The Prisoner Word Count: 13,483 He sat staring at the far, blank white wall of his prison cell. Far off in the distance he could hear footsteps. Coming closer...ever closer.... to take him away. To take him to that 'other' small white room. And his death. He gulped now, more scared than he'd ever been before. Even when they'd pronounced his sentence some years before, it had all seemed like a dream. A crazy mixed up dream, from which he'd soon wake. But he didn't wake. He'd spent the 10 years from 'that' day, to this, wondering how it had all happened. Now, in his final hours, he 'again' wondered how it had come about that he, a 32-year-old former protege to the business world, had ended up on death row. Prior to that day, his life had been like any other red blooded Americans. He'd gone to good schools. His parents had been loving, kind people. Not the slightest bit abusive. Well, maybe his father had when he was drunk, but that wasn't often. He'd gone to the best colleges, graduating with a 3.99 GPA. From there he'd been hired by one of the top 10 of the Fortune 500 sets and had moved to New York. In his first year with the company he'd worked his way up to a Junior VP of Bi-Coastal Operations without even breaking a sweat. Then that fateful night. He and some of the other Junior Officers had taken the weekend and driven up to Connecticut. They had been given use of one of the companies many 'rental' homes upstate and had jumped on the opportunity for a getaway from the hectic pace of the city. There had been five of them. All recent college graduates. All horny, 22 year old males in need of some action. Action, which unbeknownst to them, the company was going to provide them with. When they had arrived at the vast, sprawling mansion type setting, the girls had been waiting for them. Hookers or "Escorts" as they'd termed themselves. And they were good too. Receptive, willing, pliable..... The booze and the broads had been plentiful all throughout the weekend. In truth he 'still' couldn't remember much about that weekend, but he didn't know if it was from the alcohol, or from time now. But never the less, it was that one weekend, when he'd woke on Sunday morning, alone in the house, with a dead hooker beside him that had brought him to this moment. He'd been 'calm' in the beginning. Figuring she must have just overdosed on some of the drugs he could 'vaguely' remember being at their wild weekend bash. But when he'd searched the vast mansion for the others, they'd been nowhere to be seen. It wasn't until the police slammed in the door with guns drawn that he'd truly panicked. From the outset they'd accused him of murdering the poor girl, despite his protests of innocence. Everything after that was a hazy, terrifying whirl of motion. The trial had been quick, within a month of his arrest, and the sentence had been even quicker. Death. The evidence had been so stacked against him, that he couldn't blame his court appointed lawyer for feeling buried...and vastly outnumbered. The lawyers for his former company had been vast and well paid. Lending a hand to the prosecution to ensure his conviction. Though to this 'day' he couldn't understand 'why'. In the year he'd 'been' with the company, he'd kept his nose clean. Dotted his "I's", crossed his "T's", never making any waves at all. But yet, here he sat, on death row, mere hours away from his own execution. He gulped 'hard' as the footsteps grew ever closer to the tiny, ten by ten foot cell that had been his world for the last 10 years. The guards appeared then, closely ringing an older man with a black and white collar. Four of them. Burly ones all and again he gulped down his fear. His large, well-muscled frame shivered with something that 'might' have been cold, but it wasn't as his bright green eyes rose to regard the priest through the bars of his cell. The older man held a bible close to his chest and patted it gently when he spoke. "Are you ready to confess your sins my son?" He asked with a slight Irish sounding accent. He gulped again, swallowing nothing but air, then managed to croak out weakly. "I...I didn't...do it...." The priest's head dropped toward his chest and he sighed deeply. When it rose he no longer looked at the man in the cell, but at the guards. He gave a crisp nod of his thinning haired head and stepped back from the bars themselves. The bars slid open, allowing the four burly guards to enter almost in unison. They lifted him bodily from the thin mattress on his cot and put the shackles on his wrists. They looped the heavy chain around his trim waist and padlocked it at the small of his back. Another chain was locked to this one, then run to the two heavy cuffs already locked around his bare ankles. Another shiver of fear coursed over his large frame as two of the guards took him by the elbows and led him out of the tiny cell itself. He dropped his head to his chest and hobbled along the dimly lit corridors of the prison, his mind blank and uncomprehending of the entire affair anymore. He offered no resistance as the priest chanted a couple of prayers on his behalf. He'd never been 'much' of a religious individual, but now felt oddly comforted by the older mans words, if not his tone as he shuffle walked to his ultimate destination. The only other sound to mark his passing was the soft rattle of the chains on his shackles. He grimaced slightly as the cold metal bit into his flesh, but that was the only sign on his otherwise blank face. The priest continued to chant behind him softly. Finally, after a long series of twists and turns they arrived in the chamber that would become his final resting place. It was a small affair really. A single high backed chair, enclosed in a seamless, thick looking room. The front was semi-cylindrical, and in the outer chamber were rows of chairs for witnesses to watch the execution. Now, however, the chairs were empty and would probably stay that way. Both his parents had died in the years he'd been in prison, and what friends he 'had' had as a younger man had all moved on with their lives after his railroad conviction. The guards guided him into the room with its lethal looking chair and began to methodically remove the shackles. Again, he couldn't muster up even the slightest bit of resistance as they turned him bodily and sat him in the chair. One by one the heavy leather straps that were bolted to the thick chair were placed over him and buckled tightly. When they finished and stepped away he couldn't move in the slightest. The heavy leather pulled and pinched at his bare arms, but he didn't really notice. The whole thing seemed too surreal to comprehend. Almost like a movie and he keep chanting to himself, "This can't be happening...I didn't do it...they 'must' know that...I didn't do it...." But it didn't change the fact that he now sat there, strapped immovably into the hard seat of the chair. Something strange happened then. He'd known from the beginning he was going to die in the gas chamber, instead of by lethal injection, and now he waited for the inevitable to begin. For the guards to clear out of the tiny chamber, but they didn't move. They merely stepped away from his strapped up form, crossed their arms over their beefy looking chests, and waited silently. For what he didn't know, but there was nothing he could do about it. The far door opened then, and he heard the click of a heeled shoe coming across the tiled room beyond the chamber. They came closer and he craned his head as far as the straps would allow him to and waited for the owner to come into view. His eyes widened in pure fear as a woman ducked and stepped into the small interior. He lifted his head dejectedly and stared at her for a long moment, then let his head fall again. At least until she spoke softly from beside him. "I can make this all stop...I can make it go away...." she said in the most melodious voice he'd ever heard before. Again his head lifted slowly and he took her in from head to toe. She wore a simple, gray pinstripe suit that 'reeked' of money. Blue blood money if he guessed right. Her long, shapely legs molded the material of the skirt as she moved again, shifting her weight from one foot to the other in her expense Gucci heels. She didn't wear pantyhose, and the soft, tanned skin of her well-muscled legs rippled in response. She reached out a hand then and ran her slim fingers through his closely shaven brown hair. Bending slightly, giving him a full view of her cleavage beneath her glossy white blouse she spoke softly into his ear. "Only I have the power to save your life Trent Kraft.... This is your only chance...but you'll have to agree to a few things first...." He gulped back a swallow of air, for the first time coming 'out' of the blanketing depression that had consumed him in the last hours. For a split second he felt the brief flare of hope in his massive heart. "What...what kinds of things...." he whispered softly. She stood