Sausages Backstory Ch. 19

'Nathan's main job is to make me happy. When I come home from the office, he is there to greet me. He will have my dinner ready and will want me to have a relaxing evening, allowing me to recharge my batteries ready for the next day in the office. When I am at work, Nathan will do all the housework, wash and iron my clothes, and think of ways he can make me happy when I come home. Yes, folks -- those ways too. That right, Nathan?' Another few taps on the ass.

'Yes, Ma'am.'

'By the same token, I have ordered Nathan to show all the residents of Manor Homes Village due respect and deference. Some of you may already know that Nathan was convicted for a minor indiscretion recently and is under house arrest in my custody as a result. It is my job to see that Nathan is well behaved and law abiding. Therefore, if you are not happy with something you see him doing -- or not doing -- feel free to tell me. I will make sure Nathan is corrected appropriately and won't do it again. By the way, Nathan usually goes by Dan for short. You may call him Dan. I do.'

Mary gave Dan another few gentle but deliberate taps on his ass as she mentioned correcting him, throwing a knowing look about the room. Dan felt his penis thicken further, harden and begin to stir. He was glad of the gingham apron now.

The men in the room, after the shock of seeing one of their kind so humiliated, had by now mentally distanced themselves from Dan. Herd instinct kicked in. This dumb guy was not one of them. No way. Never was. His potential membership of their herd had been ruled on. He was an outsider. And in the manner of all herd animals they attacked the outsider.

'Will you put him over your knee then, Mary,' shouted one to general nervous laughter from the rest.

'You needn't worry about what I do to keep Dan in line,' laughed Mary, 'Whatever it takes, as long as it gets the required result. Suffice it to say, nothing is ruled out!'

More general relieved laughter from the room. The men decided this twat was a harmless figure of fun really. No threat there. No danger of contagion from Dan to the rest of the herd.

'But finally,' added Mary, 'and I'll finish now to let the meeting get down to business after this, I want to let you know that Dan is available to you all if you need an extra pair of hands around the house or garden now and then. That's because looking after my house all day is not sufficient to keep Dan fully occupied. And I want him fully occupied during the day. It's good for him. So I am happy to offer Dan's services to the residents of Manor Homes Village. I reckon he should be available for about two hours a day every day. I'll put up a roster on the WhatsApp group and you can book him for yourself.'

'You'll be happy to oblige the neighbours. Won't you, Dan?'

'Yes, Ma'am.'

'Now, folks, Thanks for your attention. I'll let you all get back to the main business of this meeting. You have my contact details, and I'm on the residents' WhatsApp group.'

Of course they couldn't leave it at that. Dan still remembers the questions from the floor. The smart alecs, always the men, trying to outdo each other with daft requests, the communal guffaws: Can I have him polish my shoes -- all my shoes? Supposing I asked him to hand-wash my wife's underwear? Until it reached the obvious end-point of the male mind. Does he take head? Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Mary ignored the last shouted question, sort of. But she said enough to let people know the lie of the land. 'Of course he'll wash underwear. He does mine. Why shouldn't he wash your underwear as well? Come to think of it, he could even wash you if you want that too. Are we done?'

That shut the guys up, but gave everyone food for thought. You could see the mental cogs turning slowly but surely to the seamier side of life. So we can get him to do anything, they fantasised, while looking as Dan somewhat speculatively. Dan stood, squirming before them, ridiculous. His bright yellow bow slipping to one side of his shiny bald head, in his gingham apron and rubber gloves. Feeling the heat of their speculative stares. Sensing the wide span of the 'anything' they were contemplating Dan might be made do to spice up their boring suburban lives.

And so life in Manor Homes Village settled into a routine for Dan. Mary quickly decided it was more convenient to have Dan wear clothes, his grey track pants and sweat shirt, around the house. The novelty of having him naked wore off quickly enough, both for him and her. Bit like being in a nudist colony, she supposed. After a few hours it just is what it is. Nothing to see here. For Dan it was the same, after a few hours of naked house work, he forgot he was naked, excerpt when cooking, when he was glad Mary allowed him an apron. Besides it was more practical to wear clothes, in the kitchen especially, and it allowed him do gardening work, and jobs for the neighbours.

