Slave in Training

by Danny Tyran

  Andrew pushed my hand away abruptly. “Here. Take it, if you like it that much.” He offered me the hair he had extracted from his mouth.

  I took it, placed it on my tongue as if I’d received a consecrated wafer, and swallowed. Despite the fact that it stuck in my throat, I was happy. I hadn’t missed out on everything. In a way, I wished that I didn’t have to eat dessert, because I knew that a few bites would be enough to cause the hair to slip into my stomach. I saw them all watching me. My master gave me one of his little mischievous smiles. Kathy was frowning. She seemed pensive. Andrew... He looked at me, open mouthed. It seemed that he couldn’t believe his eyes.

  “He prefers men, right?” Kathy asked my master.

  “Yes, it’s true.”

  “Then I’d like to see what he could do for you.”

  My master laughed. “If you weren’t totally satisfied, you’d have seen what he can do for me,” my master answered, with a booming voice and a fierce expression.

  “As hard as ever, huh? And Andrew? What do you think of his blowjob?”

  “Nothing special. I came, but not because of him.”

  “Oh, James! He isn’t that bad, is he?”

  “If you don’t want the truth, don’t ask me.”

  “What was wrong with it?”

  “Everything. He hates sucking cocks. That’s pretty clear. One can feel that the whole time.”

  “But someone told me he wasn’t so bad.”

  “Male or female?”

  “Man.”

  “He lied so as not to disappoint you, or no one who knows what he was doing has ever sucked his cock.”

  “Andrew isn’t used to it.”

  “Stop finding excuses for all his faults. Max prefers men. He is attracted by men. He hasn’t had the opportunity to give pleasure to a woman since he came to me. Did he do a good job, Kathy? Tell me the truth.”

  “Yes, James. Max est très... intense. Is it the way one says it in French? He was very receptive to my feelings. That’s the truth, James.”

  We finished the meal, chatting. Kathy allowed me to sheathe my dick. We then prepared to drive back home. When I left the table, Kathy caught sight of the patch on the front of my pants and drew my master’s attention to the stain.

  “You didn’t touch yourself, did you?” he asked.

  “No, Sir.”

  “Did you come because she did?”

  “Because of her pleasure and yours, Sir.”

  It was true. I wouldn’t have been ready to come if she hadn’t. But it was his pleasure that had been my trigger. My master looked at me inquiringly. He knew. I’d have to answer to him about this very soon. I wanted to look down, escape his sharp eyes, but I kept meeting his gaze. “Do with me what you will,” I said silently.

  Andrew threw a disgusted look at the front of my pants and walked away at a brisk pace, probably trying to convince anyone who saw my spotted pants that he wasn’t with us, especially with me.

  I hurried to get the car. I hadn’t been able to park directly in front of the entrance, because there was already a car there, but I had parked as close as possible. After opening the door for my master and Kathy, I took my position in the driver’s seat. “Where to now?”

  Kathy wanted to go have a drink somewhere. My master suggested a bar. Probably the one where he had met Gabrielle. It had a reputation for hosting the most diverse and “wild” fauna of the region.

  Once at home, we put on clothes more suited for the venue. Andrew wore a complete suit made of leather. I just put on my leather pants with a white T-shirt, the one with the tied hands. It was too hot for my jacket. My master dressed in jeans, a white linen shirt and a black leather vest. Kathy also wore jeans with a turquoise silk blouse and her cloche hat. She had released her long wavy hair. When she smiled, she really was as pretty as a picture. Suddenly, I understood why Andrew was afraid of losing her.

  It was only half past nine, but the bar was almost full. A table became free just as we entered. My master went and sat down. I pulled out the chair to help Kathy sit. Andrew had already chosen a chair between my master and Kathy. I hesitated. At the restaurant, I could sit between the masters. Would I be allowed to take a seat at the same level as theirs here too?

