Date: Mon, 16 May 2005 20:36:46 +0100
From: nylon.slave@ntlworld.com
Subject: First Day

It all began a while ago. Quite a while ago really. But this part began in
the morning. Roust-out at 5am as usual but from there on in it all became
strange. Instead of being hurried down the corridor to the wash block with
the other boys I was stopped at the door of the barrack room by on of the
warders who simply reached into the crush to grab me by the arm and pull me
to one side as the others hurried out.

Two of the warders followed the boys down the hall while one locked the
barracks door then turned to take my other arm. Holding me one to each side
the pair quick marched me in the other direction, around a corner and
though doors and gates to processing.

On the way in processing had been a drawn out affair of strip searches,
cursory medical examinations and procedures, shavings and hosing downs.
Outward - and I knew it must be outward for there was no other reason to be
there - it seemed my part had been simplified while the bureaucracy had
become complex. Me, they just shoved into a travel cage. A two foot cube,
sheet steel below, bars around and above it forced me to kneel and hunch
down. The paperwork however got examined, shuffled, moved about and written
on for more than an hour until part was surrendered to a pneumatic tube to
be delivered wherever that might lead and what remained was sealed into a
large manilla envelope with legal ribbons and wax then taped to the top of
the cage I was in.

Throughout, in fact from the roust-out bell, not a word had been spoken to
me and by then I already knew better than to speak out myself without
invitation.

The cage went on a dolly and the dolly was rolled through more gates and
doors, taken up in lifts and along more halls. I don't know if it was
deliberate but they always pushed it along with me in the cage facing
backwards so I could only see where we had been, not where we were going.
Eventually, after two check points, the dolly, my cage and so I were all
rolled together out onto an enclosed loading bay. My cage was lifted off
the dolly and pushed along a few feet of concrete, off the edge and into
the back of a van. The six inch drop between the bay edge and the floor bed
of the van seemed not to concern them but I was going to have bruises. One
of them climbed in to dog the cage to the floor then got out again. The
vehicle inched forward sufficient for the doors to be slammed and I was
left in complete darkness.

Noises and movement however were left and could guess their meanings. Large
steel gates opening, a ramp spiralling up, more gates and a pause for a
security check. The van wasn't opened nor did any light come on so maybe
the interior was monitored with an infra-red camera. Certainly nothing got
out of there without being thoroughly inspected. Another ramp up, this one
strait, and a last set of gates and the open surface. From there flat and
apparently fast with few turns.

I must have been taken quite a distance. By the time I saw outside it was
afternoon so at least six hours on the road. When the van came to a halt I
heard doors slam but no one came for me. After a while the rear doors were
opened and a warder reached in to rip the package of papers off the top of
my cage and I was left again. Now however the doors were open and I could
at least see out. Although there was little enough to see. A garage door in
a long stucco wall. Wood and whitewash. Gravel between me and the door and
nothing else in view.

It was well into mid-afternoon before the warders appeared again. This time
they opened the cage and dragged me out. Hours crouched in the cage had
been no kindness to my legs and they showed their displeasure by buckling
and dumping me on the gravel. I instinctively curled up expecting a kicking
but the warders just grabbed me, one to each arm, and hauled me up again.
The walked me round the van where I saw more wall and windows and a door
through which they took me. Along a corridor and through a hall then
another door into a large room furnished as a study.

There was a desk and behind the desk a man. One of the warders stepped
forward and they exchanged a few words, each signed several papers then the
warder turned to the door and his companion let go of my arm and followed
him out.

