Sausages for the Slave Ch. 14 – BDSM

Sausages for the Slave Ch. 14 – BDSM

It was Dan’s first morning as slave to his new owner, Sophia. Dan stood, dripping wet and naked, save for his slave collar and cuffs, outside the shower/toilet cubicle in the corner of the big basement room that was to be his world from now. He was wondering if he had missed out on the drying arrangements somehow. He knew that if he had, Sophia would soon put him right. She seemed to be fairly direct like that.

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While thinking this, Dan dared to glance towards his owner, sitting at the other side of the room. When she took him into her ownership the previous night, Sophia had told Dan never to look her in the eye, to look down at the ground. In other words, adopt a suitably humble and deferential stance as befits a slave before its owner. It hadn’t be like that with Mary, but Dan knew that was beside the point. Mary wasn’t here now. And If Sophia says ‘jump,’ it would be wise for the slave to jump. None of that asking ‘how high’ stuff. That could be interpreted wrongly. That could sound like you were questioning your master, or in this case, mistress. That could get you another five sore strokes of the crop across your ass.

Nevertheless, Dan bravely decided that the ‘don’t dare look me in the eye,’ sort of injunction only applied to up close situations. Whereas this would come under the heading of a general look from afar. When he did look up, he saw that Sophia was sitting on the big wooden armchair that she had used when breast feeding him the previous night. She was holding a white fluffy towel in one hand, while beckoning imperiously with the other. So, looking from afar was OK. In fact it was necessary.

Dan, even from afar, couldn’t avoid noticing that Sophia had removed her leggings and sweater leaving only a white bra and very skimpy panties to protect her modesty. Not that she had any in front of the slave. He wondered was this more of her deliberate teasing of the emasculated slave. Letting him know that she can do what she likes in front of him, and that he, the slave, is just going to have to bottle up his manly urges and take it. Take it like a wimp, or like a eunuch.

Dan shuffled over to stand in front of the beckoning Sophia, who was now pointing her finger downwards, between her bare spread legs, indicating the spot where Dan was to stand. The thin, almost translucent, pair of high cut panties displayed Sophia’s proud pudenda. She may as well have been naked. A small damp stain in the centre of the crotch revealed her pleasurable anticipation of the breast feeding session. Dan couldn’t help himself rising manfully to the occasion, his cock quickly swelling, lifting and straining towards that which it would never attain.

Sophia towelled Dan’s balls and penis intimately and thoroughly, as he stood before her. She ‘accidently on purpose’ slowly stroked his penis a final few times with the towel before handing it to him, telling him to dry the rest of himself. While Dan busied himself drying, Sophia removed her sweater, uncapped one side of her heavy white maternity bra while supporting the full and heavy breast from beneath with her hand. Dan stared eagerly at Sophia’s freed, bulging breast and proud brown nipple. He was so hungry, but he wisely waited for the signal to kneel between her knees, lean in and ‘latch on.’

As a result of the previous night’s whipping with the riding crop, Dan carried five livid red stripes on his ass. After feeding him, Sophia put him to work on his lesson plans. Dan sat himself down very carefully on the edge of the chair, pulled up to the desk and switched on the laptop. His fresh diaper gave his sore ass a bit of padding, but not much. This time, Sophia didn’t lock his collar chain to the desk. Now that the long day chain was securely locked around Dan’s ankle, she was satisfied that escape was out of the question. Dan settled down to work on his lesson preparation. Day one proper of Dan’s slave life in Paris had begun.

That evening, after Dan spent a long day at the desk, and before his night feed, Sophia arrived in the basement and told Dan to prepare for his second punishment. She led him to the whipping post Positioned him facing out, back to the post. She tied his legs to the rings on each side of the foot wide post, forcing him to spread a little. Sophia had to stand on her foot stool to tie Dan’s hands to the ring above and behind his head. Then she ran lengths of strapping around and just below each knee, pulling them back behind the post and tying them off. This meant that Dan was unable to bring his knees together. Forced to spread a little more than he was comfortable with.

Just as on the previous night, Sophia was dressed, or undressed, in a black nursing bra and sheer black knickers. Her full breasts carelessly brushing against his chest and the side of his head as she stretched up to fix his wrists to the ring. Her legs straddling his leg, her pussy pressing into his thigh. All carelessly reminding him he could do nothing about it. He was helpless in the face a young woman who openly flaunted her body in front of him. Rubbed it against him. Taunted him with her flesh.

