He is Your Master Now Pt. 09

Ambrose was surprised by Manuel's "gentlemanlyness---," NO! That wasn't a word. "What was that word I recently learned?" he wondered. Gallant. Manuel was being very gallant. Chivalrous even. Or perhaps that was the same thing. He then began thinking about knights because knights were chivalrous, and they were always rescuing damsels in distress.

Ambrose found himself in a quandary. He didn't like equating himself with a lady in need of rescue. But on the other hand, it was far better than being ridiculed and teased over his small cock. And there was another silver lining in all this. It appeared that there was a line Manuel was unwilling to cross and it was apparent that even though he was a playful flirt, his politeness and consideration were sure signs of a gentle nature--- although on some level, he felt it was all an act and a setup for some devastating cruelty.

Since there was nothing he could do about his situation, Ambrose decided that for the sake of his sanity, he could accept Manuel's flirting--- but only as a coping strategy--- of course.

As Gabrielle helped Ambrose on with his tights, she too saw his condition and paused. She simply looked up at him with an expression of acknowledgement regarding his half hard dick and went back to helping him dress.

Just as Ambrose knew absolutely nothing about ballet just three weeks before, Manuel also knew nothing. As a result, that day's lesson plan proceeded very awkwardly and was drawn out, adding to the anxiety Ambrose had to suppress.

But the difference between he and Manuel, was that Manuel was not expected to really learn anything, he was there for his strength in the execution of certain moves. Plus, he was taking on the role of a male ballet dancer, often called a ballerino, while Ambrose was the ballerina.

Having taken some Spanish in college, Ambrose was aware that in that language, things that ended with the letter "O" indicated masculinity, while things that ended with the letter "A" indicated femininity. It didn't make much sense to him when it came to everyday objects such as the masculine cuchillo for knife or the feminine corbata for tie; a garment worn mostly by men. But the fact remains that he was currently fulfilling the role of a ballerina, one of the strongest icons for the female form and spirit.

"Ballerina." Yet another word that tormented him.

Gabriella put them through their paces and drove them hard, but it turned out that there was very little actual lifting involved. Almost all the moves involved Manuel holding Ambrose steady while Ambrose executed moves that ended in a position where he could fall without a partner's aid. And they were all sensual at some point in their execution.

Ambrose soon realized that the whole lesson was a ruse so that Ambrose could feel the soft, sensuous touch of a strong man's hands on his body, as opposed to his ordeal with the five men.

The lesson was about to come to an end with just one move left.

Gabrielle had him press his back side against Manuel. Ambrose could feel Manuel's very intrusive cod piece just above his ass. Manuel then had to take Ambrose left hand and extend the arm, while bending him at the waste in that direction, and pressing his other hand against Ambrose' belly for greater stability as Ambrose extended his right leg while balanced on his left foot.

The moment Manuel touched his belly, Ambrose remembered Governess Bishops words that first day, when she sensuously touched his naked belly to mock him. Strange that he should remember them so clearly now: "I so wish that our respective natures were that of the other. Where they to be, I'd plant a child in there."

From there, Manuel was to slide his hand past Ambrose' groin, and grab and hold Ambrose' right leg from the inner thigh near his little penis. Then Ambrose was to bend that knee, as an indication of delicate fragility and surrender.

As Manuel's hand was brushing past his little dick, a fleeting image flashed through Ambrose mind's that was as clear as the Yellow Sign was imperceivable, and which seemed to last forever .

He was looking at himself from above, perhaps from a ceiling. He was naked and lying on his bed in his small bedroom in Carcosa Manor. But all that he could see of himself, was his pale white legs wrapped around Manuel's dark hips, his pale white arms clinging to Manuel's dark, broad and muscular back, and his face poking out from underneath as his chin rested on Manuel's shoulder.

His eyes were closed tight, and his mouth was open. He was clearly in ecstasy as Manuel slid into him over and over. In a breathy, trembling whisper, the vision Ambrose said, "Oh my god!" Then Vision Ambrose suddenly opened his eyes and smiled deliciously at the real-world Ambrose. Except in the vision, there was no real-world Ambrose. The vision Ambrose, the one getting fucked passionately by Manuel was looking into a ceiling mirror and reveling in what he saw. Real world Ambrose was the mirror reflecting the uncomfortable scene.