The man seemed to ignore me for a few minutes looking through the papers.
At last he pushed most to one side and sat back holding a single sheaf,
legal green bound with red ribbon. He read it through slowly then looked up
at me. He began to go through the document a clause at a time reading the
odd phrase of legalese but mostly paraphrasing the contents in simplified
form as if he were explaining it to me. I suppose he was. I'd never seen
such a document before but he needn't have troubled. I knew the significant
parts and I knew what it was, my articles of indenture. The court, he told
me, had determined that society needed protecting from me. It had also
decided that with some training I might not turn entirely to the bad and
further that the state wasn't going to waste money by trying it. So I had
been sentenced to indentured servitude. Since it was a judicial contract I
wouldn't be asked to pay an apprentice fee. I almost smiled at that. Nor,
he said, did he want or need an apprentice. Rather he had paid a fee to the
court to train and use me as a house servant. He pointed out that the
length of the indenture was indeterminate and that I would only be released
if he applied to the court for permission to do so. Moreover the contract
could be transferred. He could, if he wished, sell my contract on and
recoup his fee, perhaps even make a profit. He looked at me significantly
and was apparently satisfied that I got the implication: this could be a
life sentence and the only way of avoiding that would be to ingratiate
myself with my master.

After a moment he went on through the rest. I was entirely under his
authority and as long as he could present me alive to the court on demand
he could do anything he wished with me. I was restricted to his property
and were I to cross the boundary except in his company I'd be picked up,
get an automatic judicial whipping and be returned to him. This I knew was
likely since they marked all the boys with implanted microchips and
demonstrated the tracking machines when we were admitted to the
post-sentencing detention facility.

Finally the one 'right' allowed me by the terms of the indenture was to
decline to serve my time with him. I knew full well that doing so would
only result in my being delivered to another potential master and if I
declined again the third time I wouldn't have a choice. And a good chance
that the third would be an industrial plant as a serf-worker. What little
I'd seen of this house looked good, the man was well dressed and well
mannered and he wanted a servant. I couldn't imagine that it could be too
bad and could all too easily imagine far worse so when he asked if I
accepted I just nodded.

He leaned forward, placed the document on the desk and swivelled it about.
Uncapping a pen he told me to come forward and sign. I did so. Signature at
the foot of each page and on the last the date as well, written in words
rather than numerically. I wasn't surprised to see the two witness
signatures already filled. Doubtless done by the warders who for an hour to
themselves would be quite prepared to tell a court they'd seen me sign in
the unlikely event the matter was ever questioned.

He opened an ink pad and told me to make a right thumb print in the box
provided what I did. The he lit a sealing stick, dribbled the bright red
wax onto the paper and when enough had pooled there in the space allotted
for his signature impressed it with his signet ring.

That told me quite a lot. For one thing if he could be sure that his seal
would not only be recognised but also be accepted in lieu of a signature
then he was either a member of the Hundred Houses or wealthy enough in his
own right to be considered their near equal. For another if that were the
case then the courts would do his bidding not the other way around. It
seemed I'd chosen well in not refusing him although the choice was probably
even more hollow than it had seemed at the time. It came to me also that
with a master of such power even the theoretical avenues of appeal would be
effectively closed. I'd signed myself into his service and not a single
authority on the planet would ever question it.

He told me to step back, to stand in the middle of the room where the
warders had left me. As I did so he rose and taking my articles of
indenture opened an impressively large safe at the side of the room and
locked them within. His legal and water-tight proof that he in all but name
owned me.

Resuming his seat he told me to strip. That took seconds as all I was
wearing was the collarless, sleeveless grey nylon shirt and grey nylon
shorts, both too small for me, that were the inmate's uniform in the
detention facility. I stood with them bunched in my hand unsure what to do.
Well used as I was to being naked and inspected in the facility I was
surprised to feel humiliated. He told me to put them on the desk and then
resume my position which I did. He got up and slowly walked once around me
in silence

Returning to the desk he moved the chair to the side before sitting again.
He called me to him and told me to kneel. I hadn't thought I could feel
worse than I already did but that did it. He was going for the whole formal
ritual which I'd not heard of being used outside of historical novels.
Following his quietly give, precise instructions I found myself kneeling
right in front of him, head bowed, hands raised together as if in prayer.
He reached to the side and his hand came back with a piece of card which he
balanced on his knee just within my sight. Placing his hands around mine,
read it, he told me. Aloud. So I did, slowly.

