Jonathan gets a classical education

Jonathan gets a classical education

By 2NN

WARNING! This story deals with homosexuality and brutal S&M. If you are a minor or don't like these subjects, go elsewhere now.

Day 1

Jonathan had just started college and his first semester was only a week old. A slight and sensitive young man of just eighteen, he was a little feminine. His features were Asian and very delicate. He had jet-black hair and black eyes and very fine skin. Apart from the hair on his head, he hardly had a growth of hair anywhere else on his whole body. His arms, legs and chest were smooth and he had never had to shave a single time in his whole life. A little bit of hair grew in his crotch and under his arms, but it was very little. At 5´ 2" he was quite small and coupled with the fact that both his hands and feet were very small, he was often mistaken for a girl by people who met him for the first time. His voice did little to improve this first impression, as it was very light.

He was on his way to way what had already become his favorite class, Introduction to American Literature. The subject was good, but first and foremost Jonathan liked it because of the teacher, Professor Trenton. Professor Trenton was a large man in every way. He stood 6´7" and had a massive chest and huge arms and hands, like those of a heavyweight boxing champion, not a professor of literature. He was blond and blue eyed and had a smile that had managed to make a large number of students, both female and male, squirm uncomfortably in their now too tight pants. He usually dressed the part of a university professor right down to the tweed jacket, but mostly he looked like a former star athlete.

As for Jonathan, he had not yet come out and in fact he had yet to have a sexual encounter with anything but his right hand. Professor Trenton, however, made Jonathan's heart pound and his pants a size too small. Not only was he terribly attractive, but Jonathan also had a thing for figures of authority. His lonely masturbations were more often than not to fantasies of burly policemen or other stern men taking him more or less by force. Professor Trenton radiated authority and Jonathan desperately yearned for him. Of course he was much too shy to approach him and besides the professor was probably straight anyway. Still, he had fueled Jonathan's sexual fantasies for the past week.

When the class ended Jonathan filed out along with the others. On his way out he had dropped his bag and spilled its contents on the floor and so he was the last to leave the room apart from the professor. As Jonathan made for the door he heard a voice behind him: "Just a minute," the professor said, "I seem to recall that you had an interesting question about the early works of Mark Twain." Jonathan had indeed had a question, but it was a small thing which he had almost forgotten himself and so he made a slightly stuttering non-committal answer. The professor, however, seemed interested: "What's your name?" Jonathan was beginning to get uncomfortable. This close to the professor he was even more attractive and his charm made Jonathan sweat, but he managed to answer: "My name is Jonathan, Professor Trenton." The professor looked Jonathan straight in the eye and smiled at him in such a way that Jonathan felt himself become hard. It was most embarrassing, but Professor Trenton seemed not to notice and instead said: "Well, Jonathan, we should discuss this I think. Come to my office at five thirty and I'll have some answers for you. I just need to look it up." With that he left, not so much asking Jonathan to come to his office as ordering him to do so.

Jonathan was very confused and more than a little excited about Professor Trenton's invitation/order. The question seemed like a pretext, a bad excuse. Jonathan was quite sure that the professor thought the question a little stupid; he had certainly given that impression when Jonathan had first asked it. But still Jonathan couldn't quite believe that the professor had some other agenda in asking Jonathan to his office. Surely he couldn't be gay? Surely he couldn't be hitting on Jonathan on such a thin excuse? The mere thought was almost enough to send Jonathan to the bathroom for a bout of guilty masturbation. He was certainly hard enough and for the rest of the day Jonathan was more than a little distracted.

By five o'clock the most of university buildings were empty and the English department was completely empty when Jonathan turned up for his five thirty appointment. Professor Trenton's office was situated somewhat isolated on the top floor, overlooking the woods behind campus. Shortly after knocking on the door, Jonathan heard the shout: "Come in!" and entered timidly. The professor sat behind a huge desk, reading a book. He looked up at Jonathan and gave him a knowing smile: "Close the door behind you. There's a nasty draught." Jonathan had felt nothing at all as he walked in, but he still closed the door behind him. The office was filled with books and papers, but outrageously neat and orderly. There were no sloppy piles of paper, no dusty bookcases, no forgotten letters in strange places. Considering the amount of books in the office it was a little scary.

