Alternate Ending 1 - I received many emails regarding where this story should go -- so I am presenting two alternative endings. You can write and tell me which one you prefer.
I handed him his jacket as I entered the open door to my apartment. Standing inside the door, I looked around in disbelief. There was nothing there. Nothing. I ran into the bedroom, and it was the same - empty. The cable wire seemed to have been cut, and the telephone wire ripped out of the wall.
Even the stove and refrigerator were gone! And they came with the apartment. I sat down naked in the empty living room and pulled my legs to my chest and began rocking. Everything I had in the world was gone. No keys, no wallet, no money, nothing.
I felt a hand on my shoulder; I looked up through watering eyes, and saw the man was still there. He was holding out his jacket to me and said, "You can stay at my place until you get things squared away."
I shrugged my shoulders, not able to speak. He said, "I mean, what choice do you have?"
I sat there rocking, feeling despair overwhelm me. He was right: what choice did I have.
Then I was being kicked awake. It was a dream! I jerked up and looked around. It was a dream. But a dream of what had happened.
It has been a year now, and it has pretty much gotten into a routine. He no longer stays at the apartment with me. But he has it set up so that I have a pile of sheets and blankets to sleep in. He cuffs one arm to a chain on the wall when he leaves. I can move from my nest in the corner to the other corner with the seatless toilet in it. The little sink is near by, with a little pantry box in the middle of the wall, below where the chain is connected, within reach as well.
I didn't spend a lot of time in the apartment; I was basically taken there to sleep when they were done with me.
Each morning, he would come by and usually kick me awake, because I so groggy from not having gotten to sleep until 3 or 4 in the morning. He would have me use the toilet while he watched; give me some granola bars and water for breakfast, and allow me to wash my face and give myself a sponge bath.
I get to use one of the pieces of cloth from my nest to dry. He always brings my clothes with him, and takes them away at night, not that there is much to them. The jeans I wear are so holey that half my ass shows through, and the rips in the front leave my dick and balls in view, depending on how I walk or sit.
And my t-shirt is ripped in so many places that it hardly covers anything. I have slip-on shoes that have soles so thin that they are barely keeping my feet clean.
I have gotten used to the stares and remarks that I get as we enter a shop, restaurant or bar. He enjoys seeing the reactions of the people at my near nakedness.
Occasionally, he will put in me in skin tight spandex white shorts, which are about 4 sizes too small. Every bit of my cock is outlined, and you can tell that I have been circumcised. And it is rare that I am not at least semi-hard when I am wearing them, and sometimes he gives me a Viagra before we go out.
I used to try and push my dick down over the top of my balls to disguise as much as possible of my situation. But he would always stop me when we were outside, and reach down the front of my spandex, shorts while we stood on the street, and adjust my cock until it ran sideways away from my crotch, making it obscenely on display. I got used to looking down so I wouldn't see the looks on people's faces as he so blatantly adjusted me in public.
When I wore these shorts, he had a tight spandex tank top that showed off my nipple rings.
When I had this outfit on, and he had perceived some infraction on my part or some act of defiance, he would pour water over my crotch, making the pants nearly transparent.
And if I were wearing the holey jeans, he would take a rip and make it larger.
We would leave the apartment in the morning, and he would take me by public transportation to some location in the city. I always had to sit in a seat that was visible to anyone who boarded or walked by. I had long ago learned that I was not to close my legs or hide my crotch with my hands.
The first time I had tried to cover my crotch with my hands; he took out a pair of handcuffs and cuffed my hands behind my back. Then he had reached over and ripped the hole in my crotch that left me completely exposed.
And the time I tried to keep my legs together, he moved them apart and punched me in the nuts so hard I thought I was going to throw up.
He would pick some shop, park, or public place to take me. Then, depending on the location, he would find some way to humiliate me. At restaurants, I had to sit on the floor next to him and he would feed me as he saw fit.
In a couple of the places that seemed to be populated only by adults, he would chew up his food and then have me open my mouth so he could spit it in. I had learned to accept the food, because he controlled what and when I could eat.
And after several days of no food, or only dry dog food, I would learn my lesson and accept whatever he gave me, however he gave it.
In bars, I had to kneel at his feet as he sat on a bar stool. He would either piss in a beer mug and pour it down my throat, to the laughter of the other patrons, or unzip and just piss down my throat. This brought about even louder laughter.
If it was raining, I would always be in my spandex outfit, while he wore a raincoat and hat. It didn't matter if it was a cold rain or a warm one, I was paraded around malls or restaurants after getting soaked in the rain. I was never given a coat or hat, not matter what the temperature was.
