Pet Slaves

by Mark Andrews

  Ondoka showed me the item first. I stared at it without any comprehension at all and so he shrugged his huge shoulders, grinned sourly and then moved around behind me, poking it at my now well exposed and somewhat conditioned anus, pushing at it until the sphincter gave way and it went smoothly inside my rectum.

  The thing wasn’t all that big - then. I guessed it might have been four inches long and one wide. Even so, an inch is quite wide for a near virgin anus and I squirmed as he kept pushing until it forced the tight orifice open, even screaming a bit as it was still bigger than Masoud’s cock. Once it was right in, he clicked it onto the fitting on the tube. As I said, this included both an air outlet and some electrical connections but I didn’t know that then, of course.

  Nothing more happened for a while. I stood there, my thighs and legs nearly horizontal, my neck encased in an inward-spiked collar, my hands secured behind my back and my anus neatly plugged with the dildo thing. The rods gripping my ankles and lower legs were as usual, poking up about three feet from the tubes out of which they emerged and I suppose my so naked body thus presented a pleasing picture to anyone into the punishment of a girl.

  Certainly Waleed and his son were and, although I didn’t know it, we were waiting for the pair of them to come down. They took their time. I was always released from my cell at five in the morning, cleaned, fed and exercised in short order and was always standing (if you can call it standing, that is) on the rods by seven. They rarely appeared before ten at the earliest and so I had to wait three hours before they showed up.

  When they did, Masoud nodded to Ondoka who took up a thing like a TV controller and punched some of its buttons. I felt it immediately. The thing in my rectum was moving.

  Not only was it moving, however, it was also swelling and getting longer. It felt like a massive piece of my excreta moving backwards up my rectum! I know that sounds disgusting but that’s what it seemed like.

  It continued to swell however and my anus was being stretched wide. So was my rectum although all I felt there was a horrible full feeling, as if I wanted desperately to go. Then, to make matters worse, it started to vibrate and actually seemed to be moving in and out a little. How it did that, I don’t know and I certainly couldn’t look back down behind me to see - the needle sharp spikes inside my collar prevented that. However it did it, it certainly was! Perhaps the end of it could move? Anyway, it was swelling and then relaxing, lengthening and retracting, vibrating and moving, all at the same time and as it did so, it was stretching my anus and filling my rectum. And all this time I was still held up on the two rods, their ankle tubes holding my legs rigid and stretched impossibly wide.

  The pair of them came around behind me to inspect the dildo as it pulsed and throbbed inside me, even squatting down to examine it at close quarters.

  “A wonderful machine, father,” Masoud said, now in Arabic but I understood a little of his speech and now used my mind to listen carefully and memorise the words for future digestion. That also helped me cope with the pain of my suspension and the new one in my backside.

  “It works very well to loosen up their bottoms for our future use, my son,” replied Waleed, clearly proud of his chosen successor. “You said she was a bit too tight and this will both loosen her up and at the same time, strengthen her anal muscle so we can train her to give as good pleasure with her bottom as her vagina, once you have deflowered her, that is...”

  Masoud grinned at his father, agreeing with his crude observations about my future use as a sex-slave but then added: “And for her doggy tail,” he observed, a comment I didn’t really understand until much later but which you, no doubt, are beginning to fathom?

  They stayed for an hour or so but then left, Masoud ordering Ondoka to keep me on the dildo all day.

  By that evening, my anus felt utterly ravaged. I was sure it would never serve me again as a proper valve but I didn’t then understand how incredible that organ really is. If you have ever suffered from a severe dose of diarrhoea, you will know how painful it can get and you are sure your very entrails must be hanging out between your cheeks? And yet, within a few minutes, it all seems to get back to normal, at least until the next attack. That is what happened to me except it took more than a few minutes. I think, though, that by the time I had performed my evening exercises, eaten the mush and been hosed down, it was only sore, not agonised and that night, when I passed my wastes, the organ seemed to be functioning properly.

  A couple more days with successively larger anal dildos working my anus solidly and with my thighs and legs fully horizontal, I was introduced to the last of the trials I endured on that horrible machine.

  After being extracted from my tiny cell, hosed down, fed and exercised, I was brought in and placed on it as usual, the anal dildo inserted into my body and then clipped to the machine and activated.

  Now, though, once Masoud and his father arrived to watch this final phase in this treatment, I was going to experience the last rod, the gleaming pole that emerged from a tube just in front of that out of which the collar and dildo rod was seated. Unlike the other three, which were truly vertical, this one sloped backwards slightly. That is, it came out of the floor a few inches in front of the axis of my feet but as it rose slowly but inexorably towards my body. I could see it was headed straight for my vagina.

  This rod was also stainless steel and was polished to a fine lustre. It was, like the others, about half an inch in diameter but this one was provided with a fitting at its tip that blossomed out into a sort of small eggcup as it emerged from the tube. I stared down at it in awe, wondering what it was going to do to me but also aware the father and son pair were delighting in that uncertainty and anxiety. I was quite powerless however to do anything but stare down at it and moan in my fear that it was going to hurt me a great deal.