up then, with a soft chuckle and looked to the burly guards behind the chair. Giving them a nod, they bent and began releasing the heavy straps again. Once done, they pulled him up from the chair and reattached his ever-present shackles and escorted him out of the chamber once more. They sat him in one of the chairs and walked a short distance away again. She came forward then, out of the chamber herself and moved to stand over him. "First off," she said without preamble, "You will die." She held a finger to his lips when he looked to protest and silenced him. "Only on paper. Secondly, you will be taken to my home where you'll be trained and eventually sold at auction." "Thirdly, you'll willingly enter into a contractual agreement for the rest of your life once sold at auction." Max's mind was having trouble comprehending what she was saying, so he fixated on one word. "Trained? Trained as what?" The female chuckled then. "As a slave of course..." +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ The next hours passed in a blur. His choice was obvious and he snatched at it almost without hesitation. But something about the word 'slave' had caused him a brief moment of fleeting pause. But what 'choice' did he really have. It was 'her' option, or die. And 'she' knew it. From the moment he'd given his verbal consent she'd changed. Gone was the calm, cool individual that had first spoken. In its place was a cold, calculating woman. Almost as soon as his weakly croaked agreement had passed his lips it was the last 'sound' he made for awhile. From a bag she grabbed off the floor, she produced a hard rubber ball, which she unceremoniously shoved between his teeth. Pulling the straps to his cheeks tightly she buckled them behind his head, which pulled the ball further into his wide opened mouth. Within the first few moments his jaw, being unaccustomed to being this wide began to hurt. But compared to what 'could' have been the discomfort was mild. She quickly produced another item from her bag on the floor by the door and a moment later he felt the heavy steel of a collar locking shut around his thick neck. It reminded him of an old slave's collar that might have been used back in the 19th century it was so heavy. There was a difference though in that the inside was padded, which would make it easier to wear for long periods, despite its heaviness. He flexed the muscles of his neck and while it was a tight fit, it wasn't uncomfortable. She bent back to the bag once it was in place and pulled out three long pieces of chain with heavy looking cuffs dangling from the ends that matched the collar around his neck. She nodded once to the guards, who then came forward and pulled him to his feet. One of them produced a knife and cut his prison uniform off his body without a word and despite his now muffled protests. Once he was 'almost' completely naked, save for his standard issue boxer shorts, she strode forward slowly. In that moment she reminded him of a large jungle cat stalking it's prey on silent paws. Her feet didn't make a sound as she strode forward and then behind him. He felt her pulling gently at the back of his collar then heard something snap into place at the base of his skull. Another tug followed, this one a bit stronger as if she was ensuring the lock was secure, and then the guards stepped forward again. They released his right wrist from its handcuff then twisted it behind him without a word. Pulling it up hard toward the middle of his back, he felt cold heavy steel encircle his wrist a moment later and clank into place. His left wrist followed the first and when they stepped away his arms wouldn't budge in the slightest from the middle of his back. He gave them an experimental tug and felt the front of the collar choke against his windpipe in reaction. Coughing slightly around the ball in his mouth, he shifted his hands up as high as they would go again to ease the pressure. The guards released the chain at his waist as she stepped around him again without a word. She held up another set of shackles in her slim fingered hands and locked one to his right arm just above the elbow. She did the same with the left, and then pulled the two ends of chain together almost dead center on his chest. He jumped reflexively as the cold metal touched his skin. She pulled them viciously tight and locked the two ends together with a padlock, leaving the ends to dangle against his flat washboard of a stomach. He's spent his ten years in prison well, keeping in shape with daily muscle building exercises until he was nothing 'but' pure muscles. Almost every inch of him. After all, what else did he have to do. He shifted slightly, trying to pull back on his arms again, but the two cuffs above his elbows and the chain across his wide chest now ensured his arms were helpless members of his body. Held tightly immobile by the heavy metal. He didn't like that feeling one bit and began to make muffled, earnest protests behind the hard rubber filling his mouth. He twisted and turned as he stood there helpless, and his green eyes pleaded with her for a moment as she stood there watching his vain efforts to escape. When he'd settled, she took the knife from the guard and cut off his boxers exposing his currently limp shaft. She 'hmmmm'd' for a moment and spoke her first words. "That will never do...," she said with a soft, thoughtful looking frown. She reached down and took his shaft in her hand and gave it a stroke despite his effort to step away. For his effort she gave it a hard jerk, which immediately stilled him on the spot. "NEVER pull away from me again...," she hissed out very softly, giving his manhood a second hard jerk as she did so. He gave a muffled scream in return as she turned away and bent back to her bag on the floor. She rummaged for a moment and came up with an odd looking cage in her hands. It was about four inches long or so, with a smallish looking ring at its base. The 'cage' part of it looked exactly like a limp penis, only it was curved downward. Inside the cages bands of wire were tiny little spikes about the size of his pinky nail. He tried to step away again, but got as far as the short chain of the prison shackles still on his feet would allow. She came to a stop in front of him then and flipped out her other hand, which contained a second item he hadn't seen yet. A small leather whip cracked across his naked thigh then and he jumped in reaction to its sting. Another muffled protest worked its way past the gag, but she didn't respond as she began to fit the ring at the base of the cage over his flaccid manhood. She worked the ring over his ball sac with a couple of gentle tugs and finally it came to rest at the base of his balls and shaft. Almost immediately he felt it's constrictive presence and tried again to pull his arms forward grunting behind the gag. But she was unmindful of these things save for flicking the hard leather of the small whip across his thigh again. Again he jerked in reaction to the sting and felt the red welt rising across his skin. She began to work his rapidly blood filling manhood into the cage then and within a few moments had it locked tightly to the ring around his balls. The tiny spikes pressed into his shaft then and he squirmed uncomfortably in reaction to it, again trying to pull his hands forward. This only earned him another smack with the tiny whip then another until he stilled completely. One of the guards snickered behind him and she bent to the side slightly to send him a stern look. He quieted immediately, and she came back to him to work again without another word. His thighs began to sting viciously and he realized he was beginning to sweat. A fine sheen was covering his entire body, but whether it was out of fear, or something entirely different it was hard to tell. She lifted her hands to his chest then and pulled the ends of the chains that dangled there downward tightly. He realized soon enough that she was forcing him to bend slightly at the waist in order for them to reach, which further increased his sense of helplessness. The ends of the chain were secured to the cage in short order via two more padlocks and she was back at the bag again. ~What more could she add? ~ His mind wondered, but he soon found out. She disappeared behind him again and he craned his neck backwards to try and see what she was about. She reached out and smacked him 'hard' on the behind and spoke two words in a cold tone. "Eyes front." When he didn't 'immediately' comply with her wishes, she brought the small whip down even harder across the right cheek of his ass then the left in quick succession. He gave another muffled scream of protest then turned his head away in fear. She rubbed her hand over his naked buttocks and he heard the smile in her voice when she spoke as she gently spread the cheeks of his behind with one hand. "Ah...nice....a virgin...good...that's unusual in these circumstances." She