Date: Tue, 1 Jul 2008 14:00:21 -0700 (PDT)
From: Harry Rod <harryrod575@yahoo.com>
Subject: What choice do you have - alternate ending 1

Alternate Ending 1  - I received many emails regarding where this story
should go -- so I am presenting two alternative endings.  You can write and
tell me which one you prefer.

***

I handed him his jacket as I entered the open door to my apartment. 
Standing inside the door, I looked around in disbelief.  There was nothing
there. Nothing.  I ran into the bedroom, and it was the same - empty.  The
cable wire seemed to have been cut, and the telephone wire ripped out of
the wall.   

Even the stove and refrigerator were gone!  And they came with the
apartment.  I sat down naked in the empty living room and pulled my legs to
my chest and began rocking.  Everything I had in the world was gone.  No
keys, no wallet, no money, nothing.   

I felt a hand on my shoulder; I looked up through watering eyes, and saw
the man was still there.  He was holding out his jacket to me and said,
"You can stay at my place until you get things squared away." 

I shrugged my shoulders, not able to speak.  He said, "I mean, what choice
do you have?" 

I sat there rocking, feeling despair overwhelm me.  He was right: what
choice did I have.   

Then I was being kicked awake.  It was a dream!  I jerked up and looked
around.  It was a dream.  But a dream of what had happened.    

It has been a year now, and it has pretty much gotten into a routine.  He
no longer stays at the apartment with me.  But he has it set up so that I
have a pile of sheets and blankets to sleep in.  He cuffs one arm to a
chain on the wall when he leaves.  I can move from my nest in the corner to
the other corner with the seatless toilet in it.  The little sink is near
by, with a little pantry box in the middle of the wall, below where the
chain is connected, within reach as well.   

I didn't spend a lot of time in the apartment; I was basically taken there
to sleep when they were done with me.   

Each morning, he would come by and usually kick me awake, because I so
groggy from not having gotten to sleep until 3 or 4 in the morning.  He
would have me use the toilet while he watched; give me some granola bars
and water for breakfast, and allow me to wash my face and give myself a
sponge bath.   

I get to use one of the pieces of cloth from my nest to dry.  He always
brings my clothes with him, and takes them away at night, not that there is
much to them.  The jeans I wear are so holey that half my ass shows
through, and the rips in the front leave my dick and balls in view,
depending on how I walk or sit.   

And my t-shirt is ripped in so many places that it hardly covers anything. 
I have slip-on shoes that have soles so thin that they are barely keeping
my feet clean.   

I have gotten used to the stares and remarks that I get as we enter a shop,
restaurant or bar.  He enjoys seeing the reactions of the people at my near
nakedness.   

Occasionally, he will put in me in skin tight spandex white shorts, which
are about 4 sizes too small.  Every bit of my cock is outlined, and you can
tell that I have been circumcised.  And it is rare that I am not at least
semi-hard when I am wearing them, and sometimes he gives me a Viagra before
we go out.   

I used to try and push my dick down over the top of my balls to disguise as
much as possible of my situation.  But he would always stop me when we were
outside, and reach down the front of my spandex, shorts while we stood on
the street, and adjust my cock until it ran sideways away from my crotch,
making it obscenely on display.  I got used to looking down so I wouldn't
see the looks on people's faces as he so blatantly adjusted me in public. 
 

When I wore these shorts, he had a tight spandex tank top that showed off
my nipple rings.   

When I had this outfit on, and he had perceived some infraction on my part
or some act of defiance, he would pour water over my crotch, making the
pants nearly transparent.   

And if I were wearing the holey jeans, he would take a rip and make it
larger.   

We would leave the apartment in the morning, and he would take me by public
transportation to some location in the city.  I always had to sit in a seat
that was visible to anyone who boarded or walked by.  I had long ago
learned that I was not to close my legs or hide my crotch with my hands.   

The first time I had tried to cover my crotch with my hands; he took out a
pair of handcuffs and cuffed my hands behind my back.  Then he had reached
over and ripped the hole in my crotch that left me completely exposed.   

And the time I tried to keep my legs together, he moved them apart and
punched me in the nuts so hard I thought I was going to throw up.   

