Anatomy Class

She kept it cold in here. The expensive hardwood floor was freezing on my naked backside. I stared up at the high ceiling of this Upper West Side apartment, waiting for her. My first night of slavery already seemed endless.

Arms stretched along the floor above my head, wrists crossed gently, my back arched slightly, I waited. My ankles crossed, right over left, I tried my best to hold the pose she had left me in. Slavery, I was learning, involved a lot of waiting.

It had probably been fifteen hours now, fifteen hours since my new life began. This morning at sunrise, inside a rented downtown gallery, before a few dozen of her closest friends, I had knelt before her and given myself to Addi. Her best friend Sarah by her side, her boyfriend Jonathan on her other side, Addi had accepted my gift, had taken me, had made me her slave.

In the entire two hour ceremony, I'd spoken exactly one sentence. One sentence to seal my fate. Before Addi, and her priestess, and 40 or so witnesses, I'd said the words.

"Miss Addison Harper Maarten, I give myself to you, willingly and unconditionally, to be used by you as you please."

My first experience of public nudity.

The first taste of Addi's bare foot on my lips.

The first feeing of warmth rushing over me as Addi looked straight into my face and called me "slave."

Later, at the reception, in front of everyone, the first spanking. It had only been the slightest catch in my voice, a slight waver. I'd never meant for my answer to Sarah to sound uppity. But she, and Jonathan, and the hundred or so others, many more than had been at the ceremony, had watched, silently, as Addi used the paddle to remind me of my place, the intense pain eclipsed by the embarrassment, until the embarrassment was punctured by the sharpening pain, my lip quivering, gasping, tears streaking my face.

I cringed as I recalled it, then sighed at the thought of who had made it happen.

As if on cue, Addi's bare feet softly entered the room, approaching me. Softly she walked, then stood beside my body, bare feet, thin bare legs disappearing into some expensive designer peasant skirt, off white and crinkly along with a matching shirt. In her thin bare arms she held some sort of hand-crafted wooden box. Addi sat on the floor beside where I lay stretched out, crossing her legs, and setting the box on the hardwood beside her. She smiled at me, and brushed a wisp of her very light brown straight hair from her blue eyes.

"My slave." She smiled, genuinely smiled. "My beautiful slave."

Addi's affect, her way of speaking and gesturing and holding herself somehow evoked her very old money privilege. Twenty-one years old, nonchalantly channeling centuries of power and wealth. Half my age, not hesitating for a second to casually remind me of my place.

"It's your first night of slavery, slave." She laid her hand in the center of my bare chest. I felt my erection grow quickly. "I know you're nervous. I'm certain you're scared." Addi looked straight into my eyes. "But you trust me. Do you trust me, slave?"

"Yes, Miss Addi. I trust you, Miss Addi."

"That's important. Because it's time for me to perform your surgery."

My face must have shown my confusion.

"You didn't know. Of course you didn't. Slaves need to have surgery on their first night of slavery. That's the way it is, slave. I need to remove your genitals."

I took a very deep breath. Addi gave me a look, a sort-of-almost smile, that reassured me this whole bit was Addi being dramatic. She had a flair for that sort of thing. It was part of what excited me about serving her.

"That's right, your cock and your balls have to come off, slave. They're unnecessary. Slaves have no need for genitals, and they cause so many problems, it's horrid. So...don't look so scared."

I knew this was for effect. And I trusted Addi completely. But hearing her speak to me this way, I must have turned white as a ghost. Addi caressed my cheek, then spoke softly.

"Don't worry. I'm going to replace them with something more...appropriate."

I wondered what this was all about.

"Spread your legs, slave."

"Yes, Miss Addi." I uncrossed my ankles and spread my legs along the hardwood.

"Wider than that."

"Yes, Miss Addi." I spread them as wide as I could.

A smile as Addi produced a large black cloth from the box, unfurled it, and draped it gently over my crotch, my abdomen, my legs. Reaching back into the box, she produced a small knife, some sort of scalpel. I inhaled sharply.

"Don't be scared. This will only hurt for a little while."

I flinched as Addi raised the cloth, just a little, and reached underneath. I bit my lips together as I felt the tip of the surgical instrument just barey poke my skin, enough to hurt, a little, but lightly enough that I knew I wasn't actually being cut for real, at least not much.

