Sausages for the Slave Ch. 13

Literotic asexstories – Sausages for the Slave Ch. 13 by dyetied,dyetied
After Sophia abandoned him in the hallway, to go eat her dinner, Dan used the time to consider his new situation. He was now this Sophia person’s slave, plain and simple = in the eyes of this Sophia person anyway. His wife had taken a bundle of cash from her in return for handing Dan over. It was a bit like leaving a child with a stranger, Dan decided. Irresponsible. You just wouldn’t do it. Yet Mary had just done it. Abandoned him. Sure, thought Dan, I am an adult, technically, but Mary has left me as helpless as a child. Tied, gagged and naked, unable to speak, unable to do anything for myself. Walked out the door leaving me at the mercy of this total stranger, who calls herself Sophia. Never looked back. Never said goodbye, even.

Driven by a shiver of apprehension, a long stalactite of drool slid around the side of Dan’s ball gag, briefly hung from his chin, broke free and landed with a soft plop on the tiled floor beside his bare feet. Gravity, thought Dan, the scientist, briefly distracted. Where would you be without it? Turning back to the matter at hand, he decided he had every reason to be apprehensive.

In one mighty leap, Dan had gone from being a pretend slave owned by his wife to being a real slave owned by a total stranger. In his former slave life he had known his owner from way back — she was his wife of long standing — and she had known him. That set certain boundaries on what happened. He was willing to work for her and she was happy to work him for her benefit. She had given him a bit of a hard time, or a humiliating time, on a regular basis and Dan was happy enough with that too. But the thing about his previous owner was that Dan could still talk to her – as his wife, person to person. She had allowed him a bit of chat over breakfast. In short he had a relationship, even if it was seriously imbalanced in favour of his wife and owner. That was now in the past.

Going forward, as they say – when they have nothing to say, Dan had no clue what to expect relationship-wise. Already the attitude Sophia displayed to Dan the slave was very different to that she had shown to Dan the man. On the flight over and in the Metro she had been chatty and friendly. But once she had mentally moved Dan into the slave category, her approach had changed completely. She ignored him utterly when it suited her — like now. She had walked past him in the hall several times like he wasn’t there. She had stopped calling him Dan. This was not something Dan was used to and he found it a bit unsettling. Concerning would be the word du jour, as they say in France, where Dan now found himself enslaved. Ensclavé, en francais, Dan hazarded. He wondered briefly if he would have to learn French, before resuming his contemplation of Sophia as slave owner.

Take this very instance, Dan supposed to himself. Sophia had left him standing tied, gagged, and naked at the bottom of her stairway for almost two hours. Clearly, it hadn’t cost her a thought to expose him to such physical discomfort. Then, after blithely telling him he was going to be punished every day for a week, she placed the instrument of his upcoming torture on the floor in front of him, a riding crop. Teasing and tormenting him with the sight of it.

Determined to beat her at her own psychological mind game, Dan resolved to ignore the riding crop on the floor in front of him, the intentional reminder that punishment was imminent. He would rise above the petty provocation, above her pathetic attempt at building the tension, so to speak. He was made of sterner stuff.

Instead he focussed on food. He was hungry. He hoped Sophia would bring something for him to eat when she returned after her own dinner. It has been at least six hours since the light snack on the plane. A small square of quiche, about three bites worth, garnished with a few tiny green leaves and a sliver of tomato, as Dan recalled, accompanied by a miniscule bread roil and a couple of grapes. Then coffee to finish. The coffee over which he had politely chatted with his neighbouring passenger and from which moment Dan’s plan for a new life in Paris blossomed and grew from a dream to a hope. Dan, now with his dream stillborn, standing naked at the stairway, decided that, small as the airline meal was, it might be the nearest he would come to having a proper meal for a long time. He resolved to remember every detail.

Just then the door from the front room opened and Sophia appeared. No sign of food for Dan. She was carrying the leather cuffs that Mary had left for her. Dan almost felt nostalgic for his old slave gear from back home. As if putting them on would restore him to his safe slave state under Mary’s ownership. Put things back the way they were.

Sophia cut one of the cable ties around Dan’s wrist and fitted one wrist cuff. Dan didn’t try to resist. Having considered his situation, he accepted he was her slave for now and for the foreseeable future. Looking at it from her point of view, Sophia had bought a slave in good faith and paid with her own money. And Dan happened to be that slave. Dan felt she could reasonably expect to get value for her outlay. Dan was a bit like that, too accommodating. Too willing to see the others point of view. He had decided, standing naked and tied at the foot of the stairs that he would have to work within those parameters as best he could. In other words, be a good and obedient slave.