He would pick some shop, park, or public place to take me.  Then, depending
on the location, he would find some way to humiliate me.  At restaurants, I
had to sit on the floor next to him and he would feed me as he saw fit.   

In a couple of the places that seemed to be populated only by adults, he
would chew up his food and then have me open my mouth so he could spit it
in.  I had learned to accept the food, because he controlled what and when
I could eat.   

And after several days of no food, or only dry dog food, I would learn my
lesson and accept whatever he gave me, however he gave it.  

In bars, I had to kneel at his feet as he sat on a bar stool.  He would
either piss in a beer mug and pour it down my throat, to the laughter of
the other patrons, or unzip and just piss down my throat.  This brought
about even louder laughter.   

If it was raining, I would always be in my spandex outfit, while he wore a
raincoat and hat.  It didn't matter if it was a cold rain or a warm one, I
was paraded around malls or restaurants after getting soaked in the rain. I
was never given a coat or hat, not matter what the temperature was.   

He had a gym that he took me to several times a week, where he had someone
who worked me into a sweat each time.  But I had to workout naked.  The
guys in the gym still razzed me about it.  And at least once a week, I was
given a Viagra prior to arriving.   

The trainer worked with me in a semi-private corner of the gym, but that
didn't mean that I couldn't be seen when people walked by, or walking back
and forth to the locker room.   

Depending on where we were going to go next, I would be allowed to shower
or not.  After some of the workouts, I stunk so bad that it was difficult
for me to tolerate myself.  Once, he kept me that way for a week, sweating
me up and not letting me shower.  People would start moving away from me
when they got within 10 feet of me.   

Some of the people I would be given to in the afternoons would want me to
smell, and others wanted me clean.   

If I was allowed to shower, I had to do so in the middle of the showers. 
If I had a boner, I had to jerk off in the shower until I came.  It took me
a while to get to where I didn't cry every time I had to do this.   

And the guys learned that it only added to my humiliation to call me nasty
names or to touch me anywhere they wanted.   

I knew there were a couple of gay men there that really got off on stroking
my dick or ass as they walked by.  The others would hoot and laugh at my
reactions.   

There was one mean son of a bitch that, whenever he came across me in the
locker room or showers, would walk up and knee me in the balls, doubling me
over.   

And if any man wanted a blowjob, I had to provide it - right there in front
of the whole locker room.  Of course, there was the time a mean man fucked
me on the bench in front of his locker while other cheered him on.   

I only was given a washcloth to dry with, so I was never ever able to cover
myself.  If I had to take a dump, I was not allowed to close the toilet
stall door, no matter where I was.  If I went to a one-person toilet that
had a lock on the door to the restroom, I was not allowed to lock it.   

I had more guys walk in on me while pissing or taking a dump.  I was not
allowed to tell them to leave or say anything negative to them.   

I had a group of high school guys walk in on me sitting on the toilet. 
When I didn't say or do anything, they took out their dicks and started
pissing on me.  They were laughing away as I sat there letting them do it. 
 

I had learned my lesson.  I had rebelled a couple of times, or mouthed off
when I couldn't take any more.  He would promptly take me to one of the
many places he knew about. I would be stripped and tied up to chains in the
ceiling.   

These were usually some kind of bar or backroom.  Guys would gather round
while I was whipped.  It was right out of some roman gladiator movie.  I
was whipped until I had marks across my back, and sometimes bled.  I could
hardly walk when I was released from the restraints.  

When he was finished, I was broken; I would do anything he asked. 
Occasionally he would push, and I would balk at some new extreme situation,
and I would be brought back to one of these locations.  He loved selling
off the chance to beat me.  I found out there are some mean assholes out in
the cruel world.   

After it was over, and we were heading back to the apartment, he would say,
"What choice do you have?"   

Now, I know.  I haven't had one of those kinds of beatings for a number of
months.  I have become resigned, and dull to these things.  There are still
situations that cause me to blush.   

I think he sits around and thinks of new ways to humiliate or debase me;
some new way to get me to blush.  Some of these have included taking me to
a barbershop, having me strip and being shaved all over while patrons came
and went; taking me to a leather store and having me strip and being fitted
for a harness while other customers watched; having me give a guy a blow
job at the back of a city bus while the his friends stood around and
watched; putting me over his knee in the city park, pulling down my pants
and spanking me.   