patted one cheek and he heard a slurping sound for a moment, then she began to hum a soft tune beneath her breath as she worked at something. A few moments later, he felt her spread his cheeks again and the point of something hard and smooth press into the entrance of his anus. He gave another muffled protest and began to step away, but she was prepared for this and spoke two soft words again, though there was 'no' missing the command in her tone. "Hold him...." Two of the guards stepped forward and each one grabbed an arm as he began to struggle in earnest again, screaming behind the ball in his mouth. But she was undeterred and slowly, almost gently, worked the long, hard object fully into his anus. He felt himself expand slowly to the foreign object being pressed there, and tried to resist it, but three more hard swats to his bare ass and he relaxed long enough for the ring of his anus to take the rest of it and snap around the base of whatever it was. He'd 'never' been intruded in such a fashion, and it scared him at first. He'd been one of the lucky ones on death row and while he'd 'admit' to his share of hand jobs on his own for the last ten years, he'd never been violated 'there' before. Once the act was done, he struggled for a few more minutes, and then fully relaxed in acceptance. Once he had, he found a strange thing happening. He actually 'liked' whatever it was...right where it was. In a strange way it was filling and comforting all at the same time. He visibly shook for a moment, trying to shift a bit and expel the foreign object, but it was firmly entrenched now no matter how much he pushed at it. She further aided its ability to stay a moment later with a piece of rope. He felt her tie it to the rings of the cuffs on his wrists then lace it through something at the base of the object, then she came around him again. Reaching unceremoniously between his legs, she pulled the rope threw and deftly tied it to the bottom of the cage holding his penis prisoner at the moment. She pulled it tight and he groaned loudly behind the gag as the object sunk deeper into him. He felt his manhood then, spring to life within the tiny cage and press against the painful spikes. He struggled again, once more trying to free himself, but his squirms only served to pull the object deeper into his anus and further arouse his manhood in it's cage. Finally, he stilled again, his head drooping forward with a sense of dejected acceptance. It was at this point she spoke softly again, reaching out a hand to raise his head and look him right in the eye. "Very good Trent. You've accepted your decision faster than most do. I'm pleased, and your primary objective for the rest of your life will now be to please me, or another Mistress once you're sold at Auction." She caressed his cheek softly then, around the heavy leather strap of the ball in his mouth. "But who knows, if you please me well enough I might keep you for myself when your training is done." His eyes pleaded with her for a moment, then he dropped his head again, nodding in resignation as she snapped a leash to the front ring of his collar and led him away. "See that he gets a proper burial." She threw over her shoulder to one of the guards as they passed by. "Yes Ma'am...enjoy..." the guard returned as one of his companions bent to pick up the tattered remains of his former prison uniform. "Oh I will..." she shot back. "You were right though Garron. He's worth every penny of the ten grand I paid you boys for him." She added as they paused in the doorway for a moment. "Hey, say hello to Stacy and the kids for me would you?" She thought to add in a friendly tone. "Sure thing Chelsey.... You coming over for dinner and the game on Sunday?" Garron asked then as the other guards cleaned up the chamber in which Trent had 'almost' perished. Chelsey eyed him for a moment, taking a long perusal of his bent form before she spoke again. "I believe I'll be too busy...but give Stacy a hug for me though and tell her I'll make it up to her...." she said with another look at him and a wiggle of her dark eyebrows. "I promise...." Garron nodded again as they stepped out into one of the dimly lit hallways beyond the gas chambers ante room and he locked it up behind his three companions. "She'll like that..." Garron returned sending poor Trent a knowing look. "She had her eye on this one...but well," he gave a helpless shrug before he continued. "What can I say, it would have been a conflict of interest...ya now?" Chelsey chuckled softly. "All the better for me old friend...all the better for me..." she said as she turned again and led him away without another word.
Chapter 2 Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire... They'd walked through the interior of the prison without so much as a glance from any of the guards they'd passed by. It had taken them a good 10 minutes, and some five checkpoints later, to make their way from the gas chamber to the outside. At each, Chelsey had stopped while the guard on duty unlocked the rolling doors and spoken in friendly tones to each. It never seemed to occur to 'any' of them to question his presence, or his situation. One had gone so far as to hand her a business card and say something to the effect of wanting 'him' as a birthday present for his wife. Chelsey had chuckled softly, asked when the woman's birthday 'was', made a note on the back of the card when the guard responded, then nodded her head with a softly spoken, "I'll see how far along his training is," as they'd passed through that checkpoint. It quickly became apparent to him that 'her' presence and 'his' situation, were tightly interwoven. As he shuffled along behind her, he began to wonder how 'high' up the chain of command in the prison this whole thing went. He had his answer as they stopped at the last checkpoint and the warden stood calmly on the other side of the double set of bars. He hadn't 'seen' the man that often in 10 years but knew him well enough to recognize him on the spot. Of course, the fact that he was flanked by two captains as they stepped by, 'may' have been another clue as well. Here Chelsey paused and held out her hand, confirming his fears with a nod of her head and a softly spoken, "Warden." from her lips. "Chelsey..." the man said with his own friendly smile as he stepped forward and gave her a long hug. "It's been 'ages' my child. Whatever in the world have you been up to?" "Oh...you know...the usual..." was Chelsey's only comment as she returned the older man's hugging embrace. "Your mother is 'fit' to be tied you know. You haven't been over to the house in ages." The warden said by way of gentle admonishment. "Father..." Chelsey responded softly, a slight furrow to her brow as she went on. "You 'know' very well, that I'm a busy woman. I have my own interests now." The Warden seemed properly chastised and actually dipped his head in response to her tone. Chelsey chuckled softly and laid a gentle hand on his suit clad forearm and spoke again. "But tell mother as soon as this latest batch is sold, I'll pay her a nice long visit...." Again she eyed him over her shoulder with a knowing waggle of her eyebrows and spoke. "I promise..." The Warden turned to him then as well and smiled pleasantly enough. "Oh your mother would indeed like that...I work so much now that she gets rather lonely I'm afraid." Chelsey chuckled again and gave the leash on his collar a good pull, causing him to stumble forward slightly in his helpless state. "I'll see what I can do for her Father...never fear...I think I have just the thing...." she grinned as she moved off through a set of double doors and out into the bright sunshine of a cloudless blue sky. Trent hesitated for a moment, pulling back on the leash at his neck, cringing away from the brightness of the day. But Chelsey was non-pulsed and pulled hard on the collar at his neck when he hesitated. Again, he stumbled forward slightly, but righted himself a moment later as she led him across the loading dock onto which they'd stepped. Fortunately, this time of day, the docks were empty of the prison's workers, but whether that was by design, or merely the fact that it was lunchtime within the prison, he'd never know. Either way, she led him without ceremony across the rough stone of the dock and toward a plain white van. The back doors hung open, as if it was expecting them, and she calmly stepped from the dock and slightly down into it. He had to duck, which was awkward with his hands bound behind him, but he managed with a guiding hand from her. She gripped his elbow then and spun him until his back and bound arms faced the panel sides of the interior. She dropped the chain to the collar onto the metal flooring where it clanked loudly in the silence. She stooped slightly toward the side and he heard something release from the panel and fall into place with a heavy clunk of sound. She came back to him then and guided him backwards for