He had a gym that he took me to several times a week, where he had someone who worked me into a sweat each time. But I had to workout naked. The guys in the gym still razzed me about it. And at least once a week, I was given a Viagra prior to arriving.
The trainer worked with me in a semi-private corner of the gym, but that didn't mean that I couldn't be seen when people walked by, or walking back and forth to the locker room.
Depending on where we were going to go next, I would be allowed to shower or not. After some of the workouts, I stunk so bad that it was difficult for me to tolerate myself. Once, he kept me that way for a week, sweating me up and not letting me shower. People would start moving away from me when they got within 10 feet of me.
Some of the people I would be given to in the afternoons would want me to smell, and others wanted me clean.
If I was allowed to shower, I had to do so in the middle of the showers. If I had a boner, I had to jerk off in the shower until I came. It took me a while to get to where I didn't cry every time I had to do this.
And the guys learned that it only added to my humiliation to call me nasty names or to touch me anywhere they wanted.
I knew there were a couple of gay men there that really got off on stroking my dick or ass as they walked by. The others would hoot and laugh at my reactions.
There was one mean son of a bitch that, whenever he came across me in the locker room or showers, would walk up and knee me in the balls, doubling me over.
And if any man wanted a blowjob, I had to provide it - right there in front of the whole locker room. Of course, there was the time a mean man fucked me on the bench in front of his locker while other cheered him on.
I only was given a washcloth to dry with, so I was never ever able to cover myself. If I had to take a dump, I was not allowed to close the toilet stall door, no matter where I was. If I went to a one-person toilet that had a lock on the door to the restroom, I was not allowed to lock it.
I had more guys walk in on me while pissing or taking a dump. I was not allowed to tell them to leave or say anything negative to them.
I had a group of high school guys walk in on me sitting on the toilet. When I didn't say or do anything, they took out their dicks and started pissing on me. They were laughing away as I sat there letting them do it.
I had learned my lesson. I had rebelled a couple of times, or mouthed off when I couldn't take any more. He would promptly take me to one of the many places he knew about. I would be stripped and tied up to chains in the ceiling.
These were usually some kind of bar or backroom. Guys would gather round while I was whipped. It was right out of some roman gladiator movie. I was whipped until I had marks across my back, and sometimes bled. I could hardly walk when I was released from the restraints.
When he was finished, I was broken; I would do anything he asked. Occasionally he would push, and I would balk at some new extreme situation, and I would be brought back to one of these locations. He loved selling off the chance to beat me. I found out there are some mean assholes out in the cruel world.
After it was over, and we were heading back to the apartment, he would say, "What choice do you have?"
Now, I know. I haven't had one of those kinds of beatings for a number of months. I have become resigned, and dull to these things. There are still situations that cause me to blush.
I think he sits around and thinks of new ways to humiliate or debase me; some new way to get me to blush. Some of these have included taking me to a barbershop, having me strip and being shaved all over while patrons came and went; taking me to a leather store and having me strip and being fitted for a harness while other customers watched; having me give a guy a blow job at the back of a city bus while the his friends stood around and watched; putting me over his knee in the city park, pulling down my pants and spanking me.
The people in our building have gotten used to seeing me naked around the building: taking out the garbage for him, checking his mail, or just having to walk up the stairs. There were times when I would be chained to the wall, but the door to the apartment would be left open.
I was learning that I never had privacy. And he pushed this as well. I had to squat in the park a couple of times and take a dump.
He scouted various glory holes and would strip me and leave me there for hours so I had to service anyone who wanted to use me in any way.
But it was the afternoon sessions that really got to me. I never knew how I would be used, by how many people, and for what purpose.
I used to tremble when he would pick me up for the afternoon sessions. Now I was more resigned. He used to work on me to get me to be more enthusiastic about the sessions; and my forced smiles, that I put on because I knew I would be beaten if I didn't, weren't very satisfactory. So he didn't make me do that any more.
There were times when I couldn't help myself, and I would get so turned on and involved in a situation that I let my true feelings of lust show.
He often kept a chastity device on my dick and balls for weeks at a time. The small plastic cage kept me from getting to my cock to bring myself off. And it was extremely painful if I began to get hard. I do remember one particular fuck session. My ass and prostate were so powerfully worked by some hugely hung man that I had a very painful orgasm inside the confines of the rigid plastic cage.
