The Making of a Toyboy Slave

The Making of a Toyboy Slave 04

The Making of a Toyboy Slave 04

Thank you for opening my story. This is the final volume of a tetralogy, and to readers of the other three, I apologize for the length of time it has taken me to prepare it. New readers should be able to enjoy it without having read its predecessors, especially with the aid of this brief introduction. If you have read them, you will probably prefer to skip to the beginning of the story. Much of it is a repetition of the preface to the third part.

The story tells the tale of a young man who is painfully shy, naïve and begins as a virgin, although he is not devoid of means. He falls for a much older woman- June- and plucks up the courage to approach her, whereupon she takes him home and seduces him. Claiming to be unable to maintain a relationship in which she is not in total control, she induces him to agree to being tied up, whereupon she uses him again for her sexual pleasure.

Unable to bear the thought of returning to his old, lonely life, he places himself under her authority and returns home wearing a locked chastity cage. After a frustrating few days he is summoned to meet her again, this time in a friend's garden. Their third meeting is at her own home, and there she introduces him to a female slavegirl who is temporarily under her control. She also gives him a name- Cock- in an obvious attempt to undermine his sense of identity. By this time, he is aware that she is a member of a larger organization- or syndicate- but he still has much to learn about it.

In the early days of the relationship, June is very reluctant to define his status. Later on, she uses the word "slave" freely, and is quite open about the fact that he is her property.

In the third part of the story, Simon (who has not yet acquired that name) is sent to a clinic for various minor modifications; mainly piercings and the fitting of a device to control his erections. He had already begun treatments to enhance his libido and his production of seminal fluid, so he is becoming capable of much more frequent ejaculations. He is also more tolerant of strict and long-term bondage, is immune to cramp, and has lost his gag reflex, if he ever had one. While still in the clinic he is thoroughly tested by a specialist slave-nurse.

As this part of the story begins, Simon has been sent by June to spend a few days with her best friend Imogen. Generally speaking, she is stricter with slaves than June, insisting that they kneel on the floor at mealtimes, feeding them mostly on slave-gruel and cereal pellets, and keeping them more tightly restrained.

Downstairs

Downstairs

Simon breakfasted with Imogen on his first morning in her home, and as usual he knelt on the floor by her side, being fed plain porridge which she spooned into his mouth. Coffee was served by her holding a toddler's drinking cup for him; the kind with a lid and a broad lip to use like a straw. His hands having been locked to the bedframe all night, she obviously assumed that his arms were sufficiently exercised, and his wrists were once more behind his back.

Afterwards she followed the same routine as June- toilet, enema, teeth and shower- and like his owner she did it with obvious enjoyment. Once he had been on the toilet she kept him erect throughout, ostensibly for easier cleaning. She spent, however, far more time on his penis and balls than was necessary, and he assumed that, when he'd been dried and moisturized, she would take him to her bed. She had already used him before breakfast, but he later realized that now she was preparing herself for a morning's pleasure with Fella and Velo. Presumably, their ablutions were in the hands of the work-slaves who he was soon to meet.

He had still not seen Imogen's own slaves. There were two, and she had promised (or threatened) to introduced him to them that morning. It happened almost immediately, as she walked him down some stairs to a big cellar area, most of which was under the old chapel. There was a second, larger kitchen down there, with a flagstone floor, bare stone walls and a vaulted ceiling. Unlike most kitchens, the appliances included a toilet, a washbowl and a small shower stall, as well as a double pallet bed.

Everything was in one space so that the two servant-slaves, who needed their hands free to do their work, could be attached with long, light chains by one ankle to a stout swivelling ring that was anchored to the floor. Their ankles were hobbled- about eight inches apart- and they wore complete sets of cuffs and collars. Both were making pies when Imogen and Simon entered their domain, but they stopped immediately and knelt, heads bowed and arms over their heads. They were immediately told to get up again, giving Simon a much better look.