a moment, then pressed on his shoulders until he sat. For a moment his eyes pleaded with her as his weight contacted with the object in his anus and pushed in deeper, but she ignored that and his muffled pleas and squirms. Instead, she pulled a small ring of keys from her jacket pocket and released the two small locks on his cock cage. Without a word she pushed him back against the cold metal of the van's sides. He tried to scoot forward a bit on the hard metal of the seat to ease the pressure in his backside. She was having none of it as she lifted two heavy leather straps from their resting positions against the side of the van and buckled them tightly around his wide chest. His arms pinned behind him now, he found he couldn't move so much as a finger even if he wanted too. Again, he tried to scoot his hips forward just a bit to ease off the pressure on the object in his ass, but again she was having none of it. Without a word, she picked up two more long straps and buckled them tightly around his waist, pulling him even tighter against the cold metal wall of the van. This actually 'increased' the pressure in his backside and he squirmed some more, trying to kick his legs out at her. The heavy shackles on his feet though prevented this and he gave up after only two tries, leaning his head back slightly against the wall behind him with a muffled groaning sound. Within a moment he felt four more heavy straps crossing over his legs and being buckled tightly against his skin. When he lifted his head and looked down at himself, he found he couldn't move so much as an inch against the heavy leather, no matter 'how' much he bucked and strained. The only thing that he 'could' move were his toes, but that too was solved quickly enough by a fifth set of smaller straps which had his feet pinned flat with a quick twist of her small wrists. When she stood, bent herself slightly in the small confines of the van, she smiled for the first time as she looked at him. "There...that's better..." she said, reaching out to again caress the sides of his cheeks as she said it. "Much better." she added as she moved off for a moment. He strained again at the heavy leather and his muffled pleas must have reached her ears. When she came back to him she held another torturous piece of equipment in her slim fingered hands and his eyes widened in fear as he recognized the long plastic object. He shook his head violently from side to side, and again bucked at the restraining straps on his well muscled body. All she did was smile as she unceremoniously pulled his head forward and released the buckles to the ball gag. As soon as it popped free of his jaw, he began to beg softly. "Please...no....don't..." he whimpered softly, tears pooling in his eyes for a moment before he could blink them away. "May...may I please have some water...?" he queried then, hoping to delay her placement of the evil looking thing she held in her hands. "In a moment..." she said softly. Without preamble then she held his strong jaw, pushing her fingers in at the sides with a forceful grip that soon had his mouth opened wide again. Despite his struggling effort to turn away from the device in her hand, he was helpless to stop her gentle shoving of the long, hard plastic piece into his wide opened mouth. When it was all the way in, the tears he'd blinked away before pooled in his eyes again and fell unbidden down his cheeks as he realized he was sitting there with a dick in his mouth now. A soft, pliable, very 'real' feeling plastic dick about four inches long. It lay against his tongue and was summarily pulled deeper into his mouth as she buckled the straps on either end behind his head. He struggled in earnest then, bucking and heaving with all his considerable strength and shaking his head violently from side to side in an honest effort to dislodge the offensive thing. He had to choke back his own gag reflex as the tip of it just barely touched the back of his throat. A shudder passed over his large frame then and he drug a deep gulp of air in through his nose and lifted pleading eyes to her, shaking his head again from side to side violently and screaming into the pliable plastic in his mouth. He bit down on it, but found that while the plastic was soft and yielding it was tough as any metal when his teeth failed to penetrate the soft sides. Finally, dejectedly he slumped as best he could against the heavy leather straps and began to cry earnest tears. He lifted tearful, pleading eyes to her again, and begged as best he could, jutting his chin forward again trying to dislodge the device that was buckled tightly around the back of his head. "Awwww...poor Trent..." she said softly as she reached up to the ceiling of the van and dropped a long stick down with a soft flick of her fingers. "Don't like that do you...don't like a dick in your mouth?" she queried in a cold sounding tone. He shook his head weakly from side to side as the tears fell anew. "MMMPPPPHHHTTTTT...." he tried to scream, again trying to dislodge the piece of rubber. ~NO....~ his mind screamed out silently. ~PLEASE...TAKE IT OUT...~ he tried to say with his pleading eyes, but as with everything else, she was having none of it. With a gentle hand she lifted his chin and tilted it back as far as it would go against the back of the van. He felt her fingers on the front of the long strap holding the four-inch long dick in his mouth and a moment later he could just barely make out the front piece being twisted off by her fingers. She tilted his head back a bit further, pushing gently at his chin as she did so, and reached above his head to pull a bottle of water from a mesh pocket that held it. His eyes widened in comprehension as she twisted off the top and poured the contents into the plastic filling his mouth. He felt the soft, pliable plastic begin to expand and harden slightly in his mouth as the water filled it. "Well, get used to it slave..." she said as the last of the water fell into the penis gag. "You're going to be wearing it for quite some time to come. It's how you will be fed and watered until I decide you've earned the privilege of not wearing it any longer..." she added as she twisted the end back into the front and sealed it tight. He felt the tip of the gag open slightly against the back of his throat for a moment and just a dribble of water slid onto the back of his tongue. He gulped at it, savoring the coolness, despite how it was being delivered, and tried to keep his head tilted back to gain more. But as with everything else, she would have none of it, and none too gently forced his head down again with a hard jerk. "Sorry slave...not that easy..." she said by way of soft command as she forced his head forward toward the stick that hung down from the ceiling. She picked up the two straps that hung from its end and wrapped them around the back of his head. Pulling them tight against the straps of the penis gag, she forced his nose to touch the stick itself and buckled them tightly, completely immobilizing his head now. He jerked backwards and the stick slid in its small tract welded into the ceiling and she reached up calmly to give a small knob a hard twist and lock it into place. His face was pulled against the stick again, and he realized that this way he wasn't allowed the slightest 'bit' of movement now. He couldn't move his head back, or forward, couldn't tilt up or down, or side to side. Only his eyes could move, and his tongue slightly against the base of the penis now pulled even more deeply into his mouth by the straps from the stick itself. He groaned loudly, giving a muffled mewling sound in the back of his throat as he again lifted pleading eyes to her. He could feel the coolness of the water in the gag against his tongue, but couldn't tilt his head to get at it and let it run down his throat as it had a moment before. He struggled again, trying in vain for 'some' bit of movement but soon found it a useless effort on his part. He was stuck and completely helpless and he whimpered up at her as she reached for two more pieces to complete his torture. The first she lifted to his chin and he felt a soft piece of padding mold itself there after a moment. She pulled the two ends together on top of his head and buckled them tightly into place, forcing his already throbbing jaw to clamp shut on the base of the penis in his mouth. Only the 'barest' tip of his tongue could move now, and that was no more than a flick of response. His eyes moved to her then, pleading as he whimpered again. But this action was soon cut off from him too as she lifted the 'final' piece of torturous equipment to his limited line of vision now. His gaze fell on the two, small padded disks and his eyes widened in fear and pleading as she fitted them both over his eyes and pulled the strap behind his head to buckle it tightly against his face. Mewling, earnest whimpers of fear came from the back of his throat, as he was truly helpless to do more. He bucked and heaved against the leather of his bondage then, trying in vain to escape the suddenly nightmarish quality this whole thing had taken on. He heard her step away and comment as she closed the doors to the van. "If you want water, it's right there slave. I'm sure you'll figure out how to get it soon enough." A moment later he felt the van beneath the souls of his feet rumble to life, then gently pull away from the prison docks. End of Chapter 2