Dan certainly wasn’t going to attempt to make a run for it now. Not after the way his last escape attempt turned out. The failed attempt for which he going to have to endure a week of punishment as a result. What made it worse was that it was a failed attempt before it even began, only he hadn’t know it. He was the sucker in the set up. Mary, sitting up front in executive class had known it. Sophia sitting beside him had known it. They were all the time quietly aware of Dan’s already doomed fate that awaited his arrival in Paris.

As if to emphasise that things were not going back quite the way they were, Dan noticed that Sophia had fitted a short chain between the two ankle cuffs, and another short length of chain hung from the neck collar. She hadn’t just been eating her dinner then, Dan thought. She seemed to be a thorough and organised person. The sort who would have quietly prepared for any sudden moves by her yet to be broken-in slave. If he did try and break free, Dan decided he’d probably get zapped with a cattle prod or Taser before he got very far. Dan meekly offered up his other wrist for the second cuff. On a positive note, he decided wearing the leather cuffs would be more comfortable than the hard plastic cable ties which were beginning to bite into his wrists.

Sophia bent down and fitted Dan with the ankle cuffs that now has a short length of chain joining them. Once she’d snapped them shut, Sophia relaxed. She knew her slave couldn’t run now. At best he could shuffle carefully and slowly. Dan was well used to wearing the cuffs and the familiar click of the lock snapping shut didn’t faze him. But the fact that, when ordered to move, he would only be able to take short shuffling steps was humiliating — and sexy, in a slave sort of way. Dan’s penis stiffened and rose steadily upright at the thought. Sophia ignored it as she unlocked the bicycle lock and slid it from her slave’s neck. In its place went Dan’s neck collar to which she had attached the short length of chain. She clipped Dan’s wrists to the end of the chain in front. It was long enough to allow Dan reach upward to place his hands on his head and downwards to scratch his belly button, if he so desired. Fairly short in other words. Sophia had put Dan on a tight leash.

‘I’m going to bring you downstairs, show you your living quarters, give you your first punishment, and feed you. I intend to feed you three times daily; eight in the morning, two in the afternoon and eight at night. Now bend down, pick up the riding crop and follow me.’

As Dan went down on his knees and bent over so he could reach the riding crop with his chained hands, he was thinking that Sophia’s choice of phrase was a bit off. ‘Feeding you’ sounded a bit like a farmer talking about his animals; ‘time to feed the pigs’ or ‘we feed the chickens twice a day.’ She could have as easily said, ‘we eat three times a day,’ but she didn’t. Maybe it was a turn of phrase among slave owners, discussing the mechanics of slave owning on their internet forums. They would ask each other how often they feed their slaves, or what do they feed their slaves. These thoughts flitted through Dan’s mind as he shuffled along the short hallway after Sophia. His cock betraying him relishing the prospect of being fed like an animal. Bit of a humiliation kick to look forward to, he supposed, taking the positive view. Of course he’d had his share of eating out of a dog bowl on the floor under Mary’s ownership, but that was more a deliberate putdown, between normal ‘sitting at the table’ eating. The casually unequal nature of the ‘I will feed you’ phrase set a different tone. No sense of sharing a meal, let alone sharing a table. Dan suspected a dog bowl would feature permanently in his life from now on.

The basement stairs curved down behind and under the main staircase to a small corridor at the bottom. Dan descended carefully to this basement corridor. The bolted door on the left of the corridor led into the front garage/workroom that Dan had been let into on his arrival. There were two doors on the right, close together. These doors also had solid, substantial, bolts fitted. When the bolt was closed over the door could only be opened from the corridor side. Sophia, slid back the bolt and opened the furthest door first. It opened out.

‘This is where you sleep.’

Dan leaned in to see a room that was not much bigger than the single mattress that lay on the floor inside. Calling it a room was an exaggeration.. It wasn’t really a room. It was a long deep cupboard in effect. There was no window and no light on the ceiling, just a vent for an extractor fan. A white metal bucket with a lid stood ominously inside the door. Sophia closed the door and slid the bolt home with a clunk. No getting out of that box unless she decides to let you out was the clear inference.

Sophia opened the adjoining door and told Dan to step inside. Dan shuffled in to a much larger room. It was dominated by a foot thick wooden floor-to-ceiling post in the centre that looked a hundred years old and, no doubt, supported the floor of the room above. The iron rings set into each side of the post towards the top grabbed Dan’s attention. They were matched by similar sets of rings set at waist and ankle height. He knew where this was going.

‘Hand me the whip and go to the post.’

