Adjusting My Attitude Pt. 03

Of course, my over-thinking the whole thing distracted me so much that my chuckles were interrupted by the sensation of "Allie" sodomizing me with the enema nozzle. Now that my innards were relatively clean, she apparently didn't mind letting some of the water escape, as she slowly pumped the spewing hose in and out of my ass, over and over as she probed my rear end.

Now, in my defense about what happened next, I would remind the reader of the situation I was in: the entire process of enslavement was designed to make the new "slave meat" feel helpless, horny, and subjugated, a hyper-sexualized human toy. Moreover, most of the sensations I had experienced that day focused on my butt rather than on my cock. Three hours sitting on a butt plug were followed by an ass-whipping from Florence and then a leisurely exploration of my bowels and prostrate by the pretty slave veterinarian, who concluded with a sharp slap on my buttocks. Now, these two amused and amusing young women were teasing me, pretending they got off on what was really an unpleasant chore—working an enema nozzle in and out of my rectum. I'm not sure whether the nozzle made direct contact with my prostrate, but certainly the surge of warm water massaged that vulnerable organ, giving me a real tingle. My already-stressed cock became erect again.

And then, Mo's young partner Allie began to talk to me while she was moving the nozzle in and out. I could feel her substantial rubber-clad breasts pressing into my lower back. She spoke to me in a throaty, breathless bedroom voice, employing the kind of words that guys had undoubtedly used when they were making love to her.

"Ooooh, Baby, you feel so tight and soft and wet and warm. Take it all in. I just love doing this with you. Your body looks so great like this, bent over so I can shaft you; You are a fantastic piece of ass!" And so on.

Bottom (pun intended) line: within two minutes, my pent-up sexual excitement and jism dribbled out of the end of my cock without permitting me a real orgasm. While looking at some of the FemDom fiction that Laura had encouraged me to consider, I had read about women "milking" a man like this, causing an emission without orgasm, sometimes called a ruined orgasm. I had been sceptical that it could happen in real life. Until now. It was far less enjoyable than ejaculating, of course, but it did relieve the pressure temporarily so I could think more clearly. Was this what Laura planned to do to me for the next year? Probably, although I hoped not.

Then my rain suit-clad "lover," Allie, finished her joking act by slowly withdrawing the nozzle from my body and assuring me, in the same seductive tone,

"You were fantastic, lover. We have to do this again real soon. Was it good for you, too?"

I cracked up laughing and replied, truthfully. "Yes, Mistress, it was wonderful. Thank you for doing that to me." Playing along with her took some of the psychological sting out of my penetration and humiliation. Allie snickered and slapped my butt, causing me to almost lose control of my stressed anus and the water behind it. The two sisters, Mo' and Florence, were also chuckling, but appeared to be laughing with me as much as at me. Maybe I was kidding myself but none of them seemed to be in a cruel mood.

Another trip to the toilet and a final blast of cold water to rinse, and the most interactive shower of my life was finished. Florence reconnected her leash to my collar and towed me away. Within minutes, she had fed me (slave kibble on my knees with my hands cuffed, another demeaning moment that I had expected), watered me, let me urinate, and released my hands once I was in a holding cage for the night.

I had to admire Florence's skill. In about two hours she had been three people to me: the avenging bitch goddess beating a slave into cringing submission, the contemptuous queen showing off an amusing but incredibly stupid peasant, and the tolerant older sister (in reality, she was probably about my age or younger) shepherding her dumb, lovable, and horny kid brother around. All of it was an act, of course, just as was her sister's man- (especially White man-) hating feminist domination. They were obviously very good at their jobs, moving new and disoriented slaves through the process while encouraging those slaves to be obedient, passive, and eager to please. And having fun while they did it. I wondered if, once the year was over, I would dare take them out for coffee to congratulate them. Naah—way too embarrassing to meet them as an equal after being a snivelling slave under their control.

Florence left me with a parting admonition: "Sleep tight, and BEHAVE YOURSELF, Pussy-Boy. I'll see you tomorrow."

*****

Too bad I still couldn't follow instructions.

I didn't start the problem. The cage where Florence left me for the night soon contained two other people, a guy and a gal who appeared to be in the early 20s. Listening to them talk, or rather to the guy rant, I gathered that they had been sentenced to lifetime criminal slavery for grand theft auto. The short, ugly man blamed his ex-partner for excessive talking that had led to their apprehension. As long as he just talked, I tried to ignore him and get some sleep. After several hours of steadily-louder ranting, he hit her, hard.

I knew I was being stupid again, but I couldn't let him hurt her.

"Leave her alone, man," I said as calmly as I could.

"Yeah? Who's going to make me?" He replied.

I tried to reason with him, which was a mistake because I doubt he had any brains with which to reason. "Look, I'm sure the handlers are monitoring this cage. They're not going to let you beat on her. We're slaves now—you can't do things like that anymore. You need to stop while you're ahead. Let's get some sleep, we're going to need it tomorrow."

I became the new target for his frustration. He mumbled something about no one telling him what to do and came at me.

I am no martial arts expert, but I was bigger than he was and calmer as well. I managed to dodge his first wild charge, but when he swung at me again I had to hit him in the gut to defend myself. Within seconds, I heard the cage door slam open, but before I could drop to my knees and submit, a blinding flash hit me, clearly a strong charge from my shock collar.