Addi scraped a surgical line around my genitalia. Poking little by little, actually making little surface-deep cuts occasionally, she mimed cutting a line in the shape of a sort of squared oval around my pubic region above my cock, then in the same shape around the very top of my right inner thigh. She proceeded in the shape of a pointed spike below my balls, the point landing right at the edge of my asshole, then finally the same squared off oval shape around the very top of my left inner thigh, ending where she started. Occasionally she lifted the cloth, just a little, and peeked beneath. I lay there, sort of scared, thrilled that Addi's hand was so close to my cock. I imagined her pretty fingers, short, perfectly manicured nails, pale and wonderful, working on me.

Finishing one circuit around my most sensitive parts, Addi traced the same line again, slowly, this time slightly more painfully. Then, with a look of serious concentration, biting her lower lip, she traced it a third time. Finally, she removed her hands from beneath the cloth, and placed the scalpel back in the box.

"It's time for them to go, slave."

Reaching back under the cloth with just her hands, Addi began pulling at my skin. Her fingertips gripped the skin she had traced with the scalpel, and pulled inward, pulled hard, as if she were scraping the flesh from my body. She pulled first from the skin over my pubic bone, stretching it down, gripping and pulling hard. I winced. This hurt, seriously. Satisfied, Addi moved to my right leg, pulling the skin hard toward the center, toward my cock.

"Hyyyeah. Unnnnghhhh!"

"I know, slave. I know it hurts. But it's necessary."

Addi worked on my left leg skin next, then proceeded to the wedge below my balls. Addi's middle finger slipped, just barely, into my asshole as I gasped. She pulled upward, hard, then stretched the skin inward toward my balls. A second later, both her hands were beneath the cloth, encircling my cock and balls, not touching them, just surrounding them.

"Let's get rid of this nasty thing..."

Addi gripped hard, then twisted, left then right, then left again, then right again. I groaned in pain. Addi suddenly pulled, directly upward, as if she were trying to pull my cock and balls from my body. She flashed a determined look and actually grunted, a little, as she pulled, stretching me painfully, actually lifting my ass off the ground. I held my breath as Addi pulled.

"I have...to get it...by the roots..."

After a long, painful moment of being pulled, Addi's hands slipped from around my cock and balls, ending up clasped together, still beneath the cloth. Pulling them carefully from beneath it, she still had both hands clasped together, as if she were holding my cock and balls in the gap inside. Addi brought her hands to her face, and peeked inside. She screwed up her face in disgust.

"Ewww..."

Addi stood, still clasping her hands together. Looking down at me, she spoke.

"Don't move, slave. You still have an open wound."

"Yes, Miss Addi."

I watched her walk away, toward the kitchen, still clasping what was supposed to be my genitals. God, she was amazing. I absolutely loved Addi's creativity, her imaginative streak. I was so glad to be hers.

Seconds later, I heard water running. Seconds after that, I heard the grind of the garbage disposal, apparently meant to evoke my cock and my balls being destroyed, ground up, washed away. This was supposed to be a lesson, I presumed. I'd better play along. I tried to immerse myself fully in the vision Addi was casting. My genitals, I thought, were gone. Addi had something else for me, god only knows what, but nothing would ever be the same.

I tensed up as Addi returned, bare feet at my eye level walking toward me. She smiled as she once again sat cross-legged next to me.

"Isn't that better? I can imagine you're so relieved thay they're gone."

I just winced.

"So. Now you get to learn how it feels to have a real slave body. Let's give you something more appropriate. A precious gift, from me."

Addi closed her eyes. She was so beautiful. Her little breasts rose and fell beneath her shirt as she breathed deeply. For a minute, then two, then three, I just watched as she breathed, meditated, conjured the next part of her vision.

Suddenly, Addi held both hands flat against the center of her chest, right hand over left, between her breasts. Over her shirt, she just held them there. Silently, she mouthed something, speaking an incantation only she could hear. Suddenly, she moved both hands, sliding them beneath her shirt, her palms now flat against her skin beneath it. She continued mouthing inaudible words, then whispering, nonsense sounding words, some conjuring, some spell.

With a jolt, Addi opened her eyes, simultaneoulsy jerking her whole body. She gulped, as if catching a feeling in her mouth, as her head cocked to the side, eyes wide in a sort of surprise. She slowly exhaled.