Yes, she could do what she liked with his body. Was doing it. Dan blushed as Sophia undid the Velcro tabs and pulled away his daytime diaper. He found there was something humiliating about the process. Dan, a grown man, made helpless in the control these basic bodily functions. While tossing the diaper towards the bin near the outside wall, Sophia allowed her hand absentmindedly fondle his balls and penis, much as a mother’s would a toddler’s. Making as free with his body as she wished. Carelessly playing with her slave’s enslaved manhood in all its glory, balls and all. And again, he could do nothing about it, other than rise to the occasion. Which he did.

Dan, tied in position, was now prepped for his second runaway slave punishment. He lost sight of Sophia as she moved behind him. He heard her rummage at the box at the far side of the room. Her toy box, as Dan imagined it to be. On her return Dan saw she was holding a table tennis bat and a thin leather belt.

‘No gag tonight, Slave,’ she said slipping the belt behind his waist and brought the ends round to the front. Dan shivered slightly at the cool touch of her fingers on his abdomen as she looped the belt loosely in front. Then, with her casual approach to Dan’s ‘bits’ that was now the new normal, she grasped his balls and pulled them up over the belt with one hand, while tightening the belt and pulling the buckle closed with the other. The effect was to tuck his scrotum up against his groin, with his balls protruding above the belt

‘There, that should do it,’ she murmured, as much to herself as to Dan, gently rubbing his stretched and bulging scrotum over and back with her fingers, making sure they were properly held up and presented for her purposes. Dan glanced down to see his balls were sitting proud in front of his groin, held snugly in place by the belt under them. The skin of his scrotum gleamed shiny, pimpled and purple. The tip of his now shrivelled penis shyly peeped out between the swollen orbs as if hiding from the coming storm.

‘Tonight your balls are getting a beating, Slave. It will hurt in only the way that getting a kick in the balls hurts. It’s been known to cause the recipient, that’s you, Slave, to throw up with the shock of the pain. That’s why I haven’t fed you yet. And that’s why you have no gag. I don’t want you to choke on your vomit. The only thing worse than a runaway slave is a dead slave. It’s a while since your last feed, so you should be okay.’

She stood up close to Dan. Ran her hand up the inside of his thigh, stroking all the way up to the crack of his ass, down again towards his knee, then slowly all the way up to where his balls would be if she hadn’t pulled them up and held them high and pressed against his groin with the band around his waist. They were just sitting up there, waiting to be hit. Dan tried to keep his breathing even. Didn’t want to let his anxiety show. Sophia hadn’t finished baiting him, hyping the moment, knowing the anticipation of a slap on the balls was painful, though not anywhere near as painful, as the actual hit would be.

‘I’ve got the bat, and you, Slave, you’ve got the balls. That makes us a team. Now let’s play the game. Try not to puke — it’s just messy, besides it’s my milk you’d be puking. I don’t like to see it wasted. There’s a separate punishment for puking, by the way. Now let’s have some music so your screams don’t scare the neighbours. And you will scream, Slave.’

‘Yes, Mistress,’ whispered Dan, trembling against the whipping post. The pull of his upstretched arms, tied high above and behind his head, hollowed his stomach and stretched his groin like a drum. A drum about to be hit.

Dan braced himself once more as Sophia moved behind him and out of his sight. He kept glancing down at his horribly exposed balls sitting hard against his lower abdomen, tensing himself yet again for the expected hit. She must be going to hit me from behind he decided, so I can’t see it coming.

But then, from behind him, music started playing; loud. A short intro and then that rich, mellow unmistakable voice; Neil Diamond. “Where it began… I can’t begin to know when…But then I know it’s growing strong..’de..de….de..de….de..de..” Suddenly Sophia swoops into view and dances past Dan, tapping his balls with her free hand in time to the -de..de… beat, while grinding the rubber dimpled bat surface hard against his left nipple, pulling and dragging out of it painfully. Dan gasped. It wasn’t that painful but wince inducing at the same time.

‘Music to soothe the soul, Slave, or to soothe the neighbour’s souls anyway. Don’t want you scaring them with you roaring and screeching. Here we go. You can sing along if you like, Slave.’

“Hands touching hands..reaching out..touching me…touching you.” Sophia sings along, dancing to one side, flicking the bat over and back in time to the music and reaching out her other hand to give Dan slightly harder slaps on his balls, just waiting for the big moment. Here it comes.

