Sausages for the Slave Ch. 13

'I expect my slaves to empty their bowels fully into their diapers overnight. It's just a matter of training your body to do it. So you'll do that every night from now on, won't you, Slave?

'Yes, Mistress.'

'Good. You will find wet wipes and a roll of diaper disposal bags in the bucket. Clean yourself up and come in to me next door when you are done. Bring your bagged dirty diaper with you. I'll show you where it goes.'

'Yes, Mistress.'

Sophia left promptly, leaving the door open behind her. Dan didn't blame her, what with the smell. He could see that his new chain led out the door. To some hidden attachment point, he supposed.

'Yes indeed, Mistress,' repeated Dan quietly. He felt quite defeated. The thought that he was going to have to shuffle out to her, chained like a chain gang prisoner, naked and holding a bag of his own shit in his hand, did nothing for his morning mood. He'd have liked a cup of coffee to start the day.

The chain, Dan soon discovered, led out of Dan's cupboard door and around into the main basement room. The shutters that had been closed last night were now folded back to reveal dense greenery outside. Dan could just make out the blue sky above the shrubs or small trees that crowded the garden. A pleasant summer day appeared to be happening in Paris, out there in the free world. The world of free people, so far from Dan's new world. Sophia was sitting on the wooden armchair. The feeding station, as Dan now thought of it. She was texting or something on her phone. Dan stood in the middle of the room holding his package of shit. He knew better than to interrupt her and ask where he should put it.

Standing there holding the bulging bag containing his sopping diaper and its pungent load, Dan wondered what Mary was doing now. She was probably sitting on the balcony outside her four star hotel room, in a soft terry towelling robe with the flowery hotel logo on the breast pocket, her feet encased snugly in the freebie white slippers, sipping on a coffee from a tray brought by room service, wondering if she'd have the croissant or the pain au chocolat, maybe both. Looking up at the same sky he was looking at. Maybe she was thinking about him. More likely not, he decided. With that thought, he looked towards his new owner. Was she thinking about him, he wondered. No, he decided, as she tapped away on her phone, more likely not.

A few minutes later, Sophia finished her phone thing and told Dan to post his package of shit through a flap in the wall that led to the appropriate bin outside, then to take a shower and an enema. Dan shuffled to the outside wall. The covered slot was located beside the long French windows to the garden and window. He then shuffled into the shower, dragging his chain behind him. He could see that the chain was fixed in the middle of the wall he had walked in by. He guessed that it would allow him sufficient freedom to cover most of the room, save the back wall, maybe. The whipping post, definitely.

After his shower, after giving himself a thorough cleaning and enema as instructed, Dan stood outside the cubicle, dripping wet and waiting. There was no towel to be seen. Licking his lips in anticipation, gazing fixedly on the inviting bulge Sophia's breasts made in her sweater. His food source. He stood patiently, feeling his hunger gnawing at his guts. Hearing his stomach rumble as it anticipated its next feed.

And so the slave waited, hoping to be fed. Waited for his new owner to tell him what to do next.

Day one of Dan's new slave life was about to begin.