Adjusting My Attitude Pt. 05

(WARNING! This story is a FANTASY; in real life, human beings are never property or sex objects and informed consent is always MANDATORY.

If you've read the previous episodes of this story, you already know that the slave at its center is a man rather than a woman. In this instalment, that slave experiences something rather different from what his female counterparts encountered.)

(Dan Martinson's story, continued)

Monday morning, 8:30 a.m. A week ago, I had been a well-educated, successful, and wealthy guy of 36. The only thing I did not have was the hand of Laura Simmons, a beautiful and brilliant lawyer whom I loved to distraction. Laura liked me well enough but refused my marriage proposal because she thought I was too entitled, too spoiled by my wealthy background. That attitude was too grating to Laura, who was a self-made success. My solution to that critique was either the most romantic or the most stupid thing I had ever attempted—perhaps both, although at the time of which I write I emphasized the stupid part. I had put all my resources into a blind trust and enslaved myself to Laura for one year, stripping myself of all my advantages so that she could retrain me to focus on service to others.

At Laura's insistence, I underwent all the indignities of public enslavement, beginning with her parading my cuffed and naked body through a government building and then shipping me kneeling in a dog cage, gagged and bound, to the Long Horn Slave Market. There, I had made so many blunders during my slave processing that I got two major electric shocks, four stripes across my butt, and a mouthful of strap-on dildo worn by a large female slave handler. I was bound helpless, voiceless, and spread-eagled for public slave viewing and grading, an experience I now shared with the millions of college and home loan applicants who had to be graded as collateral for their loans. (I couldn't help wondering how many of bankers would undergo the same degradation, where they would be gratuitously deprived of even their voices.) My new owner Laura rescued me from these embarrassing experiences, driving home with me hog-tied in her trunk. Once there, she was determined to establish discipline over her slave, so the next day she whipped me (briefly) and lectured me (extensively) on the fact that legal slavery allowed me no escape—I would have to cooperate fully for the next year. She was correct, as usual—I had painted myself into a corner.

All this happened between Monday and Wednesday, the first three days of the interminable year for which I had indentured myself. After that, Laura went back to her law partnership while leaving me long lists of daily and weekly household tasks to perform as her resident slave.

If you're wondering, yes I knew how to do basic cooking, which was all the culinary skill I needed. On occasion, Laura would let me finish the left-overs of her dinner, but since she ate sparingly herself, that only meant small amounts of fish or chicken to supplement the baked and stewed vegetables she specified for my diet. I didn't carry much fat to begin with, but this diet, as well as the treadmill and other exercises she had ordered, promised to slim me down even farther. Most of the time, she ordered food on-line to be delivered while she was at work. The first time that happened, I was deeply embarrassed to open the door for the delivery, especially because it was made by a woman. Apparently, she had seen so many strange things in people's homes that she barely glanced at me.

It was now the third workday of this new routine, in which my entire apparel was a slave collar, a frilly apron tied to my body at neck and waist, and a chastity cage. (In case you can't picture that, it meant that my butt was fully visible to the delivery woman. No modesty for slaves.)

Laura had the slave market put that cage on me and she had already warned me that it might be a while before she removed it. In fictional accounts of female domination, chastity belts reduce their male victims to mindless begging in a matter of hours. I won't pretend that it was THAT bad, but it was irksome, to say the least. Not only did I have to sit down whenever using the toilet, but my cramped morning "wood" woke me up long before the alarm clock. And yes, I would have liked to have sex even with myself, if only to relieve the boredom of my new existence.

I was already highly motivated to please my owner—why else would I have given up everything for her?—so the cage seemed like unnecessary icing on the cake. Still, she was the boss, and perhaps she was right that depriving me of my cock was one more way to strip away my ego and make me focus on serving her. While she was at the office, I sublimated my horniness by focusing on household duties and working at a rapid pace. That kept my mind off the problem between my legs for most of the day, although I was still uncomfortable when I had to hand-wash her lingerie or when I caught a whiff of her scent while washing the bedding.