  I remained standing, legs apart and hands behind my back, until I received permission to move. My master pointed with his chin to the floor on his right side, indicating that I had to sit on the floor. Even though it was the first time I had to show my subjection to my master in a public place and in the presence of strangers, I didn’t hesitate. My master stroked my hair, which was still no longer than a few days beard growth. I turned my head and kissed the palm of his hand. Many eyes gazed at me. Some had a knowing smile and others a mocking chuckle. There could even have been people among them who knew me or knew my parents, but I didn’t care. I was ready to reveal the truth to the entire planet.

  Kathy sent Andrew to get us a drink. He brought me back a beer, like the others.

  “Why don’t you sit down with Max, Andrew?” my master suggested.

  Andrew’s pleading eyes begged for Kathy’s pity. She ordered him to obey my master, saying that Andrew belonged to him, without specifying a limit to this belonging. She also ordered me to come and sit beside her. I looked at my master to request his permission. He nodded. I approached the lady.

  “On the floor, ma’am?”

  “No. Sit on the chair, but get closer.”

  I sat within her reach. The masters began to comment on the local fauna, its way of talking, dressing, cruising, and finding company for the night or for life. I didn’t know if I was permitted to add my comments to theirs, but I tried my luck when I was sure not to interrupt anyone. We laughed a lot, all except Andrew who neither spoke nor laughed.

  A little after eleven, Gabrielle came over to say hello. She and my master discussed her tattoo, which had healed well, but had been itchy at the beginning even though she had taken good care of it. My master then invited her to join us. Gabrielle looked at the empty seat and at Andrew, and began to pull the spare chair from under the table. My master extended one leg and held the chair with his foot. Gabrielle looked at him ruefully. “Why not keep company with Andrew?” he suggested.

  Gabrielle stared at him intently. Obviously hesitating between leaving and obeying.

  “Did you sleep well lately, Gabrielle?” he asked. “What did you dream about?”

  The young woman blushed to the roots of her hair. My master laughed. “Come on, Gabrielle. Are you going to hide the truth to yourself much longer?” My master rose. He approached Gabrielle, leaned over and kissed her on her lips, sensually. Then he straightened up and smiled at her. “Sit!” he commanded, as he would have ordered a dog.

  Gabrielle wavered. She shook her head slightly. My master gently pushed down on her shoulders. Her legs seemed to collapse under her until she found herself on her knees at my master’s feet. He pressed her head against his thighs and stroked her hair. People around us catcalled “Oh!”and “Ah!” There were whistles and someone shouted out, “Hey, Gabrielle! What happened to you?”

  “Woof woof!” yelped someone else.

  Gabrielle, red-faced, tried to get up. With a light touch of his hands on her shoulders, my master held her in place. “Come on, Gabrielle. You’re not going let them put you off so easily. Sit down now.”

  Gabrielle let herself slide onto the floor. Head down and eyes on the ground, she was a sorry sight. My master crouched, stroked her hair and then with a bent index finger under her chin, forced her to look up. The young woman lifted puppy dog eyes. “This is your last chance with me this time, Gabrielle. If you’re running again tonight, you can fly forever; it will be the least of my worries. Understood?”

  Gabrielle nodded. My master regained his seat. I didn’t know it then, but I was to witness this kind of confrontation many times in the future: my master spotting young men and young women who have a natural ability for slavery—but may not know that they possess such tale
nts—and gradually bringing them into his nets. Sometimes these young people refused to see it revealed to them, and they fled. Some came back, begged my master to forgive their hesitation and asked him to take charge of them. My master gave them another chance, but when he said that this was their last one, they could beg him on their knees endlessly, it was useless: his mind was made up and his decision taken.

  If some of them were promising, he would prepare them for a few weeks and then sell them to a reputable trainer or a master known to enjoy fresh meat. A few times, he decided to train them. The first that I encountered was Gabrielle.