In front of the professor's desk was a single chair and Jonathan was directed to sit in it. As he sat down, the professor directed all his attention at him. As Jonathan had expected the answer to the question he had posed in class was trivial and soon out of the way, Jonathan hardly noticing that the professor had answered it and certainly not caring what the answer was. Instead Jonathan was busy basking in the man's undivided attention. It was quite clear that Professor Trenton was interested in him, not the early works of Mark Twain.

In fact the professor was soon grilling Jonathan about his past and his background and Jonathan found himself answering all his questions completely honestly, denying him no information. He told him how his parents were dead and how he had grown up with a distant aunt, an aunt who had died just as he had turned eighteen. He told the professor how he came from a town in another state and that he attended the university on a full scholarship. The professor was also told about the tiny little one-room apartment Jonathan lived in and how he had yet to make any friends in this place. It was as if he had mesmerized him and Jonathan had lost the ability to hide anything from him.

When the professor finished questioning Jonathan, there was a long pause. Jonathan felt somehow drained and relieved at the same time and was trying to muster the courage to ask the professor some of the same questions, when Professor Trenton stood up and walked around to Jonathan's side of the desk. Here he sat on the edge of the desk, regarding Jonathan silently for a few seconds before leaning forward, moving his face closer to Jonathan's. His hand reached out and caressed Jonathan's cheek and he asked: "Have you ever had sex with another man before?" Unable to speak, Jonathan just shook his head, never breaking eye contact with the professor. "How about a woman?" Again Jonathan was only able to shake his head, completely paralyzed by this man who was clearly seducing him. Jonathan was finally having his first sexual encounter with another man, a man whom he had been fantasizing about, and all he was able to do was move his head. Professor Trenton, however, didn't seem to mind. He just smiled and said: "Easy. You don't have to do anything. Just let me take care of it." Paralyzed as he was, Jonathan felt a great wave of gratitude towards the professor for this.

The professor took Jonathan's hand and pulled him to his feet. Even standing Jonathan was completely dwarfed by the other man, towering almost a foot and a half above him. Leaning down the professor then kissed Jonathan ever so gently while letting his hands roam over Jonathan's chest. It was even better than the kisses he had dreamed about and he offered no resistance whatsoever as the professor undressed him. Soon Jonathan stood completely naked in front of the fully dressed professor. He smiled at Jonathan and turned him around so that he now faced away from the desk. His hands now roamed freely all over Jonathan's body and Jonathan couldn't help himself emitted a low moan of pleasure. He reached to return some of the caressing, but never managed to do so. When Jonathan started to move Professor Trenton said: "No you don't. I run the show here. Get your hands behind your head. Now!" Although almost whispered, the words were issued with such force that Jonathan's hands flew up to the back of his head and remained there. He had to admit that he had fantasized about being seduced by men in control and the professor had certainly asserted the control that turned Jonathan on.

Meanwhile the professor's hands had moved to Jonathan's crotch. One hand was gently masturbating his small, but very erect cock, but the other was kneading his balls none too gently. In fact the kneading soon began to turn outright painful as the professor squeezed Jonathan's balls against each other. Very soon Jonathan was trying to beg the professor to stop hurting his balls. Trying, because he couldn't quite get the words out of his mouth. Actually Jonathan was confused as to whether he disliked the pain in his balls at all. It seemed that the combination of pleasure from the gentle masturbation and pain from the rough treatment of his balls was increasing his overall pleasure a great deal and so Jonathan found himself unable to complete his begging for the man to leave his balls alone. Every time he was about to utter a sentence that the professor might understand, his thought were interrupted by a wave of pleasure as the professor's expert touch of both his cock and his balls brought him closer to an orgasm and his words turned to useless croaking and moaning. Still he didn't dare take his hands down and the professor had his way with him. Suddenly he erupted, his cum spewing from him seemingly out of nowhere, his body writhing and twitching as a girlish scream of pure pleasure escaped him. And just as he came, Professor Trenton squeezed his balls especially hard, not only filling his crotch with an unbearable pain but also amplifying his orgasm, turning Jonathan into a twitching, moaning doll being controlled and manipulated by the man holding his genitals. He didn't even think to take down his hands as he twisted and jerked.