The cook looked to be about fifty and was very plump. With unkempt hair and a sheen of perspiration on her face and arms she was certainly not alluring, but she did look jovial and welcoming, and her mouth was full and soft-looking. She was probably too old for Simon to have considered had he met her in the outside world, but he had to remember that either June or Imogen could both have been his mother. The fat was more of a problem, but it was keeping her body firm and free of wrinkly skin. She looked buxom, but she wore a homespun gown that concealed her breasts and privates. She was introduced, simply, as "Cook."

Her assistant was not much older than Simon, and was small, skinny, flat-chested and naked. Her face was plain in a mildly puzzling way, as if someone had acquired all the right parts but had lacked the skill to put them together in the most pleasing way. Her features were not quite symmetrical, her eyes too close together, and her nose was a fraction too long. Her greasy hair failed to conceal protruding ears, so the overall effect was slightly elfish. A detailed description made her sound stranger than she was; generally rather homely but with a nice mouth.

"I'm leaving him with you two until early afternoon," said Imogen. "Use him to your heart's content, but don't damage him. I'll need you both later on to help prepare Fella for his whipping. I'm going for two dozen this time, as I'm convinced that some of the weaker members aren't doing it properly."

She turned to Simon. "Behave yourself, and make sure you give them what they need," she said sternly. "Cook is authorized to beat you if you don't do your best. Grovel at her feet now. Both like to have their toes sucked."

Simon, who was still not fully accustomed to manoeuvring in bondage, dropped clumsily to his knees, and shuffled until he was in a position to lower himself onto his belly with his mouth on Cook's feet where she still stood at the table where she had been working. Imogen did not stay to watch, but turned on her heel and left the kitchen.

Both Cook and helper wore sandals, as the stone floor was rough in places, and despite the constant high temperature in the house it felt cool on Simon's bare skin. As he approached Cook she kicked hers off, and held her right foot at an angle, heel down, so he could suck the toes while she continued to stuff pies.

Cook was only Simon's second foot-fetishist, counting Imogen, so he had very little idea how to proceed. It seemed like a good idea to start with the big toe and work his way down to the pinkie. He understood that he should work his tongue between the toes, and was aware that, on his own, the skin at the bottom of the nail was more sensitive than the rest. He thought it worth trying to work his tongue right around the nails, which were trimmed quite short and unvarnished.

After exploring the various features of her right big toe, Simon spent two or three minutes giving it a "miniature blow job," working it like a little penis. He had never sucked a cock, of course, so he had to get used to exploring the contours with his lips. The various treatments he had received at the clinic began to work in his favour then. He was much more sensitive, both to the shape of the toe and the tiny wrinkles in the skin. Furthermore, he enjoyed what he was doing, Although the effect was not yet fully developed, his lips were turning into erogenous zones, giving him a degree of sexual pleasure as he sucked on each digit in turn.

No-one had told him how long to keep it going. He probably spent ten minutes on the right big toe, but to go on like that would take him nearly two hours. Bent over with his wrists behind his back, he would not be able to hold his position for that long. In the end he was relieved to find that she dictated the pace herself, shifting her foot a little to one side to offer him the next toe along. The whole process took about twenty more minutes, and afterwards, while he awaited further instructions, he licked her feet and ankles, and she seemed to enjoy that.

When she finally decided that her feet had been pleasured enough, Simon's mouth was getting dry, his knees were hurting and he was struggling to find the strength to keep bending forward without collapsing onto the floor. Cook and her assistant helped him up, gave him water, and made generally appreciative noises about his performance. He was glad that, for his first attempt, he had encountered a clean pair of feet. He imagined that there were probably people who liked to wear the same socks for a few days, and to go for a few long walks in hot weather, before expecting a slave to clean them up.

Both women treated Simon to long, passionate kisses, both fondling his penis as they did so. He was feeling very needy by then, so Cook's age and the other's plainness hardly mattered. Both, in any case, had well-formed and soft lips, and he had no problem responding in kind. After a few minutes of that, the assistant, who Cook addressed as "Drudge," cleared the table and put most of the finished pies in the freezer. The top was then covered with a thin but firm quilt which had a kind of built in cradle that, when he was made to lie down on it, held his head still and facing upwards. Working carefully to ensure that he had no opportunity to break loose, he they chained him down in a taut but not quite painful X-shape.