Sophia moves in on cue for the first big hit. ‘…Sweet Caroline….’ Whop.. Whop.. Whop… Three sharp hard slaps on the balls with the bat and Dan screamed briefly then silently because the air immediately left his lungs. His stomach heaved as the wave of pain surged through him. It was a dry heave, followed by another. His stomach must be empty, he decided through the pain. Then Dan’s knees gave way and he hung briefly from his manacled wrists, his chest heaving and gasping for air, the pain radiating and pulsing up from his groin paralysing him. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t struggle. Just hung there.

‘Come on, Slave. Stay with me. Stay with the rhythm,’ said Sophia in a sing-song voice as she danced in towards him again. Her bat twirling above her head. ‘Here we go again.’

Dan managed to get his knees working and pulled himself upright just in time for “…Good times never seemed so good….” Whop.. Whop.. Whop… Another three unmerciful slaps with the bat straight onto his tied up balls. Everything went black. Dan was out of it.

When Dan came too he didn’t know if he had been out for one second, or one minute, or ten. He was still suspended from the whipping post, his breath a rapid shallow panting, the pain intense, his vision blurry. Sophia seemed to be standing above him. As his vision cleared, he realised she was standing on the footstool, holding a small bucket of ice and water. She was dabbing his face with an ice-cold cloth.

‘You’ve come back to us, Slave, I see,’ she smirked, now moving the freshly soaked icy cloth down to his red and throbbing balls.

‘I think we’ve found your tender spot.’

‘I’ll certainly know what to do if you are a bold boy in the future,’ she added as she enveloped his balls in the ice cold wet cloth.

The pain in his balls immediately eased as his scrotum was numbed to insensitivity. Dan got his feet under him once more and began to take deep breaths. The music had stopped, but he wasn’t sure if Sophia had switched it off, or the song had ended while he was out of it.

‘That’s it, slave. We’re nearly there. Just one more round of punishment on those tender balls of yours and we’re done.’

Dan intended to protest, or to beg, but all he could produce was an aimless whimpering sound. Probably for the best. Sophia wasn’t inviting any contribution from her slave.

‘Tell you what,’ she said, opening her bra. ‘I’ll give you a little feed to get your strength back up.’

Standing on the stool, Sophia’s breast was a little above Dan’s mouth, but he eagerly reached up and closed his lips carefully around her stiff nipple. His breathing getting back to normal, Dan began to feed greedily, his strength seeming to return with each tiny gulp of her breast milk. It was as if each warm jet of mother’s milk pushed the memory of his terrible torture further behind him. He wanted to keep sucking for ever. When it was time to switch breasts, Sophia had to ease his mouth open and off her nipple by pushing her hand in front of his face and squeeze his nostrils shut. As soon as he was let, Dan eagerly clamped on to the second breast and resumed gulping anxiously. This was only his first full day on the breast, but it seemed so natural and such a comfort after the ball beating session. He wanted to go on sucking forever.

‘Now Slave, remember, we are not quite finished,’ Sophia reminded Dan as she again eased his mouth away from her second breast. ‘Seeing as you are a fainter, I’m going to put you in a different position to finish your punishment. Fainting is just the body’s way of avoiding pain, and we can’t have that, can we?’ she asked, as she tucked her breast back into her nursing bra, and answered her own question ‘No, we can’t. If you are due a punishment, you have to take your punishment. No ducking out of it by fainting. So let’s get to it.’

Dan tensed up and shuddered at that prospect of more ball torture. But he didn’t resist. He was too weak to resist. Sophia unclipped one or his wrists from above his head and reattached directly to his slave collar, tight under his chin. Same for the second wrist.

‘Now Slave, slide down on your knees. Then bend over. Head on the floor. ‘ She ordered as she stepped down from the footstool and headed back to her toy box. Dan immediately felt better on his hands and knees with his forehead resting on the cool floor. He took deep breaths. Every so often a violent shudder would wrack his body from head to toe. But he was recovering.

Sophia brought back a spreader bar and, briskly unclipping one of Dan’s ankle cuffs from the whipping post, attached one end of the spreader bar to his ankle.

‘Spread’em, Slave,’ she said with relish, as she unclipped Dan’s other ankle from the post. The one that was permanently attached to the day chain. Dan obliged slowly, because his groin was very tender and it hurt to stretch it. Sophia unceremoniously used her foot to push his knees apart until his ankles were spread enough to allow the other end of the spreader bar be clipped in place.