The chastity cage was much more challenging on evenings and weekends. I was more than willing to accept some cramping down below when—as happened on many evenings—Laura had me kneel to tongue her while she watched TV. That service not only brought her off but gave me a quiet pleasure both in serving her and in being so intimate with her. Just feeling her stroke my hair in post-climax bliss made up for much of my suffering, and sometimes we talked together as friends. The rest of the time when she was at home, however, her presence was a real challenge to my composure. When we dated, Laura had been habitually modest about covering herself except when we shared a shower or bed. Now, she casually undressed in front of me and wandered around in various stages of nudity. I'm sure she was deliberately teasing me (she had always had a teasing sense of humor), although she often pretended to be unaware of my presence in the same room with her. She also enjoyed ringing a little bell at least once an hour to summon me for some trumped-up assignment, but I was so glad to have human company that I didn't mind.

The first Saturday of my service, she made good on a joking threat she had made when I first broached the idea of enslavement—she had me mow the lawn wearing nothing except collar, cage, and safety boots. She "supervised" by sitting on her front porch with a cold drink and waving at passing neighbors. She did "introduce me" to the couple who lived next door, which meant that I had to shut off the mower and stand mute while they talked, complete with her boasting about how much time she saved by having a slave to care for the household. Since slaves were far too expensive for the average middle-class household, she told them that a friend had given her the slave in his will—which was pretty close to the truth, since I had no legal existence for this year! The look that the wife of this couple gave me suggested that she thought I shared my Mistress' bed—no such luck. Once again, I told myself that Laura was enjoying herself while showing me off, so I controlled my breathing and got through it. At least she hadn't (yet) exhibited me wearing a feminine-styled apron; I was sure that and worse was coming.

Sunday afternoon, she had me remove the apron before taking me to the home of my best friend, Jim Mayhew, and his wife Terri. (Jim was a smart, hard-working African-American, while Terri was a pretty blonde Caucasian—race is only relevant here to explain why they were unlikely to ever own slaves even though Jim could well afford them.) In preparation for my self-indenture, I had told both of them of my intentions and asked them to support Laura in however she chose to treat her new slave. Laura had been very clear that she would show me off and probably lend me to Terri to do housework, so I knew this was coming.

Again, Laura locked me in the car trunk for the drive to the Mayhews', although this time I was only handcuffed rather than hog-tied. Arriving at the house, she led me, cuffed, leashed and essentially naked, up to the front door. As soon as Terri let us into the living room, Laura released my wrists but ordered me to "kneel," which meant fingers interlocked behind my neck, thighs spread wide apart, eyes downcast. For a moment, I was relieved because Terri mentioned that Jim was out golfing. But then she focused more clearly on me:

"Oh, he looks just darling; I have to get a picture." Her tone of voice was warm rather than condescending, as if she were meeting a small child or a pet. She pulled out her cell phone and snapped a photograph of me and said she was sending it to Jim. On reflection, I realized that this was a softer approach, getting Jim and me used to my new status before we met in person. Then, Terri repeated, almost verbatim, the same sentiment I had heard from so many women at the Agriculture Department and the Long Horn Slave Market: "There are times when I'd like to have Jim like that, with his dick locked up and him on his knees, waiting to obey me." Whoa. She had never before given me any indication of such frustration, although every marriage probably has some stress. I guess it was true that people would say anything in front of a slave.

Laura replied, with a proud, gentle smile, "He's certainly more obedient this way. Perhaps we can start a trend and persuade Jim to become your slave!"

Terri was not particularly religious, but she giggled and replied, "From your lips to God's ears."

That was only the first surprise of the afternoon. I was prepared for Laura to brag about my skill as a servant—in a way, that bragging proved that I was focusing on her needs and happiness rather than mine. As she had warned me, Laura promised to drop me off at Terri's house the following Thursday so that I could spend the day cleaning for her. This raised the specter of encountering Jim, but I was resigned to that happening eventually. Then Laura floored me by confiding in Terri how great it was to have her new slave "kiss me—down there" and know that she could have me do it as often and as long as she wished. Terri remarked how lucky she was to have such service, because Jim would never lick her for more than a few minutes. Of course, Laura decided to push the envelope, urging Terri to "try him out," by which she meant having me perform cunnilingus on my best friend's wife! Again, I had heard that women were frank about sex when talking with each other but was astonished that they would say such things in front of me. At the moment I was a slave, but what about a year from now?