My cock had swollen through the bars, and when I came the pain and pleasure were so mixed up I didn't know whether to cry or moan in ecstasy.
He had found that doing this got me so horny and eager that I was often more eager to participate when it was removed.
These afternoon sessions were vast and varied. He seemed to be demonic about the situations he could come up with. Some of them were in backrooms of bars or clubs. Others were in private homes. And I don't know how he arranged it but some of them were in gyms, or jails, or offices after hours.
All of them centered around me being used or abused. I had lost track of all of them; they had begun to run together.
I had been put in a sling and used for hours by all the guys that passed through. He took me to a black tie party and I had to perform on a large table for the people in the group. It ended with me being fucked by a dog.
I was strung up in a jail and used by the "inmates" for what seemed like days. He had made it so realistic that I wondered if I hadn't been snuck into a real jail and left there. The guards all laughed at my situation and took turns using their batons in my ass, when the inmates weren't around.
At one point, when I had scraped some man's dick with my teeth, he threatened to take me to a dentist and have him remove all my teeth and fit me with dentures, and to do it all without anesthetic. I completely lost it then; I crumpled to the floor and cried for hours. The man's dick had been huge! I had really tried to keep my teeth out of the way! I begged him.
Often when we were out, he would stop in front of a dentist's office and ask me if I was ready for my new teeth. My heart would palpitate, and I would start sweating. With him, you never knew when he was kidding or if he really meant it. There was nothing he wouldn't do.
We were walking along a jogging trail and he said, "I think I'll strip you and tie you to the tree. We can see if we can interest some guy into fucking you." I was sure he was kidding.
He stopped, and told me to strip. I nervously removed my jeans and shirt, sure that any moment he would relent. But he marched me up to the tree, had me hug it, and then tied my hands together. Any man that came up to me I was to invite to fuck me.
Several men stopped to see what was wrong and were repulsed by my solicitation. One guy laughed and slapped my ass before leaving. Once actually pushed his shorts down and forced himself inside me. As he fucked me, my dick was rubbed raw against the bark of the tree.
Another time, he left me naked in a one-hole men's room, and I had to ask every man if I could drink their piss or suck them. He left me there for hours. If I was asked why I was doing this, I was to answer, "My master wanted me to please as many men as I could today." There was great laughter. By the time he fetched me, I was covered in piss and cum and had sucked and been fucked by dozens of men, often while others watched.
The sadists were the worst. There was almost nothing he wouldn't let people do to me. He wouldn't let them cut me, or do things like pull out fingernails, but he didn't mind if they beat me, or whipped me, or put clothespins or needles on or in me.
I had been tattooed on one ass check; it said "my little boy," and he had a heart branded into my other cheek. I couldn't sit down for a week after that, but he found a bunch of guy's that enjoyed fucking me while it healed. It caused a great deal of pain each time they pounded my ass.
He put a birthday candle down my piss slit, and laughed as I begged him to blow out the flame as it burned down closer and closer to my dick. Just as it began to burn, he laughed and blew it out.
He used sounds on my dick, and continued to increase the size of them. And it never mattered to him if they hurt me or not; it was what he wanted. He loved to watch the reactions on my face as the sounds sank down the length of my shaft.
He video taped almost every afternoon session. I heard him tell someone that he was making a mint selling the vids on line. I never heard anyone use his name; in my mind, I called him Bill. And the few times I was allowed to speak, I was only to call him Sir or Master.
During one unbearable session with electrodes, I screamed out he was a "mother fucker." He turned up the voltage and laughed while I screamed.
I was beaten for that, of course, and had to wear a gag for a week. It had a hole that he would put a tube through and push into my mouth. The tube was attached to a funnel. Whatever he put in the funnel ran into my mouth. There was no way to spit it out. The gag sealed my mouth. If the fluid in the funnel didn't flow down, he punched me in the stomach to make me swallow.
He laughed at some of the concoctions he came up with. One of the days he poured a half bottle of cod liver oil down it. I nearly heaved it all up, but it wouldn't have gone anywhere. I had to sit on the toilet for hours after that. He sat and laughed as I gushed and gushed into the toilet.
Other times he would pour a mixture of piss and sour milk down it. Or he would mix maple syrup and cayenne pepper. My eyes watered, and I thought I was going to burn up from that one.
And cum - I don't how he came up with the containers of cum, but he would have a half cup around that he would pour down the funnel.
Once he made a popsicle out of it and shoved it up my ass. He laughed as I squirmed from the cold.