  Of course it was going to hurt me. That was what pain conditioning was all about but, as I was soon to discover, this time the pain would be interspersed with pleasure. Intense pleasure that would quickly have me squirming in lust.

  Actually, what it did do was bad enough. It was seeking my clitoris, that tiny bud of flesh on a woman that is the source of much of her sexual pleasure. I may have been a virgin but I knew only too well what it was and how it could be used.

  As Masoud and his father watched, their dark eyes glittering in anticipation, it slowed down as it neared its goal. The thing was ingenious. It actually knew when it touched the soft bud and then, after closing again over my clit and grasping the little bud of ultra-sensitive flesh in its sharp teeth, it stopped.

  By then, though, I was howling in fear.

  That fear was soon consummated by yet another agony. By now, my hips had all but accustomed themselves to the stretching that had allowed me to assume a perfect splits position but the position was still uncomfortable and my pinioned arms and the needles pricking my neck, as well as the now really stretching girth of the latest sized dildo up my rectum, still all contributed to a general feeling of distress.

  I was going to face another agony. I was going to suffer electric shocks between my clitoris and my anus, the new cup with its sharp teeth and the dildo serving as the electrodes. Have you ever had an electric shock? Perhaps touched a mains wire outlet by mistake? It’s horrible, isn’t it?

  Well, I wasn’t going to suffer mains voltage but that computer program certainly knew its onions, or rather the man who designed it did. He must have known exactly how much electricity a human body can take: the voltage, current and frequency settings that would give a girl exquisite agony but not damage her body.

  But then the agony died away and I was left perched on the rods while my body oozed droplets of perspiration that soon formed into a patina that covered my whole body. I stared wildly down at the two men, wondering when it was going to start again.

  But it didn’t. Not then. Masoud observed that I was sweating and probabl
y needed a drink. Ondoka grinned, nodded and touched a button on his controller. I heard a sound above me and saw a clear plastic tube snaking down from the ceiling. On the end of it was a ball-gag type mask and when it was low enough, the eunuch reached up and grabbed it, ordered me to open my mouth and filled it with the gag which he then buckled around my neck. He touched another button on the controller and I felt water trickling down my throat. It wasn’t fast but it was constant.

  And then I felt another sensation. By now it was perhaps ten minutes after the shock had ceased and my clit was back to normal, although it was still extraordinarily sensitised by the tiny teeth on the lip of the cup. I have called it a cup but it was more like a flower bud, able to open and close - and of course it had those little teeth that held it very securely.

  The new sensation was a sort of tingling that was repeated at my anus, even while the dildo was doing its unspeakable things to that organ and my rectum. I have to say it was nice but then it increased and what came now wasn’t nice - it was absolutely wonderful! I squirmed, or at least the middle parts of my body did.

  With my arms pinioned and my neck constrained by the circlet of needles around it, my upper body was virtually immobile. So were my legs and thighs but my loins and belly weren’t and I think they must have been gyrating wildly as the tiny shocks brought me to a near instant climax that went on and on and on, keeping me at a crescendo by the actions of the little cup that had attached itself to my clit and was sending me wild with pleasure.

  Through all of this, the water was continuing to trickle into my stomach and then I felt a need to go. Bastards! I thought. They’ve laced the water with a diuretic. Well, there wasn’t any point in holding back and through the orgasm, I squirted out my water.

  The feeling was wild. I was in the throes of the best climax I had ever experienced (yes, of course I masturbated from time to time) and I was weeing at the same time. I think if the dildo hadn’t been plugging my bottom, I might even have passed my solid wastes too!

  But then, after what seemed like hours but was probably fifteen minutes, the tingling died away and I was left sweating heavily.

  “Increase the water flow, Ondoka,” Masoud ordered and, as the eunuch touched some more buttons on his controller, I felt the trickle increase. Hell, I thought. My stomach will soon be full to bursting point.

  It didn’t, because the diuretic made sure I urinated almost constantly, rapidly draining my body of the flow of liquid into it.

  The urine pooled below my body as the stones here had apparently been sealed and soon the stench was unbearable. Waleed and his son soon decided it wasn’t to their taste and left the room but Ondoka and I had to stay and put up with the foul smell. There was a drain hole over in the corner and eventually, as I urinated what must have been gallons of my water out over the course of the day, it made its way over to the drain and disappeared. But some of it remained in pools below my body and until the room was sluiced out, it would continue to stink.

  The pair of us were naked of course and I used his body unashamedly to divert my mind from the horrors he perpetrated on me at his master’s orders.

  It really was a splendid physique. As I’ve said (probably repeatedly) he was huge, in every respect, but his muscles weren’t out of proportion to his stature. On anyone smaller, they might have seemed gross; on him, they were perfect and they were added to by the warm velvety smoothness of his skin.