Speaking the words I wondered if there were some genuine precedent or if
he'd crafted them himself. If it were legal; not that it mattered one whit.
The form was that of the apprentice's oath, quite usual for a boy signing
indentures - although normally they'd have been spoken standing in some
guild hall, dressed in festival best and with a feast in prospect rather
than naked and kneeling like this. The terms however were like those of the
serf's oath. I swore that I surrendered my person to my master, I swore
complete obedience, I swore to work with all effort, I swore to accept
discipline. Perhaps he knew that neither deity, honour nor law would make
me keep such oaths by my own will but the ritual seemed to satisfy him of
itself.

When I'd finished he released my hands and withdrew the card from my sight.
I moved to get up but before I could he slapped me open handed on the
cheek. It wasn't hard but shocking. He barked at me to stay where I was,
the first time I'd heard him raise his voice. Suddenly I wasn't just
resigned to being here: I was afraid. He opened a draw in the desk beside
him and withdrew something. Bringing it in front of my eyes I saw that it
was a collar. He held it there for a moment for me to recognize it and
absorb the fact then pulling my head forward whipped the leather around my
neck and buckled t tight. He reached again and this time showed me a short
chain and padlock nestling in the palm of his hand. Again he pulled me
forward and the chain went round my neck and the padlock clicked shut. He
adjusted the fall of the chain using it as he did so draw me back into the
strait backed kneeling position I'd take up before. The padlock fell cold
and hard just resting in the hollow at the base of my throat.

He took my chin in one hand and lifted my head so that I was looking right
at him. He smiled very slightly as he looked at me then told me that the
dog collar was only a momentary convenience but that the chain would remain
as long as I was in his service.

He moved his grip to the back of my head and slowly pressed down. I tried
to settle into the posture I'd had before but the pressure continued, slow
but firm until my forehead rested on the carpet. Full out on your belly I
was told and with his hand still holding my head I wriggled myself flat.
His hand withdrew and he used a foot to coax me into turning my head then
the foot came down and rested on my cheek, pressing on me so I could feel
the pile of the carpet hard against the other side of my face. He rested
there for a moment and told me to remember this, that I was now his
property. I'd been caught and imprisoned, judged and sentenced but I would
remember this as the moment in which I truly realised what it all meant.
His foot moved off of me after another lengthy moment and a final push only
to come to the carpet directly in front of my nose while I felt his other
rest at the back of my head. More rustling then my wrists were cuffed
behind my back. Then he reached down a last time and fiddled with the
leather collar. He stood and a pressure on the collar brought me up, right
up until I was standing. He let his arm drop and moved the collar round so
that I saw that I was leashed with a chain the other end of which ended at
a wrist strap on his arm. His free hand reached for a last time into the
draw and came back into sight holding a riding crop.

He lifted the crop and ran it's end across my chest, tapping a few times at
my tits. You will, he told me, address me as "master". You will acknowledge
every order by saying "Yes Master". You will not otherwise speak except to
answer a direct question and if your answer is anything except yes Master
you;d better be sure it's the right answer. If you see a need to speak in
other circumstances you will say please Master and wait. If permission is
not indicated you remain silent. The I made the stupidest mistake in the
book. Asked if I understood I just said yes and immediately the crop moved
three times and came down stingingly on my belly and each thigh. The
question repeated this time I got it right and said yes Master. He picked
up the grey institution uniform form the desk and stuffed it into my bound
hands then without a word he walked towards the door and after an instant's
tugging while I worked out what he was doing the leash pulled me after him.
Out of the door and through the hall that way I'd come in. Down the
corridor he opened and entered a door. Kitchen he said, somewhat
redundantly as that was very obviously what it was and a well appointed one
too. Pointing with the crop to doors on the right he named them, dry store
and cold store. Then he lead me to the left into a windowless room.
Scullery. Through another door to a room that he didn't bother naming which
contained two large low sinks and shelves full of cleaning materials and
another door - this one steel with lock on the outside - to a larger
equally windowless room.