Dan handed over the riding crop to his diminutive owner and shuffled towards the post, thinking, this is it then, life as a pure slave begins. There was no denying the purpose of the post sitting in the middle of the room. It was a whipping post. By way of distracting himself as he headed for his appointment with the whip, Dan looked around the sparsely furnished room. The floor was concrete. It had been painted a dull red some long time ago. The walls were unpainted, or painted a very dull grey. He realised that his bedroom was just a corner cut out of the larger square he was shuffling across. The alcove behind Dan’s bedroom cut-out appeared to be a tiled shower cubicle, with the now familiar hole in the ground toilet incorporated into it. It was fronted by a glass door. No privacy there then, but Dan was used to that. A line of shutters covered most of the outside wall.

The wall opposite the shower cubicle contained some shelving, a wooden chest, and a tall cupboard. That’s where her whip and cane collection will be, thought Dan, gloomily. Some ancient furniture was dotted along the remaining wall, the one they had entered by. A long mirror, a small table, a desk and chair. A tall wooden armchair with a cushioned seat completed the inventory.

Dan could imagine grand-aunt Eugenie, or whatever, sitting on the wooden armchair, her feet neatly together, balancing a basin on her knees into which she shelled the peas she had picked in her garden back in 1937. He assumed the garden that the peas grew in lay behind the line of shutters, beyond the peas would be a couple of apple trees and maybe a blackcurrant bush, he thought, getting a bit carried away, as he reached the post and stood facing it.

‘Give me your hands.’

Dan wasn’t fighting this, he knew it was going to happen no matter what he did. Even so his buttocks clenched involuntarily as he raised his arms to allow Sophia unclip each wrist cuff in turn. She had to stretch up to reattach the cuffs to the ring on the far side of the post high up. Sophia unclipped his ankle chain and brought each leg around and clipped his ankle cuffs to the rings at ground level, on each side of the post. It looked like Dan was holding the post in a close embrace, fucking it almost, his chin pushed up hard against the wood, his buttocks forced to jut out provocatively. Like he wanted it, and was offering up his ass for the whipping he was about to receive.

To an outsider it would look like a classic sexy BDSM scene. The low ceilinged gloomy dungeon; the slave, naked and gagged, tied hard against the whipping post, his arms raised above his head and chained to the iron rings set in the post; his buttocks taut and tensed, braced to receive the crop. But there was nothing sexy about this scene for Dan. He was jetlagged and hungry. He wanted to eat and sleep. The last thing he needed was a whipping. And anyway, after the humiliation of his pathetic bid for freedom earlier in the day, he had already decided he would never attempt that sort of escape again. Next time he’d just walk out the door and keep going. He’d do it, even if he was naked at the time. If an opportunity presented itself, that was. If there ever was a next time.

The mortification of his so called Paris escape would take some living down. To think that only this time last night, New York time, he was sitting in JFK airport, free as a bird. Could have just walked out the door and started a new life. How stupid could a person be? How could he, a scientist, have believed it was all just a coincidence? That the very person sitting beside him, on a transatlantic flight, wanted to hire a science teacher. Right there and then. And who was sitting beside her but a science teacher who wanted work. Right there and then. Fancy that? The very idea was ludicrous, on reflection.

Any further musing about being played for a fool was banished when Dan glanced sideways from his position at the whipping post. He a caught a shadowy glimpse of Sophia reflected in the mirror. He could see the riding crop held out from her raised her arm which was at shoulder height across her body, like Venus Williams about to unleash a backhand volley. Except Sophia was about to release a vicious backhand stroke of the crop. He looked at the image in the mirror calmly. It was as if what he saw there was not real. His mind didn’t tie it in to what was about to happen to him. Must be the jet lag. So the searing, scorching pain when the crop struck with full force across Dan’s buttocks came as a surprise. Dan couldn’t supress the loud muffled grunt that escaped around the tight ball gag.

He got off lightly enough in the end. Sophia had been silent throughout the short punishment session, the only sounds being the crack of the crop across Dan’s ass and his involuntary throaty protest after each hit. There were five red stripes across Dan’s ass as Sophia reached up to unclip his wrists. He flinched when she pressed one of her hands into the small of his back, but it was over, in fact. She was just casually using his body to help her stretch up to release his wrists. Dan still found the way she seemed to just casually use his body, or ignore his body, unsettling. It reminded him that he had no idea where Sophia was coming from in her interactions with him. Was he just a thing?

After she unclipped him from the post Sophia silently indicated that he should turn around by placing a hand on each of Dan’s hips and rotating him on the spot. This was more of Sophia’s unconcerned familiarity with Dan’s body. As she went on to clip his hands under his chin, Dan decided he wasn’t the first slave to have graced her whipping post. She had bought, sold, and used slaves before. The way she ignored his genitals was another thing. Dan would have expected her of feel him up. Just because she could. Like she already had, before she started to totally treat him as a slave, when she made him come all over her floor. He wouldn’t have minded if she demonstrated her ownership of his body now, say by giving a stroke of encouragement to his penis, or a little friendly squeeze to his balls. Like Mary would have done. Showed him that they were hers to play with. And that she was fond of playing with them.

