasn't keen, and I did try to stop him, but he saw it as 'his duty'. To tell you the truth, sir, Jay was one of those guys who didn't much like women."
"You mean he was gay?"
"NO, sir! He was just a bit of a loner. He bonded strongly with his comrades, but as real men do when they are in a marines unit - they look out for, and care for, all their comrades. There absolutely never was anything physical, and Jay would never even touch another man's body. He was a proper 'man's man', and such men often fail in marriage. Of course they fuck the women, as they are real men, but they don't really enjoy it, or need it, as some less virile, 'ordinary' married men do. He certainly did not need the support of a wife, as he is tough and mentally strong in himself."
"So what about this ex-wife?
"Well, sir, she's married again. I don't think she cares about him at all."
Thank you, lieutenant, for that interesting information. But you called me - you are using the privilege I granted you of being able to contact me at any time and ask me for something..... I'm sorry to press you, but my time is valuable and I interrupted a key strategic meeting to speak to you."
"Yes, sir. It's hard to say... Especially now that you have given me that news about Jay. I had a little speech prepared... I'm not used to saying things like this.... "
"Come on, lieutenant, out with it! You and I have been as close as any two men can get, physically. Surely you can't now possibly be shy in revealing anything at all to me!"
"Sir, sir... Oh hell. I'll just say it. Sir, I can't stop thinking about you. I remember the feel of your body against mine, something I've never felt before, to have a strong man against me. I can feel your cock thrusting in to me. It's making me hard even as I mention it. Sir.... As well as my mind, it's as if my body is remembering you. Your smell, your touch, your body's heat, the sound of your breath in my ear as you pounded into me..."
"Enough, lieutenant! I think I get the message. But didn't I advise you to find a small discrete group of men and begin to explore and enjoy their bodies, as all men should?"
"Sir, I tried. But in the marines, with the 'don't ask, don't tell' policy, it's not easy to find out which of your buddies wants you as much as you want them. And I'm afraid that I will approach a guy and he'll be disgusted..."
"So what do you want me to do? Why were you calling?"
"Sir, I hoped... I hoped that on your next trip to the USA we might meet. It doesn't have to be in Washington, sir... If you're just on this side of the Atlantic on one of your business trips, I'll get emergency leave and fly to meet you.. Anywhere, sir.... As long as I can experience you taking me and possessing me so completely again. If I knew there was some hope.... if I knew that, even if it took months, I could feel again what I felt last week, I could bear it, I could hold out."
"Is that it? Most of my callers want something more - for me to use my influence to get them favour or promotion, to back a project of theirs, to fund something which they are interested, or which they need...."
"No, sir. I just need to know that I can feel you again, can taste you, can hear you, can...."
"Very well. It shall be done. I believe I am coming next week, but one of my secretaries will contact you.
But whilst I'm on the phone, tell me about the rest of your life. You were about to be married, weren't you? Perhaps my visit might coincide with your wedding - that would be fun: I have always wanted to fuck a man as the climax to his bachelor party..."
"No, sir. The wedding's off. I realised where my true nature is, and knew that I would never be happy if I could only go with a woman for the rest of my life. I was really only doing it anyway to get a wife to help my promotion prospects in the service."
"So how are the promotion prospects anyway? I imagine the President has been suitably grateful?"
"Yes, sir. He gave me a medal for conspicuous acts of bravery in the nation's service. There was a brief enquiry, that completely exonerated me, and commended me for acting so swiftly on the President's order, even though I had to shoot a very senior officer. The fact that it was you who gave me the command, and indeed the fact that you were even there, was completely excluded from the enquiry. So on the surface, all is looking good: I've got one of the highest awards in the country, and have been conspicuously commended by an enquiry of senior officers. But I know in fact that there's no future for me. Of course, I'll get at least one more promotion - but you have to remember that I shot a flag officer, and the military has a long memory: there will always be a whisper of suspicion about me, and I will never get the high command I believe I deserve."
"I see. I think there might be a solution to your problems, lieutenant. But you'll need to let me think about it for a little while. I will now certainly take time to come to the USA - my aides were urging me to do so, but I was wavering, and our interesting conversation this morning has tipped the balance."
"Finally, is there any message you would like taken to your comrade - Jay, did you say he was called?"
"Yes, sir. Could you tell him that his commander, Andy, is still looking out for him, and that I'll do everything I can to get him home. I'll even go public, to the papers and TV if necessary, as I've no real career to worry about now..."