The people in our building have gotten used to seeing me naked around the
building: taking out the garbage for him, checking his mail, or just having
to walk up the stairs.  There were times when I would be chained to the
wall, but the door to the apartment would be left open.   

I was learning that I never had privacy.  And he pushed this as well.  I
had to squat in the park a couple of times and take a dump.   

He scouted various glory holes and would strip me and leave me there for
hours so I had to service anyone who wanted to use me in any way.   

But it was the afternoon sessions that really got to me.  I never knew how
I would be used, by how many people, and for what purpose.   

I used to tremble when he would pick me up for the afternoon sessions.  Now
I was more resigned.  He used to work on me to get me to be more
enthusiastic about the sessions; and my forced smiles, that I put on
because I knew I would be beaten if I didn't, weren't very satisfactory. 
So he didn't make me do that any more.   

There were times when I couldn't help myself, and I would get so turned on
and involved in a situation that I let my true feelings of lust show.   

He often kept a chastity device on my dick and balls for weeks at a time. 
The small plastic cage kept me from getting to my cock to bring myself
off.  And it was extremely painful if I began to get hard.  I do remember
one particular fuck session.  My ass and prostate were so powerfully worked
by some hugely hung man that I had a very painful orgasm inside the
confines of the rigid plastic cage.   

My cock had swollen through the bars, and when I came the pain and pleasure
were so mixed up I didn't know whether to cry or moan in ecstasy.   

He had found that doing this got me so horny and eager that I was often
more eager to participate when it was removed.   

These afternoon sessions were vast and varied. He seemed to be demonic
about the situations he could come up with.  Some of them were in backrooms
of bars or clubs.  Others were in private homes.  And I don't know how he
arranged it but some of them were in gyms, or jails, or offices after
hours.   

All of them centered around me being used or abused.  I had lost track of
all of them; they had begun to run together.   

I had been put in a sling and used for hours by all the guys that passed
through.  He took me to a black tie party and I had to perform on a large
table for the people in the group.  It ended with me being fucked by a
dog.   

I was strung up in a jail and used by the "inmates" for what seemed like
days.  He had made it so realistic that I wondered if I hadn't been snuck
into a real jail and left there.  The guards all laughed at my situation
and took turns using their batons in my ass, when the inmates weren't
around.   

At one point, when I had scraped some man's dick with my teeth, he
threatened to take me to a dentist and have him remove all my teeth and fit
me with dentures, and to do it all without anesthetic.  I completely lost
it then;  I crumpled to the floor and cried for hours.  The man's dick had
been huge!  I had really tried to keep my teeth out of the way!  I begged
him.   

Often when we were out, he would stop in front of a dentist's office and
ask me if I was ready for my new teeth.  My heart would palpitate, and I
would start sweating.  With him, you never knew when he was kidding or if
he really meant it.  There was nothing he wouldn't do.   

We were walking along a jogging trail and he said, "I think I'll strip you
and tie you to the tree.  We can see if we can interest some guy into
fucking you." I was sure he was kidding.   

He stopped, and told me to strip.  I nervously removed my jeans and shirt,
sure that any moment he would relent.  But he marched me up to the tree,
had me hug it, and then tied my hands together.  Any man that came up to me
I was to invite to fuck me.   

Several men stopped to see what was wrong and were repulsed by my
solicitation.  One guy laughed and slapped my ass before leaving.  Once
actually pushed his shorts down and forced himself inside me.  As he fucked
me, my dick was rubbed raw against the bark of the tree.   

Another time, he left me naked in a one-hole men's room, and I had to ask
every man if I could drink their piss or suck them.  He left me there for
hours.  If I was asked why I was doing this, I was to answer, "My master
wanted me to please as many men as I could today."  There was great
laughter.  By the time he fetched me, I was covered in piss and cum and had
sucked and been fucked by dozens of men, often while others watched.   

The sadists were the worst.  There was almost nothing he wouldn't let
people do to me.  He wouldn't let them cut me, or do things like pull out
fingernails, but he didn't mind if they beat me, or whipped me, or put
clothespins or needles on or in me.   