Sophia dropped the riding crop, walked over to the wooden armchair and sat on it, facing out towards the room. She beckoned Dan to her. As Dan shuffled across, Sophia spread her legs and pulled off her soft woollen pullover revealing a well filled black bra. She pointed to the ground between her spread knees.

‘Kneel, Slave.’

Dan was a bit surprised, but obeyed briskly, shuffling closer and kneeling down, wondering what next. In front of his face, Sophia’s large breasts were held high and proud by the strong black bra. Her chin was above the level of his forehead. He didn’t dare look up at her, just stared straight at the little satin bow in the centre of her bra, about four inches in front of his nose. His ass still stinging from the riding crop, Dan needed no reminding as to who was the boss here. If she wants me to look up, she’ll tell me to look up, he decided.

‘Closer, Slave. It’s feeding time.’

Dan braced himself for further humiliation. She’s probably going to tease me by spoon feeding me, he thought. Going for the ‘open wide’ then make him wait while she dangled each spoonful of baby goo over his face, then making him wait, then doing the ‘there’s a good boy’ stuff, and ‘open again.’, Infantilising him, emphasising his dependence on her. Or worse, she could be going the cruel tormenter route, taking the food in her mouth, chewing it, and then spitting it into Dan’s open and upstretched gob. Like a guillemot feeding its chick. More of the same really, thought Dan, deciding that he was so hungry it didn’t matter. He just needed to eat something.

As instructed, Dan shuffled even closer on his knees till his head was almost touching Sophia’s breasts on either side of her cleavage. His naked stomach was pressed against her crotch, only the thin fabric of her Lycra jeggings between them. His erect and dripping penis searched for contact with anything under the seat of the armchair. With his face right between her breasts now, Dan could feel Sophia’s body heat and smell her body smell, his cock twitched, thickened, and probed the nothingness beneath the wooden armchair. No relief there. Sophia’s fingers passed beside his face, so close as to be blurred, and pulled away the cup of what Dan immediately realised was a nursing bra. She had unhooked the right cup of the bra.

Sophia’s large breast spilled out and pressed, warm and full, against Dan’s cheek. Instinctively he turned towards it, his lips brushing the soft, tender, blue-white, stretched skin. He quickly went to pull away but Sophia gripped the back of his head with her hand, holding his head against her breast and turning her breast more to meet his face full on. As her round brown aureole towards came into view Dan realised what was about to happen. It made him forget all about the burning pain in his ass. Surely she’s not planning to breast feed me, he said to himself, even as he knew she was about to do exactly that. Sophia reached behind Dan’s head with her other hand, unclipped his ball gag and pulled it from his mouth. Dan had time to gratefully take a few deep breaths as Sophia turned his head further to line up his mouth with her large brown engorged nipple.

‘Now Slave, I am going to breast feed you. This is how I feed my slaves. You get your food from me, directly. Just like a helpless baby. You need to learn how to do it properly. Do it right, and you will be rewarded with a plentiful supply of milk. Use your lips. It’s like learning to suck cock. Do not bite my nipples. If you do squeeze my nipple too hard you will have your own nipple clamped hard for ten minutes as a punishment. Now drink.’

Sophia’s engorged nipple presented itself right next to Dan’s nose. No point in denying it anymore. He could see two tiny droplets of milk already oozing from the flattened tip of the nipple. He hesitated, seemed to have lost his appetite. Another droplet oozed out and became a thin spray of milk that almost caught him in the eye.

‘Latch on, Slave. Now.’

Dan carefully placed his lips over his teeth and closed around the base of Sophia’s nipple, squeezed the nipple gently and sucked. Sophia first pressed Dan’s head into her breast and then allowed him ease away from her so as to free his nose. He took a quick breath through his nose before she pressed him into her once more. This way she built up a rhythm. Press in, suck and pull back, breathe, press in, suck and pull, repeat. Dan got the hang of it. Milk was flowing. Dan was sucking at the teat like a three month old infant. Instinctively, he moved his chained hands up and began to gently knead the breast from below, encouraging the flow. He heard Sophia sigh gently and knew it was going well.

As Dan continued feeding, the flow of Sophia’s milk was light but steady. It tastes bland enough, thought Dan, thankfully. The milk was warm, which was not something he was used to. As he relaxed into the task, he felt Sophia’s other hand move down between them and slide inside her jeggings. He could feel the rhythmic movement of her hand against his abdomen as she teased and pulled at her clitoris. Her breathing steadily grew more urgent. Dan tried to ignore the sound and feel of Sophia having a good time and concentrate on the task at hand. It was hard work for small reward. Each careful suck gave him about a teaspoonful of milk. Then he had to go through the cycle again; push his face in to the breast and squeeze his lips carefully down against the base of the nipple and suck while pulling back. He snatched a breath through his nose about every three sucks. After about five minutes he was quite tired. He felt he had gotten about one smallish cup of milk.

