by Danny Tyran
It seemed that the word “leisure” skinned his lips. As if such a word and what it represented were an aberration. It certainly was for him in the context of a life of slavery.
He then told me about the possibility of visitors: mine and his. “If you must meet someone, one of your parents or your friends, you’ll have to tell me first. Don’t think that because you have visitors, I’ll treat you differently. You are now, and will remain, my slave until the day I sell you, or if you decide to give up. And if I have friends here or acquaintances, unless stated otherwise, you should meet them at the door upon arrival. You’ll then strive to serve them as well as you serve me and see them back to the door when they leave.”
“Master, what would happen if my parents wanted to visit me for a few days?”
“I expect that they will, one day, but I hope they don’t come out of the blue, especially after we move. If they speak about visiting in the meantime, tell them you’ll call them back and we’ll discuss it first. For now, I am willing to let them come and see you for a day or two, twice a year, but no more than that. Also, if they plan to stay for a longer period in our future home, you’ll have to tell them that it’s impossible.”
“And what about phoning and writing?”
“You may write and phone them once every two weeks. You just have to make sure you write one week and call them the next. I reserve the right to read your mail and listen to your conversations whenever I please. Besides, at some point or another in your training you won’t be able to communicate with them or have visitors, either because you’ll be physically unable to do so, or because I have decided to ban it for a while. So, don’t take anything for granted. You have no other rights than those I’m willing to give you, whenever I’m willing to give them to you. And you have every obligation to me and my visitors at any time of the day and night. Do you understand, Max?”
I understood very well that this was far from a game or a picnic. If it was a game, my master chose the rules according to his mood and pleasure. Could I find the courage to lead such a life?
Then my master suggested I go to bed. I had to get up at five o’clock the next day, and I’d have a hard day ahead of me.
From that first night, he came into my room. When I woke up, I was erect and confused, not yet accustomed to my new environment. When I saw a shadow on my bed and felt the warm touch of a hand on my cock, I jumped and started to get up.
“It’s only me, Max,” he reassured me, without removing his hand.
I lay down again and tried to regain my composure. But his hand, which rested without moving on my dick, disturbed me so much that I didn’t manage to really calm down.
“Your cock and balls, like all the rest of you, belong to me. Offer them to me. Stop fighting against my will. Surrender yourself.”
I tried to relax myself by repeating: these genitals no longer belong to me; they belong to him. He can do whatever he wants with them. But the more I thought about my dick, the better it felt in his hand and the more I became aroused. He remained there for a few minutes. When my cock started pulsing against the palm of his hand, indicating I was about to cum, he stood up. “Go back to sleep now.” And he went to his own bed.
“Go back to sleep”? Easy for him to say. It took me an hour to fall asleep again: I needed that long to stop thinking about what had happened and lose my hard-on.
I don’t know how much later, it was still dark, when he came back. I was sleeping on my stomach. A subconscious reaction to protect myself, no doubt. I woke up without a start this time. His right middle finger was pressing against my anus without trying to enter. Like the first time, he just stayed there, for some time, without moving. He couldn’t see my cock, but he could easily hear my breathing becoming faster and feel my tense muscles relaxing, even those of my butt hole. When he thought that it was enough, he left.
I turned onto my back, and the mere contact of the sheet against my cock was enough to make me cum. I hadn’t been allowed to ejaculate, so I’d probably have to pay for it. But I was so close, how could I stop myself? These thoughts made me toss and turn in my too hard and wet with cum bed. I relived my departure from home, my arrival here, and my master’s nocturnal visits. All I could think about were the next few days, and the following nights. I didn’t get back to sleep.
Chapter 13
Since I couldn’t sleep, on that first morning of my life to my master’s place, I got up and started my exercises at four forty-five. I didn’t know what time he wanted to get up, or what time he exercised, but I didn’t want to risk finding myself in the gym when he would need to use the same equipment as me.
By six o’clock I had finished my exercises and was out of the shower. I went to see if my master was still in bed. When I arrived at his room, he wasn’t there. I heard the sound of water running and took a quick glance into his bathroom. He was in the shower. I waited outside. After a few minutes, the flow of water ceased and he came out, drying himself. When he saw me, he smiled. “Hi Max!”
“Hello Master!”
“Ready for Day One?”
“I... Yes.”
He laughed at my hesitation, and my obvious doubt. “Come here. Dry me.”
I started to wipe him, not knowing if I had to wipe really everywhere. So far, it was he who initiated each physical contact. He shook his head and droplets sprayed me. He laughed at my surprise. “Go ahead. And don’t neglect any part of my body, Max. Dry me well.”
I swallowed my too plentiful saliva and continued. My hands were shaking when I started to wipe his ass. He had ordered me to neglect nothing and dry him thoroughly, so I had to obey him. I tried to find the same functional indifference that I felt when I wiped myself, without success.