I had been tattooed on one ass check; it said "my little boy," and he had a
heart branded into my other cheek.  I couldn't sit down for a week after
that, but he found a bunch of guy's that enjoyed fucking me while it
healed.  It caused a great deal of pain each time they pounded my ass.   

He put a birthday candle down my piss slit, and laughed as I begged him to
blow out the flame as it burned down closer and closer to my dick.  Just as
it began to burn, he laughed and blew it out.   

He used sounds on my dick, and continued to increase the size of them.  And
it never mattered to him if they hurt me or not; it was what he wanted.  He
loved to watch the reactions on my face as the sounds sank down the length
of my shaft.   

He video taped almost every afternoon session.  I heard him tell someone
that he was making a mint selling the vids on line.  I never heard anyone
use his name; in my mind, I called him Bill.  And the few times I was
allowed to speak, I was only to call him Sir or Master.   

During one unbearable session with electrodes, I screamed out he was a
"mother fucker."  He turned up the voltage and laughed while I screamed.   

I was beaten for that, of course, and had to wear a gag for a week.  It had
a hole that he would put a tube through and push into my mouth.  The tube
was attached to a funnel.  Whatever he put in the funnel ran into my
mouth.  There was no way to spit it out.  The gag sealed my mouth.  If the
fluid in the funnel didn't flow down, he punched me in the stomach to make
me swallow.   

He laughed at some of the concoctions he came up with.  One of the days he
poured a half bottle of cod liver oil down it.  I nearly heaved it all up,
but it wouldn't have gone anywhere.  I had to sit on the toilet for hours
after that.  He sat and laughed as I gushed and gushed into the toilet.   

Other times he would pour a mixture of piss and sour milk down it.  Or he
would mix maple syrup and cayenne pepper.  My eyes watered, and I thought I
was going to burn up from that one.   

And cum - I don't how he came up with the containers of cum, but he would
have a half cup around that he would pour down the funnel.   

Once he made a popsicle out of it and shoved it up my ass.  He laughed as I
squirmed from the cold.   

He also put funnels in the other end.  He would feed a hose into my ass and
fill the funnel with gin, piss, warm chocolate, ice cold water, or very hot
water.   

One of his friends hung me upside down and had a hose run from my dick to
my mouth.   

There was one very sadistic Korean man that would buy me for a night at
least once a month.  I always dreaded the nights with him.  He used
everything on me.   

Once I was drugged, bound, and wrapped in rubber with only a straw leading
into one nostril so I could breathe.  The hallucinogenic trip, that I went
on while immobilized, nearly broke what was left of my mind.   

I lay curled in a ball, naked in my pile of rags for days after that.  I
think that Bill came by and checked on me now and then.  I remember a
cackling laugh and someone saying over and over, "What choice do you
have?"   

There would be nights where the guy I was with was so tender, caring and
loving, that I kept waiting for the pain, humiliation, or abuse.  I knew it
would come.  It always did.  I knew it would.  I couldn't relax my guard
for an instant.   

When a night of this gentle sex ended without something happening, I knew I
still had been had, because I couldn't enjoy it - waiting for something to
happen.   

Bill never had me do anything with children, but that was about it. 
Animals, men and women, were all used on me.   

I remember him taking me up in an office building and, just as the elevator
door was to open on a floor, he made me remove my clothes.  When the doors
opened, he pushed me out and waved as the doors closed.   

I was in an office full of women.  They laughed and played with me for an
hour or so.  I had to be thoroughly inspected to make sure I wasn't hiding
anything.  Then I had to jerk off for them.   

They laughed and smirked at this shaved naked man left for their
amusement.  They used permanent markers to sign their names and to write
faggot, pervert, deliveries in the rear, and pictures of cocks all over
me.  They especially enjoyed writing on my cock and balls.  My cock never
seemed to go down while I was there, and I wondered if he had given me a
Viagra prior to arrival.   

I was not turned on by the women; it was the humiliation that got to me.   

He rented me out to some bikers for a night.  They put me on the back of
one of their motorcycles, with only a pair of very short baggy shorts and
nothing else.  They took me out into the warehouse district and passed me
around and used me for 6 or 7 hours, their women laughing as the men fucked
me or made me suck them.   