In that vision, real world Ambrose couldn't tell if vision Ambrose had a vagina or if Manuel was fucking him in the ass.

It didn't matter because in the real world, with Manuel holding him in his strong arms while Ambrose was pressed against his sweaty body, and as he felt his ridiculously protruding cod piece pressing into his back, Ambrose achieved a full hard on and trembled on the verge of release.

All throughout the lesson, Manuel had adopted a friendly tone and completely cut out any flirting, most likely to spare Ambrose any embarrassment. Ambrose was grateful for that. But at that moment, with his little pecker threatening to spill its seed after the briefest brush of Manuel's hand, Ambrose was mortified when he realized that if Manuel spun him around and smiled at him, he was certain he would return that smile. It would be a nervous and fearful smile but worst of all, it would be a genuine smile, the kind he wouldn't be able to control no matter how hard he tried.

By the end of the day, with both Manuel and Gabrielle long gone, Ambrose had managed to convince himself that all of it: the vision, the sensuality of Manuel's body, his erection and even of entertaining the idea of smiling at Manuel and all that implied, was some kind of trick played on him by Cassilda.

And of course he forgave her.

The days started passing by faster and faster and on the morning of the twenty eighth day, Pippi locked his cock in a cage that anchored around his balls. He didn't even know there was such a thing. It was uncomfortable and it would take a long time to ignore the castration anxiety it provoked in him.

"Do you remember when I told you that the cage crinoline seemed like an attempt to lock up women's sexuality? Think of this as a sort of crinoline for your cock. I'm the only one with the key and believe me when I tell you that you won't be able to slip it off without seriously hurting yourself. But other than that, it can't hurt you. Any questions?"

"How long to I have to wear it?" he worried.

"Two or three days."

Ambrose suppressed his feelings on the matter and merely said OK as if it was an everyday thing.

He still felt humiliated on the inside. But what was more humiliating was that the cage was constructed in such a way that if he stood to pee, it diverted the stream onto him. He had to sit, just like a woman, in order to not piss himself. He hoped this didn't go on past three days because he didn't think he could bear it. He'd lose his mind.

That same night, Cassilda sent him three women all dressed in clothing that appeared somewhat occult-like, to his room. They anointed him with a pleasantly aromatic oil and rubbed their hands all over his body. Because of his cock cage, however, he could feel nothing except the discomfort of being constrained by the cage. Of course, he could find no release. After a shower to wash off the oil, he went to sleep frustrated.

The next day (the twenty ninth day) he had become used to his cock cage. They broke off training early and after supper, he went to his bedroom to find the TV switched on.

It was displaying, fifteen to thirty-second long snippets of videos showing women pegging men, making them suck their dildoes, tying them up in all sorts of bondage equipment and just generally being abusive.

The women were nuns, assertive secretaries, mean female doctors, rough female soldiers, arrogant female sports figures, etc. The men were all dressed in lingerie of one type or another. The snippets were much too short to establish what led to the men getting pegged and he wondered why he gave a fuck. It was essentially what he had already been putting up with from Cassilda but seeing what it actually looked like from a voyeuristic point of view made him very horny.

He tried to turn it off but discovered that he could not control the cable box or shut off the TV. The power button on the TV itself wouldn't respond. In an on the nose metaphor, he found that there was a cage bolted to the wall outlet preventing him from even pulling out the plugs. Seeing that there was nothing he could do about it, he felt compelled to watch. There were indeed some big, hairy, tough looking men being subjected to this treatment, just as Pippi had informed him.

Sometimes the video would stop and be replaced by still images that would pass by in rapid succession, almost too quickly. They were all close ups of men giving blow jobs to penis shaped pieces of plastic and glass. He could swear, however, that a few of them were of men sucking real penises. Big ones too. But since all the images passed by far too quickly, there was no time for his erection to subside.

But then, he could have sworn that in one of them, it appeared as if his own face had been substituted for whoever was sucking a real prick. His asshole twitched. He tried to dismiss it as a byproduct of the rapidity in which the pictures changed as well as to the surprise of seeing a face very much like his own.