‘I’m going to put you on the other breast now, Slave,’ said Sophia, pulling his head away. Dan waited panting slightly from the effort, as Sophia placed an absorbent pad over the nipple he had just come off and closed the bra cup across the breast. While waiting for her to unclip the left cup the memory of Dan’s airline meal came to him. Didn’t seem so tiny now. He wondered if he would ever taste solid food again.

‘Right, Slave. Latch on again.’

Dan resumed sucking, enjoying the initial faster flow from the new breast. After another five minutes, when the flow from that breast eased, Sophia had him switch once more back to the right breast for a short while, then a final session on the left breast to complete the feed. Sophia enjoyed a second orgasm before taking Dan off her breast.

‘Now, Slave, I want you to do some more work on lesson plans for the rest of the evening,’ she said, as she tucked her breast back into her bra and pulled her sweater back over her head. She was still breathing a bit heavily after her second orgasm. ‘Forget about putting practical or laboratory work in your plans. I intend to simply offer tutorial material as a supplement to what they get in school.’ Sophia had moved to the desk and pulled a laptop from underneath it. ‘I’ve pre-loaded the international school curriculum onto this. So that is what you should work with for a start. OK?

‘Yes, Mistress,’ Dan responded dully. He felt in a bit of a daze. He wouldn’t have minded going to bed. He had a lot of new experiences to process. As he shuffled to the desk and sat down, he wondered if this lady would ever let up. Sophia unclipped his hands from the chain hanging from his neck collar. Just as Den thought she was about to grant him some freedom, she padlocked the end of the chain to another short length of chain that terminated in a U-bolt fitted to the underside of the desktop Dan could sit and work comfortably, but he couldn’t stand up fully, just crouch over the desk.

‘I’ll leave you to it’, Sophia said briskly, turning to go.

‘Eh.. Excuse me, Mistress.’

‘What?’ Sophia paused impatiently as she opened the door.

Dan could see she didn’t expect or take kindly to the slave asking questions, but he pressed on. He felt like a four year old in kindergarten as he made his request, putting it as humbly as he could.

‘Please Mistress may I use the bathroom first? I really need to.’

‘Stand up, Slave’ sighed Sophia irritably, turning back and walking past Dan to the big wooden chest in the corner. As she reached into the chest Dan braced himself for another whipping for daring to ask a question. Instead, Sophia returned holding an adult diaper. Dan was standing, as instructed, but in a semi crouching position. That was as high as the chain attached to the desk would allow him. He moved his knees apart. Placed his hands on the desk. The perfect position for if I was to be fucked from behind, thought Dan.

‘This will keep you till morning,’ said Sophia as she fitted the diaper between his legs and patted the adhesive tabs in place on each side.

‘Thank you, Mistress,’ replied Dan carefully, though he was slightly shocked. He assumed being allowed to use a toilet was a reasonable expectation, even if he would have to ask permission each time. But putting him in diapers, on top of the breast feeding, was a bit grim. As if reading his thoughts Sophia laid out her position.

‘At a later stage you might earn toilet privileges. But not yet, Slave. For a new slave, and especially for a known runaway slave — like you, my approach is restrict your hands and feet as much as possible until I have a better feel for your form. Then, depending on how things go, I might take a different approach.’

‘Now get to work,’ she urged him, ‘Do a good job on the lesson plans.’

‘Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress,’ said a slightly embarrassed Dan, his diaper crackling noisily as he sat back in the chair, the chain rattling slightly against the desk. He was determined to be a good and polite slave until he got some indication from his Mistress as to what sort of latitude he was allowed, outside of ‘Yes, Mistress’ and ‘No, Mistress.’

The door had hardly closed behind Sophia, before Dan began to pee steadily into his diaper. He didn’t care. It would be sopping wet anyway by morning. As the moist warmth crept up his groin he recalled his first night of slavery. His then wife, not yet his owner, had put him in a diaper, just like the one he was wearing now, on his way to sign the slave contract. Happy days, reminisced Dan, as he settled down to draw up lesson plans for 9th grade equivalents. He managed to set aside the fact that he had just been breast fed by his new owner, and the fact that he was still quite hungry, and the fact that he wondered if he would ever get to eat solid food again. These were matters for later. Dan had already enough of a sense of Sophia to know that if she ordered him to do lesson plans, he had better do lesson plans.