‘Now shuffle away from the post. I need to get a clear shot at your balls.’

Obedient slave Dan duly shuffled painfully on his elbows and knees, his nose inches from the floor, his ankles spread wide, a throbbing soreness still echoed around his groin and he winced with each forward movement of his bent legs. When she was satisfied, Sophia stopped him by pressing the ball of her bare foot against his forehead, her heal an inch from Dan’s mouth. He could smell her foot, that very human, earthy, yet nice, foot smell. Dan would have liked to have licked that heel, kissed that foot, begged for forgiveness, promised never to run away again. And Sophia would have stroked his head gently, pulling him towards her, allowing him gently place a string of kisses along her calf, behind her knee, till he pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh and moved ever higher…

A sharp jerk at his waist jerked Dan out of his reverie. Sophia had unbuckled the belt that had trapped Dan’s balls, and pulled it away. No tender moment going to happen, then. Dan’s breathing began to pick up speed as his balls dropped free between his spread thighs. Making them an open target for this sadistic bitch. His stomach tensed as her hand appeared before his face holding a shallow bowl

‘Don’t want a mess, Slave. Do we?’ she said shoving the bowl under his chin.

Dan, from the lowly position of his head down near the floor, half buried in the bowl, heard as much as saw her feet moving behind him and braced himself once more. Felt his breathing shorten down to that panicked panting again. He flinched massively when Sophia gave a teasing touch with her fingers to his balls from behind. Just a tickle. Felt his stomach tense and heave. The vomit rose in his throat and he bravely kept his mouth shut, his cheeks filling like he was blowing a balloon. Spluttering and coughing, Dan bravely swallowed it down. It was only the milk he had just taken and there was not much of it. Manageable.

‘Having a little rehearsal, are we?’ enquired Sophia, with one hand on the small of Dan’s back.

‘I was just getting my range.’

Sophia moved her hand from the small of Dan’s back to rest on his still tender and striped buttocks. Did the pregnant pause thing, enjoying Dan’s frantic panting, feeling the tautness of his tensed muscles as he tried to anticipate the blow.

‘Here comes the real thing,’ she announced, but paused again, letting Dan hold his body hard like a wound spring till it ached from the anticipation. He’ll remember this for ever, Sophia thought as she hit him hard with the bat, up and under, between his legs, straight onto his balls, slapping them hard up against his groin.

Dan threw up violently into the bowl, as she knew he would, as she wanted him to, noisily and messily, vomit splashing out of the bowl, down his nose, back against his face, in several powerful, painful heaves until a final few dry retches marked the total emptying of Dan’s stomach. He crumpled to the side and lay there gasping, his spread legs gaping grotesquely, his tied hands scrabbling uselessly under his chin, trying vainly to reach down to assuage the hurt below.

‘When you are ready, Slave, I want to hear you say the words. The reason why we have to do this.’

When Dan got his breathing under control, he gasped out the desired formula. ‘I am sorry for trying to run away, Mistress. I will never try to run away again.’

‘Good boy,’ said Sophia as she unclipped the spreader bar from Dan’s ankles and reattached the short chain. ‘Now roll over and start licking up that mess; what’s on the floor, what’s in the bowl, what’s on your face. I don’t want a drop of my milk wasted. That’s the punishment for puking. You lick it up.’

‘Yes, Mistress,’ panted Dan, the waves of pain slowly lessening in his groin. He rolled slowly and carefully around onto his hands and knees again and began licking up his own puke. It was sour and acid now, mixed with his stomach juices and bile.

Sophia relaxed on her throne, observing Dan grovel and snuffle around in his own puke, like a pig in a pig sty, her hand inside her panties, her fingers slowly working her clitoris. She enjoyed watching a slave suffer and then bend to her will. She was a little surprised that she didn’t even have to threaten him with another slap on the balls. He just went ahead and stuck his nose into the disgusting mess that was his puke. It was nice to know he would do what she ordered him to do, no matter how disgusting. Proof that she now had an obedient and tamed slave at her disposal. Empowering.

After watching Dan lick the floor and the bowl clean of his own pale yellow-white puke, scrape his face clean with his fingers and lick those, Sophia decided to put him straight to bed. Getting any more useful work out of him that night was out of the question. Let him have a bit of recovery time, she decided. His balls could be swollen by morning, very tender at a minimum.