Eventually, they finished talking and Laura led me back to the car trunk and thence to her home. Laura knew that I was troubled, so after I served her dinner and cleaned the kitchen she again ordered me onto my knees between her legs as she sat in front of the TV.

"All right, Danny, out with it—you're worried about servicing Terri like you do me, right?"

"Yes, Mistress. I want to obey you, and Mistress Terri is a nice person, but I'm afraid it might cause trouble between her husband and her."

"Well, let's try to settle this." She picked up her phone and telephoned. "Hi, Terri? Did you talk to Jim yet?" a pause.

"Well, you showed him the photograph, so he knows that Danny's little thing is locked up, right? Ask him, I'll wait." My embarrassment reached new depths from the way she talked about me.

I heard a conversation in the background, ending with the sound of Jim's full-throated laugh. Then I heard Terri giggling, and her words came out of the phone quite clearly, "Jim says that Dan always talks too much [a frequent complaint], so he'd rather that mouth was put to work making me happy."

Laura giggled as well, then said "OK; we'll see you Thursday about 8, and I'll try to get home early to pick him up in the afternoon." She hung up the phone, pulled up her skirt, and remarked "Jim's right—put your mouth to work on something useful."

Thus it was that, on the following Thursday, I got up extra early (morning wood awakened me again anyhow) so I could set up a crockpot stew before Laura marched me down to her waiting trunk and took me to Terri. Arriving there, she gave Terri the option of having me wear the apron or not, and Terri said I should wear it until I finished the cleaning. For about six hours, I worked as quickly as possible to strip and remake beds, wash sheets and clothes, and scrub the bathrooms and kitchen. About 2:30 that afternoon, Terri called me into the living room, telling me to lose the apron and kneel on a pillow she had placed in front of her chair. Without batting an eye, she dropped her jeans and panties and told me to get to work. I had never even seen her in a bikini, and now I knelt almost naked while she gave me a guided tour of her vagina, telling me exactly how she wanted to be pleased. All this time, Jim was nowhere to be seen. Despite his big talk, I don't think he was prepared to see his wife holding my head between her thighs.

As I've said before, Terri is a very attractive woman as well as a nice person. I now discovered that she became very vocal in her pleasure. If it weren't for the cramping effect of my cage, I would have thoroughly enjoyed the next hour or so, during which she climaxed at least three times while praising my services. Then we both cleaned up and I folded the last load of laundry from the dryer. When Laura came to pick me up, Terri reported that I was an excellent housemaid, but she raved about my oral skills. "I could get addicted to this."

Laura replied, "Well, maybe you two should buy a slave for yourselves. Wait, forget I said that," realizing the horrible connotations of a Black man owning a slave in America. Instead, for much of the rest of my year I spent one day a week cleaning Terri's house and then Terri's crotch. Except when I was between her knees, we chatted happily, which was a relief from the long hours I spent alone at Laura's home.

Eventually, of course, I encountered Jim in person. The first time was supremely embarrassing for both of us. I had already decided to show him all the respect a slave must offer to a free person, so as soon as I realized his presence, I shut off the vacuum cleaner and dropped to the widespread kneeling position (by that time, as you'll see later, Laura had me wearing a maid's uniform!) Jim instantly released me from that stance, urging me to get on with the work. When I finished vacuuming and again turned the machine off, he hesitantly asked me how I was doing as a slave. I replied, truthfully, that I was doing all right, and after that we were less uncomfortable with each other, although we had no serious conversations. Jim never mentioned my oral service to his wife, but Terri did remark that her husband had expressed appreciation that my tongue had given her pleasure without his having to do it. Terri didn't complain about her husband once I started my weekly service calls on her.