By the time the mist had cleared from my eyes, both the trouble-maker and I had been cuffed and bent across our bunks. My eyes widened as I saw that the other guy was now on the receiving end of a full-blown pegging: a large and well-endowed Caucasian female handler, with long brunette hair and an equally-large (it seemed to me) dildo strapped on the outside of her jeans, had just finished smearing lubricant around her shaft before she pushed it firmly into his butt. I noticed that she was moving very carefully, pausing and sometimes withdrawing part-way after each forward thrust propelled her farther into the thug. Needless to say, he was screaming and making wild threats. After several minutes of this gentle, slow-motion rape—if there is such a thing—she had her fake cock embedded into him up to the hilt. She paused for several minutes, apparently to let him adjust to the invasion, and then whacked the back of his head and responded to his howls:

"Shut the fuck up, asshole. You're a slave now, which means you don't get to hit anybody, least of all a woman smaller than you. Since you're a slow learner, I'm going to demonstrate that, from now on, you really are nothing but an asshole, a slave that free people do things TO but who does not DO anything to anyone. You will take whatever happens to you, without any arguments." Saying which, she began to piston in and out of his butt, picking up speed until he finally stopped complaining and just lay passively accepting her.

I had my own problems, in the form of a very tall young Hispanic guy and a six-foot woman who, unless my eyes deceived me, must be a close relative of Florence and Mo'. And she was also equipped with a strap-on, a dildo that, at close range, appeared to be impossibly long and thick.

The man spoke first, looking calmly at me: "Slut 4242, you're a problem. You were right, we were monitoring that idiot, so we know that you didn't start the disturbance. But, you still had to stick your nose into things and fight that clown, didn't you? I bet that, as a man, you just couldn't let him beat on a woman, right?"

"Yes, Master."

"See, that's a problem, because you're no longer a man—you're a fracking slave. What you should have done is just waited until we showed up and then dropped to your knees in submission, right? Don't answer. Your motives were well-intentioned, but we need to convince you that, just like that asshole over there [the other woman was still shafting him rhythmically, with a smile on her face], you don't have the right to fight or hit anyone. You don't have ANY rights anymore. But, because I'm such a nice guy, I'll give you a choice. Josephine here [I thought, irrelevantly, this MUST be another sister—Flo, Mo, and Jo!] just loves to peg white boy slaves who still think they're men. Think of it as "taking them down a peg." She hasn't had a chance to use that ten-incher she's wearing in a week. So, she'd be glad to give you the same treatment that moron over there is getting to make it clear you really are just an asshole slave—and by asshole, we mean a receptacle for cocks and strap-ons. Unlike real pricks, her thing never loses its erection, so it may take her an hour or two to get tired of reaming you. Would you like that, boy?"

I shook my head, "No, thank you, Master."

"OK, then, your other choice is that you show us that you understand your status, by asking Josephine VERY politely if you may suck on her cock like a good slave. That way we know that you understand you're no longer a man, you're a receptacle for cocks. Of course, if you'd rather, I can find a male handler to fuck your ugly face. What's it going to be?"

There was no sense prolonging things; I capitulated immediately and accepted the lesser of two evils. Focusing my eyes on her midriff, I asked in a humble voice, "Mistress Josephine, may I please be allowed to suck your cock like a good slave? Please?"

She walked around the bunk until her strap-on was only a few inches from my face. "Damn, I really wanted a piece of Whiteboy ass tonight. But, since you asked so nicely, yes, asshole, you may suck my cock."

(The reader may have already figured this out, but I took longer. Calling a male slave an "asshole" was of course meant to be demeaning, but it also conveyed where that slave stood in the pecking order, or should I say the "peckering" order. Female slaves were frequently referred to as "cunts" and "pussies," implying that they all had a common use as receptacles for fucking. "Asshole" was the equivalent receptacle for a male slave. I noticed that female handlers were particularly prone to use that word to describe male slave meat, probably because they resented men who liked to describe even slave women in crude terms of their genitalia. Sorry—just another example of how this over-educated "Pussy-Boy" tended to over-analyze things.)

I promptly thanked her for the privilege and, to make a long and embarrassing story short, tried my best to worship her dildo. Before enslaving myself, I had of course contemplated the likelihood that I would have to fellate a real penis. I'd never done so as a free man, but I had imagined that a man's dick would be warm, slightly flexible, and with a sensitive skin I had to avoid biting. I also worried that the psychological impact of having to suck a man off might cause me to throw up. None of that applied to Jo's artificial member. Physically, it was a more challenging mouthful because it was completely rigid, tasted of plastic, and bigger than what I imagine most penises would have been. Psychologically, I found it easier to accept this invasion than I would have to suck a real dick, but she brought out my gag reflex frequently when she hit the back of my mouth. I knew better than to stop before she told me to, and so kept pistoning my head and slobbering over the shaft for what seemed like an endless time. Just as with her sister Mo', Jo chose to pretend that I was a woman servicing a flesh-and-blood member; she made facetious comments such as "ooh, baby, your mouth feels so good, you're a fantastic cocksucker, swallow it all, look up at me while you're sucking me, I can't wait to come in your mouth," and so on. If I hadn't been on my knees and chocking on her huge rod, I probably would have chuckled along with her teasing (but not cruel) voice.

Finally, she told me to stop and withdrew from my mouth. Now that it was over, this intrusion seemed far less serious than I had anticipated. Her partner tried to hammer home the lesson:

"OK, tell me, what are you? Are you a man?"

I knew what he wanted to hear, so I put it all together to get it over with: "No, Master, I'm not a man, I'm a cock-sucking asshole slave."

"Don't forget it." So saying, he released my wrists and let me crawl back onto the bunk. The third handler finally dismounted the trouble-maker, checked his pulse to see if he was OK, and left him cuffed and weeping quietly. The sound didn't prevent me from falling into an exhausted sleep.

As I did so, I wondered if I could survive another 364 days like this one. I really didn't like sucking anything, even if it was connected to a good-looking woman.

(to be continued)