Slave in Training

by Danny Tyran

  As soon as I recognized that my obligation was to him, I finally realized I had been failing in one important aspect of my duty as a slave. Every night, he had been coming to my room and not once had I tried to give him pleasure. I blamed myself even more because the idea of serving him in that way excited me incredibly. That night, when he came in, I slipped off the bed and knelt between his legs bringing my head to his dick. Its musky odor assailed my nostrils and went straight to my head, intoxicating me better and faster than the best alcohol.

  “About time, Max. I expected you to understand the first night and work out what to do.”

  “Excuse me, Sir. Forgive my stupidity and selfishness.”

  “Lick my balls. Bathe them in your mouth with your saliva.”

  Now I understood why he hadn’t allowed my relief through ejaculation. I didn’t deserve it. I should give him pleasure first. I owed him a lot. I thrust my nose into the middle of his pubic hair and sucked in a good whiff of the smell, and then I began to lick him with relish. I felt myself transported with bliss. My master stroked my head affectionately. I was happy between those two firm and warm thighs. I felt safe.

  “Take a ball in your mouth. Massage it slowly with your tongue.”

  I obeyed. A few seconds later, he forced my jaw open to free his testicle. Then he slapped me. “I thought I told you to massage it with your tongue. Watch your teeth, little asshole! You don’t have the right to inflict pain on me, no matter how small it is, unless it is part of your training during your fighting course, for example.”

  He slapped me again, and then ordered me to massage his other testicle with my tongue. This time, I was afraid of hurting him. I wanted so much to please him. He then made me lick his dick, but not the glans. I had to wait for another night to take it all in my mouth. One of the hairs from his cock had come off and was tickling my tongue and uvula. I stuck one of my fingers into my mouth to remove it.

  “No, Max. Leave it there. You must find pleasure in feeling me in you, even if it’s only this small part of me.”

  “Yes, Sir.” That hair immediately became a symbol, one of the first times my master had allowed me to give him pleasure. I felt the edge of my throat, tingling. Something inside urged me to swallow it or dislodge it from my mouth, but I forced myself to leave it in place. I hoped it would remain there for a long time. I wanted to feel my master in me as long as possible. That idea alone was enough to fuel my desire and excite me.

  The next night, when I woke up, he put a finger in my mouth and massaged my gums. I opened my mouth. He slipped two fingers onto my tongue, then below it. “Open wider.”

  I opened my mouth as wide as I could. He started to grab my tongue, to massage it, to walk his fingers on my palate, against the inside of my teeth. I was very aroused. He began to plunge one finger into my throat. I retched. I tried to control my breathing and not vomit. He continued by pushing a second finger inside, then a third. He inserted them, withdrew, and then sank them in again. “Suck them,” he ordered me.

  I began to suck greedily. I knew his goal: he was preparing me to receive him, to receive his cock. He wanted to see if I could take it all. I wanted so much to convince him that I was capable of it. But he pulled his fingers out of my mouth and inserted his little finger into one of my nostrils. That made me feel even more surely possessed than when he had introduced his fingers into my anus. We aren’t normally used to such intrusions. This finger, wet with my own saliva, sliding into my nostril excited me so much that I almost came. Seeing the intensity of my pleasure, my master ceased moving it back and forth. “Not yet, Max. I still haven’t given you permission.”

  I endeavored to control all my thoughts, to avoid thinking of what he was doing to me. He pressed a finger into my other nostril. My nostrils were now blocked completely. He dragged them in and out many times. He put three fingers of his other hand into my mouth and pushed them into my throat. I immediately began to suck. I couldn’t breathe through my nose and I was left with little opportunity to do it through my mouth. I was suffocating, but the last thing I wanted was for something to happen that might prevent him from continuing. I resisted, as best I could, the increasingly urgent necessity to push his hands out of my mouth as well as the need to ejaculate. When I thought I was really short of breath, he removed his fingers and left my room. My cock had never been so hard. And nobody had touched it!

  The following night, instead of putting his fingers in my nose, he put his tongue into it, pushing as deep as possible into one nostril, then the other. He also put his tongue into my navel, in my ears and in my mouth. I’d be lying if I said he kissed me. It was more like his tongue was inspecting my mouth, searching it. He rubbed and pressed with force against my gums, the inside of my cheeks, the roof of my mouth, under and on my tongue. Ordering me to open wider, he sank as deeply as he could, sometimes blocking my nostrils and testing the very limit of my breath before retreating. “Make your buttocks available to me. Raise your legs and hold them in position with your hands behind your knees.”

  My buttocks were level with the edge of the bed. On his knees, he began to lick around my anus before entering it as deeply as possible.

  The urge to ejaculate grew stronger. “Please, Master.”

  “No, Max. Not yet.” He kept on licking me for a few more seconds, but stopped just before I came.

  During each of his nightly visits, I knelt between his legs, letting the smell of his cock make me drunk for a while, then I would wash his balls, one after the other, then both together. The difficulty of having two big balls in my mouth and caressing them with my tongue, rubbing them against each other without hurting him was far from negligible. I knew that he’d hit me after the tiniest scratch or the slightest irritation. Anyway, I wanted to please him. The fear of failing and being punished for the slightest offense electrified my pleasure.