Chapter 3 "Life" Begins Anew... He sat there, bound immobile against the cold metal of the van's walls, and it's folding seat, blindfolded, and gagged with a four inch long penis filled with water. Beneath the souls of his feet he felt the van in which he was contained glide to a gentle stop and he heard her speaking from the area of the drivers seat to an unseen person. He couldn't make out their exact words over the rumble of the van's engine, but he heard her chuckle knowingly again a moment after they'd stopped. He bucked his head against the rod that ran just in front of his face to the ceiling of the van, but it was a useless effort on his part. Even 'if' he could have freed his head, he knew that blindfolded and bound as he was there was no way he could release much more of himself. His sense of vulnerability increased in that moment ten fold and he whimpered softly against the soft, pliable rubber of the penis gag again. He'd tasted the cool water she'd granted him by filling the gag, but bound as he was he couldn't tilt his head back to gain more of it. Her words came to him again, and his eyes widened in horror beneath the soft pads of the blindfold that covered his eyes blocking out all light. He gulped softly, sucking in slightly with his cheeks against the sides of the gag and felt a tiny 'spurt' of the cool liquid trace a path down his throat. He realized then 'exactly' what her words had meant moments before and gave another soft mewling whimper of sound. Surely she couldn't mean he had to 'suck' the penis to gain the water. But another experimental 'sucking' motion of his cheeks again produced a tiny spurt of the liquid down his throat. He realized with another mewling whimper that she'd meant just that. He bucked in horrified rejection at the thought for a moment, but soon found the endeavor was as useless as all the others before had been. He was well and truly stuck now, until 'she' decided to release him. The worst part was he'd actually 'agreed' to this. Well, mostly anyway. Though at 'that' moment he'd have 'almost' chosen to die in the prison's gas chamber...almost. But considering her 'influence' within the prison, he 'doubted' his decision would have made much of a difference. Not to mention the fact that the Warden had been her 'father' of all things. And she was on 'very' friendly terms with just about every guard within the walls. He wondered for a brief moment how 'long' she'd been waiting for his 'execution' date to roll around. From the head guards comments...quite possibly a long while. That thought sent a coursing shiver over the length of his long, well muscled body and he took a moment to stop his sucking actions at the gag in his mouth to contemplate it. Just as quickly though he pushed the thoughts aside, more concerned just then with getting at the rest of the tempting water. It didn't really matter in the end anyway, he mused to himself as he resumed sucking as best he could at the gag. A bit later he gave a mewling whimper in the back of his throat as the water in the gag receded down past the hole in its tip and he could get no more. The brief work had allowed him to forget for a moment his situation, and the bonds, which held him tightly. But now, even that was gone and all he could do was sit there and think, as he was unable to move at all. He sighed softly out threw his nose then, relaxing as best he was able in his tight, constrictive bondage. His years as a death row inmate had taught him patience if nothing else. That and long periods of inactivity. After all, being locked in a ten by ten plain white cell for 23 hours a day tended to do that to a person. But this was different too. Yes, he was used to long periods of inactivity, and yes he had eventually gotten 'used' to being shackled and chained heavily wherever he went, but never 'this' constrictively. Even in the prison he'd had 'some' freedom of movement when shackled, however slight. But now he had 'none'. Absolutely 'none'. And that scared him. And excited him all at the same time. He gave a soft groaning sound and tried to shift his hips slightly, but the heavy leather around him prevented it. Now, with only the sound of the rumbling engine of the van his only company, he began to experience the sensations that before this moment had been nothing but a blur. Given too fast for obvious reasons to fully comprehend before now. But now they all battled within his mind for dominance. With as deep a sigh as the leather around his chest would allow, he began to analyze each, one at a time. First came the sensations of being completely helpless and dependant on another. He'd never felt this way before and he took a moment to query his brain as to how it truly felt. And he found after a moment's pause, that despite the constrictiveness of it, he liked it. It made him feel cared for in an 'odd' sort of way. A way he'd never felt before. Sure, his parents had been loving sorts, but this was different. She was taking the time to ensure he was cared for, despite her gruff tones and uses of the whip. Next came the filling sensation of the object in his ass. He didn't know 'what' it was exactly, but again it made him feel comfortable. Filled and cared for yet again. Then came the sensation of the penis gag in his mouth. Despite the implications of its presence, she'd taken the time to fill it with cool water. Again making him feel cared for. He took that moment then to examine the bondage she'd placed on him. Yes, it was constrictive, almost painfully so, but again, it wasn't anything that would 'harm' him. His arms and legs, despite their rather 'cramped' positions were not being pressed upon too tightly as to cut off his circulation. Despite the fact that he couldn't move in the slightest, he could still 'feel' his fingers and toes so he knew the blood was flowing freely and would continue to do so. Then finally came the cold steel sensations of the cage she'd placed gently over his manhood. Despite it's prickly insides, he knew the small spikes weren't sharp enough to pierce his skin and draw blood. Just make an erection decidedly uncomfortable. Which at 'this' thought he found himself springing erect within the tiny confines of the aforementioned cage. Or rather, trying too. He soon found that his assumptions had been correct, and an erection was growing decidedly painful. He shifted again in his heavy leather bonds and 'tried' to turn his thoughts 'away' from his slowing growing hard on. But even this failed as his mind twisted and turned over every implication of his position. The more he thought on it, the harder his manhood grew, until he was almost shaking with an unspoken need on his own. Images of Chelsey 'naked' came unbidden to his mind and only increased the pressure of his manhood against the spikes of the cage. Blind and helpless as he was, there was nothing he could 'do' about it now. It had been 10 years after all since he'd felt the warm touch of another human being in 'any' form, and now the more his mind 'latched' onto images of her naked and standing in front of him, the more blood rushed into his own genitals and pressed it harder against the tiny, prickly spikes that contained him. He gave a loud groan then, squirming and shaking against the heavy leather as more and more images filled his mind. Then, almost as if it was 'destined' a scent reached his nostrils. Her scent. It was a sweet smell...of sex...her sex mixed with some expensive perfume his mind vaguely remembered from his days in the business world. It was 'then' he realized that she'd been just as 'excited' as she'd put him into his bondage, both in the gas chambers anteroom and again in the van, as he was 'now' becoming to 'be' in it. That realization sent another shiver down his long frame and he relaxed again in his restraints. Her words in the gas chamber came to him again, and he fully realized their implication in that moment. If he did 'well' enough in his training she 'may' even keep him for herself. That thought brought a heavy gulp to him and another shiver. Did he 'want' to do well 'enough' in his 'training', his mind wondered. Did he 'want' to please her well enough to 'keep' him, whatever that meant, he wondered again. With a jolting thought, he realized that he 'did'... ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Sometime later, though Trent couldn't have 'honestly' said how long, he felt the van glide to a gentle stop and heard it turn off. What he assumed was the drivers door opened and he felt the van lurch just a bit beneath his feet as she stepped to the ground. He'd long ago lost his sense of direction as the van had made numerous twists and turns once they'd cleared the prison itself, and he'd finally given up trying, preferring instead to relax as best he could given the situation he was in. His hard on had diminished somewhat as they'd traveled, but he was still left with an unspoken need and craving and he knew it wouldn't take 'much' for it to rise to the surface of his thoughts again. There was silence for a 'long' while, and then he heard her commanding voice in the far distance growing ever closer as time passed. He cocked his head as far to the side as he could and tried to make out her words through the van, but she was too far away. Finally, after what seemed an eternity the doors to the back of the van opened with a loud clunk, causing him to jerk in reaction. He felt the van lurch again as two 'heavy' feeling bodies stepped into the interior. He felt two sets of hands on him then, unbuckling him from the seat of the van then pulling him up by the arms. The blindfold and gag were left as they were and he stumbled slightly as the two sets of strong, decidedly 'male' hands guided him forward. "MMMMMPPPPPPHHHHHTTTTTTTT..." he screamed out for a moment, trying to jerk 'away' from them, but her voice reached his ears a moment later and he calmed. "Calm down slave." she said softly and he immediately stilled, allowing himself to be guided by the males beside him. The three of him stepped down out of the van a moment later onto cold feeling concrete and he felt her pick up the leash at his neck again. With a gentle tug she pulled him forward and he slid a bare foot out in front of him to feel around before taking as long a step as the prison shackles still on his feet would allow. He heard her sigh then, and step close to him. "The first lesson you need to learn slave is trust. Trust your Mistress to guide you. Walk forward normally and trust that I will guide you by your leash." She gave another gentle tug to the leash and he nodded slowly, gulping heavily around the penis in his mouth, but taking a shaky tentative step forward. Then another, then another...and then finally he was walking as normally as his bonds would allow. Again the thought of feeling cared for in some strange way came to his mind and he relaxed a bit more into his bondage, beginning to recognize her gentle tugs on his leash as they moved. They walked for a long while, with him leaning forward just a bit to keep his balance in his hobble walk. Finally, they seemed to arrive where they were going and she gently guided him to his knees. He felt padding beneath him and realized he was kneeling on some pillows. Or something soft anyway. He felt the long lead on his collar rise into the air then and hang slackly against his cheek after a soft clicking sound. He heard her moving around for a moment, then felt her presence beside him again. He gulped around his gag again and leaned slightly to the side to 'touch' her, but she put a stilling hand on his wide, muscular shoulder. He responded and continued to kneel there without moving. He heard it then. The rattle of several other chains coming into the area where they were. He gulped again, shivering for a moment with the unknown implications of those sounds, and gave a soft mewling whimper from deep within his throat. "Easy now slave..." she said softly from right beside him. "Your safe." she added as she gently caressed the back of his head. He gave another mewling whimper of sound and leaned his head 'back' into the contact ever so slightly. Her words calmed him again a moment later as she spoke softly. "Trust your Mistress...," she said as he felt her unbuckling the blindfold over his eyes. As she pulled it free and he blinked his vision into focus, he could only 'stare' at the sight before him. Kneeling, in similar positions as his own were at least 10 males from what he could readily count. Ten, well muscled, males. All of them were bound in 'some' form though others more strictly than some. Each wore a similar cock cage to the one 'he' did, and each wore a gag in 'some' form. Some had balls, some had large metal bits, and others had gags similar to his. And yet others wore a 'full' head harness, which kept their heads, jaws, mouths and tongues completely immobilized. He turned his head then, raising pleading, almost uncomprehending fearful eyes to her and she spoke with a soft smile as the realization finally hit and he recognized some of the men before him. Each of them had been a prisoner on his block. Death row inmates all. He gulped around the gag again and whimpered anew. "Welcome home Inmate Number 3657892. Welcome home..." she said with another 'soft' caress of his cheek. End of Chapter Three
Chapter 4 Realizations... Inmate # 3657892 had bent his head forward in dejection at her words that fateful day. After that moment it became quickly apparent to him that he'd merely traded 'one' prison and death sentence, for 'another' much more 'harsh' one. In this prison he was 'allowed' no freedom of movement. He had to 'earn' his rights and privileges just like any 'other' inmate in the prison. From the moment he'd been brought inside, he'd been bound in some way. At first 'so' constrictively that movement was impossible. Unless 'she' allowed it. As the days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, he quickly adapted to learning the 'rules' of his new prison. And his new life. Where before he'd been kept in a plain ten by ten white cell, now he was 'kept' in a common area with all the other inmates. Or in 'her' terms, slaves. Which is 'exactly' what they all had turned out to be. Right after he'd first arrived though, the first set of five had been sold away at an unseen auction. The night he'd arrived, they'd gone from being just 'in chains' to being dressed in their 'finest' chains of what looked to be pure gold and were led away. They never came back, but he was not given the opportunity to ask about them because he was never ungagged long enough to form the words. If it wasn't the penis gag in his mouth, it was a ball gag, or a bit gag, or a harness gag, or 'something'. But he had to admit after the first couple of days he'd gotten used to it. After that he hadn't really worried overly much about it and just readily excepted whatever she put there, opening his mouth without hesitation for the most part. Now though, several weeks into his 'training' he found himself in a decidedly uncomfortable position as a punishment. He'd spent his time thus far relatively wisely, learning what she wanted, learning what moods she was in when, what pleased her, what didn't. He'd had a 'few' punishments, but they were mostly 'light' whippings with a crop or a soft tailed flogger. But now was 'completely' different. He'd broken one of her 'cardinal' rules and was paying 'dearly' for it now. One of the very 'first' things she'd instilled him with was her rule about touching. She'd made it crystal clear from the beginning that he was in 'no way' allowed to touch his genetalia without 'her' express permission. Well, considering prior to that morning, his hands had 'mostly' been cuffed together behind his back, this hadn't been a problem. But that particular morning, she'd woke him with the others, cuffed his hands in front of him and given him a list of chores for that day. Now, while this act in itself was 'hardly' unusual, the list of chores she'd given him was. Where prior to this point he'd usually helped out the others in some form or fashion, today her list would keep him working independently of them. She'd sent him to the upper rooms of her vast almost 40 room mansion with the chore of cleaning some of the bedrooms there after a function she'd had the night before. He'd been charged with making the beds neatly, picking up the rooms, etc. Typical, normal chores. She'd even allowed him freedom from the 'cock cage' he'd worn constantly prior to then. She'd generously unlocked the cage from its ring and allowed his manhood a few hours of freedom from its constant prickly companion. He'd been 'extremely' grateful and mewed his thanks in the back of his throat as he gently rubbed his head against her flat stomach. This pleased her, and she gave his head an affectionate rub before shooing him off to his tasks. He'd left just as she was turning to one of the others and setting him about his own set of chores. She had yet to remove the prison issue shackles from his ankles, but he'd become accustomed to moving around in them with ease, and now thought nothing of it. He'd made his way up the long stairs easily enough, and began his work. About two or so in the afternoon, he'd worked his way into his fifth room and was just finishing when he noticed something peeking out from between the mattress and the box springs of the massive four poster bed. He'd groaned deeply