Being normally clothed allowed Mary enjoy ordering him to strip naked before putting him in the T-Bar, say. It restored a bit of the punishment/humiliation vibe. There was something empowering about telling your man to 'strip naked now' she felt. It was a power thing, a demonstration of who had the power. Dan had to be clothed in order to be made to strip, in order to suffer the humiliation of having to get naked and vulnerable on another's whim. And often in the evening when she was relaxing, say watching TV, Mary would order him to strip naked, bring her a drink and have the naked Dan lick her pussy or suck her toes, while she enjoyed the drink.

By the same token, Mary decided to let Dan's hair grow again, just on his head. When she was relaxing on the couch, her drink in one hand, she liked to use Dan regularly. Not necessarily to give her an orgasm, just an enjoyable gentle titillation. Dan would get to work with his tongue, kneeling, naked between her knees, her legs dangling over his shoulders either side of his head trapping his body against the couch, his face pushed up under her rucked up skirt and pressing against her pubes. The problem with when he was bald was she found she had to put down her drink and grab his smooth shiny head in both hands to manoeuvre his nose and tongue to where she wanted. By letting Dan's hair grow back, Mary could grab a fistful of his hair at the back of his head with one hand to get him doing what she wanted, where she wanted. And she could hold her drink in the other hand at the same time and sip happily. Oral satisfaction at both ends. Win-win.

To be fair, Mary did allow Dan go all the way to ejaculation now and then. Necessary for his health, she felt, but also to keep him wanting it. Sometimes she had him play with himself to the point of bringing himself off. It might happen in the evening in the living room, while she was watching a show on TV. Maybe as a reward for cooking her an exceptionally good meal. Other times she stroked him all the way to a glorious ejaculation, thought mostly when she stroked him, it was to spoil it, pulling her hand away just as he was about to climax, allowing his cum to bubble up and dribble down the side of his aching penis before dismissing him. Still it was a release of sorts. Dan was grateful. He'd learned to be grateful for any attention in the sexual department. He now accepted that he would never to have full on sex with Mary. Only real men got to go there, she taunted him, not slaves. Her vagina was forever off limits for his pathetic slave cock, as she put it.

During the occasional nights when Mary used Dan in her bedroom, after Mary has taken her pleasure and had tied his hands back under his chin, she would often prick-tease him. Asking would he like to come, while slowly stroking his rock hard cock. As required, Dan would beg to be allowed to come. Before he was even near coming Mary would drop her hand away from his cock, asking Dan did he think she had nothing better to do that rub his dick all night. All a game to her; a power game. Showing Dan who was the boss. Dan would play his part obediently in this one-sided game, a game he was obliged to play. He would back off immediately, accepting nothing more was happen for him that night, and respectfully respond with a 'Certainly I understand you have other things to do with your time. But thank you for asking, Madam.' Because he knew the Dan and Mary interlude had now morphed back into the Madam and Slave normality.

'I had a good time too,' he pretended, sadly.

'Then run along back to the slave quarters.' Mary would mutter sleepily, drained and slipping steadily towards that heavy post coital sleep that Dan would be denied. 'Bring me my coffee in the morning, usual time. There's a good boy.'

'Yes, Madam.' And so Dan would be dismissed with the belittling 'there's a good boy' and head back downstairs to lie on the plastic mattress in his cell, his erection pointing skywards, throbbing and twitching uselessly into the night air, oozing precum. He would wait, first for the 'thunk' of the door sliding shut, automatically locking him in for the night, then for his erection to subside, and then hopefully for some troubled, fitful sleep before the alarm blasted him out of it and sent him running, his wrists still pinioned to his neck collar, to get Mary her morning cup of coffee.

As the months rolled round, Dan came to accept his new life. Things were the way they were. And he accepted too that things were going to stay the way they were unless Mary decided to change them. Notions of returning to a job, never mind a career, were long forgotten. He'd given up all thoughts of doing normal things in life like going out to the pub, or to a football match, with mates, or having a pastime, even going jogging.