  “Lick my glans. Don’t take it in your mouth, wash it only with your tongue and work your way around it.”

  I obeyed him, happy to see the moment approaching when I could take his cock in my mouth and drink his sperm.

  During his first visit on Thursday night, he asked me to wash his anus “properly”. He had sublime buttocks, the type we rarely see. The men I knew and who, like him, trained daily had narrow buttocks, tight and hard as steel. His had a nice roundness, despite their firmness. They had the shape and appearance of two giant drops of petroleum, pressed side by side. A graceful curve started at the small of his back and slid elegantly to present this tantalizing curved flesh. I wanted to bite it, to feast upon it.

  After admiring the splendor, I spread his buttocks apart with both hands. At first, I hesitated a bit, bypassing its opening, more washing his buttocks than his hole. Then I got carried away by his obvious pleasure. After having washed the outside of his anus and lapping around it, I plunged my tongue inside as far as possible, turning it sensually round and round in his moist and silky warmth. I withdrew it a little to prolong his pleasure and mine. Then I washed up and down his crack and used the tip of my tongue to tickle the edge of his little hole, before entering it again.

  On his second visit, that same night, he allowed me to take his cock in my mouth. He sat on the edge of my bed while I knelt at his feet and smiled at him. I was so happy that the time had finally come to savor him. He let me suck his cock for a while, entering its small slit with the tip of my tongue, then when his excitement was at its height, he pushed my head down and shoved his rod deep into my throat. I panicked for a moment, but resisted the desire to free myself by clinging to the sheets. I also tried to avoid the gagging reflex by holding my breath. When I had my body under control, I resumed washing his cock and massaging it, by contracting the muscles of my throat. With one hand on my forehead and one on my neck, he moved my head back and forth along his rod to the rhythm of his pleasure. Although I had trouble breathing, I tried hard not to resist him, to be no more than an efficient instrument of pleasure: his sex toy. I was so happy to have him finally in
me.

  When he came, I drank everything that flowed from his slit, trying not to lose anything. His enjoyment was intense and his cum abundant. Perhaps he had also been depriving himself of his full pleasure since my arrival at his house. I licked the last drops of cum of his cock. He then felt my cock with his foot, as if to ensure that the beast was still alive. This was the signal allowing me to cum. I did at once with even more intense pleasure than his. I just regretted that I needed the light brushing of his foot to set me off.

  Chapter 15

  Friday morning, immediately after the end of our exercises and our shower, my master ordered me to follow him into my bathroom upstairs. “You’re going to give yourself an enema, and I’ll show you how to do it.”

  He showed me how to attach the nozzle in place of the showerhead. Then he adjusted the jet to provide an adequate but not too strong flow. “Turn around and bend over, so I can insert this into your pretty little pink hole.”

  He let the water run into me for a while, then withdrew the nozzle. He told me to sit on the toilet seat, but not to release the water immediately.

  I clenched my butt trying to prevent the water from escaping. When I thought I couldn’t restrain myself any longer, I gave him a begging look.

  “Don’t let anything pass without my bidding. You can wait a little longer.”

  I clenched my buttocks as hard as I could, but I felt and heard a few drops flow.

  “No, Max, not yet.”

  My stomach ached and sweat poured out of my body. The pressure on my sphincter was so strong that I didn’t believe it possible to hold back any longer.

  “That’s enough. Open up now.”

  My hole expanded until it was much larger than I’d believed possible due to the pressure of the water rushing out. When the flow of liquid stopped, my master told me that he had to do it again until the water ran clear. The idea of undergoing this foul smelling ordeal a few more times didn’t tempt me in the slightest, but I flushed the toilet and went back into the shower. Adjusting the pressure of the water, I reluctantly inserted the nozzle.

  “Does this remind you of anything?” my master asked.

  I blushed, remembering a spoon whose handle shape wasn’t unlike that of the nozzle.

  When the water pressure in my belly was comparable to the previous time, I removed the nozzle, returning gingerly to sit on the toilet seat, I waited.

  My master watched me struggling to keep the water inside. “Interesting experience, isn’t it? Imagine how people must feel, when they have to endure similar invasions of their bowels on a regular basis because of some illness or disability.”

  I found it harder and harder to keep my muscles clenched. That effort was exhausting and still my master refused to give me the signal to let go. I raised my reddening face to his, silently beseeching him for mercy. But he was leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed on his chest, one leg bent with the foot touching the frame. His expression had the rigidity and indifference of a statue’s. I clung with both hands to the seat and contracted my buttocks further, my face going redder with the effort. It helped if I imagined I was in a hospital, waiting for my turn to go to the bathroom, worried about letting the foul smelling liquid spill onto the floor and splashing my legs in full view of the public.

  “Go!”

  My body emptied itself so powerfully that my ass was splattered with some of the liquid. I felt as if, not only water and my shit passed, but my guts too. I couldn’t believe that I’d have to endure another enema.