He began to watch raptly, to see if it cropped up again. He was so focused on looking at the faces that in the beginning, he didn't notice that the phalluses in all the images were now real penises.

There was his face again! He was certain of it. But instead of a big white dildo, it could have been a black man's prick. That, he noticed. It passed by too quickly to be sure, but it appeared that the man receiving pleasure from an Ambrose look-alike, might have been a Manuel look-alike. He hoped that was the case because if it was his imagination---.

The images were once again swapped out, but this time with short clips of women getting fucked by real men, with monster cocks. Or so he thought. He quickly realized that they were actually trans women who still who hadn't completed their reassignment surgeries. But then he noticed something curious about them. They were all tiny breasted like him, or completely flat chested.

They weren't trans women at all. They were crossdressers. And even though they cycled at a slower rate than the photos, it was still too fast for his erection to wane. At least that was what he told himself. He then convinced himself that he still had an erection only because they looked close enough to women to not make much of a difference.

But then, it seemed that some of these videos were deep fakes where his own face had been substituted. He saw that they weren't actually deep fakes of him, but the resemblance to the performer was too close for comfort. And still, he maintained an erection.

His penis had especially become extremely turgid and strained uncomfortably against his cage when he spotted one of the "girls" impaling "himself" on a large black cock, gyrating sensuously with eyes closed as his erect penis waved every which way with his every bounce. That particular crossdresser had a sizeable cock, not as big as the one pumping in and out of his ass, but still much bigger than Ambrose'.

To Ambrose thinking, he was now even less of a man than a man who was being used as a woman by yet another man.

He laid on the bed and covered his face and ears with a pillow to shut out the world. But he couldn't shut out his uncomfortable thoughts. So he defaulted to his old trick of trying to envision the Yellow Sign. And mercifully, that did the trick.

After a few minutes he dared to peek at the screen. The last premium channel he had watched was on TV. Some superhero action film with actors wearing costumes that ridiculously enhances their musculature.

After a few failed attempts to sleep, he finally succeeded.

The next morning, as usual, Governess Bishop came to his room to make sure he was already awake. Also as usual, he had already completed his morning toilet and grooming routine.

"Good Morning young man." She said too cheerily. "Ms. Pippi won't be arriving until later this morning so go eat your breakfast and watch TV until she arrives."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"You did nothing wrong. This is just part of Miss Pippi's training regimen. I can't say anymore."

And with that she was gone.

She returned at ten-thirty and instructed him to go to the examination room which meant that he'd have to prepared for anal penetration: he'd take a shit and get an enema. Just another day in Carcosa Manor.

He took no particular path to the examining room. Just two weeks ago he had discovered that as long as he meant to go to any room in which he was allowed. Apparently, he had reached some threshold where he could be trusted. A sure sign that he would soon receive a passing grade. Was there even such a thing? He wondered.

Once there, Pippi greeted him with the usual hug but this time she kissed him on the cheek.

By now, he and Pippi had grown very close, platonically--- except for when training involved intimate contact. He couldn't help but get a hardon at times. Even though Pippi indicated no sexual feelings for him, she didn't mind it whenever he got an erection; she ignored it. After a short while, he stopped becoming self-conscious about it and just proceeded with his training as if his penis was flaccid.

"Well Ambrose, it's almost graduation day and after that we'll rarely see each other." she said sadly.

"I know" Ambrose was genuinely a little sad himself. "I don't know how I'll stay sane without you. Sometimes you could be nasty, but I know it was only for my own good and I really appreciate it. But most of the time it feels good to be around you" and in a whisper, "I feel relieved when you train me."

Governess Bishop arrived just then and Pippi stepped out while she "prepared" Ambrose. When done, Governess Bishop let Pippi back into the room.

"Listen" Pippi whispered back, "I'm going to grade you very high. Unless you really screw up, that is. You've earned it. You know how to vamp it up, you're dancing skills are at the expected levels, you can fake liking taking it up the ass and Cassilda says your cocksucking skills are phenomenal. Once I give you a high grade, things will get a lot better for you. I have every confidence that you'll be happy with what you can do with this training.

