He is Your Master Now Pt. 05

"Relax baby" she said sensuously, "you got nothing to shit. We know you're starving, why do you think we didn't feed you? Why do you think we gave you enemas?"

"NO! I REALLY HAVE TO SHIT!"

"Silly boy. Taking a shit is what getting fucked in the ass feels like-- well mostly anyway."

It was hard to think, given that he was being violated to the sound of raucous laughter, but given that he had never before considered what anal sex might actually be like for the person getting fucked, he was suddenly dumbfounded at having overlooked the obvious.

His thoughts on the matter didn't last long as Cassilda continued on but still, he couldn't stop muttering his fears about shitting himself until-- the head of the dildo passed some threshold that caused him to catch his breath in surprise and clench his buttocks reflexively.

"Did you feel that?" taunted Cassilda.

When he didn't respond she continued, "Answer me. Did you feel that?"

Torn between both anger and anguish, Ambrose nodded weakly.

"Good. I want you to really concentrate on what you just felt."

Though the moment had passed quickly, he was able to recall it as if it were happening again.

"I believe the proper term for this moment is: I just popped your cherry. For the rest of your life, you'll always remember me as the one who deflowered your ass."

All the tension in his body collapsed in sullen resignation. He wished he could cry, but the fact that he couldn't summon any tears along with the appropriate emotions stirred the creatures living in the murky depths in his soul.

Cassilda penetrated his body deeper, slowly, as if to allow him time to experience the humiliation of his capitulation. When he finally felt her body warmth against his ass and the brush of her course pubic hairs just above the entry point, she reversed course slowly, stopping just short of pulling out, only to begin anew.

"But here's the thing Ambrose" her breath started becoming more labored, "once you realize that you're not actually taking a shit; that you're just taking it in the ass, you start processing the sensation on a more nuanced level."

Slowly in, slowly out. Slowly in, slowly out. Slowly in, slowly out, until the novelty feeling of the need to take a shit diminished, freeing him to indeed feel something-- different.

Again, he was thrust into a situation where he couldn't tell if how his body was responding to Cassilda's actions was normal, or a manifestation of her abilities.

As Cassilda quickened her pace, Ambrose could feel that the nature of the phallus was changing. Impossibly, it felt as if the longer and more vigorously she fucked him, the more real it actually became.

It seemed that just a moment before, the dildo felt like a solid piece of plastic, but now it seemed as if it was covered in real skin that provided some give between it and the hard phallus below its surface.

He had already become accustomed to accepting the impossible where Cassilda was concerned, so it was easily possible to believe that the dildo sliding in and out of his ass was an actual, real penis animated to life by some means.

"Damn that's a sweet tight ass." She seemed to delight in tormenting him.

"Your ass is like sweet-- ambrosia." She chuckled at the pun, but he could hear the effort in it. The effort may have actually been the point.

Before long it occurred to him that that Cassilda was actually receiving pleasurable sensations via the reanimated penis as if it were part of her own body. Having become accustomed to wanting to please Cassilda, Ambrose feared that if she continued for too long, he might actually come to enjoy getting fucked in the ass if only to please her.

Then, in fearing that he might enjoy it, came the realization that such fear could only exist because in some small sense he was already enjoying it.

In defense, his mind began running through all manner of insipid nonsense in the vain hope of distracting him from his current plight: football, baseball, his favorite foods, drink, movies, television shows. All proved far too inadequate to distract him.

He could detect a change coming over Cassilda. Her body felt warmer, she grabbed him tighter, her long fingernails threatening to break the skin where they gripped his flesh at his hips. Her breathing became more labored

He could feel himself getting warmer; a sensation that became more apparent when he felt droplets of her sweat dripping onto him; quickly cooling where they landed. She let go of her grip, only to allow her hands to rove sensuously all over his back side.

His penis began to betray him, as evidenced by the faint, familiar stirrings beginning to form there.

He had an image of himself, just as he was now, but instead of Cassilda sliding a dildo into his ass, he pictured a large muscular man.

Railing against this image, he was by sheer effort of will, able to transform this Adonis back into Cassilda's compactly voluptuous form. In response, his erection lessened, and Ambrose couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

Cassilda subtly stiffened in her movements, similarly to him when he was about to cum. She then jammed the phallus deep within him, causing him to yelp loudly; eliciting a chuckle from the nurses. She held the dildo rammed all the way in while she spasmed. Ambrose then felt the unmistakable trickle of her natural fluids flowing into his bowels via the phallus' ersatz pee hole.