Addi bit her lips, then breathed harder, breathed as if she were in labor, breathed while she pulled her hands slightly away from her chest, pushing against the inside of her shirt. It was as if she were drawing something from herself, some physical thing from her body, from Addi's heart. Continuing to work, to breathe hard, then breathing in little pulses, she acted as if she were continuing to pull it from herself, until her hands again appeared to be enclosing some thing beneath her shirt.

I took a deep breath as I watched her. Her hands still inside her shirt, Addi's head slumped forward, and she took several deep breaths, appearing exhausted. She looked up, but kept her eyes closed for another minute. Slowly, she opened them dreamily.

Addi removed her hands from beneath her shirt, again clasped around the space between her palms. She mimed holding whatever this was very carefully, very delicately.

Silently, Addi peeked into her clasped hands, and smiled, satisfied.

"It's ready."

Addi once again slipped her clasped hands beneath the cloth, then opened them carefully, her hands again ringing the base of my cock, behind my balls, the cock and the balls that supposedly were now gone. She pressed down, pressed inward, then pressed again as if she were planting something. Addi kept pressing at the base, then along the ovalish shape she had traced on my pubic slope, then the ones on my thighs, then, finally, she pressed on the wedge below my balls, all the way down to the tip of my asshole.

Finished, Addi slipped her hand from beneath the cloth. She brushed each hand with the other, as if she were brushing dirt from herself. Satisfied, she again reached into the box, and pulled out a long needle and thread.

"We're so close now."

Addi reached beneath the cloth. This time she mimed sewing the thing, whatever it was she had pulled from herself, securely to my body. She traced the path she had cut with the scalpel, poking my skin then pushing upward, then poking again.

She poked hard enough to hurt. I gasped, trying not to squirm, twisting my still-crossed-at-the-wrist hands above my head against each other.

"You're being a very good slave. I know it hurts. Remember, suffering for me is part of slavery."

Addi continued around the original line, slowly "sewing" the thing to my left leg, the slope above my cock, my right leg, the wedge beneath my balls. Finally, after some very painful pokes near my asshole, she pulled the needle and thread from beneath the cloth.

"Ready?"

Addi whispered directly into my face.

"Yes, Miss Addi."

"Let's look at it together..."

Addi's fingers plucked the cloth, ready to pull it away. She looked at me with a mischievous smile. She was so completely committed to the bit that I almost expected to see something besides my genitals when she pulled the cloth away. I actually held my breath.

With a flourish, she removed the cloth. I lifted my face from the floor just enough to see...my cock. Of course, that's what I knew was there. My cock and some soreness where she had cut and poked. But Addi had other ideas.

"Look at that, slave. You may uncross your arms and sit up a little. Look at it. Isn't it nice? So much better than that old cock and balls?"

"Y-yes, yes, Miss Addi."

"Slave, this is your flower. Slaves don't have genitals - they have a flower. Say 'flower.'"

"Flower, Miss Addi."

Let me teach you about it."

She smiled.

"So slave. Your flower has different parts, but it's one thing. When we talk about it, we don't talk about the different parts, we just call it your flower. But I'll teach you what the parts are. This long part here that sticks up, it's called the stem. Say 'stem.'"

"Stem, Miss Addi."

"Good. These parts that sort of hang beneath the stem, they're called berries. Say 'berries.'"

"Berries, Miss Addi."

"Good slave. You have a left berry and a right berry. Now, these things that stick out in each direction..."

Addi indicated the ovalish shapes on each leg and my pubic mound, and the spiky shape leading to my asshole.

"These are called petals. Say 'petals.'"

"Petals, Miss Addi."

"You have a top petal up here, a left petal and a right petal, and this pointy one down here is called the bottom petal."

She smiled.

"So slave. Let's talk about why your flower is important. First of all, are you a girl?"

"No, Miss Addi."

"No you're not. Are you a boy?"

I had to take a breath before answering."

"No, Miss Addi."

"No, you're not. What are you?"

"I'm a slave, Miss Addi."

"You're a slave. It's important that we be clear about what you are, and what you are not. Girls have girl parts, parts that you don't need to know anything about. And boys have boy parts. You don't need to know anything about boy parts either. Slaves, well slaves have a slave part. And a slave's part is called a flower. Understand?"

"Yes, Miss Addi."

"Your flower is important. It's a precious gift, from me. It came from within me, from my heart, and it's rooted deep within you. It will always draw you to me, make you crazy with desire to submit to me. To act out the three postures. What are the three postures, slave?"