When Sophia eventually came back it must have been close to midnight. She was wearing only her black bra and matching black panties. She was barefoot. Dan, crouched over the laptop, tried to hide his surprise as Sophia came up behind him. She placed one hand his shoulder, leaned close in over his other shoulder to peer at the laptop screen. Placed her other hand on the desk next to his, almost touching. Sophia’s hair brushed the side of Dan’s cheek as she reached for the mouse pad and scrolled through Dan’s work. Her left breast pressed against Dan’s right shoulder, her stomach against his side, the inside of her right thigh hard against his right thigh on the chair. They could have been in bed together. Dan could feel the increased pressure of her breast against him each time she breathed in and out, as she concentrated on the screen. He didn’t dare move. Again, he could feel the heat of her body against his back. Her warmth of her breath on the side of his cheek. She was just there, a slight turn of Dan’s head and they could kiss. He had a roaring hard-on.

Dan kept looking at the screen, but he wasn’t seeing it. His mind raced as he again tried to grapple with the meaning of this easy naked intimacy on the part of his new owner. The plastic outer wrap of his diaper crinkled loudly each time his penis twitched and lifted inside it. He hoped Sophia wouldn’t notice. He had no idea what she was at. Was this a blatant provocation, a flirt, a tease? He tried to revert to his original theory. It’s just because I’m just nothing to her, he insisted to himself. I’m no threat. She doesn’t see me as a man. Doesn’t matter to her if I am standing stark naked in front of her with a raging erection. Doesn’t matter to her if I see her stark naked either.

But he knew that was not so. She knew exactly what she was doing. He knew, really, that it was a power thing. She was more or less waving her pussy in Dan’s face. And what was he going to do about it? Nothing. All part of the training, Dan decided, leaking pre-cum copiously into his diaper. All part of making him realise his place in Sophia’s world. Making his realise that it was so different from his place in Mary’s world. Back there, he was with his wife. Back there, the possibility of sexual interaction was always in the air. Back there it was always to be hoped for, occasionally realised even. That was all part of the fun. But here, it is never to be realised. And that is the lesson, Dan decided.

Here, and now, Dan concluded, Sophia is reminding me that sex is out there, but not out there for me. I’m being trained to live with it, he convinced himself, trained to accept that my erect penis is of no interest to my new owner it terms of meeting her sexual needs or desires. I’m being reminded that Sophia didn’t buy me as a sex slave. She bought me as a work slave. Each time he would get an erection in future, its only purpose would be to serve as a reminder of what he has lost by becoming a true slave. A reminder that, if a slave owner chose to ignore their slave’s sexual needs, then the slave gets no sex. He wondered briefly what Sophia’s sex life was like. Did she have a boyfriend, or was she a lesbian.

‘Good work, Slave,’ Sophia commented as she lifted away from him, bringing her other hand up onto his other shoulder to give both shoulders a little encouraging squeeze. ‘It’s been a long day and I suspect you are a little hungry, so I’ll give you a top up feed. Help you last the night.’

She pushed the laptop way and perched on the corner of the desk in front of Dan. Showing considerable agility, Sophia spread her crotch wide in front of Dan’s face brought one leg up and over the desk and down the other side of Dan so that she straddled him. Her sitting on the desk, legs wide apart, Dan frozen in place, sitting on the office chair facing her.

Dan’s nose was about two inches from Sophia’s belly button. The close up view of her crotch, the stretched black Lycra of her knickers, the small brown pubic hairs peeping out from the side of the elasticated lace trim, are all part of the training, Dan reminded himself. Her thighs were plumped and flattened against the desktop. Dan could see the delicate blue tracery of veins in the soft flesh of her inner thighs right there in front of him. He just had to bend down a little to lick that soft flesh, kiss those plump thighs, just bend forward a little to nestle his nose in the crotch of her black knickers, and smell his owner’s pussy smell. He just didn’t do any of those things. Willpower. If she wanted me to, she’d tell me to, Dan reasoned once again, as his erect cock pulsed and throbbed in his diaper.

‘Latch on, Slave.’

Once again Dan obediently lifted his head to Sophia’s bared breast, carefully brought his lips to bear and began to suck on her proud brown nipple. Once again she placed one hand at the back of his head and held him firmly onto her. Once again a thin stream of warm milk flowed into Dan’s mouth. Once again he felt Sophia slip her hand inside her knickers and begin to pleasure herself. Is this it, Dan wondered, as he sucked steadily? Is this how it’s going to be for ever? He heard Sophia’s breathing tightening and her body tense before the big release. Does she only get off by pleasuring herself while breast feeding? She’s using me like another woman might use a vibrator. I am to be the thing, like a vibrator, that facilitates her pleasure. And as a bonus she is going to make money out of me tutoring rich kids online.