He also put funnels in the other end. He would feed a hose into my ass and fill the funnel with gin, piss, warm chocolate, ice cold water, or very hot water.
One of his friends hung me upside down and had a hose run from my dick to my mouth.
There was one very sadistic Korean man that would buy me for a night at least once a month. I always dreaded the nights with him. He used everything on me.
Once I was drugged, bound, and wrapped in rubber with only a straw leading into one nostril so I could breathe. The hallucinogenic trip, that I went on while immobilized, nearly broke what was left of my mind.
I lay curled in a ball, naked in my pile of rags for days after that. I think that Bill came by and checked on me now and then. I remember a cackling laugh and someone saying over and over, "What choice do you have?"
There would be nights where the guy I was with was so tender, caring and loving, that I kept waiting for the pain, humiliation, or abuse. I knew it would come. It always did. I knew it would. I couldn't relax my guard for an instant.
When a night of this gentle sex ended without something happening, I knew I still had been had, because I couldn't enjoy it - waiting for something to happen.
Bill never had me do anything with children, but that was about it. Animals, men and women, were all used on me.
I remember him taking me up in an office building and, just as the elevator door was to open on a floor, he made me remove my clothes. When the doors opened, he pushed me out and waved as the doors closed.
I was in an office full of women. They laughed and played with me for an hour or so. I had to be thoroughly inspected to make sure I wasn't hiding anything. Then I had to jerk off for them.
They laughed and smirked at this shaved naked man left for their amusement. They used permanent markers to sign their names and to write faggot, pervert, deliveries in the rear, and pictures of cocks all over me. They especially enjoyed writing on my cock and balls. My cock never seemed to go down while I was there, and I wondered if he had given me a Viagra prior to arrival.
I was not turned on by the women; it was the humiliation that got to me.
He rented me out to some bikers for a night. They put me on the back of one of their motorcycles, with only a pair of very short baggy shorts and nothing else. They took me out into the warehouse district and passed me around and used me for 6 or 7 hours, their women laughing as the men fucked me or made me suck them.
They brought me back about four in the morning, naked, and bound to the back of one of the bikes. They cut me loose in front of my building. I practically had to crawl up the stairs, I was so worn out.
Seven am, Bill was there kicking me awake. And the routine would start all over.
When someone asked him why I did everything I did, he would laugh and say, "What choice does he have?"
Then it all changed one day. He kicked me awake and, as I worked to focus my sleep deprived eyes, I saw that he wasn't alone. The Korean man was with him.
My stomach clinched in fear. I had only been with him at night. And the hours I had spent with him had been the scariest of my life since becoming Bill's slave. And that was saying quite a bit.
Bill must have seen the look on my face because he grinned. I cowered in the corner as my eyes focused.
"This is Mr. Suk; he has enjoyed his times with you." He watched the expression on my face.
"He has offered me a considerable amount of money for you," he smiled wickedly. My stomach turned over in fear. I looked at Mr. Suk, who had a devilish grin on his face.
I didn't dare express my horror, but I was about ready to risk a beating by pleading and begging Bill.
Mr. Suk spoke then. "This man values you very much. It was not an easy bargain and will cost me over a million dollars. But I have long waited to find the perfect willing subject for my pleasures. You have provided many hours of incredible ecstasy for me. Now I will enjoy you whenever I wish, for as long as I wish."
I looked at Bill to see if this was one of his cruel jokes. The smile on his face was broad and as unrevealing as always. Then it hit. A million dollars! If that was true, I knew that Bill would never turn that down.
"You can see that he requires very little to meet his needs. I do have a trainer work with him to continue to improve his physique and stamina." Bill was indicating the squalor that I lived in. Again, Mr. Suk smiled.
He turned to Bill. Bill opened a bag that he was carrying and handed out a steel collar and a leash. Mr. Suk came over and put the collar around my throat, closed it, and then secured it with a small but solid looking padlock. I had noticed characters on the collar.
"The collar says, 'This dog belongs to Mr. Suk.' You will wear it as long as you live." The way he said that made me wonder how long that would be. I shivered.
He attached a leash made of metal links to the collar. Meanwhile, Bill had unlocked the cuff from my wrist. I still thought this was one of his cruel jokes. As Mr. Suk pulled on the leash and headed to the front door, I turned to look at Bill.
He shrugged his shoulders and said, "What choice did I have?"
I followed Mr. Suk down the stairs and out onto the street. Once on the street, pedestrians walked by and stared at the naked man at the end of a leash. Mr. Suk pulled on the leash and led me down the block to a waiting car.