Some patterns became established. Dan knew that Mary allowed him to address her as Mary in her bed after he had pleasured her and she was enjoying the intimacy of that after sex moment. Similarly, he could call her Mary at breakfast. She had decided it was good that they should chat almost as equals then. It cruelly reminded Dan what he had lost, what could have been. No harm thought Mary. For her, it served to set her up for the day, a little review of what she was going to do in the office. She might say, 'Guess what I'm doing today, Dan?' And Dan would reply, 'No idea. What are you doing today, Mary?' Just like a normal couple. She'd tell him about what dizzy heights of IT business she hoped to conquer. Then they might chat about things that he would do; errands to run in the shopping centre, jobs needed around the house, all in a Mary to Dan and Dan to Mary equality. Mary, with her need for chit-chat satisfied, would shut it down abruptly, saying, 'Enough chatting, Slave. Get my things and have them ready for me in the hall.' And Dan would jump up from the table, replying, 'Yes, Madam.' Back in harness. For Dan, another day of slavery begun.

Eighteen months in his new life and eighteen months after he was sentenced to his three to five years, Dan was formally release from his prison sentence. Time off for good behaviour. Mary was no longer his jailer, instead, she became his probation officer. As is normal in these cases, a special parole hearing in the magistrate's house was required to decide on Dan's release from custody. For the hearing Dan stood naked and handcuffed before the Magistrate, while Mary stated for the record that Prisoner No. 373154 had been well behaved for the previous year and a half.

The reason Dan was naked was so that the Magistrate could inspect his recently beaten ass. Bette has come by the previous morning at Mary's request, to give Dan a well bruised behind. Mary had watched dispassionately as Dan lay bent over her kitchen table and Bette set about him with a wooden paddle. They had decided that, rather than stripes on Dan's ass, they would go for a more general bruised all over, purple, look, so the paddle rather than a cane was the weapon of choice. Dan whimpered lightly while they paused to discuss their progress. Then yelped a bit more as Bette plied the paddle vigorously to fill in a spot that, to Mary, had seemed just reddened rather than gone purple. That night he lay face down on his plastic mattress, allowing his tenderised ass cool in the night air. For once he was grateful for not being allowed a duvet or blanket to cover him and hide his nakedness. Despite the beating, he was happy, looking forward to no longer being Prisoner No. 373154 on the State register of prisoners.

Like all parolees, Dan was released on licence. His 'freedom' was conditional on Mary continuing to submit a quarterly report to the parole board saying that, as Dan's parole officer, she was satisfied with Dan's behaviour on the 'outside' and that Dan was complying fully with the conditions of his parole. Which meant Mary still owned Dan's ass for all practical purposes, or at least for the next year and a half until his sentence was fully served out. As long as she wanted him to be a slave, then Dan would remain her slave.

Mary sent him over sent over to the Magistrate's house occasionally, at her request. There, the Magistrate would have him wash her car, or mow the lawn, or clean and polish her golf balls and golf clubs, all under the supervision of one of the local police officers, usually a female officer. Dan supposed it was just to remind him that he remained under the Magistrate's thumb, ultimately. He got on with it. At least there were no more beatings administered by the Magistrate.

Although Dan was mightily pleased that he was gradually being moved off the books of the State prison system, he was still suspicious about his whole criminal conviction experience. The fact that he was both sentenced and paroled at sittings in the Magistrate's own home and not in the county courthouse always seemed strange to him. But he was not going to question it just now. He was happy that the prisoner phase of the nightmare was behind him. Dan's sole objective in life was to continue being a good slave for the next eighteen months, or whatever it took, to escape his parolee status and become a legitimate citizen once more. Then he'd look at his options. He presumed he would have options.

Mary had continued to allow Dan his good time. About every other week she would let him have a release of some sort, either a spoiled ejaculation, or a dildo driven one, or allow him masturbate to completion. He noticed over time that Mary increasingly favoured summoning him over the iPad while she was at work. Mary would instruct him to start jerking off, or whatever and Dan would go to it. Dan didn't know it at first, but the reason behind Mary instructing Dan via the iPad was financial. At some point Mary realised that there was money to be made out of having Dan perform in front of the iPad. In her work as an IT executive she was seeing all the money flowing via the internet to very ordinary people doing very ordinary things, like putting on lipstick, or wiggling their toes to a camera. Then there was the sex stuff. That was serious money. Why not put Dan to work, she thought.