Later, Dan pondered some more on the enigma that was Sophia, as he lay on his mattress in the cupboard for his first night as a simple owned slave. A bought thing. An uncomplicated possession of his new owner. His wrists were clipped to his neck collar, tight under his chin, the chain from the collar now padlocked to a ring bolt set low in the back wall. Sophia, cautious and careful as ever, as she clicked the padlock shut, assured Dan that neither of them needed to be kept awake thinking about escape attempts. She’s never going to take any chances, Dan decided. It would be a long time before she gave him any freedom, if ever.

But there was a second angle to be considered, as he reviewed the events of the day, keeping sleep at bay for the moment. Sophia was keeping him more helpless than was necessary. Like now. If she wanted to stop him escaping, all she needed to do was bolt the door to his cupboard, as she had done. But she had done more than that. She also chained him so that he was stuck in the bed, like a toddler is stuck in a cot, and with a diaper on. The chain so short that all he could do was turn from one side to the other and, with effort, get up on his elbows and knees. A toddler could do more, in fact.

Then there is the business of being fed directly from her breast. And he a grown man. Dan, the scientist, knew you couldn’t possibly get enough calories to satisfy a grown man from breast feeding. It would be slow starvation. Dan wondered if Sophia wanted to keep him weak. Give him barely enough to keep going. Maybe, he thought, she wants to make me her helpless baby. Maybe she can’t have a baby herself and I’m a substitute, when I’m not earning money for her by tutoring, that is. He consoled himself with the thought that if Sophia wants him to be an effective tutor he’ll have to be fed.

At that thought, Dan felt better, except that it started him thinking about food again. He tried to recapture the taste of the quiche on the flight over. He couldn’t. He couldn’t get past the cloying sweetness of Sophia’s breast milk. Or past the image of her large full breast looming into his face as he locked on. Or past thinking about his next feed. He visualised her in the morning, leaning over him on the bed, unclipping her bra cup with one hand while bringing his head up to the nipple with her other hand. Dan began to salivate. His stomach rumbled and his cock thickened and hardened once more.

‘Wakey, wakey! How’s my slave this morning,’ chirruped Sophia, full of the joys, as she unlocked the door to Dan’s cubbyhole of a sleeping place, letting the light flood in from the corridor.

Dan managed a bewildered ‘Great, Mistress’ despite having to drag himself from the depths of a dreamless sleep. He began to lift his head only to be pulled back by the sharp tug of the chain he had forgotten was holding his neck down at the level of the skirting board.

‘Any how are things down here?’ asked Sophia brightly, brazenly placing her hand between his legs and pushing firmly against the outer plastic wrap of his sodden diaper.

‘E..Eh.. All good,’ stuttered Dan, blushing furiously at her easy familiarity with Dan’s intimate parts. Still not used to Sophia’s lack of boundaries. He not sure where this was going. Was she enquiring after his sex life, he wondered.

‘Well, I don’t feel any number twos. Are we a bit bunged up? Maybe a laxative would help?’ said Sophia, all concerned now. ‘Sometimes switching over to breast milk does that,’ she added, still rubbing her hand between Dan’s legs, giving a squeeze to Dan’s balls through the diaper. Checking that they weren’t by chance the missing ‘number twos,’ maybe.

Was he hearing right? She was asking him if he’d had a shit yet! In his diaper! Bad enough that she’d made him wear one for the night, but she expected him to have shit in it! And talk about it. Asked if he’d shat himself in the night! Like she expected him to. As if he would. Dan was glad he’d had a good night’s sleep and had banished his jet lag. This was going to take some figuring out. He hadn’t been expecting to have to engage on a toilet training war, or maybe a toilet untraining war, first thing in the morning.

‘No..no.. No problem like that, Mistress. I..I just thought I’d wait until, you know… to see if my toilet privileges were being activated this morning, Mistress. Like you mentioned last night,’ offered Dan at his most obsequious, but slightly shocked at where this conversation was going.

‘I told you last night. You’ve done nowhere near enough to earn any privileges, Slave, especially toilet privileges. You should realise that. I don’t like having to repeat myself,’ Sophia whipped back brightly, with a little edge in her voice. Her hand still playing up and down along the bulge of diaper between Dan’s legs, ‘accidently’ stroking his morning glory erection as she did so.

‘Maybe I should have made that clearer. But since you are ready to go, I’ll leave you here a while further so you can go in peace. But I expect you to be all done when I come back shortly. OK?’

‘Yes Mistress,’ said a subdued Dan, thinking, there’s that edge in her voice again as Sophia closed the door briskly and bolted it, plunging him into darkness once more. An edge that said that his diaper had better be well and truly crapped in when she came back. Or else. An edge that hints ‘if you don’t train yourself to do it, I’ll train you do it pretty quickly.’ ‘Ve haf vays of making der slaves crap in der pants,’ he muttered to himself, almost sniggering at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. But he’d better go along with it — for now.