Cassilda may not have been able to produce semen, but she had cum in his ass just the same.

She stopped shaking but before she could fully recover her breath, she quickly pulled out. The abruptness of the move caused Ambrose to jerk uncomfortably.

Without ceremony or any further regard for Ambrose, Cassilda exited the room pausing only to address Governess Bishop.

"Make sure he eats well and put him to bed."

Ambrose was awash in a maelstrom of emotions each competing with the other.

He had just been anally penetrated for the first time in his life and although he couldn't exactly claim that it was completely against his will, he was acting from among limited choices forced upon him.

Having lost his anal virginity, he was irretrievable changed. And yet, the perpetrator, to whom he was nevertheless attracted to and was now economically reliant on, simply left the room with seemingly no more thought to her actions than if she had abandoned the remnants of meal having been adequately sated.

He didn't fully know what he had been expecting, but he imagined some tender moments after the fact, she was his first after all.

His first.

He tried to remember the first time he ever had sex. He was fourteen and the girl had been-- he couldn't remember her. How could he not remember her?

It came back to him. She was a classmate. She seemed surprised at his small size but she was also in the grip of teenage hormones and so she hadn't made a fuss. Of course he came too quickly, and she was left unsatisfied. But if anything, she seemed relieved to have finally lost her virginity. And it was obvious from the aftermath, that she would use the experience as an object lesson on picking partners. She may have even been relieved that he had been disappointing because it freed her from mythologizing him.

It bothered Ambrose that he couldn't immediately recall his first time. He wanted to dismiss it as a result of the confusion he was feeling. But deep down, he suspected that this moment with Cassilda, would loom larger in his psyche than his first experience with a girl.

He burned with embarrassment as he realized that this vague expectation of a tender moment-- a tender moment that he was robbed of by Cassilda's cavalier attitude, was exactly what he would have imagined as the expectations of a teenage girl. And the embarrassment he felt, would have been those of a teenage girl who realized only after the fact, that the boy who deflowered her was exactly the lothario that she had been warned he was.

To make matters worse, while he was still held immobile on all fours, Governess Bishop roughly wiped his ass, cleaning it from the mixture of animal grease and Cassilda's fluids, making sure to be thorough. She then went on to wipe the mixture from where it oozed onto his balls and inner thighs.

He wanted to feel anger, even rage, but remembered that Cassilda had charged Governess Bishop with feeding him. The prospect of finally having something to eat so diminished his shame and embarrassment that he could only feel resentment.

And still, he couldn't bring himself to hate Cassilda.

They made their way to the main floor, after which they accessed a utility hallway and stairway down to the kitchen.

Considering the size of the manor, Ambrose assumed that at times, large functions and gatherings were hosted there. So it came as no surprise to him that the kitchen was rather large with an equally impressive adjoining pantry. The presence of commercial refrigerators and a walk-in freezer verified this impression. All in all, he felt the first measure of hope, on any level, since being delivered to the manor by Stephen, and it all revolved simply having the opportunity to finally eat.

The fact that the kitchen, being located in the rear of the mansion, had windows and two large double doors leading to grounds also contributed to a lessening of Ambrose' uneasiness although he could only glimpse a darkened landscape due to the only light being provided was by the moonlit sky. It was possible that this was either another manifestation of the manor's weirdness, or perhaps the manor was built into a hill and these grounds were on a lower level than the grounds at the front of the manor.

Although Governess Goode was charged with cooking duties and he was offered a variety of meal choices, he couldn't wait and opted for some chicken in the refrigerator that had already been cooked and ready to eat. There may very well have been a grand dining hall somewhere with a massive table, but he took his meal at a more normal sized staff table located right in the kitchen. The chicken was accompanied by some reheated mashed potatoes and apple juice. He made a pig of himself but didn't care.

He would have over-gorged himself had Governess Bishop not advised him that he could make himself ill and assured him that from that point on, he probably would not be allowed to go too long without eating unless he committed some serious trespass. Other than this small interaction, the four nurses, apparently freed from having to groom him for some activity on Cassilda's behalf, scarcely paid any attention to him.