behind the ball in his mouth as he pulled the object free and found himself staring at the latest issue of a Playboy magazine. Within a heartbeat of finding it, he was flipping threw the pages making soft growling sounds in the back of his throat. His breathing became ragged as he reached the centerfold and his now free manhood sprang to life with so much force he'd thought he'd come right then and there. For a long moment he 'struggled' with the sense of discipline she'd instilled in him thus far, then he broke. She was nowhere around, no one 'else' was around either, and he had 'no' fear of being caught in the act as it were. So, he'd knelt on the floor, the magazine open and just in front of his knees and given himself a tentative touch. It was 'almost' enough to send him over the edge given his constant state of arousal, but not quite. Taking his hard manhood in 'both' his hands then, he'd jerked a couple of times and soon found the glossy pages of the magazine splattered with his juices. Suddenly he jerked back to the present with a shocking realization that he'd done something 'very' bad as far as 'she' was concerned, and had set about cleaning up his mess. But it wasn't enough. The rest of the day he'd felt a gnawing fear deep in his gut that she'd find out in some way, though he'd spent extra time making 'sure' there was no trace anywhere in the room. But somehow, he knew she 'knew', or would know. Sure enough, as he'd come back down to the long basement where he was kept, she was standing in the center of the room, arms crossed over her ample chest and staring at him with a deep frown etched across her forehead. He'd fallen to his knees and crawled across the floor toward her, whimpering in the back of his throat and raising pleading eyes toward her to beg her forgiveness. But it wasn't enough he knew. She'd calmly cuffed his hands behind him again and clipped a leash to the collar on his neck. Without a word she led him out of the long basement and into a private room. Pushing him to his knees again, she gone about the room collecting the various items she would need. This room, like some others was primarily 'bare' except for a few things. For one a long 'thick' metal rod ran from one wall to another. Set into the concrete of the walls at about shoulder height for a six foot tall man or so, it was smoothed round, but whether it was from time, or by design he did not know. Set into the concrete of the floor were several rings. One was directly beneath the thick metal pole, while another was a foot or so in front of it. Yet a third was a foot or so in front of that. Between the second and third rings was a hole in the floor. It was pitch black, and about two inches in diameter, and two shiny screws winked at him from the lights set into the wall around the chamber. He 'gulped' deeply behind the gag, unaware and decidedly fearful as to what these things were meant for. He looked up slightly and saw another set of rings set into the far wall behind the pole, and another on the ceiling. Three of them were in each set and hung at regular intervals on both wall and ceiling. Again a shudder passed over him as she came back to him from the wardrobe that was sitting against the other wall. She carried a multitude of objects in her hand, too many for him to count or guess at their intent, and all he could do was sit there and wait. The first thing she did was slide a long piece of leather over his arms. When she was done it covered him from upper arm to wrist. He grunted slightly as he felt her begin to lace it up tightly. When she was done, his long muscular arms were pulled together until they 'almost' touched. He felt her zip together two pieces of leather over the laces next. She picked up two thin straps that hung from the sides, crossed them in an 'x' over his wide, now straining chest, then he felt her lock the ends to the top of the zipper. This ensured that no matter how much he squirmed against the binder, it wouldn't slip down his arms. Next she pulled him up by the neck again and led him over to the pole. Bending him slightly at the waist, she pushed up on his arms then pulled him back until he felt his wrists slid over the top of the bar. Attaching a chain to his cuffs, she pulled him back until by standing on his tiptoes he could lift himself up and over the bar itself. As soon as the metal had settled against his armpits, he felt her pull the chain at his wrists tautly and then heard her lock the end to one of the rings in the floor. He tried then to lower himself onto the flats of his feet, but found the pressure on his arms quickly became decidedly uncomfortable. He pushed himself back up onto the balls of his feet and waited. If 'this' was 'all' his punishment was going to be, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad, he mused to himself. But it wasn't. This was just the beginning he found out a moment later. She moved off slightly then came back with two long lengths of soft white rope. She pulled his long legs together with her hands and coiled the first piece around them just about the knees. Coil after coil wended it's way around his thickly muscled legs until finally she fed the two ends of the rope threw his legs above and below the coils and tied it off with a deft twist of her fingers. He gave an experimental tug at the coils and found that while they didn't cut off his circulation he couldn't part his legs at all. She did the same with his feet a moment later then stood for a moment to admire her work. It was only then that she spoke. "You've broken the first rule of life here slave. And for that you will be punished severely. Maybe after the night is through you'll have learned your lesson well." she stated softly then turned away from him to finish her work. She stepped to the pile of things on the floor by his feet and produced what looked like a couple of pulleys. Reaching upwards she connected them to two of the three rings in the ceiling, then bent to retrieve another piece of long, white rope. She tied one end to his ankles, and then fed the corresponding ends threw the pulleys and let it hang for a moment while she retrieved something else from the pile. This was a rod, similar to the one to which his face had been attached on that first day, and she stuck this into a hole in the ceiling that he hadn't seen before. She gave it a twist and he heard it lock into place. This rod however had a hole at its end, and after bending to the pile once more, she produced what looked like an elongated spoon and twisted it into the end of the rod. Its long end was a smooth, highly polished steel looking substance and she gave this a twist until it locked into place at the end of the rod. She reached up and gave a pull on the rope she'd fed through the pulleys and lifted him by his feet off the ground until he was hanging by his feet at a forty-five degree angle. Once settled into that position, she tied the end of the rope around the base of the long spoon like object right next to the end of the rod itself. He gave this too an experimental tug because this position put 'most' of his weight on his arms and shoulders now, and found that he couldn't lower his feet out of the air at all. She moved again and he watched as she grabbed one of the last objects from the pile. This was a pole as well, similar to a microphone stand. However, instead of a microphone at one end, it had a large, very large black butt plug screwed tightly atop it. She collapsed it as far as it would go, and then stuck it in the floor giving it one hard twist at the base to lock it into place. With squirming, squealing horror, he realized her intent with it as she slowly began to slide it up toward his own anus. She placed a hand at his behind and worked his smaller plug free with a slurping sound and a soft pop a moment later. Again he squirmed and squealed behind the ball in his mouth and tried to move as far as he could away from her. But it was useless. She lifted him slightly until his entire body lay almost at a 45-degree angle to the floor itself and pushed the tip of the plug home in his anus. She didn't force it, but instead pushed the stand a notch higher, which caused him to lift himself reflexively to stay away from it. Once into position, she picked up another item from the floor and a moment later was buckling the weightlifters belt tightly around his waist. A chain was attached to a ring in the back and summarily pulled taunt to the third and final ring in the floor, ensuring that he couldn't lift his hips any higher of the supremely large plug just beginning to intrude his behind. He groaned and squirmed a bit, pulling his weight back onto his arms and shoulders for a moment to ease the tension in his behind. He heard his butt slurp off the plug for a moment and he felt a bit of relief. It was then that she picked up the final object for his punishment during that night. A single, long, trim white candle. She twisted this into the spoon like object hanging at the end of the rod and he realized with a jerking start that the end of the spoon now lay 'directly' over his genitals. He lifted his head and grunted pleadingly behind the ball in his mouth for a moment to try and gain her attention. She came to him then, holding the 'very' last piece to his torture in her hands now. His favored hollowed out penis gag. Without a word she unbuckled the ball and switched them, leaving the plug end off as she did so. She ran another piece of rope from the ring over the buckle at the back of his head and pulled it tautly toward the wall so that he couldn't lift his head much farther than it was now. As she turned toward the candle with a lighter in hand, he squirmed in earnest, his eyes pleading with her and his mewling sounds taking on a begging tone from deep within his chest. He squirmed upwards again to relieve the pressure on his backside, which brought his genitals closer to the end of the unlit candle again. ~PLEASE...