Dan, grateful that, at least, Sophia hadn’t stayed to supervise her slave having a crap, slowly manoeuvred himself around so that he was on his elbows and knees, his ass high in the air, his head down by the skirting board. He wasn’t going to fight this. It was just another humiliation. Possibly the worst, but what choice was there, he reasoned, as he moved his knees apart as far as he could, allowing for the short chain that hobbled his ankles, and pushed. If his new owner gets off on humiliating her slave in the worst possible way, what else was he to do?

Given that Dan had held on for the whole of the flight and all of yesterday, it was only a matter of seconds before the rich, pungent, smell of his shit filled the small room. Dan could feel his diaper bulge and the space between his legs fill up with warm stickiness. The overhead fan kicked into life. Dan waited in the darkness, breathing through his mouth. He had done it. He had deliberately crapped himself because somebody told him to. He would remember this day.

He blushed with embarrassment as he heard the bolt draw back and the light flooded in once more. But remained still, his diaper bulging high behind him and awaiting his owner’s inspection.

‘Good boy, I don’t need to wonder if you have finished,’ Sophia said marching in holding a length of chain which she quickly padlocked to one of Dan’s ankle cuffs. She detached Dan’s collar chain from the wall, then unclipped his hands from his neck collar. Dan noted that she was dressed in the same sort of pullover and tight leggings as yesterday. That must be her standard day wear. He found himself staring at her breasts under the jumper and wondering about how soon she might feed him. He was very hungry.

‘I expect my slaves to empty their bowels fully into their diapers overnight. It’s just a matter of training your body to do it. So you’ll do that every night from now on, won’t you, Slave?

‘Yes, Mistress.’

‘Good. You will find wet wipes and a roll of diaper disposal bags in the bucket. Clean yourself up and come in to me next door when you are done. Bring your bagged dirty diaper with you. I’ll show you where it goes.’

‘Yes, Mistress.’

Sophia left promptly, leaving the door open behind her. Dan didn’t blame her, what with the smell. He could see that his new chain led out the door. To some hidden attachment point, he supposed.

‘Yes indeed, Mistress,’ repeated Dan quietly. He felt quite defeated. The thought that he was going to have to shuffle out to her, chained like a chain gang prisoner, naked and holding a bag of his own shit in his hand, did nothing for his morning mood. He’d have liked a cup of coffee to start the day.

The chain, Dan soon discovered, led out of Dan’s cupboard door and around into the main basement room. The shutters that had been closed last night were now folded back to reveal dense greenery outside. Dan could just make out the blue sky above the shrubs or small trees that crowded the garden. A pleasant summer day appeared to be happening in Paris, out there in the free world. The world of free people, so far from Dan’s new world. Sophia was sitting on the wooden armchair. The feeding station, as Dan now thought of it. She was texting or something on her phone. Dan stood in the middle of the room holding his package of shit. He knew better than to interrupt her and ask where he should put it.

Standing there holding the bulging bag containing his sopping diaper and its pungent load, Dan wondered what Mary was doing now. She was probably sitting on the balcony outside her four star hotel room, in a soft terry towelling robe with the flowery hotel logo on the breast pocket, her feet encased snugly in the freebie white slippers, sipping on a coffee from a tray brought by room service, wondering if she’d have the croissant or the pain au chocolat, maybe both. Looking up at the same sky he was looking at. Maybe she was thinking about him. More likely not, he decided. With that thought, he looked towards his new owner. Was she thinking about him, he wondered. No, he decided, as she tapped away on her phone, more likely not.

A few minutes later, Sophia finished her phone thing and told Dan to post his package of shit through a flap in the wall that led to the appropriate bin outside, then to take a shower and an enema. Dan shuffled to the outside wall. The covered slot was located beside the long French windows to the garden and window. He then shuffled into the shower, dragging his chain behind him. He could see that the chain was fixed in the middle of the wall he had walked in by. He guessed that it would allow him sufficient freedom to cover most of the room, save the back wall, maybe. The whipping post, definitely.

After his shower, after giving himself a thorough cleaning and enema as instructed, Dan stood outside the cubicle, dripping wet and waiting. There was no towel to be seen. Licking his lips in anticipation, gazing fixedly on the inviting bulge Sophia’s breasts made in her sweater. His food source. He stood patiently, feeling his hunger gnawing at his guts. Hearing his stomach rumble as it anticipated its next feed.

And so the slave waited, hoping to be fed. Waited for his new owner to tell him what to do next.

Day one of Dan’s new slave life was about to begin.