"Now, if I can only persuade him to let you keep servicing me after your indenture is up. Are you up for it, Danny?"

"Of course, Mistress, but I don't think either of you will be as comfortable with the idea when I no longer have this cage on!"

*****

On the second Saturday of my servitude, the lawn didn't need another mowing, so my owner decreed that I should use the weed trimmer on the edges. That actually exposed me more than running the lawn mower, because I had to move very slowly, giving her neighbors a prolonged view of the new pleasure slave from all angles.

That evening, after I had cleaned up following Laura's dinner, she abruptly ordered me to go to my room, hang up my apron, and lie on my back on the bed there. I had visions of her whipping my thighs or inflicting some other pain but knew that resistance would only get me turned over to the authorities. A few minutes later she entered the room, wearing nothing but the short dressing robe she often chose to tease me. As she bent over to restrain my ankles at the corners of the bed, she gave me a tantalizing view of her cleavage. After she had me spread-eagled, she revealed one surprise after another:

Standing at the foot of the bed where I could see her, she winked at me with a smile and said, "You've been a VERY good boy, Danny." Then she dropped her robe and stood there naked. Walking to one side of the bed, she unlocked and removed the $%&@ chastity cage, although she had some difficulty because my penis was so engorged. For the first time in 11 days, my erection stood tall, aiming at the ceiling. I think it was longer and more rigid than I had ever seen it.

Even that wasn't the end of her surprises. After moving to the head of the bed, level with my shoulders, and turning to face towards my feet, she straddled my head and lowered her well-lubricated vaginal lips onto my mouth. OK, I thought, that's about as good as a slave can have it, so I began licking her in a pattern I'd discovered she liked. And then I felt her mouth engulf my cock!

Of course, that "69" position only lasted about 90 seconds, which was probably a good idea, because otherwise I would have ejaculated immediately. When I felt her mouth pull back, I thought she was teasing me, and expected that I would have to settle for just being free of the cage for a few minutes. Then came the final surprise of the night—she dismounted from my head, swivelled around, and sheathed my prick with her marvellous vagina! She must have realized that I wouldn't last long under this stimulation, so she began bouncing up and down, sliding on my erection while her pert tits bounced magnificently.

I'm only human—I think I was lucky to last about two minutes before my restrained body blew my load up into her. She appeared to climax right along with me, but in my fevered state I couldn't tell whether her orgasm was real or she was just doing her imitation of "When Harry Met Sally." Either way, the experience was marvelous. Her beautiful body collapsed on my chest while we both struggled for breath. Her soft, warm, fragrant form was still impaled on my cock, and I could feel the pressure of her breasts on my chest. She kissed my lips and cheek gently. After the humiliation, pain, and frustration of recent events, this was heaven to me.

Long minutes later, she dismounted and lay down beside me, fondling my still-erect cock as she purred "Hummm . . . as I've said before, I could get used to having a slave around all the time. You sure I can't persuade you to extend your indenture?"

Lost in the moment, I replied, "If I knew we would have frequent moments like this, I could be persuaded to make it a life sentence."

A long silence, then she sighed and replied, "Well, I can't promise frequent intimacy like this. This was a reward for how well you've performed over the past 12 days, but it will probably be a long time before you earn a similar treat. Because, now that you've got the basic routine down, you know what's next, don't you?"

I didn't want to ruin the mood by saying it out loud. "I think I know, but please tell me, Mistress."

"The next level is for Danny to become Danielle." The statement was no surprise, but still dismaying, as if she had pronounced sentence on me.

Without another word, Laura climbed off the bed, went into the adjacent bathroom, and came back with a warm washcloth and shaving equipment. After washing her juices off my face and groin, she carefully shaved my cock and balls again, then re-installed the cage on my wilted erection.

Only then did she don her robe, belting it tightly to emphasize her figure. She kissed me briefly on the lips and released both ankles and one wrist, leaving me to finish freeing myself.

"You can sleep in tomorrow; I won't need coffee until 9:00. When you shower in the morning, don't forget to re-shave your body. After breakfast, we'll talk about why and how I want you to appear from now on."