While Bill had often paraded me around naked, it hadn't been in such an uncaring way. Mr. Suk definitely walked, pulling my leash, as if I was only a pet.
I had become so trained not to cover my crotch that, as it began to harden, I didn't reach to hide it. At a dark town car, he stopped.
A man opened a door and stepped out. He opened the door for Mr. Suk, who got in and I was left standing on the sidewalk. The man then went to the trunk, and opened it, indicating that I should climb in.
I climbed in and had just arranged myself when the trunk was shut, and I was locked in. On the long drive, my mind whirled and my stomach churned. I still held out hope that this was one of Bill's elaborate jokes to fuck with my mind, like the dentist story.
Would Mr. Suk want to remove my teeth? I shivered, not from the cold but from nerves.
The car finally stopped and I heard doors opening and then shutting. The trunk was opened, and Mr. Suk stood there. He took the chain as I got out, and pulled me along until he reached a wooden box. It was a long box. He told me to get in and lie down.
I blanched, as I climbed into the box and laid down. My heart started pounding as a lid was lifted over the box and lowered. It was about 3 inches from my face.
I started hyperventilating. It was a coffin! I was going to be buried alive! I started screaming when they started nailing down the lid. I thrashed around in the narrow confines of the box. I was begging, pleading, screaming, and crying. I offered to do anything if they would let me out. I even screamed our that they could pull out all my teeth, if they would just not kill me.
I screamed and fought the inside of the box; panicking more and more the longer I was in there. I didn't notice, at first, the motion of the box. It had been lifted, and was moving along in a rocking motion; I heard water splashing somewhere.
That brought a new rash of screaming and pounding on my part. By now, I was hoarse. I still pounded on the box, bloodying my hands.
Then the box was set down. I heard mumbled voices talking, then other noises until I realized that I was on a plane.
I think I passed out someplace along there. I was sure it was from lack of oxygen.
I woke up to the screech of the nails being pulled from the lid of the box. My heart raced; I was going to be freed!
It took a moment or two for my eyes to adjust to the bright lights. Two men were there to help me out of the box. I looked back at my coffin and realized that, by the foot, there were holes in the sides and lids. I wouldn't have run out of oxygen. Still I didn't ever want to go back in there.
The two men took me to the toilet and kept the door open while I took a piss. They gave me some strange tasting water, but it was cold and helped my parched throat.
A blindfold was placed over my head and tied tightly. I was then led along a passage. I could tell it was a narrow passage, because the guards moved one in front and one behind.
Wherever I was led there were people, because I heard a murmur of voices. They stopped me and put my hands up and clasped them into softly lined restraints. My legs were then moved apart and placed into equally lined ankle restraints.
I was familiar with this pose, being tied spread eagle form the ceiling.
I felt myself swelling and wondered if there was something in the water.
Then I heard Mr. Suk's voice, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like you to view my latest acquisition. It has been well trained and I am sure you will all get a chance to enjoy it in whatever means you wish. It is quite docile and compliant. I really haven't found anything that you can do to it. It is quite responsive."
He paused, and then continued, "During our flight I invite you to come up and inspect it at your leisure. Possibly before we land, we will have it provide some entertainment."
I shivered. I didn't like being referred to as it, and I wondered what kind of life I had ahead of me.
I felt hands roaming over my body. My nipples were squeezed and twisted. Others took my balls and squeezed them, starting out with light pressure and then continuing to apply pressure. I had experienced this many times, but there was no getting used to it. Eventually, the pressure would become excruciating. The only thing that changed was how long I was able to withstand the pressure before gasping out.
I rose on my toes to get away from the pain, which I always did, and it never did relieve the pain. It always continued. The pressure continued to build and, finally, I had to gasp and try to double up.
The pressure didn't stop; it continued on. I felt the pain rush back and forth between my balls and my stomach. I tried to not cry out, but I couldn't help it; the hand was continuing to increase pressure.
I knew they would burst if the pressure kept up. I gritted my teeth, waiting for the pop. Tears streamed down my face; I was bucking in my restraints.
There was some laughter at my actions. Finally, the hand was removed and the pain continued to course through my body. Tears were trapped within the blindfold. I felt it getting wet.
A finger invaded my ass roughly. My dick was twisted and bent. The torment continued on for hours. It didn't seem that my body was ever not being touched.
Someone stroked my dick until I thought sure I was going to shoot. They stopped just seconds before I was going to shoot. This had happened to me before, but it never ceased to get to me. I wanted to beg for release, but had been trained not to beg. I knew I would be beaten.