  “This time, we’ll put water in an enema bag, so we can add natural aromatic powder. Afterward, your gut will smell of flowers and herbs,” he assured me with a smile.

  I didn’t see the point of perfuming the inside of my belly. Perhaps he was preparing me for our visitor tonight. But if that were the case, I had everything to fear from this visit. What was she going to do to my belly?

  I started to wash my ass. Then I filled the water bag he gave me and poured inside what looked like bath salts. He showed me where I could hang the bag. Then I inserted the nozzle and opened the drain. Scented water filled my belly. I still had to wait ages before emptying my bowels. When I did, it came out as clear as when I had put it into the bag.

  “Clean and tidy everything, then come and join me in my room.”

  When I arrived, he ordered me to bend over, place my hands on the bed and spread my legs. He then began to massage my anus, pinching it, scratching at it, lubricating it and penetrating it with three fingers. The lubricant he used smelled almost the same as the powder he had used to scent the enema’s water. He stretched my anus slowly and sensually for a long time. I soon started panting, my cock pointing to my face. He added another finger and continued. “Max last night, you must have ejaculated without me having to touch you. Don’t you dare come now, or I swear you will regret it.”

  He continued until he had four and then five digits in my hole, inserted all the way up to the second knuckle. My cock bobbed in the air before my eyes. I didn’t think I could resist much longer. He then stopped and picked up a butt plug. Thankfully it was already lubricated as it seemed immense. It wasn’t very long, but it was much larger than I would have thought possible to put in me. But my master did indeed intend to insert this object into my hole. He began pushing in the narrowest part of this artificial phallus, which widened from its tip to its handle. He must have used plenty of lubrication, because it sank in without any problem until the widest part, which wouldn’t fit. “Max, you’re going to open as widely as possible. Do you hear me?”

  I heard very well, but I wasn’t sure that my asshole would hear it that way. I tried to open up my sphincter with the same vigor that I had tried to close it during my enemas. My master gave a series of slaps on my buttocks. “Come on, Max, I told you to open yourself. You can do much better than that.”

  I tried. Ah yes, I tried! But the thing refused to sink to the hilt. After the guard, there was a narrow section that would allow my hole to tighten, ensuring that I could keep it inside and never manage to lose it. My master took his belt, which had been hanging over the back of a chair, folded it in two and started to hit me on the rump, repeating over and over, “Open up, Max, wider.” Whenever the belt struck my buttocks, they tightened of their own will. I immediately unclenched them and opened my anus as wide as possible. When I started crying, my master stopped hitting me. “I have no intention of leaving this room until you have it all in you, Max. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I said in the middle of a sob.

  He picked up the butt plug, which had fallen onto the ground. After cleaning it with a tissue, he lubricated it again. He also re-lubricated my anus, worked and reworked the opening until I was sweating from head to toe. Then he resumed pushing the butt plug into me. This time, I kept my arms extended out straight in front of me, trying not to lean forward, so I could push back better. At the same time, I opened my sphincter a little more, then a little more again. It was painful, but I refused to let pain stop me from getting there. I knew I’d feel even worse if I couldn’t do it.

  “Just a little more, Max. Come on, do it for me.” He gave another powerful thrust, and the widest part of that cursed object finally went in. It was now almost entirely inside me. Only a flattened bulge, a sort of handle required to extract the plug, remained outside. Although it created a pressure in my belly that was almost as unbearable as that caused by the enemas, I wasn’t looking forward to its removal. I feared that its extraction would be even more painful than its insertion.

  The area around where my sphincter tightened might be much narrower than the guard, but it was still almost as wide as my wrist. When I straightened up, I thought I would never be capable of moving with this thing in me.

  “You’ll keep this plug in for a few hours. Go and do your jobs now.”

  Despite the difficulty of inserting the artificial phallus, my own dick hadn’t dropped a notch. I waddled out of the room with my shaft leading forward a
nd this huge fake turd poking out behind to start my typical day, working as a slave.

  All morning, my master came regularly to check where I was up to in my chores and see what state my penis was in. If it was limp, he stroked it or he ordered me to masturbate. And he wasn’t satisfied until I was on the verge of ejaculation. Then he went back to his own activities.

  By the time Friday afternoon came, I had already cleaned the main rooms of the house and decorated them with flowers. Most of the meals for Saturday were ready too. But I had a terrible case of stage fright. I knew that my master wanted me to have everything perfect, including myself. And I felt very far from perfection.

  Before eating, my master asked me to follow him to his room. He wanted to remove the plug, but now I was afraid of being unable to expel it.

  “What entered can get out.”

  Go tell that to the kids who stuck their heads between the railings of a staircase. I wasn’t nearly as confident as he was. When he started pulling, I focused on how good it would feel to be finally free of this accursed plug, and I pushed hard. Apparently, we are better made to evacuate through this hole than to swallow with it, because the dildo came out without too much difficulty. My anus stayed a little opened, and I felt air refreshing my inside before I contracted my sphincter to close it.