  We spent a few hours in the bar, drinking and laughing. While my master talked to Kathy, I chatted with Gabrielle and the others. Sometimes Kathy playfully slipped a hand under my shirt or between my legs to revive a hard-on that never waned completely. From time to time, Andrew issued ironic remarks that we generally ignored. But when he gave a very sarcastic answer to one of my comments about my respect for my master, the latter gave him a slap that sent him careening to the floor. When he recovered from the blow, Andrew rose to his feet. A silence fell at the neighboring tables. Someone told my master that if he did it again, he’d be asked to leave.

  “Don’t worry,” Andrew replied. “I won’t give him the opportunity to do it twice. I’m tired of being treated like shit. I’m going. Kathy?”

  Kathy clenched her teeth.

  When Andrew called out to her a second time, sobs filled his voice.

  Kathy looked at him but didn’t answer.

  He left by himself. After his departure, Kathy began to weep silently.

  “You deserve better than this so-called slave, Kathy,” my master assured her.

  “I loved him. I still love him.”

  “You shouldn’t. He was your slave, not your lover.”

  “I know. I know what you think about it.”

  “Anyway, even without training, Gabrielle would be a better slave for you than this... Andrew,” my master concluded, disgust permeating his voice when he pronounced the name of the young man.

  Gabrielle gave me a quizzical and worried look. I smiled, a smile that said, “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” But she didn’t look very relieved.

  Gabrielle came with us to my master’s house that night. Kathy probably wanted to forget her Andrew. She wouldn’t go to bed until four o’clock in the morning. She made Gabrielle and I crawl around the living room naked and on all fours, fetching marbles that she scattered all over the floor. Then she assigned us a few minutes, less with each new test, to pick them up with our mouth and put them in her cloche hat placed upside down on my master’s knees.

  He looked on as Kathy followed us around with a riding crop in her hand. She didn’t hesitate to use it if we slowed down a bit. When I was scampering on all fours behind Gabrielle, I could see that her cunt was as wet as my cock was rigid.

  At first, I picked up a marble at a time and carried it to the hat in my mouth. But I soon realized that we would never make it at this rate. I started to pick up as many as I could in my mouth before going back to the hat. Gabrielle immediately imitated me, while striving to maintain a certain grace in her movements.

  But no matter what method we used, we never managed to pick up the twenty-five marbles in the specified time. In reality, I suspect Kathy had only thrown twenty-four on the ground. We couldn’t find this twenty-fifth marble, because it was non-existent. Our perpetual failure gave her another opportunity to whip us. In my case, it wouldn’t have been necessary to look for such an excuse. If she wanted to administer me a spanking on her lap, I had nothing against it. I didn’t care if I deserved it or not.

  Then Kathy wanted to “play” with us all on James’ bed. But my master turned a deaf ear to her suggestion. “Gabrielle isn’t ready for that,” he said. “She has already done more than I expected. She’ll sleep here, at the foot of my bed. Go play around with Max. And if it’s not enough for you, just tell me. I’ll personally take care of you.” He gave her a suggestive smile.

  Kathy threw an arm around my neck and we went into the guest room together. When Kathy asked me to lubricate her hand and her entire right forearm, I quickly understood why my master had forced me to give myself all these enemas. Kathy was a strong supporter of “fist fucking” or “anal fisting”.

  One by one, she stuck all her fingers inside me, twisting and turning them around the edge of my anus to enlarge it a little more each time. Then she slowly slid all her fingers deeper inside. Finally, she plunged the last joints and thrust her full fist inside my rectum. Then she pushed it as deeply as she could. She wasn’t satisfied until she shoved at least half of her forearm in my belly. Fortunately for me, small as it was, half a forearm was just a little longer and wider than my master’s fully aroused cock.

  That reminded me that my master had still not penetrated me with this other big “finger”. That realisation brought on a violent feeling of failure, defeat, as if I wasn’t good enough to get his cock in me.

  After coming several times, thanks to my dedicated and faithful service, she turned her back to me. I thought she wanted to sleep, and I got up to go to my bed. But I heard her crying. I walked around the bed to face her and knelt beside her. “He’ll come back. He told me he loves you and can’t do without you.”