This space was square, eight meters to a side and the ceiling four high,
well out of reach, bright with fluorescent tubes. He carefully showed me
the details. At the far side a narrow iron bed pointed into the room it's
head standing half a meter away from the wall it was bolted to the floor.
Chains hung from rings welded at head, foot and three places on each side.
On iron slats a rubber covered foam mattress not three centimetres thick.
Folded at the foot a grey blanket and two nylon sheets.

Against the wall to the left of the bed a rail hanging from which hung
clothes he pointed at and enumerated. Seven plain white nylon shirts, two
dress pattern. Seven pale blue. Three pairs of black trousers, two matching
jackets. One waist-coat. A boiler suit and three nylon house jackets. A set
of nylon pyjamas. On the shelf below the hanging items carefully stacked
were nylon shorts, seven pairs white three black three blue. White vests
and T-shirts. Two dozen pairs of over the calf stockings. Black ties of
both the strait and bow variety and several sets of braces. Last, and at
this I think I blanched, a pile of terry cloth napkins and three pairs of
plastic pants to go with them. Yes, he confirmed, I'd be wearing these as
part of my uniform so that my service to him wouldn't ever be delayed by
toilet breaks.

To the right of the bed two steel cabinets. He unlocked and opened the
first and showed me that it was full of more nylon clothes. These he said I
might wear if I were allowed outside and if he permitted. Meantime they
would remain locked away. Reaching round to take the uniform shirt and
shorts from my hands he threw them into the cabinet, closed and locked it
then opened the second to display shelves full of chains, shackles and
other more complex equipment of restraint. He withdrew two sets of shackles
and quickly replaced the leather on my wrists with steel and snapped the
others around my ankles. Putting the leather cuffs away in a compartment he
closed and locked this cabinet and turned me to look at the rest of the room.

In the corner to the right of the door was fixed a cage. Real bars rather
than the mesh of the travelling cages I'd been put in before. A little less
than a meter high and wide I was shown how the end element could be slotted
in to make the space anything from under a meter to well over two in length.

The walls were rendered in smooth cement, unpainted. On each side three
rows of staples held rings, one above two meters up, the second about waist
height and the last just above the floor. That was a concrete screed and
sloped towards the corner to the left of the door where two taps, a fixed
shower head and a hose were fixed in the wall. This he explained was where
I'd clean myself. One tap for the hose the other for the shower. Both
delivered just warm water and the temperature could not be adjusted. A
small shelf held shower heads and enema attachments for the hose and from
the ceiling above hung a pair of chains.

That was every detail and finished with his explanations he turned me
around and from behind slipped a Lycra hood that I had not know he had over
my head. Unable to see he moved me, released the chain between my manacles
and attached more that drew my arms above my head. More chains rattled and
the leg irons were drawn apart until the chain between them was tight. I
heard water running and that was some warning of what was coming but I
still gasped when a stream of it hit me. A hard slap on my arse and the
command to be silent. He must have gone through the door briefly to the
cleaning room for supplies because after a moment I heard the hiss of an
aerosol and cold foam was slapped on my arm. Methodically and in silence
except for the small noises of aerosol, razor and the occasional splash of
water he shaved off every hair I'd possessed below my collar. You will, he
said conversationally, keep yourself shaved. To do so you may use the tool
washing sinks next door, after all you are one of my tools. You'll find a
mirror there too.

Finished and rinsed off the water sounds stopped and I heard him walk over
and open one of the cabinets. The hood was lifted to my nose and a tongue
gag forced into my mouth. He detached me from the restraining chains and
moved me once more, this time up against a wall where again I was chained
immobile in place.

Unlike the water no recognisable sound gave me warning of the whip that
struck my back. After half a dozen strokes he paused and said that I'd be
more obedient and work harder if I knew what the alternative was. It's an
education he said and then took up again with the whip. I thought that I
could stand anything he did but it didn't take long to disabuse me of that
idea. It didn't take long to break me to sobs but he didn't stop for a
while even after that.