~ his eyes begged her understanding. ~I WON'T DO IT AGAIN...PLEASE...~ he tried to whimper out around the penis in his mouth. She seemed to understand what he was trying to say in that moment. She spoke softly then, her smile cold and not quite reaching the blue depths of her eyes. "Your right slave, you 'won't' do it again..." she said as she reached out and flicked the lighter against the end of the candle. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ The moment the first drop of hot wax hit his manhood it set off a chain reaction of things over the next hours. His immediate reaction to the hot sensation between his bound legs was to pull away from it. This caused the large, black butt plug at the entrance to his behind to sink deeper into him as he literally 'sat' down on it. This caused him to jerk back up again with a tightening of his stomach muscles and arms, which brought his genitals closer to the flame, and the second drop of hot wax. The second hit and he sank away from it again and back onto the large plug. Over and over it went until finally he realized she was causing him to 'fuck' himself on the black plug. Over and over, up and down...away from the scalding hot wax, into the plug, off the plug into the wax. Tears of sincere remorse quickly pooled in his eyes and began to run out of their corners within the first hours of his punishment. He kept watching the candle, willing it to burn faster. He knew once the flame reached the base of the long, steel like spoon it would burn through the rope holding his feet aloft and he'd be able to reach the floor and stand somewhat to take the pressure off his anus. Until he realized it was one of those 'slow' burning candles. The kind that took literally hours and hours to burn down. Still up and down he went...up and down...farther and farther he sunk down on the plug. His arms began to shake at the strain he was placing on them to hold himself aloft and off the plug until he would sink down against it again. After what he figured was the first hour or so, the wax had begun to form a pool around his manhood, covering it from more hot drops. He breathed a sigh of relief out his nose until the door opened again on the far side of the room and she walked in with a second slave in tow. He too had his hands cuffed behind him, but instead of a ball gag he wore a full head harness complete with thick metal bit pressed tightly into his mouth. The chin and head straps kept the poor man from opening his mouth much more that the bit would allow and she came in and guided him to a stop beside the sweating Trent. She blew out the candle without a word and nodded to the second slave whom he recognized as Jarred, one of his former death row inmates. He bent at the waist from her nod and pushed his face into Trent's genitals until he'd scraped up as much of the wax as he could into his mouth. Once done, he moved up to Trent's own gag and used what he could of his tongue to push the wax out of his mouth and into the penis gag. She spoke then, her words cold and full of meaning as Trent struggled to lift himself away from the plug pressing insistently into his behind. "Didn't think I was going to let you off 'that' easy, did you slave?" she asked though she expected no answer. "You wanted to play with yourself...well, now you are..." she said on that same soft commanding tone. She turned back to the cabinet, retrieved a second candle, lit it and set it on the floor. Trent didn't know what 'that' was for, but found out a moment later as Jarred finished cleaning the cooled wax off his genitals and placing it into his mouth. He bent out of Trent's line of sight and came back up a moment later, holding the second candle in his teeth again. Placing one wick to the other, he lit the first then knelt out of his line of sight again to wait. He heard Jarred 'huff' out a breath and assumed he was blowing out the second candle. The rest of his evening passed like that. The wax would pool and congeal on his manhood, Jarred would stand up with the candle in his mouth and light it off the first then set it back down again. Coming up again, he'd 'huff' out the first then clean Trent off of wax. Once done he'd bend to retrieve his candle, light the first, then disappear out of sight to wait again. Each time Jarred cleaned him off, his body cooled a bit from the wax, only to increase the sensations all over again once the first candle was relit. It wasn't long before he was completely lost to the mix of sensations. pain...pleasure...need...desire...all rolled into one as his gag was filled with more and more wax. What seemed an eternity later the candle burned down to its end. With a crackling snap the rope caught fire and burned through, at last releasing his straining, well-muscled legs. Sweat rolled down the length of him as his feet fell to the floor. He'd long ago taken 'all' the butt plug into him, and now could do nothing more than weakly try and get his legs beneath him to push himself off of it one final time. But he was too weak and merely sagged down further, spreading himself painfully as he did so. Jarred apparently had further instructions and turned his back to the pole to get his hands around it. Once there, he gently lowered it away from Trent. Done, he rose and hobbled over to the door and disappeared out of it. A moment later she came back in and he weakly lifted his head to look at her with pleading eyes. His tears had long since dried, leaving trails in his sweat caked face. The wax inside the gag had heated within the warmth of his mouth and was slowly re-hardening to fit the shape of the penis gag. He gulped then, dryly, wishing in that moment for nothing more than for it to end. All of it...he tried to blink back his tears of pain then, but couldn't manage too as new ones were forced out of his eyes and he sent pleading whimpers in her direction. She came to him then, helped him stand more fully and began to undo his bondage. Within moments he was free of the torturous position and standing in front of her on rubber like legs. He sank to his knees then, his legs unable to hold him any longer and again cried fresh tears of remorse. Weakly lifting his head to her, his eyes again pleaded with her to understand and accept his remorse over touching himself. She hadn't removed the arm binder, but he couldn't even feel the strain anymore after what he'd just endured. She spoke then, still standing away from him as she did so, her tone calm and cool as it reached his ears. "Do you know why I punished you?" she asked softly. He could do no more than nod his head slowly. "And do you know why I chose the method I did?" Again, all he could do was nod his head. She squatted down in front of him then, and gently lifted his chin until their eyes met. "And have you learned your lesson about touching yourself without permission?" she asked softly. As he knelt there staring into her eyes, he saw it at long last. A flicker of his pain in her eyes as a single tear escaped her and slid down her smooth cheek. A crack in the armor, his mind wondered weakly. But surely not, but then again maybe...just maybe...doling out his punishment had hurt her just as much as it had him. The 'male' side of him took control then, and he leaned forward ever so slowly to rub the side of his head against her smooth cheek and wipe away her tear. When he sat back, his eyes were full of understanding, though still a good dose of pain from the punishment. He gulped softly and nodded his head slowly in response to her query. She smiled softly, touching the side of his cheek with her fingers then. Reaching behind his head, she undid the wax filled penis gag and slowly pulled it free. "Would you like some water slave?" she asked then, still not having moved from in front of him. And for the first time in many months he spoke his first words. "Yes...please...Mistress..." The End
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