When the orgasm was over all too soon, Professor Trenton let go of Jonathan and he collapsed to the floor, his crotch filled with blinding pain and his body with overwhelming pleasure and contentment. As he knelt on the floor clutching his very tender genitals, Jonathan was torn. He had loved what the professor had just done to him, including the violent treatment of his balls, something that surprised him a great deal, but at the same time he couldn't escape the feeling that Professor Trenton was perhaps moving awfully quick. Considering that Jonathan had never had a sexual encounter with another person, it was perhaps more than a little forward for the professor to treat him effectively as some sort of slave.

Professor Trenton, however, seemed not to notice such small matters. Instead he had taken out his cock and now spoke again: "It's time you learned how to give pleasure with your mouth. Get over here and kneel so we can begin the lesson." Again Jonathan felt like he ought to say no, but a combination of the professor's commanding tone and the sight of his magnificent cock changed his mind and like an eager puppy-dog he crawled over to sit on his knees, his eyes at the same height as the professor's crotch.

It was worth it. For the next half hour he was allowed to touch, lick and suck the professor's cock as the man instructed him in how to provide the best blowjob. Professor Trenton began teaching him how to use his tongue best and how to use his hands. Jonathan had dreamed about this moment when a big strong man would introduce him to the secrets of sex and he had dreamed about taking a big fat cock in his mouth since before he had fully realized that he was gay. Kneeling in front of Professor Trenton, sucking his cock made Jonathan's tender cock hard and needy in no time at all.

But to his disappointment the professor would not allow Jonathan to finish the job. Instead he stood Jonathan up, turned him around and ordered him to place his hands on the desk and not move them until told to do so. The direct order made Jonathan shiver with a mixture of apprehension and expectation. Then the professor took a tube of lubricant, which had been lying on the desk the whole time. Jonathan felt a pang of embarrassment when he realized that it had been lying in there right in front of him the whole time, an open declaration of the professor's intent that he had missed.

As the professor moved behind him he also felt a pang of real fear. He had of course dreamed of the moment when he would get fucked, but the thought of having something so large pressed up his ass made him whimper with nerves. He feared that the very well endowed professor could damage him with his tool, even if he lubed up properly.

Getting the professor's cock up his ass was just as painful as he had imagined and by the time he had breached Jonathan's defenses and was pushing into him, Jonathan's mouth was open in a soundless scream and tears had gathered in the corner of his eyes. That wasn't to say that Jonathan didn't like it. Jonathan did like it. He liked is a lot. It was much more painful than he had imagined, having only tried shoving a finger up his ass, but the feeling of fullness, although unpleasant in itself, and the feeling of being taken by the brutal and attractive professor was desperately sexy. Soon he was hard and moaning hard as well. Professor Trenton then started moving his giant cock in and out, beginning the fucking in earnest. Jonathan now moaned to the rhythm of the professor's cock pounding in and out of him.

Once the rhythm had been established, the professor began paying attention to Jonathan's cock. With one hand he began stroking it gently, lifting it up for the ministrations of his other hand. This he used first to knead Jonathan's balls painfully, just as he had done before. The kneading only increased his aroused moaning and Jonathan realized that it had been no coincidence that the professor's abuse of his balls had turned him on before. Even in his highly aroused state Jonathan realized that pain administered to his balls turned him on. It was a very alarming thought and in the back of his head he considered the possibility that pain in general might be a turn-on for him.

The thought was interrupted as he found himself screaming in pain. The professor had brought his hand down in a vicious blow to Jonathan's balls and the pain was very bad, making his knees buckle. But the pain was good too, very good, and Jonathan's scream continued and changed pitch as he came in a fabulous orgasm, his jism shooting out of his cock as the pain shot up through him from the center of his crotch. As Jonathan jerked under the powerful influence of the pain-induced pleasure, the professor kept him on his feet by keeping up his fucking and by holding on to Jonathan's bruised genitals. Finally, as Jonathan's orgasm was ebbing away, the professor came, shooting his load up Jonathan's ass. When the fucking was over Professor Trenton released Jonathan, allowing him to collapse on the floor, clutching his sore balls.