While I was still crying he moved me so I was restrained with my back to
the wall. I was afraid that he'd whip my front but instead he fitted
something around my cock and balls then he let me lose from the wall,
pushed me to the floor and adjusted the chains on my shackles to very short
lengths and connected them together. Another pause and then I felt
something cold being applied to my arse, a cream worked into my hole
swiftly followed by something hard that was pushed up and forced into me
until my sphincter clenched around it. He removed the gag and restored the
hood to cover the whole of my head. Then the leash tugged and a slap of the
riding crop on my arse to make me crawl. Shuffling along as fast as the
short chains permitted I was soon in the cage and I heard the door clang
shut. He left without another word.

I don't know how long he left me but by the time he returned I'd recovered
from the immediate pain of the beating if not the shock, got over the
little anger and begun to settle in my mind the reality that not only could
he do this, he had. He drew me out of the cage with tugs on my chains and
released me from the manacles and leg irons and my the collar leash drew me
up to my feet. Now, he said, you are going to behave aren't you. The
inflection was more of a statement than a question but still I replied yes
Master and that seemed to satisfy him for he removed the leather dog collar
and pulled off the hood.

Collar and hood he dropped on the floor and then instructed me to pick them
up and come. At the equipment cabinet he unlocked the door and had me stow
them properly, the collar laid flat in a cubby with others and the hood
turned right way out and put in a draw.

He re-locked the cabinet and turned away. Under precise orders he had me
make up the scant bedding and told me that failing to do so any morning
would result in me sleeping for a week without even that much. The he
turned then to the clothes rail and explained that the blue shirts were for
working in, the white for serving him personally. The dress shirts were for
waiting at table lunches and dinners which were formal in this house, the
waistcoat for breakfast and other less formal occasions. The uses of the
other items would be obvious. Next, using the crop to indicate it, he
explained that the device that he'd fitted around my cock and balls would
prevent erections and that it would only be removed at his choice. The plug
in my arse would come out at a specified time each day to permit defecation
and otherwise only if he or one of his guests wished to fuck me. That
didn't bother me unduly, after all I was gay but usually I'd been active: I
didn't look forward to the prospect of being penetrated.

The he instructed me in dressing. First fold a nappy around myself and hold
it in place with a pair of plastic pants. Over these a pair of white nylon
shorts, the black were to be used only for heavy outdoor labour. Then a
pair of stockings, a vest and a shirt - white for the moment. Trousers with
braces to keep them up. Tie knotted tight up to the collar and as I
adjusted it I couldn't help but feel the padlock on the collar chain under
it. Last the jacket. No shoes as footwear was prohibited in the house and
any that might be required later was locked in the clothes cabinet.

He told me that I might change my nappy on rising, immediately before
serving a meal or on retiring but only if I had soiled it. He ordered me to
follow him through to the service room next door and let me examine the
great sinks. I was told that after serving the Master his breakfast and
before commencing the rest of my duties I would be permitted to relieve
myself and showed me a previously unnoticed door beyond the sinks which
lead to a water closet half a meter square, a porcelain squatting hole set
in the floor and a flush cord reaching up to a tank above. At that time
each morning I was to shower in my 'room', clean my arse with the enema
hose and dress for the day. The first task was to wash nappies used the
previous day in the sinks; once a week a slightly longer time would be
allotted to allow for the laundering of used clothes and sheets which, like
the nappies, were to be hung to dry on a rack that lowered from the
ceiling. Being nylon they'd dry rapidly and the sheets were to be returned
to the bed and the clothes to the rail before dinner.

The next regular task was cleaning the house for which the necessary
equipment and materials were all stored in this room. Then I'd prepare
lunch. Walking through to the scullery he pointed out dishwashers but said
they were only to be used when eight or more dined, glass and silver was
always to be polished by hand and pots scoured regardless of numbers. In
the kitchen he pointed out the appropriate cupboards and utensils for me to
make him coffee during which process he explained the bell board. It would
indicate which room had rung and I would immediately present myself
wherever that might be for orders. There were a intimidatingly large number
of little flags which along with the brass bell hanging above looked
decidedly antiquated. Then he showed me a more modern addition, a
watch-like device that I could wear on my wrist if out of range of the
bell. It would vibrate and display a number on its face when the bell was
rung and I would have to learn the association between numbers and rooms.
When I'd presented myself if the orders required that I return for some
personal service as now with the coffee I was to change into a white shirt
before doing so.