Since she was able to make Dan jack off in front of the iPad for her, she could get him to do it for anybody who might chose to watch his online performance. And so it came to pass. Mary told Dan once she had decided to fully monetise his slave status. To sell him online. She reminded Dan that as his parole officer, she expected him to do exactly as he was told in this regard, or else. Dan agreed to be fully cooperative.

Mary set up the Slave Dan podcasts. It wasn't all sex. She'd film him at weekends washing her underwear and post that online. Ironing was also popular, provided Dan was naked save for an apron and a recently beaten ass. So was dusting while dolled up like a French maid. Shots of Dan reaching up high with the duster, so that his ass cheeks peeped out under his frilly French maid petticoats, were particularly popular. Only a few short months after the first podcasts went live, Mary proudly told Dan that he was now making her more money than he'd ever earned back when he was teaching. 'And I bet I can make even more out of you, Dan, she had said, giving him a playful tap on his ass. 'I'm going to sweat this asset for all its worth. After all, that's what slaves are for. That right, Dan?'

'Yes, Madam.' Had been the correct and only reply.

For Dan, the fact that Mary was successfully exploiting him online for money was, in fact, a comfort. Ever since the 'I can throw you out of my house any time I like' moment, Dan had felt very insecure. Dan knew his domestic duties could be taken over in an instant by any number of contract housekeeping services. But since becoming a growing source of real income for Mary he could feel a bit like he was now an asset, a profit centre, a positive contributing part of the Mary Hemming business empire. Sure it was a partnership where she had everything and he had nothing. But he felt useful again, wanted almost. It moved him above and beyond just being the accidental housekeeper; up one rung of the ladder. It was like women's liberation all over again, but for Dan. Dan now had a meaningful and valued economic role. No longer an invisible 1950's housewife, instead he was an up and coming porn star. What next he wondered; an influencer?

Whenever the IPad called him via the double zap in the ass, Dan dropped whatever he was doing and ran to stand before it. Dan would have no idea if it was Mary calling to tell him pick up some thing for the shops, or that there would be a 'guest' for dinner that evening or that he should strip and start masturbating.

And when he was asked to strip in front of the iPad, Dan never knew what audience he would be performing for. Could be hundreds or even thousands, all watching on the Slave Dan pay channel Mary had set up. Or it might just Mary; a private show for her, a little interlude to spice up a slow day at the office. Maybe to give her a boost; a reminder of the power and control she had; give her that 'I'm the boss' feeling ahead of the next meeting with various IT nerds. It could even be Mary and others in her team under her at work. Giving them a bit of a laugh, a reward for reaching some target. Maybe that director guy she brings home. Maybe he was fucking her from behind in her office while watching Dan jerk off for them on the iPad. Dan never knew for sure who he was performing for, or trying to perform for. Sometimes he struggled.

'Come on Slave. Let's see what you got. Show the world what you've been storing up in those balls for the past week.'

'Yes, Madam.' And Dan would start busily stroking himself while standing on the white line that marked the ideal position to give a full view of his efforts to the iPad camera.

Mary was using her slave phone, she called it to dial up her performing slave. While Mary, and whoever else, could see Dan on their devices, Dan could only see the blank iPad screen. He liked to fantasise that it was a bit like being in the Roman Coliseum. Dan the slave was being made beat his meat on front of a thousands of cheering Romans who were laying bets on how long it would take for him to come, while a big burly slave master stood to the side, arms crossed, holding a whip, ready to whip a bit more enthusiasm, if needed, into Dan's efforts.

'Don't close your eyes, Dan. Stay sideways on, so we can see your sad little dick, but turn your head to look straight at the iPad.'

'Yes Madam,' he gasped, getting closer now, while trying to comply with the porn movie director's instructions. But it wasn't working. Dan needed to be able to drift, eyes closed, into that private Roman Coliseum fantasy. He needed to visualise that audience of thousands. Hear their roars of approval and whoops of derision. The instruction to keep his eyes open denied him that. Dan felt the edge slipping away, He tried to re-focus, to conjure up some fantasy while staring at the plain black square of the iPad, but the magic was fading. This was going to be one of his sub-par performances.