"Do nothing, lieutenant, until after we have spoken again. Your loyalty and devotion to your men is truly excellent, and your country will be the poorer that you will not reach a senior post in command - I think, incidentally, that you have read the situation perfectly correctly. However public comment could destroy a plan I believe I can implement., so please hold off from any precipitate action. Now goodbye, and I will see you soon."
I put the phone down (a master should always be the first to discontinue a conversation with a subordinate). At least one thing was true - public comment would destroy a plan that was now hatching in my mind!
Before I went home that evening I returned to visit the slave again. He did indeed fall to his knees this time, and I was in a mood to make a conciliatory gesture to him.
"Good, slave. You have experienced my total domination of you when I fucked you yesterday, but I do not think you yet properly understand that you are here only as an object for me to enjoy. So your training must continue."
"I have allowed you to taste my cum, when I shot this precious fluid into your hands. But you have not yet been granted the privilege of taking it direct from my cock. We will rectify this now."
I walked over to my couch, and sat comfortably, spreading my legs apart.
"Come here, slave. Kneel between my legs!"
As he knelt, I adjusted my robes so that my cock, which had now sprung to a full erection, was accessible to him.
"Take my cock in your mouth, slave, and begin to worship it. Have you ever sucked a man's cock before?
Perhaps you and your marine buddies used to play games at night? Even a lot of supposedly 'straight' men enjoy cock sucking sometimes - have you done it before?"
"NO, master! Never."
"Well then, here are the rules. Firstly, I like you to kiss, caress, and generally worship my cock as any slave would when his master allows him access to that most precious part of the master's body. You do that with your lips and tongue, to ensure that I am fully aroused and that my pleasure is heightened. Then you take the head and shaft into your mouth, and suck it - not like a vacuum pump, but by running your lips up and down the shaft, ensuring the flange touches your lips on each stroke, as that is where a man is most sensitive. Pay particular attention to the point at the bottom of the flange where the foreskin used to be attached, as that is the most sensitive area, capable of causing the maximum pleasure."
"Continue to do this until I cum. And then be careful not to continue, as I am extremely sensitive and your ministrations could verge on pain, rather than pleasure. You will of course also ensure that none of my cum leaks from your mouth - a slave will naturally want to swallow all this precious gift from his master."
"You must on no account damage or injure my cock with your teeth. Keep them well out of the way! Let me warn you that I have ways of dealing with slaves who persist in causing me irritation with the teeth - I did not want to dismiss one of my pleasure slaves totally who had this unfortunate habit, as I enjoyed the rest of his body and in particular, his extremely fuckable ass. But when he could not - or, rather, would not - keep his teeth away from me, I simply had them removed. It spoiled his appearance when he smiled, as losing the four middle top and bottom teeth ruins a man's facial expressions. But it was only a small price to pay, as I could then continue to have him suck me, and I could continue to fuck him. You wouldn't want that fate to fall on you, I know."
"And finally, focus on my pleasure. Too many slaves close their eyes whilst sucking a master. You should, as far as you can, look up at my face and see if I am enjoying it. A good slave will match the tiny expressions on his master's face to the strokes he is doing, and use them as reinforcement of his behaviour, emphasising the actions that clearly cause the master most pleasure. You can only do this if you are watching - so no closed eyes."
"Right, begin."
I looked down at him as he was kneeling there, and it was difficult to read the expression on his face. He clearly knew it was inevitable that he would obey me. But there's often something about taking a man's cock into the mouth for the first time that is difficult for some men, and this slave was one of them. Even when he has drunk the master's cum, and taken the master up his ass, somehow the act of worshipping the master's cock and taking it into his mouth remains a psychological barrier. It may be something to do with the stupid Western habit of using "cocksucker" as a term of abuse - in any rational society, after all, calling someone "a real cocksucker" would show that he had properly mastered the art of bonding with, and pleasing, other men. It would be a complement, not an insult.
However I did not have to give further orders, and I felt the slave's warm lips on my cock head. I moaned slightly, to encourage him (well, actually, it was pleasurable anyway!).
He soon got into his stride, and I continued to give him little words and phrases of encouragement. Although, when I whispered "Good, good. You've done this before!", meaning it as a few words of praise for his expertise, he seemed to stiffen and slack a little. That hangover from his old way of thinking, I suppose.
Half way through, on my way to the climax, I repositioned my legs so that they were over the slave's shoulders and his arms were around my calves. I liked to feel his warmth on my legs, and gave him permission to gently stroke my legs as he continued to suck, relishing the feel of his hands as they ran through my wiry hairs. I also encouraged him by pulling his head down into my crotch with my hands, and lightly running my fingers over his shoulders - many men find this very sensual, and I want the slave to enjoy himself as he in turn then gives a better service.