When I'd arranged coffee pot and the attendant paraphernalia on a salver
the Master bad me follow him out into the corridor. He showed what lay
behind the door on the other side from the kitchen complex. One lead to
stairs going down to the cellars. Then a laundry with various machines to
care for the Master's needs and those of the rest of the household, myself
excepted of course. The next a workshop which was locked. The fourth to an
expansive garage containing a number of vehicles and the last to a tiny
office furnished only with a file cabinet and a small, high desk where I
would prepare the household accounts, standing it seemed.

Back down the corridor past the kitchen and out into the hall. He returned
to the study and started instructing me in the way he wished to be served.
I was to carry the tray in, pause at the door heels together and bow. The
advance to the desk and put the tray down, pour coffee and place the cup on
the desk by the Master's right hand then step back, feet apart, hands
clasped at the small of my back and head bowed to wait for further
instructions or to be dismissed.

It was here he explained that he did what work he had to and usually in the
mornings after breakfast. Rising and taking the cup he again lead me back
to the hall and showed me library, music room, large dining hall, a smaller
dining room, a sitting room and a snug parlour. Upstairs he said were large
and small drawing rooms and two master suites one of which he occupied.
Above that guest rooms and topping all the attics. Keep all of this clean
would be my responsibility.

He had me collect the tray from the study and deposited his now empty cup
on it and returned to the kitchens where he had me leave it in the
scullery. Turning back he opened the door to the cellars and descended, me
following. The first level was brick vaulted and stone floored and seemed
to run the extent of the house. Much was taken up with wine racks, mostly
full and cabinets full of other beverages. The next level down was mixed
stone and concrete, thick walls obviously supporting the house above
divided the space with steel doors between. The first area had the utility
feeds, the second was a corridor on one side of which were two holding
cells formed of iron bars while on the other two isolation cells built in
brick with more steel doors. The last section could only be described as a
dungeon - if it wasn't called a torture chamber. He gave me a moment to
absorb the many means of restraining a body and the variety of whips hung
on the wall. Then he said that the beating I'd received earlier was just
mild instruction. When he felt that I needed punishment this was available
to him to ensure that I did not quickly forget the required lesson.

Back upstairs I followed the Mater to the small dining room and under
instruction laid the table. For one. In the kitchens he showed me that the
makings of a simple meal had been prepared. First I laid out smoked salmon
and made slices of Melba toast to accompany it. Then assembled a salad and
dressing both of which were taken to the sideboard in the dining room. Then
potatoes set to sauté and a steak ready to fry. Rushing back to my room
under the stinging encouragement of the riding crop I changed into a dress
shirt and black bow tie. Not yet having pissed myself I had no need to
chance my nappy. Cloth over my arm I served the Master the smoked salmon
and returned to cook the steak, quickly donning a house coat to protect my
uniform form chance splashes of fat. Meat and vegetables on chafing dishes
for the sideboard I cleared the first course away and served the main then
dressed the salad and presented as accompaniment. At first I stood as
instructed against the wall between door and sideboard, at attention
waiting for some signal that I was required. After some time the Master
gestured me over and with hand signals indicated that I was to kneel beside
his chair. After a while his hand came down holding a piece of potato
delicately between thumb and forefinger. The word open was clear enough and
he put the morsel into my mouth. A few more times he did this, on each
occasion presenting his fingers for me to wipe with my waiter's cloth.

When he was finished he had me stand and clear the table off to the
sideboard, then clear the sideboard to the kitchen. He showed me a low
cupboard from which to fetch a dog's bowl into which the remaining food was
scraped and all the dishes put in the scullery to be attended to in the
morning. Not, he said, that I was to think I would always get away with
that but on this evening he wanted me for other things.