The last step was to fit him with a panel gag with a wedge-shaped insert in his mouth and a long dildo that attached to it by a bayonet mount, suggesting that it could easily be replaced by other accessories. A hole down the centre, matching on in the wedge, allowed laboured breathing through the mouth if necessary, and other apertures at the base were for feeding liquid food and water during very long sessions. The dildo, which strongly resembled an erect black penis, was held vertical by the cradle holding Simon's head.

He had a perfect view, therefore, of Cook's big round bottom as it descended onto his mouth, impaling her vagina on the dildo. He heard her long, deep sigh of pleasure as its full length disappeared into her slit, and then the kitchen disappeared as his world shrank to the valley between her buttocks. Then he felt pure pleasure as Drudge lowered herself onto his penis, and the two women leant forward to kiss one another as they began to work themselves, in harmony, up and down on the two shafts.

Cook and Drudge used him continuously for about forty minutes, changing places about half-way through. He lost count of their orgasms, and because of his position and the weight of their bodies on his he probably missed many of them. He only came once, near the beginning and into Drudge, and they simply ignored it and went on without a break, causing him to squirm and struggle as he went through the period of extreme sensitivity that always followed an ejaculation. The treatments had certainly made it worse.

For lunch, the women removed his gag but left him pinioned to the table, spooning a tasteless gruel into his mouth while they ate what appeared to be BLTs. To give him something more substantial to chew on they popped cereal pellets into his mouth from time to time. He later learnt that both substances were usually fed to slaves who were being treated as animals; mainly hucows and ponygirls and boys. He was given a few squirts of coffee.

Afterwards they used him one at a time, mounting his penis or using his face for cunnilingus. The other one would be running errands upstairs or doing odd jobs in the kitchen. He gathered that most of the food they served was pre-prepared, even the fillings for the pies he had seen them making. Neither of them ever spoke directly to him, and he learnt very little from their conversation. Apart from when he was being fed, he was treated as nothing more than a warm sex-doll.

Nevertheless, Simon learnt a lot during those few hours. The lesson was driven home, that although Juneet alwould hold conversations with him, and treat him like a helpless companion, he would also be used as athing- his humanity having no function other than to make him a better tool that others would use for their pleasure. Cook and Drudge were riding a sex-object that was strapped to a table. The fact that it had a real person trapped inside it might have made it more exciting for them, but they were not going to interact with it on any cerebral level. It was not the only time that Imogen had treated them to a male slave, for they clearly had a well-established routine for exploiting him.

Simon already knew, from his experience with June and Slut, that he would often be used by other slaves. As a raw, untrained pleasure slave, he knew that it was inevitable, and that he would benefit from the experience. With Cook and Drudge it was a less interactive process. He was lent to them to be used, without any expectation that it would do him any good. Perhaps it would help to strengthen his tongue, and possibly to toughen the tissues in his penis, but they were incidental outcomes, if they happened at all.

Basically, there were a few hours during which Imogen had no use for him, so she ensured that his time was not a wasted resource. In that respect she was like a homeowner, who, going away for a fortnight, lent it to a friend who was due for a holiday. He could expect, he realized, to be used for sex almost constantly, since that was the reason for his existence. The more he became resigned to that fact, the more relaxed he felt. The cares and worries experienced by most people were not for him. He just needed to give and receive pleasure.

Pain and Pleasure

Pain and Pleasure

The notion that Simon's life would be dedicated to giving and receiving sexual pleasure was one to which he tried his best to hold on, even though he knew it could not possibly be that simple. Although he had done nothing but lie still and apply his mouth to anything that was presented to it, he was exhausted when they released him from the table. He had to be helped up to the chapel with a woman on each arm, just about managing to prevent his feet from scraping on the bare stone floor and steps.