  I wondered as I stared at his beautiful body how big his penis might have been before he was castrated. Of course I didn’t ask him. For a start, I couldn’t. My mouth was full, plugged by the huge ball gag through which the tube passed but even if I hadn’t been, good manners would have forbidden it. Good manners, you wonder? After what he had already done to me? Well, I reasoned he had been castrated at Waleed’s orders and in front of him. Very likely other even worse penalties would follow any refusal to obey orders and so I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

  It was a dreadful day. The rest period after the pleasure mode was followed by another of the ultra-painful shocks but after that they came randomly, a couple or three of the one followed by one to three or even four of the other. I never knew which to expect and all my other woes slowly became sublimated to this one pain or pleasure. Even my sorely abused anus was forgotten as the shocks either thrilled or hurt me.

  And all through it, the water continued to trickle down my gullet to be absorbed by my kidneys and processed at a vastly accelerated rate so that I weed every few minutes or so.

  I was in despair. I stared down at the pool of yellow liquid below me and the tiny stream that ran from it over towards the drain hole in the corner but then I knew I had to snap out of my dolour. I was made of sterner stuff than that. I decided to forget the pain, the shame and the humiliation and think only of Ondoka’s superb body, imagining he was my slave and how I would enjoy feeling him down as he did to me every now and then, for yes, sexless he might have been but he wasn’t above fondling my breasts or stroking my well-developed thighs or rear as the mood took him.

  I wondered at this for I had thought that castrating a male, even with just his testicles, took sexual desire away. This clearly wasn’t the case with the giant black although of course he wasn’t able to perform a sexual act with a woman. Or was he? I stared down at his groin again and I thought I could see it quivering as he stroked my breasts and told me what a beautiful body I had.

  I was startled. Yes, although a eunuch in the total sense of that word, he obviously desired me. Of course he couldn’t beget children and so dishonour his owner by ravaging the girls in the harem and I suppose that was what it was all about ...

  I let the matter go and concentrated on picturing him in all manner of weird situations for although I forgave him for what he had been ordered to do to me, I still thought of him as a slave (which he was) and as a slave, he could be used in all manner of ways.

  As a pony, for example. I imagined my naked thighs astride that great neck and his head in a bridle that included a handle on top for me to hang on to and then with him galloping me around the park at my father’s estate. Or with him harnessed to a plough, all by himself, with me guiding it and lashing at his broad back and rippling muscles ...

  These thoughts I gave full rein to. They helped me get through that day, which, as it happened, was my last on that horrible machine. Others were to follow that were as bad or worse but at that time, I didn’t even know what my immediate future held for me and so I was able to sink into those fantasies quite deliciously.

  The next stage of my conditioning involved two parts.

  They fed me with something that made me constantly randy. Again, I know this sounds scandalous but I don’t know of any other way to say it. I had always believed that aphrodisiacs, so-called, were a myth, an invention of pornographic writers and of unscrupulous quacks out for a ‘quick quid’. Such things as ginseng and rhinoceros horn are well known items, and as far as I know, all have been proved to be of no value, at least as an aphrodisiac.

  The Arabs however have been masters of the art of love for centuries. Most of us have read versions of the Thousand and One Nights. Those who have sampled the unexpurgated versions will know the book abounds in stories of love and love-making - and various potions to enhance it. While the book is a work (or compilation) of fiction, I believe Waleed was in possession of a very potent drug that could rouse men and women to extraordinary degrees of desire and passion.

  I can certainly attest that I felt randy all the time. Every waking moment was filled with desire for a male; any male ... I thought only of a huge prick (that’s how I thought of it) ramming hard into my cunt (again, that’s the word that came up in my mind), while his big hands mauled at my breasts and his lips crushed mine until they were bleeding.

  It was never soft and gentle and loving sex; always hard and brutal and my nipples were constantly hard and erect, my v
ulva inflamed and constantly pulsing and my clit also hard and poking out of my nether lips.

  To make it worse, they took me to a small room in the cellars and secured me between two stone pillars in a St Andrew’s Cross position - and then brought in a succession of young and handsome men to perform before me.

  The performances were all of the strip-tease variety. Something like the Manpower shows that travel the world to entertain women in clubs, except these men went further, each stripping his beautiful or magnificent body slowly and seductively as part of a dance and then, when he was finally naked, dancing closer and closer to me, his erect penis touching my belly and thighs (but never my vagina or even the lips around it) and bringing me to a screaming point.

  Masoud was present although his father wasn’t and he was dressed in the normal clothes of an Arab aristocrat, sitting to one side and watching me principally but sometimes the handsome men as well.

  This terrible process went on all day. And the day after, and the day after that.

  I was still housed in the tiny cell, had to urinate and defecate as I lay there, be hosed, fed and exercised and then, instead of the perched position on the rods, suffer hanging between those two pillars while a succession of some of the most handsome and well-built men in the world came in and teased me with their bodies.

  The drug or drugs they used to inflame me were bad enough without the men; they more than doubled the desire and had me screaming with a terrible craving all day. Masoud sat there and sneered at my lust but he often got up to stroll over and fondle my body, always careful to go nowhere near my vagina, however. He wanted me to feel the pangs of unrequited love (lust!) but certainly no relief from those so powerful desires.