In the library the Master had me serve him cognac, warming the glass then
pouring the liquor without splashing and presenting it on a small salver.
As when he had eaten I stood at the side of the room to start with and
again he gestured me forward and had me kneel, this time directly in front
of him. The next instructions were given in a cool, precise voice and I
followed them, undoing his fly drawing out his gentiles and putting my lips
around his cock. The instructions continued as he taught me how he liked to
be sucked, a cuff round the ear when I didn't immediately please him. I
knelt there and worked on his cock while he sat back and sipped his cognac
until I could feel the beginning of pulses running through his genitals. He
set the glass aside and grabbed my head, forcing me onto his cock, forcing
his cock into me as he came shudderingly and hot right down my throat. It
was only those last seconds that he'd been deep within me but it was enough
to make me gag. When he withdrew I choked down the convulsions of my
stomach with tears in my eyes. He let me for a moment then slapped me,
harder than he had that afternoon, to bring me back to attention. The
Master had me restore his clothing then after a pause he leant forward and
started playing with my tits through the material of my shirt and vest. Not
satisfied he ordered that I unbutton my shirts and push up my vest. The he
put his hands inside my shirt and resumed his fondling rolling my tits
between thumb and forefinger, pinching first one then the other then both
at once. At that I tried to draw back slightly but he pinched tighter,
holding me. Don't ever, he said, flinch away from me. You belong to me and
you'll accept whatever I choose to do. For that your tits will be clamped
and for choking earlier you've earned a whipping. Tomorrow will be soon
enough for that. He withdrew his hands and sat back.

Without ordering me to re-arrange my clothing he lead me back through
kitchen and scullery to the service room. Here he had me strip. Stockings,
shorts and vest in the wash basket with the blue shirt I'd worn earlier and
the grey prison uniform I'd arrived in retrieved from the cabinet where
he'd thrown it. Dress shirt, trousers and jacket returned to the rail. My
nappy was inspected and as I still hadn't pissed myself it remained on.
Over the plastic pants a pair of the blue nylon shorts. Night wear he said.
Come winter I might get to use the pyjamas, or I might not. He lead me back
to the kitchen where he lifted the dog's bowl full of scraps to the floor.
Kneel and eat. Any other time I might have hesitated or even balked but I'd
not yet eaten that day and hunger didn't pause for thought about the
circumstances so I reached forward for the bowl only to have the crop come
down twice, viciously across my shoulders. No hands he snapped, you'll not
earn that privilege for some while. As I ate, mouth in the bowl of
left-overs he filled another with water and set it down beside me. Drink he
said when I'd finished the food and I did, putting my mouth down to the water.

Done he took me back to the rear room and had me get into the bed. He
lifted the chains fixed at the corners and snapped cuffs around my wrists
and ankles. There was enough play in them that I could move about and try
to get comfortable on the thin mattress but I couldn't have got off the
bed. Nor could I bring my hands further down than my chest. He twisted my
tits again, smiling at my discomfort and then drew his hand down to my
crotch where he squeezed. Despite the nylon, plastic and terry cloth
intervening it was painful and to my astonishment I found my cock trying to
rise only to feel more pain as the plastic device it was locked in
prevented nay such thing. At that he laughed a little, withdrew his hand
and covered my with the top sheet and blanket. Eventually, he said, you'll
see me to bed and, if I don't want you, bring yourself down here I'll know
that you'll behave because I can see. And he pointed into the upper corners
of the room where small black domes protruded, doubtless cameras. But for
the moment, while you settle in I think I'd like to see you safely chained
up for the night. If you're good I might make you cum at the end of the
week. Goodnight boy. With those last words he turned and left, shutting the
door behind him. I waited long enough to wonder if I was expected to sleep
in the bright light when the tubes went out plunging the room into utter
darkness. So ended my first day in the service of my Master.

Copyright 2005 Matthew Malthouse