They brought me back about four in the morning, naked, and bound to the
back of one of the bikes.  They cut me loose in front of my building.  I
practically had to crawl up the stairs, I was so worn out.  

Seven am, Bill was there kicking me awake.  And the routine would start all
over.   

When someone asked him why I did everything I did, he would laugh and say,
"What choice does he have?"   

Then it all changed one day.  He kicked me awake and, as I worked to focus
my sleep deprived eyes, I saw that he wasn't alone.  The Korean man was
with him.   

My stomach clinched in fear.  I had only been with him at night.  And the
hours I had spent with him had been the scariest of my life since becoming
Bill's slave.  And that was saying quite a bit. 

Bill must have seen the look on my face because he grinned.  I cowered in
the corner as my eyes focused.   

"This is Mr. Suk; he has enjoyed his times with you."  He watched the
expression on my face.   

"He has offered me a considerable amount of money for you," he smiled
wickedly. My stomach turned over in fear.  I looked at Mr. Suk, who had a
devilish grin on his face.   

I didn't dare express my horror, but I was about ready to risk a beating by
pleading and begging Bill.   

Mr. Suk spoke then. "This man values you very much.  It was not an easy
bargain and will cost me over a million dollars.  But I have long waited to
find the perfect willing subject for my pleasures.  You have provided many
hours of incredible ecstasy for me.  Now I will enjoy you whenever I wish,
for as long as I wish."   

I looked at Bill to see if this was one of his cruel jokes.  The smile on
his face was broad and as unrevealing as always.  Then it hit.  A million
dollars!  If that was true, I knew that Bill would never turn that down.   

"You can see that he requires very little to meet his needs.  I do have a
trainer work with him to continue to improve his physique and stamina." 
Bill was indicating the squalor that I lived in.  Again, Mr. Suk smiled.   

He turned to Bill. Bill opened a bag that he was carrying and handed out a
steel collar and a leash.  Mr. Suk came over and put the collar around my
throat, closed it, and then secured it with a small but solid looking
padlock.  I had noticed characters on the collar.   

"The collar says, 'This dog belongs to Mr. Suk.' You will wear it as long
as you live."  The way he said that made me wonder how long that would be. 
I shivered. 

He attached a leash made of metal links to the collar.  Meanwhile, Bill had
unlocked the cuff from my wrist.  I still thought this was one of his cruel
jokes.  As Mr. Suk pulled on the leash and headed to the front door, I
turned to look at Bill.   

He shrugged his shoulders and said, "What choice did I have?"  

I followed Mr. Suk down the stairs and out onto the street.  Once on the
street, pedestrians walked by and stared at the naked man at the end of a
leash.  Mr. Suk pulled on the leash and led me down the block to a waiting
car.   

While Bill had often paraded me around naked, it hadn't been in such an
uncaring way.  Mr. Suk definitely walked, pulling my leash, as if I was
only a pet.   

I had become so trained not to cover my crotch that, as it began to harden,
I didn't reach to hide it.  At a dark town car, he stopped.  

A man opened a door and stepped out.  He opened the door for Mr. Suk, who
got in and I was left standing on the sidewalk.  The man then went to the
trunk, and opened it, indicating that I should climb in.   

I climbed in and had just arranged myself when the trunk was shut, and I
was locked in.  On the long drive, my mind whirled and my stomach churned. 
I still held out hope that this was one of Bill's elaborate jokes to fuck
with my mind, like the dentist story.   

Would Mr. Suk want to remove my teeth?  I shivered, not from the cold but
from nerves.   

The car finally stopped and I heard doors opening and then shutting.  The
trunk was opened, and Mr. Suk stood there.  He took the chain as I got out,
and pulled me along until he reached a wooden box.  It was a long box.  He
told me to get in and lie down.   

I blanched, as I climbed into the box and laid down.  My heart started
pounding as a lid was lifted over the box and lowered.  It was about 3
inches from my face.   