"And shit, Cassilda has lightened up on you, and even Bishop is less of a bitch to you--- sorry Bishop." Governess Bishop, who didn't seem to feel insulted chose that moment to leave the room.

"I have a special treat for you today. We're going to go catch a movie, then we're going shopping. just you and me."

His face lit up, "Are you for real?" he asked hopefully.

"Absolutely."

He suddenly became suspicious "Isn't Cassilda scar--- concerned that I might escape and go to the cops--- not that I would, but if I was her, that's what I'd be thinking."

Pippi laughed. "Ambrose, you're not a prisoner here. You could have left at any time.

Ambrose was taken aback, though he was able to hide his surprise.

"Can I speak freely?"

"Sure."

"I don't want to contradict you," he began cautiously. "but while I could've left the premises, I really couldn't have left wearing lingerie or naked."

He explained all his worries: not knowing the area, the fear that he'd get beaten up by gay bashers or videoed by nasty teenagers who would then go on to post it on social media.

"Ambrose. Oh my god. A component of this entire experience was a sort of constant test of how assertive you were. At any time, if you made a big enough stink, they would have given you back your clothes, your phone, your ID; everything, and taken you back home. Shit man. Cassilda would have even supported you for six months, plenty of time to get your act together before she cut you off. And on top of that, you could keep anything that's yours except the car and the apartment. All you had to do was demonstrate some real backbone."

He had been riding so high knowing that he was about to go on a day trip, but now, having realized that he was too feckless to even test the binds that held him, even as strange men ran their hands all over his body, he could only blankly stare into space. He was a loser, that was the only conclusion he could come to.

Pippi continued, "Look, I don't want to upset you or be mean to you today, but you decided to stay for the basest reason of all: you're addicted to sex with Cassilda. You're addicted to Cassilda herself. And let's be real now, not only have you not had to worry about money since you met Cassilda, she bought you that apartment, and that fancy car, and gave you play money on top of that. All of that is why you chose not to leave."

Ambrose burned with shame. "Do you really think I'm that shallow?"

"Honey, you WERE that shallow, but you've changed over this last month--- at least enough to for you to build on."

Ambrose had a sudden thought.

"It would seem to me that I didn't have any choice at all when Cassilda--- switched off my cock." He didn't know how else to characterize the miserable time he spent constantly horny, but unable to relieve himself.

"OK, I'll give you that one, but that was before you came to Carcosa."

"I don't see how that matters."

"I agree that was fucked up. But Cassilda needed to test you, and in order to do so she had to sort of prime you."

"But that was the incident that gave me the impression that no matter what I did, Cassilda would never let me go. She was able to completely condition my mind and my body!"

"Sweety. I know. But the thinking was that if you really wanted out, you would have asserted yourself, you would have raged to get out. It's not unheard of. But you just don't have that in you. Cassilda's pussy has its hold on you and you can't slap it away. You're weak that way."

Ambrose could feel himself pouting. He wanted desperately to turn that pout into a red-blooded testosterone fueled scowl, but he just couldn't. By now he had learned the subtle signs to look for when Cassilda bewitched him. They were currently not in evidence. The pouting was his actual, natural response. And to make matters worse, he could feel the corners of his mouth trembling and the start of tears welling in his eyes.

He turned away from Pippi in embarrassment, but before he could, Pippi cupped his face in her hands reassuringly and looked into his eyes sympathetically.

"Sweety. It's ok. You're in a transitional phase--- I don't mean that in the literal sense, as in gender transitioning. I'm here to help you. You're already much more polite, you have manners, you speak 'good'" it was her standard joke when it came to his elocution lessons, "I mean real manners, and you're considerate. Those are all good things that will help you in life. Let's not let this spoil your special day.

Still struggling to keep from crying Ambrose had a sudden suspicion. He expressed it shakily and haltingly while Pippi still cupped his face. "You said it wasn't unheard of for men to rage against their treatment and be allowed to leave. But you also once told me that if you failed to condition anyone, you'd be fired and Cassilda would get someone else. If men had quit, why are you still working for her."