At one point, my right hand was unshackled. I was then instructed to jerk off. I was so on edge, I knew it wouldn't take long.
I clenched my jaw and began working my dick. My right hand is not my normal hand for jerking, but Bill had laughed at my inability to orgasm easily with my right. I was a solid fist with my left, but only thumb and forefinger with my right.
My whole body stiffened in the oncoming rush. "Stop!" I heard. I removed my hand and hung there panting. My cock was dripping profusely. A small whine escaped my lips, but I bit my lip and tightened my jaw.
There was silence.
Finally, I heard, "Finish it," in a commanding voice.
I took my dick in hand and, in a blur of motion, furiously brought myself back to the edge, trying to cum before he said stop again. I was allowed to cum and it felt so good!
I shot several times. There was a scattering of applause.
The blindfold was removed at that time, and I saw that I was strung up at the front of rows of seats facing towards me. There were men and women throughout the cabin. The sunlight came in through the windows of the plane.
I felt both shame and a surrealistic mind-blowing thought of being part of some sexual performance on a flight at 35,000 feet. I closed my eyes as I felt vertigo of disbelief.
I was unshackled then and taken back through the plane. I saw the box on the floor and shook. I wanted to beg and plead not to be put back in the box.
As if reading my mind, one of the men that had escorted me said, "Do we need to gag you, or will you keep quiet. Mr. Suk won't stand for any of the noises you made when you were placed in the box. It would interfere with the peace of his guests to hear you kicking and screaming like a baby."
I clinched my jaw and thought about that. Could I control myself? I started to talk and realized I hadn't spoken since being removed from the box and my mouth was dry. I swallowed and said, "Gag, please."
The man smiled, opened a drawer, and removed a gag. He fitted it over my head, and it completely covered my mouth, with a ball inserted in my mouth.
I was breathing noisily through my nose as I lay down in the box. I trembled from nerves as they put the lid on the box. I was hyperventilating through my nose as they nailed the lid on.
I struggled with my fear. I cried and screamed into my gag. My heart raced.
I felt a drop and thought I had been dropped off of the plane. Then I realized it was the plane descending.
I finally got my fear under control and my breathing back to normal. I stayed in the box through landing, and I was taken out of the plane and loaded onto some sort of transportation.
I rode like that for some time. When the vehicle finally stopped, I was removed and carried a ways. The box was put down; the nails were removed, and I was helped out of the box to stand.
When my eyes could focus, I looked around. I was in a large room. In one corner was a jail cell, a cage. "This is your new home," Mr. Suk said.
"This is where you will stay when you are being trained or used." He pointed to the cage. It was a cell about six feet square and seven feet high. I noticed something about the ceiling. I figured that it could be lowered.
Inside the cage there was a pile of sheets, a stainless steel prison style toilet and sink combination. Inside, next to the door were two bowls; I assumed they were for food.
"And here is one of the many play areas where you will be used for entertainment." He pointed to another corner. What caught my eye was the complete black rubber and nylon suit hanging in one corner. I shivered at the thought of having to be in that confining suit.
I noticed a cross of wood on one wall, and numerous chains and straps were suspended from the ceiling. Along one wall were all kinds of whips, clamps, robes, chains, plugs, and wires. It made me shiver again as I saw them, and the table and chair next to them.
A table, with restraints on every corner, and a chair like a barber's chair, but with stirrups, sat there. Boxes with switches were on shelves behind the chair.
I couldn't take in everything that was in the large room. And he had said this was only one of the rooms where I would be used.
"You will have several trainers working with you daily. You will be kept in top shape, but you will also be trained in pleasing people in numerous ways." He looked at me.
"And just so you don't think I will not be disciplining you, I want you to know that I am probably going to be less lenient that your former owner." He smiled wickedly.
He pushed a button on a wall and a section of the floor slid away. A dark pit was there, roughly man shaped. "You will be placed in here as one of your punishments. After hearing your reaction to the box you were brought here in, I think this will be very helpful in keeping you in line."
His wicked smile broadened. "And I have ways of totally depriving you of any sensations," he stressed again, "any sensation! I think you will find them even more depriving than just being enclosed into a box."
I shivered again. He saw that and chuckled. "As your former owner often said, 'What choice do you have?'" He laughed and laughed, as he left me to think about that as he walked out.
As always comments, suggestions, pics and vids are always appreciated -- harryrod575@yahoo.com
Have fun
harry