I wasn't certain he was taking me as far down his throat as he could, so I clamped the side of his body with my legs and pulled his head hardly and strongly down into me, feeling his nose bury itself in my pubic hair.
He almost struggled, and the moment I released the pressure he pulled right away, and knelt there, gasping.
"Master.. I'm sorry....", he spluttered.
"I could not help myself from gagging. Your cock touched the back of my throat...."
"Don't worry, slave, That's natural the first time. You will soon learn the pleasure of taking my cock deep down into you, right up to the root. Start where you left off, and make yourself take a little more each time - after a week or so, your gag reflexes will learn what's happening. But you must work at it, and really want to do this. Now, begin again."
He did, and I could sense that he was making himself to take a little more of me each time, so I did not need to force his head again.
When I shot my load, I had the satisfaction of knowing it hit his throat fairly and squarely, and I indicated that he should stop. But as my cock softened, I kept it in his mouth and again pulled his head close into me - I like to feel the slave's warm breath from his nose teasing my pubic hairs, and I think it does him good to get the scent of the master at this point: he can kneel quietly for a few minutes, with nothing to do but focus on my male odour that floods that area from the scent glands there.
"Good, slave.", I said at last. "A very creditable performance first time. Now do the final act for your master - take my cock and gently clean it all over with your tongue, to remove any lingering traces of cum. Masters do not always have time to wash after a brief encounter like this, and so the slave should know how to make sure the master is adequately clean for the rest of the day."
He did, and it was at this point that think I knew I had him... He had now done almost everything a slave can do sexually with a master, and he was doing it, if at least not totally willingly yet, with some enthusiasm never the less.
"I must go now, slave, but I will return after the dinner that I must attend. So do not go to sleep this evening - keep yourself awake and alert for me."
"Yes, master."
The dinner was one of those interminable things at the American Embassy, to "meet important people". What a way to phrase it! It was the Americans who were coming, after all, to meet the important people such as me, not the other way around! And it was only a few political hacks - the Secretary Of State was the prime one, as I remember. We all know that these people have only a few brief moments of power, and will probably be removed at he next election. Whereas those of us who have built a world-wide business empire, and have our estates and slaves, have real power in perpetuity. So how can they really be called "important"? Especially when they make no real decisions - events shape inevitable reactions from them 99% of the time, whereas I of course initiate action.
I was anxious to return to my slave to begin the next stage of his enslavement, and as soon as the dinner was nearing its conclusion, left. I overheard the ambassador being asked if there was a problem, as they thought I might have been upset by something and my good will was so important to the USA. I thought about telling them the real reason for my departure, but decided against it as it's always good to keep the other side guessing!
Down in my room the slave was waiting, kneeling obediently. I went to my cupboard and got out the things I would need, and placed them on a low table conveniently close to my couch.
I slipped out of my robe, and lay comfortably on my back, half reclining. Then I told the slave to come and lie with me - I positioned him so that he was lying on his back, too, half on top of me, one of his legs in-between mine. My cock was nestling in his ass crack warmly and snugly, and with my arms around him I had good access to his tits. I started to massage and caress them, whilst simultaneously kissing and biting his neck. I enjoyed the sensation of his warm back against my own nipple, especially as he started to sweat and it was appealingly moist.
The slave was moaning in pleasure, and as I continued to tease his nipples he began to arch his back and shuffle slightly to try to escape the insistent pleasure pain my fingers were causing him. This was mildly enjoyable for me, too, as his ass then moved most appealingly over my cock, causing me to experience an even harder erection than I had already.
I stopped kissing him, and whispered in his ear "So now we begin to give you the outward marks to show the rest of the world that you are a specially favoured slave. I am going to install heavy nipple rings now - I will do this myself, as it is an easy thing to do, whereas later on some of your other ornamentation requires the services of specialists."
"Master.... Ornamentation?"
"Yes. You are to be in my sauna, showers, and Jacuzzi baths most of the time. The other masters whom I invite to share these facilities are tired of seeing merely naked slaves - we are after all surrounded by them all day. So we like our intimate servants to be decorated. Whilst you have a good body, well muscled, not fat, and you are well hung, you are not so different from hundreds of other slaves on my estates.
When I have finished having you tattooed and banded, you will be something special, something extraordinary, something to intrigue and delight the eyes of every master."
"But in order to receive this mark of my pleasure, you are going to have to be brave. I am going to pierce each nipple in turn, and then fit a heavy gold ring. It would be easy to spray a little analgesic on the nipples before the piercing, but then I would deny you the full experience - I want you to be fully aware that it is I, your master, who is doing this for you. It is I who am bestowing this favour on you. So any diminution of the full experience would be denying you part of the experience of being my slave."