"To serve you, Miss Addi. To obey you, Miss Addi. To worship you, Miss Addi."

"Exactly. And your flower will give you deep feelings, deep, irresistible urges to do all three. It will always be with you, drawing you to me. Understand?"

"Yes, Miss Addi."

"Sometimes it will feel warm and pleasant, and give you little queasy feelings of pleasure and longing when you think of me. It's doing it's job. Sometimes it will feel really intense and strange, and change shape. The berries might get smaller and the stem might get bigger, and harder. And it might give you super intense feelings. Take these feelings and use them. These feelings are orders that demand even deeper submission to me. Use them to serve me even more deeply, to obey me more perfectly, and to worship me more devotedly."

Addi closed her eyes and smiled.

"Now, you need to learn how to take care of the thing. First, you need to keep it shaved. Don't let any hair grow on it. As soon as we're done here you're getting in the tub to shave it. OK?"

"Yes, Miss Addi."

"You need to wash it every day with clean water. Try not to touch it while you clean it. And your pee will come out of it. You'll need to touch it a little then, but don't touch it any more than you need to. If you touch it too much, bad things can happen. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Miss Addi."

"One more thing. Your flower, slave, it needs to be milked once in a while. I'll decide when. I'll know when it needs it. I'll put on a special white glove, and I'll squeeze its stem, and pull a little, and the milk will come out. YOU, well, you'll get to swallow it. Swallowing the flower milk is something that makes a slave feel incredibly submissive to that slave's owner. You'll see."

Addi again smiled, and looked at me for a minute. She continued.

"This next part is important, slave. You never milk your own flower. NEVER. And you don't let anyone else milk it either. It came from me, and I'm the only one who will ever milk it. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Miss Addi."

"Say it. Promise me you'll never milk your own flower."

"I promise I will never milk my own flower, Miss Addi."

"And if you ever do, there will be serious consequences. Speaking of which, we should talk about punishment. When I had to punish you today, how did I punish you?"

"You spanked me, Miss Addi."

"I spanked you. Spankings, regular spankings, are something you'll get used to. Where did I spank you?"

"On the stage at the reception, Miss Addi."

Addi laughed, a great big laugh, She looked at me with a smile.

"Oh, you sweet, silly slave. Where on your BODY did I spank you?"

"On my - " I almost said "ass," and caught myself. I wasn't allowed to say that word anymore. "You spanked me on my bottom, Miss Addi."

"On your bottom. Your bottom is proooobably where you'll get most of your spankings. But sometimes, when I reeeaallly need to get a message across, I'm going to spank you on your flower."

I gasped a little.

"Not as hard as on your bottom, obviously. Your flower is precious and delicate. But hard enough. Hard enough to hurt, I promise. Some whacks to your flower on the berries, and some on the stem, and maybe some on the left and right petals. I'm hoping it will get your attention quickly. And I want to be able to spank you while we're facing each other, looking at each other. I want to see your face while you deal with the feelings. And I want you to see my face, the look on my face. It will remind you why you're being punished. Undersrand?"

"Yes, Miss Addi."

"So slave. Your flower was a gift. From me to you. You haven't thanked me yet."

"Thank you, Miss Addi."

Addi cocked her head, and looked at me as if I were stupid. She looked sort of pissed.

"Seriously, slave? Do I have to get the paddle? HOW do you thank me?"

"Oh! I'm sorry - I'm sorry Miss Addi!"

It hit me suddenly, what I was supposed to do. The slave laws were going to take some getting used to. I sprung from my lying-on-my-back position and got as quickly as I could onto my knees, kneeling in front of Addi. She had changed her position so that, rather than sitting cross-legged, her legs were out in front of her, bare feet flat on the hardwood.

Kneeling, I pressed my face down to the floor, so that it hovered just in front of Addi's feet.

"Thank you Miss Addi. Thank you so much for my flower."

I lifted my face enough to press my lips against Addi's beautiful left foot, her bare skin warm on my mouth. I kissed, kissed deeply, kissed with real, sincere passion. After a minute or two, I spoke-whispered into her foot, my lips still touching her skin.

"Thank you Miss Addi for my flower. Thank you for performing my surgery. Thank you for giving me a proper slave body, Miss Addi. Thank you, thank you, thank you Miss Addi!"

I kept kissing, kept thanking her, kept debasing myself, for ten or fifteen minutes before switching feet, when I once again continued thanking Addi as I kissed.