I started hyperventilating.  It was a coffin!  I was going to be buried
alive!  I started screaming when they started nailing down the lid.  I
thrashed around in the narrow confines of the box.  I was begging,
pleading, screaming, and crying.  I offered to do anything if they would
let me out.  I even screamed our that they could pull out all my teeth, if
they would just not kill me.   

I screamed and fought the inside of the box; panicking more and more the
longer I was in there.  I didn't notice, at first, the motion of the box. 
It had been lifted, and was moving along in a rocking motion; I heard water
splashing somewhere.   

That brought a new rash of screaming and pounding on my part.  By now, I
was hoarse. I still pounded on the box, bloodying my hands.   

Then the box was set down.  I heard mumbled voices talking, then other
noises until I realized that I was on a plane.   

I think I passed out someplace along there.  I was sure it was from lack of
oxygen.   

I woke up to the screech of the nails being pulled from the lid of the
box.  My heart raced; I was going to be freed!   

It took a moment or two for my eyes to adjust to the bright lights.  Two
men were there to help me out of the box.  I looked back at my coffin and
realized that, by the foot, there were holes in the sides and lids.  I
wouldn't have run out of oxygen.  Still I didn't ever want to go back in
there.   

The two men took me to the toilet and kept the door open while I took a
piss.  They gave me some strange tasting water, but it was cold and helped
my parched throat.   

A blindfold was placed over my head and tied tightly.  I was then led along
a passage.  I could tell it was a narrow passage, because the guards moved
one in front and one behind.   

Wherever I was led there were people, because I heard a murmur of voices. 
They stopped me and put my hands up and clasped them into softly lined
restraints.  My legs were then moved apart and placed into equally lined
ankle restraints.   

I was familiar with this pose, being tied spread eagle form the ceiling.   

I felt myself swelling and wondered if there was something in the water.   

Then I heard Mr. Suk's voice, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like you to
view my latest acquisition.  It has been well trained and I am sure you
will all get a chance to enjoy it in whatever means you wish.  It is quite
docile and compliant.  I really haven't found anything that you can do to
it.  It is quite responsive."   

He paused, and then continued, "During our flight I invite you to come up
and inspect it at your leisure.  Possibly before we land, we will have it
provide some entertainment." 

I shivered.  I didn't like being referred to as it, and I wondered what
kind of life I had ahead of me.   

I felt hands roaming over my body.  My nipples were squeezed and twisted. 
Others took my balls and squeezed them, starting out with light pressure
and then continuing to apply pressure.  I had experienced this many times,
but there was no getting used to it.  Eventually, the pressure would become
excruciating.  The only thing that changed was how long I was able to
withstand the pressure before gasping out.   

I rose on my toes to get away from the pain, which I always did, and it
never did relieve the pain.  It always continued.  The pressure continued
to build and, finally, I had to gasp and try to double up.   

The pressure didn't stop; it continued on.  I felt the pain rush back and
forth between my balls and my stomach.  I tried to not cry out, but I
couldn't help it; the hand was continuing to increase pressure.   

I knew they would burst if the pressure kept up.  I gritted my teeth,
waiting for the pop.  Tears streamed down my face; I was bucking in my
restraints.   

There was some laughter at my actions.  Finally, the hand was removed and
the pain continued to course through my body.  Tears were trapped within
the blindfold.  I felt it getting wet.  

A finger invaded my ass roughly.  My dick was twisted and bent.  The
torment continued on for hours.  It didn't seem that my body was ever not
being touched.   

Someone stroked my dick until I thought sure I was going to shoot.  They
stopped just seconds before I was going to shoot.  This had happened to me
before, but it never ceased to get to me.  I wanted to beg for release, but
had been trained not to beg.  I knew I would be beaten.   

At one point, my right hand was unshackled.  I was then instructed to jerk
off.  I was so on edge, I knew it wouldn't take long.   

I clenched my jaw and began working my dick.  My right hand is not my
normal hand for jerking, but Bill had laughed at my inability to orgasm
easily with my right.  I was a solid fist with my left, but only thumb and
forefinger with my right. 

My whole body stiffened in the oncoming rush.  "Stop!" I heard.  I removed
my hand and hung there panting.  My cock was dripping profusely.  A small
whine escaped my lips, but I bit my lip and tightened my jaw.   

There was silence.   