“Hand me that towel. Okay, let’s say you’re the master and I am the slave. I’ll demonstrate.” He began his role reversal, pretending to wipe my nonexistent dampness, neglecting no part of my body. He started gently with my face and ended with my feet, without avoiding my cock and balls and the crack of my buttocks. But his movements were so cold, so neutral, even when he dried up my dick, I didn’t find much pleasure. “It’s your turn now. Go get another towel; you never reuse on the master what was used for the slave.”
When I returned with the towel, I began my task, following his technique. However, I was still disturbed by the contact with his buttocks and cock. Mine started to harden.
“Last night, before going to bed, you should have asked what time I had to get up so you could wake me and look after me as soon as I got up. I much prefer to be gently woken by my slave than by an alarm clock. You’ll end up knowing my routine from sunrise to sunset, but until then, it’s your duty to ask questions so you know my intentions, needs and desires all throughout the day. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir. I don’t... Yes, Master.”
“That’s right, Max, you don’t have to look for or give me excuses. What were you going to say to explain your forgetfulness?”
“I didn’t know that I had to ask, Master.”
“Do you think it’s an appropriate excuse?”
I thought for a moment about what I had experienced with him so far, what he had taught me. It was true that I’d never lived in his house, but I had served him many times and in many ways. “I already knew that a slave must keep ahead of his master’s needs and desires. It is from the slave that all the effort must come. Therefore, it’s logical that it’s up to me to ask for the necessary information and not wait for you to give it to me, Master.”
“Right. You’ll learn to plan several days in advance. To know exactly what I expect from you at all times. You do not have the right anymore to go on thinking only of yourself. Imagine that I am a baby and can’t do anything by myself. So you have to think for me. However, I am a very particular baby, because I have already acquired habits. I have my tastes, my preferences, my limitations. I also have occupations, appointments at specific times. I may be required to meet certain commitments. You’ll have to o
rganize your days, taking into account all of these factors.”
While we were speaking, I had finally finished wiping him.
“Fetch the hairdryer and dry my hair.”
I didn’t have frizzy hair, so I didn’t know if there was anything else to do other than dry it. But he didn’t ask me to use the brush or comb. It was styled quite short and natural. While I dried it, he explained to me what time he got up when he wasn’t working, what time he did his physical activities in his gym and outside. He told me that during the first weeks of my training, he would get up at the same time as me, making sure we did our runs together and alternate on the training equipment.
“Help me get dressed.”
After asking what he wished to wear, I dressed him completely. Then he told me that we had something important to do before breakfast and ordered me to follow him.
When he opened the door leading to the basement, I felt weak and dizzy. Going down the first steps, I had to hold onto the railing to make sure I didn’t lose my footing.
“I know, Max. I know exactly how you feel,” my master said while continuing down the stairs without even turning his head toward me. He had probably heard my panting breath and my faltering steps. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he waited and put an arm around my shoulders as he guided me to the big table. He bent and pulled something from under the table. It was a height-adjustable stool, like those you often find in bars. He patted the seat, signifying me to sit down. Then he turned me around, so I had my back to him. I could hear him moving objects. Worried, I turned my head to see what he was preparing.
“No. Keep your head to the front. You must control your curiosity and your fear and learn to trust me. Even here. Especially here.”
“Have I done something wrong, Master?” Even to my own ears, my voice had a fearful and plaintive tone.
“In the future, if something goes wrong, I’ll tell you clearly and promptly. I’ll explain how to avoid repeating the same mistake, and I’ll expect you not to duplicate the error. We aren’t here to punish you. In fact, I’ll rarely come down here to punish you. It’d be a very serious mistake to bring you to the basement for this purpose, Max. In most cases, your visits here will be related to a milestone in your journey into slavery. We’ll use these occasions to help you overcome obstacles blocking your way or because you have reached a crossroads where we have to make a choice about the direction you will take next. It’s also here that you will undergo the final test which will consecrate you officially as a slave.”
He placed something on the table behind me. From the way they rattled and clashed, it sounded like many objects in a metal container, but I couldn’t see without turning around. He placed his hand on the back of my head and pressed slightly, asking me to lean a little forward. I obeyed. I appreciated the softness of his voice and his gestures, but I knew that his intent to spare me unnecessary suffering would never prevent him from inflicting any discipline he deemed necessary for my progress.
An electrical appliance started to hum and vibrate. I started to vibrate with it. I didn’t know what the device was. I had seen all sorts of apparatus in his torture cabinet. Then he started to shave my head with his clippers. I had long hair that reached halfway down my neck, but by the time he finished this tonsure, I was completely bald. He disappeared into the laundry and returned with a can of shaving cream, a towel and a basin full of water. Then he gently coated my eyebrows, cheeks and chin with cream and shaved them also. This time with a straight razor.
“Raise your arms,” he commanded and began stripping my armpits of their hair in the same way; after which he allowed me to lower my arms. My chest was almost hairless, but he removed the few hairs that were there with tweezers. Then he shaved my arms. “Kneel down on the table in front of me, and spreads your legs.” He continued to work, shaving off all my pubic hair and that on my thighs. “Turn around and face the other way, keep your knees apart so I can stand between your legs then lean forward and spread your buttocks with your hands.”