With that, I picked up a long bodkin, with a gleamingly sharp point, and a small pad of cotton wool. I continued "Now lie still, control your body.
Focus on feeling the pleasure of my body as it continues to press against you. As I push this bodkin through your nipple there will be a sharp pain as the point first pierces the skin, and it will intensify slightly as the instrument goes through and emerges the other side. I will also need to move it around slightly, to 'ream out' a suitably sized hole. It is important that you do not move, as it is easy at this stage to tear the flesh of the nipple totally. If that happens, you cannot have nipple rings installed, and your value to me as a slave will be reduced."
Without giving the slave time to say anything, I pressed the cotton pad to one side of his left nipple, then speared him with the bodkin. He did flinch a little, and cried out momentarily. But I could tell from the tension in his body and the way that his jaws were clamped rigidly shut that he as using all his training to keep himself under control.
"Good, slave. Now I am going to install the ring. I know that some Western men now wear nipple rings as fashion items, but these are small and do not weigh much. Consequently the rings can be of quite a fine gauge and can slip around when inserted - I have had a Westerner who I picked up in a bar on a trip to London, and it was indeed amusing to lie there with him and roll the ring around and around through him. But the ones I am going to bestow on you are different - they are two inches in diameter, and heavy."
"To make them look properly proportioned, they are made of very thick gold wire. The size of the wire is such that it cannot go through your nipple - even big, fat nipples like yours - as there would not be enough flesh on either side to prevent tearing. Consequently they are made like those fashionable large hooped earrings you see people wearing - the actual part through the flesh is finer than the main part. There is the disadvantage that the rings cannot then be moved through the nipples, but on balance I think that's a small price to pay for the additional visual pleasure they bring me."
I like to explain this to the slaves I work on, as I think it helps to calm them. Of course there's no reason why a master shouldn't do anything he likes to a slave, with no need to explain anything. But then I find the slave is unnecessarily tense, and things that are only mildly painful or unpleasant can turn into real struggles because of the slave's apprehension. That's all right if you are initially 'breaking' slaves, as apprehension can make mild punishments seem to be much more severe. But when you are doing delicate things to really quite valuable slave flesh, you really don't want to take unnecessary risks of the slaves panicking and damaging themselves. So I have found that this commentary on what' going on is in my best interests.
"So now I am pushing the thin wire through the hole I made, putting a drop of super glue on the end of it, and pushing it into the hollow on the other end of the currently open ring - what a marvellous invention super glue is - one of the benefits the Americans brought to the world. It has made the attachment of ornaments, collars, shackles, and almost everything else to the slave's body so much easier."
"It used to be so messy when every time you wanted to put a new collar on a slave you had to get a skilled welder and make all those complicated arrangements to prevent the slave's neck being burned. Now the two halves of the collar can simply be glued together, and the job is done in a trice! It also means that the collars can be so much tighter, as you can have them pushed right into the skin - impossible when they were being welded. I really must remember to write to the manufacturers and complement hem on producing such an excellent product. I might even allow them to quote me in their advertisements."
"And now finally I take these shaped pliers and squeeze the two ends together into a perfect circle, and that's one done!"
Before I started his right nipple I again caressed, stroked and kissed the slave to reassure and calm him.
The second one proceeded just the same as the first, and then I said to the slave
"Get up now, and let me see how you look"
He stood there in front of me, the two heavy rings dragging his otherwise pert nipples down slightly. Truly excellent!
"Listen carefully, slave. There is some tiny movement possible in those rings, and all through the night I ant you to exercise them slightly as the nipple tries to heel, to keep them as free as possible - I do not want unsightly scabs or scar tissue forming. It will hurt, but only a little."
"And as soon as you wake in the morning, I want you to start your exercising. You will find it more difficult than normal, as the motion of your body will cause the rings to flop up and down, which will cause you unpleasant sensations in your nipples. But big rings like this have two purposes - to cause me visual pleasure, as I have mentioned, and to constantly remind you of your slavery. Every time you move those rings will move; they will tug at your nipples, and slap against your pecs. You will be constantly reminded that I fitted these rings to you, and that you are my slave."
"Now, I am going home to bed. Sleep well, slave, because tomorrow I am going to bring an expert to perform the next part of your decoration. This will be the first person other than me that you have seen since you came here, and I expect you to exhibit proper slave behaviour at all times - although the man is only an artisan, you would not wish to shame your master by acting in such a way that he would see that I have not got my slave properly trained, would you?"
"No, master".
"Well, good night, then."
End Of Part 7.