Finally, I heard, "Finish it," in a commanding voice.   

I took my dick in hand and, in a blur of motion, furiously brought myself
back to the edge, trying to cum before he said stop again.  I was allowed
to cum and it felt so good!   

I shot several times.  There was a scattering of applause.  

The blindfold was removed at that time, and  I saw that I was strung up at
the front of rows of seats facing towards me.  There were men and women
throughout the cabin.  The sunlight came in through the windows of the
plane.   

I felt both shame and a surrealistic mind-blowing thought of being part of
some sexual performance on a flight at 35,000 feet.  I closed my eyes as I
felt vertigo of disbelief.   

I was unshackled then and taken back through the plane.  I saw the box on
the floor and shook.  I wanted to beg and plead not to be put back in the
box.   

As if reading my mind, one of the men that had escorted me said, "Do we
need to gag you, or will you keep quiet.  Mr. Suk won't stand for any of
the noises you made when you were placed in the box.  It would interfere
with the peace of his guests to hear you kicking and screaming like a
baby."   

I clinched my jaw and thought about that.  Could I control myself?  I
started to talk and realized I hadn't spoken since being removed from the
box and my mouth was dry.  I swallowed and said, "Gag, please."   

The man smiled, opened a drawer, and removed a gag.  He fitted it over my
head, and it completely covered my mouth, with a ball inserted in my
mouth.   

I was breathing noisily through my nose as I lay down in the box.  I
trembled from nerves as they put the lid on the box.  I was
hyperventilating through my nose as they nailed the lid on.   

I struggled with my fear.  I cried and screamed into my gag.  My heart
raced.   

I felt a drop and thought I had been dropped off of the plane.  Then I
realized it was the plane descending.   

I finally got my fear under control and my breathing back to normal.  I
stayed in the box through landing, and I was taken out of the plane and
loaded onto some sort of transportation.   

I rode like that for some time. When the vehicle finally stopped, I was
removed and carried a ways.  The box was put down;  the nails were removed,
and  I was helped out of the box to stand.  

When my eyes could focus, I looked around.  I was in a large room.  In one
corner was a jail cell, a cage.  "This is your new home," Mr. Suk said.   

"This is where you will stay when you are being trained or used."  He
pointed to the cage.  It was a cell about six feet square and seven feet
high.  I noticed something about the ceiling. I figured that it could be
lowered.   

Inside the cage there was a pile of sheets, a stainless steel prison style
toilet and sink combination.  Inside, next to the door were two bowls; I
assumed they were for food.   

"And here is one of the many play areas where you will be used for
entertainment." He pointed to another corner.  What caught my eye was the
complete black rubber and nylon suit hanging in one corner.  I shivered at
the thought of having to be in that confining suit.   

I noticed a cross of wood on one wall, and numerous chains and straps were
suspended from the ceiling.  Along one wall were all kinds of whips,
clamps, robes, chains, plugs, and wires. It made me shiver again as I saw
them, and the table and chair next to them.   

A table, with restraints on every corner, and a chair like a barber's
chair, but with stirrups, sat there.  Boxes with switches were on shelves
behind the chair.   

I couldn't take in everything that was in the large room.  And he had said
this was only one of the rooms where I would be used.   

"You will have several trainers working with you daily.  You will be kept
in top shape, but you will also be trained in pleasing people in numerous
ways."  He looked at me.   

"And just so you don't think I will not be disciplining you, I want you to
know that I am probably going to be less lenient that your former owner." 
He smiled wickedly.   

He pushed a button on a wall and a section of the floor slid away.  A dark
pit was there, roughly man shaped.  "You will be placed in here as one of
your punishments.  After hearing your reaction to the box you were brought
here in, I think this will be very helpful in keeping you in line."   

His wicked smile broadened.  "And I have ways of totally depriving you of
any sensations," he stressed again, "any sensation!  I think you will find
them even more depriving than just being enclosed into a box."   

I shivered again.  He saw that and chuckled.  "As your former owner often
said, 'What choice do you have?'"  He laughed and laughed, as he left me to
think about that as he walked out. 

****

As always comments, suggestions, pics and vids are always appreciated --
harryrod575@yahoo.com

Have fun

harry