I was a little nervous when he started shaving the hair on my testicles and removed the ones around my anus, but he took great care not to hurt me, and everything went smoothly. He had the assured gestures of someone familiar with such an instrument. He must have shaved his previous slaves as well as his masters.
“Sit on the edge of the table,” he instructed and finished shaving the rest of my legs. Then he wiped off any residual cream. After leaving behind my old life, discarding my oldies, taking off my clothes, I had now lost all my hair and my old look. I was probably more naked than the day I was born. My new life had begun.
I was curious to see what I would look like without hair on my head, eyebrows, pubes or elsewhere. But he didn’t give me any time to think about it.
“Now clean and tidy everything up,” he ordered, pointing to what he had just used.
I swept up the hair and disposed of it, then went to the laundry to drain the basin water into the sink, put the dirty towel in the laundry basket, rinsed and dried the razor blade and the bowl. Once everything was clean and dry, I returned it all to his closet, fumbling a little to find the right places. Then I came back to him. He patted the bench again. I sat down with my back to him, like the first time.
During the shaving, part of my fear had left me. Or at least I thought so initially, but as soon as I felt the familiar sensation of dozens of tiny legs walking on my back, I jumped and got off the bench, trying to remove whatever was still on my back. I didn’t even want to begin trying to imagine what it was. As soon as I let my mind work, it showed me pictures of horror: hundreds of millipedes and caterpillars covering me. So I preferred to stop thinking. I even stopped breathing.
“Sit back immediately!” a harsh voice ordered me.
I looked at him. But he was hiding whatever he had behind his back. All I knew was that I didn’t want to feel this thing touch me again. Ever. I didn’t move. I couldn’t bring myself to escape, but I was too terrified to stay. I heard him speak, without hearing his words. I looked up at him. “I can’t. Help me,” I begged. I didn’t even recognize my own voice. It was so torn. The words came out of my mouth, crippled.
“That’s what I’m doing, Max. That’s what I do. Come on, sit down.”
I glanced up at the ceiling, perhaps hoping to find some divine assistance, but all I saw were hooks, chains, and other torture devices. I tried to take a step. It didn’t matter what direction, but my legs failed me, and I found myself kneeling on the floor.
My master came to my rescue. He helped me up and led me slowly to the bench. He urged me to sit and said, “Max. It’s your decision. Either you go for good, or you ask me to continue. If you choose to stay, you’ll sit up straight. You can hold onto the table if you are afraid of becoming dizzy and falling. But you don’t get off the bench without my permission, unless it’s to quit. Understood?”
I leaned over and threw up beside the bench. My master didn’t say anything. He waited, leaving me time to empty my stomach and decide. In my mind, I saw myself getting up, avoiding my vomit and going, but I remained seated. “Is it really necessary?”
“Yes, Max. This is mandatory.”
I’d have preferred his metal boots. I’d rather suffer any other torture device. But he gave me no choice other than quitting or continuing.
“Turn to the table now.”
I shook my head, but I obeyed. Clinging to the table, I straightened up. Then I took several long, deep breaths.
“Good. This is fine, Max.”
Sweat and tears, like numerous insects, ran down my body. I thought, Help me. If there is someone or something somewhere that can help me, please, help me out of pity. “ You... You can g...” I was suffocating, as if my words blocked my throats. I couldn’t finish my sentence.
“Yes, Max. Again. I want to hear you clearly ask me to continue.”
I took a deep breath, like those you take just before a long snorkeling session. “Please... continue, Master.” M
y voice was clear and strong, the sentence well pronounced. I felt new tickling in the middle of my back. All my flesh rebelled against it; waves of chills and thrills ran through me. I pressed my head against the table.
“No, Max. Sit up. Stay straight.” Ruthless, as always, my master didn’t allow me any weakness.
I breathed again and sat up. I could still feel the delicate movements on my flesh. I shuddered, but the absolute terror that kept me from thinking decreased. I was with my master. He wouldn’t harm me. No irreparable damage would be done to me. I had to trust him. I could trust him.
The tingling returned, traveling down my back, as if to a point of exit. I tried to convince myself that these creatures were actually aiming away from me in hope of an escape. My chills didn’t stop, but their intensity decreased, and they became rarer. Then everything stopped.
“Turn around to face me now.”
I faced him, but kept my eyes closed. The sensation of little legs moving over my flesh started on my belly. They were going up now. I didn’t know if I could handle these critters on my face. When the tingling reached my neck, I raised my head in a desperate attempt to protect my face. When I felt that I couldn’t escape it, I raised my hands to repel the aggressor.
“No! Put your hands back where they belong.”
I clasped my hands behind my back, gripping them firmly with one another to avoid disobeying. The sensation continued its journey down my cheeks. I held my breath and began shaking.
“Open your eyes, Max.”
No! He couldn’t demand so much in one day. Couldn’t he do it more gradually? Wait for another time to ask me to contemplate the cause of my fear?
“Max. You’ve acted like a child long enough. Open your eyes now.”