In that vaulted Gothic space, Imogen was putting the finishing touches to Fella's bondage. He was tied with thin rope by the wrists and ankles to two upright posts, seeming to be slightly stretched in an X-shape between them. He was bound directly to the woodwork; not hanging in chains or ropes from it, and he was wearing a large ballgag that was kept in his mouth with an extra strap around its front. He was, of course, naked and erect. He was looking around him wide-eyed, but it was difficult to tell how frightened, or how curious, he was.

Although Imogen was checking the security of the knots and tightening the ropes where necessary, Simon assumed that she had had help getting him into place, probably during one of Cook's earlier absences from the kitchen. Velo was also displayed in bondage, tied to a single upright post with her wrists behind it, gagged and with her legs wide apart, anchored to staples firmly embedded in the stone floor. She was placed in front of Fella, where she had the best possible view of him. By her side was another stake, and to that Simon was bound, and they were both fitted with panel gags without apertures or accessories.

Between the two stakes was a very comfortable armchair, in which Imogen now reclined, holding a glass of wine. The flogging was going to be administered by Cook who, Simon later learnt, was regarded as having an especially strong right arm. She began with a couple of practice swings against a punchbag that was set up to one side. The other vital accessory was a very large mirror occupying much of the far wall of the space. Although placed in front of Fella, Imogen, Simon and Velo all had a clear view of his back.

Simon was erect anyway because of his regulator, but he was surprised to feel, as Cook was preparing herself, that his penis was twitching and straining beyond the level six to which it was set. Imogen had adjusted it to keep to a minimum while allowing further hardening beyond that, should he be sufficiently stimulated. When Cook applied the first strokes to Fella's back, causing him to scream immediately and jerk forward in his bonds, Simon felt himself the twitching stop as he settled to something more like a steady seven.

Simon could not be sure whether his reaction meant that he was a sadist, enjoying Fella's pain, or a masochist, imagining himself in that position. He came to suspect the former, mainly because he took such a critical interest in the process. He was surprised at the amount of forward motion caused by the impact of the whip, and as the posts were immovably rigid, all the strain of it was felt in Fella's shoulders. Simon wondered whether the muscles would be pulled and sore, but he already suspected that all slaves were given treatments to make them more resilient.

Simon had never excelled in sports, but the one bright spot in his dismal performances had been his timing. He was also an acute observer, particularly of games involving bats. In cricket or baseball, two strokes could look almost identical, but one would dribble ineffectually to be picked up by a fielder, while the other would race to the boundary in a flash. So it was with the single-tail whip used by Cook, and he knew that she was not striking as hard as she could. The leather creased Fella's flesh and he jerked and screamed, but Simon sensed that the tiniest adjustment could have doubled the tip speed and caused much more serious damage.

The question was, therefore, was she deliberately holding back, just taking the edge off her strokes in a way that Imogen, whose eye was, presumably, less keen, would not detect? The lashes were so consistent, both forehand and backhand, that Simon thought that was almost certainly the case. That didn't mean that the flogging was a picnic. There was no simulating the impacts that threw Fella forward, and his screams were full-throated and desperate, at least after the first two or three strokes. At the very beginning, they did seem marginally mistimed and exaggerated.

Simon also questioned the number of lashes. Fella was only given a dozen- not the expected twenty- and he surmised that, however severe the pain, it would probably be bearable provided that it was short-lived; that the victim knew it would end soon. Twelve strokes, therefore, did not seem enough to constitute a harsh punishment. Two or three dozen would be more convincing. He was not going to mention that to Imogen, however, for fear of finding himself castas the engineer hoist with his own petard.

Simon watched as the flogging ended and Fella slumped in his ropes in real or feigned semi-consciousness. From start to finish there had been something about the spectacle that did not quite ring true. It might have been nothing more serious than that a house full of women were unwilling to make life intolerable for the only male available to them. He could offer them too much pleasure, if motivated to do his best. Simon did not make a crucial difference because his stay with them would be short.