Once he had supped, Governess Bishop led him to a tiny bedroom on the same level, decked out with simple mission style furniture, a minifridge stocked with some food and juices and a small separate bathroom complete with a shower.

Governess Bishop helped him remove his makeup and clothing, folding it all carefully and neatly and laying it on the dresser. She opened the top draw and pulled out a new pair of pajamas in his size. She insisted on dressing him rather than letting him dress himself.

She retrieved his lingerie and shoes and headed for the door.

"You'll notice that there's no lock on this door. Still, I would advise that you not go exploring the house until you become accustomed to its-- uniqueness."

And with that, he was left on his own.

Now sated, he had more of a presence of mind to reflect on this, the longest of all nights he had ever experienced.

He was conflicted at the indignity of it all; particularly at having Cassilda take him anally.

But he faced a new truth that galled him.

He loved her even more because she had been the first to fuck him in the ass. "First." He had no doubt now that she was merely "the first." Cassilda would probably make sure there would be others to come.

Had he been a real man, he would not be feeling this way and the more he reflected on his conflicted emotions, the closer he came to feeling an anger that threatened to tip him into madness.

Had he been a real man, he would ignore Governess Bishop's advice to remain in his room, head to the kitchen, grab the heaviest chef's knife he could find, and explore the mansion until he found Cassilda. Once in his sight he would summon enough black hate to drown out her bewitching influence, and plunge the knife into her chest with enough force to drive it through her breastbone and into her black heart. Or perhaps grab a meat cleaver and chop her cranium into an unrecognizable mass.

Abruptly, he became terror stricken.

He knew well that Cassilda could detect any evil and violent thoughts he had about her as if he had vocalized such loudly and with the clearest enunciation. He had already felt but a taste of the power she wielded as she torturously enhanced his libido while diminishing his vitality. It was a certainty that she could do a lot worse to him, such as induce a heart attack.

In a panic, he began to express his love for her out loud.

"I love you. You know I love you. I'm-- I'm just."

He couldn't think of what to say. He was confused as to why he should even be talking out loud since he was alone in a remotely located room. Perhaps he did so as an attempt to make his atonement that much more sincere.

"I'm just a fucked-up person."

He franticly threw himself off the bed and onto his knees in the prayer position.

"I'm a piece of shit. I'm nothing compared to you." Although he said it merely to placate Cassilda, he knew it was true, nonetheless.

"You know everything about me. I see that now." He said pleadingly.

"There's nothing you don't know about me. And now, thanks to you, I see what you see in me. I love you. I love you. I love you."

There was a pressure building in him that threatened to obliterate him.

"I-- I-- live for you.

"I live only for you.

"I'll do what you want. I'll-- I'll do it because--

"I'll do it because I love you. You are my life. You know what's best for me."

Of course, his love for Cassilda, who knew him so well, would be assumed by her; he'd have to dig deep and offer something else. And he'd have to mean it.

He took a deep breath.

I'll do whatever you want because-- I want to do it."

All the breath escaped him.

He had just declared an oath.

He took in a deep breath, stilled his mind and repeated:

"I'll do it because I want to."

All the turmoil in his mind, heart and soul melted and gave way to a strong sense of comfort.

The drowsiness that descended upon him was so sudden and intense that he quickly climbed back into bed to avoid sleeping on the floor.

He slept deeply for the first time in months. in the morning, he felt well rested and could not even recall having dreamt.

He was just rousing from his sleep when he heard a knock on his door. He sat up in bed.

"Uh, come in."

He was shocked to see Governess Bishop enter as it seemed to him that she above all, would just merely barge in on him.

"Good morning Mr. Sweet."

"Good morning Governess Bishop."

"You can refer to me as 'Mam' until I say otherwise."

"Can I ask you a question?" he interjected.

"I can't promise that I'll answer you but ask your question."

"Why did you knock instead of just coming in?"

"Because this is your room; your sanctuary as it were, and we will respect that-- most of the time. I'm sure you understand that everything is subject to change as far as Cassilda is concerned."

"Why is everything so fucked with this house."

She ignored his question. "Use the toilet, brush your teeth, shower and shave. There's a purple robe in the top drawer of your dresser, put it on and go into the kitchen."

She turned about to leave and paused just long enough to say, "Quickly now. You have a long day ahead of you."

She closed the door leaving him to his privacy.