  “I shouldn’t take him back; he doesn’t deserve it.”

  “You shouldn’t, but you will anyway,” I said, giving her a knowing wink.

  She gave a sad little laugh then told me to lie down beside her. She needed a presence in her bed and comfort. Soon, she fell asleep, snuggled against me.

  The next morning, she left immediately after breakfast. She wouldn’t taste all the good food I had prepared, but Gabrielle would consume her portion of all those meals. My efforts wouldn’t be entirely wasted.

  Chapter 16

  How the remembrance of Gabrielle is dear to me! Despite being twenty-three years old, her reactions suggested someone much younger than me. A child. Her sensitivity was always on edge, her huge need for love, her candor that could lead anyone to exploit or protect her. I started calling her “Sis” and our master called her, “my little angel”. And that’s what she was. Always looking for a way to help us, to please us, to be loved. Always so desperate if she thought we were blaming her for something.

  Yet, I didn’t see things that way during the first stage of our life together. I even felt a degree of jealousy toward her because of all the attention my master paid her, leaving me feeling bereft. I knew that my master professed to having a sexual preference for women over men; what if he preferred her to me? I viewed her arrival as an intrusion and a threat to my hard-won new world.

  But my master refused to accept such an attitude from either one of us. He even assigned the role of his new slave’s basic training to me. Holding me responsible for all Gaby’s errors. Hence, I was always punished in her place on top of all my own punishments.

  On the first day of our life together, my master ordered Gaby to follow him to the basement; he also ordered me to accompany them. As he had done for the tattoo, my master asked me to serve as his assistant for the initiation of my “sister.”

  Gaby cried when my master cut her hair and shaved her whole body. She was more aware than I had been of the implications of her transformation. For me, it was just a more radical haircut than usual. Gabrielle knew she was crossing a threshold, and that even when her hair grew back, she would not be the same woman.

  I assisted my master, handing him what he needed when he needed it. I also strove to help Gaby by trying to make her laugh. As her locks fell on the floor, I compared her to all sorts of strange animals or eccentric pop stars or actresses. She smiled a little through her tears.

  However, at that time, there was not much of what could happen to her that really saddened me. I didn’t feel as close to her as I grew to be later. And even if I tried to cheer her during the shaving, I thought her tears were very childish, and they annoyed me a bit.

/>   That first day, when my master questioned her about the significant experiences of her young life, I also had to be present. It would have been easy enough to simply ask the questions that came to my mind from time to time, but our master took the opportunity to “have fun” with me. He told me to sit between his legs, and throughout the interview, he groped me, pinched me, massaged this part of me and pressed that. After a few minutes, I was panting and was not aware of any questions or answers.

  “What were my last questions, Max?” he asked me at one stage.

  “I... I don’t know, Sir.” That earned me several stinging slaps to the inside of my right thigh.

  “What is happening to you, whatever you’re feeling is secondary. What matters here is to learn more about your sister, and how we can be most effective in this kind of questioning. You have to focus your attention on Gabrielle and me, Max.” He then continued his questioning and my punishment.

  I tried to give all my attention to my master’s questions and Gaby’s answers. But my master didn’t help me at all. The more I listened, the more subtle and effective his caresses became. I wanted to push his hands away, and my whole body tensed in an expression of revolt.

  “You must not resist me, Max. Instead, this body, that you persist in considering as your own, belongs to me now, and you shall give it to me. So relax.”

  I obeyed. But the more I relaxed, the more I was aroused, and the less attentive I became to the discussion. My master then asked me more questions, which I wasn’t able to answer. That earned me more slaps on my thigh. I soon realized how sensitive that part of my anatomy could become.

  This exercise of abandoning my body and controlling my mind went on for another two hours. While he was squeezing my balls with one hand and scratching one of my tits with the other, my master felt me tensing. “You must not even wish that I would remove my hands, Max. Drive that desire out of your mind.”