Rest was not what the professor had in mind for Jonathan, however. Standing over Jonathan the professor issued his command: "Get up on your knees, you little shit!" A submissive thrill ran through Jonathan as he got up on his knees, not daring to disobey. It surprised him somewhat that being bossed around by the professor turned him on a great deal, but considering his sexual fantasies he realized that it shouldn't. Being taken more or less by force had always been a staple of his erotic fantasies.

And now they were coming true. Kneeling in front of the professor, his crotch very tender and beginning to swell up, he found himself looking up at his face with adoration. Seeing this, the professor smiled down in return. "Good boy," he said and patted Jonathan's head. This made Jonathan's heart swell with pride and primed him for the task the professor had for him. He indicated his still half-erect cock, smeared with his own cum and Jonathan's shit and said: "Clean it." There was no doubt that he meant for Jonathan to perform this disgusting task with his mouth and he recoiled. Eating cum was one thing, but shit? The professor would tolerate no hesitation or disobedience and quickly slapped Jonathan's face with surprising brutality: "Get cracking boy!" he shouted and Jonathan, his face stinging from the blow, knew that he had no choice. It was disgusting, but he had to do it. The professor's cock was slimy and smelled really bad, but Jonathan began licking it clean, just as he had been ordered. When he had swallowed the first of the cum and shit mixture, the professor commanded him to look him in the eye and smile as he cleaned his cock. It was very humiliating, but Jonathan obeyed and while licking the professor clean he looked him in the eye, keeping an adoring smile on his face. Shaming him further he felt his battered cock stirring at the treatment.

When the professor's cock was nice and clean, Jonathan swallowed and kissed his cock before removing his head from the professor's crotch thinking himself through with the humiliations. But of course he was wrong. As the professor zipped up his pants he had one more order for Jonathan: "Now your own cum." There could be no doubt that he meant the cum Jonathan had spilled on the floor, just as there could be no doubt that he meant for Jonathan to use his tongue again.

This time he knew better than to hesitate or express revulsion and he quickly sought out the spots he had left on the floor. It was by no means delicious, but since it was only cum and he had already cleaned the professor's disgusting cock, it was much easier this time. Soon he sat at the professor's feet, again looking up at him with genuine adoration. The professor noticed this and again said those magic words: "Good boy."

He then had Jonathan dress and sit at his feet. Jonathan looked up at him. "You are of course mine now", he said, making Jonathan shiver with the submissive thrill, "and I will treat you as my property. From now on you will come to office every day at five o'clock and soon you will also come to my house in the weekends. You have much to learn and I will not tolerate anything but perfection. Understood?" It was by no means clear what it was that he was supposed to learn or at what he was expected to be perfect, but Jonathan nodded nonetheless. The soundless response was not what the professor had in mind and he promptly slapped Jonathan so hard that he fell over on his side: "I didn't hear you slave!" he shouted at the shocked figure in front of him, "you will address me properly. Understood?" Jonathan was indeed shocked and scared, but fumbling for the words he stuttered what he thought the professor wanted him to say: "Yes Master." It was obviously what he was after as he smiled down at Jonathan and said: "Good. Five o'clock tomorrow then. Get out."

Jonathan scrambled to his feet and almost ran for the door. He had never been shocked, scared or aroused in his life and standing with the closed door behind him he realized what he had just agreed to. He had in effect agreed to be Professor Trenton's slave! He had called him "Master" and done everything he was ordered to and not only that. He had liked it!

Jonathan had always imagined that he would first come out and try some gentle sex before trying out the rough stuff, just to see what it was about. But now he found himself in a Master/slave relationship straight away, perhaps even discovering that he was a pain-slave. It was too much and he almost ran back to his tiny apartment close to campus. Here he went straight to bed and tried to sleep, figuring it was the best way to deal with what he had experienced. It occurred to him that a bath would also be a good idea, but found that the smell of sex still on his skin was too precious to wash off. Instead he lay down under the covers and tried to sleep. But no matter how he tried, he couldn't fall asleep as his thoughts kept returning to the rough sex and the humiliating treatment afterwards.

And then he realized why he had run for the bed. It was not to sleep, but to masturbate. With the realization Jonathan's cock sprang into action and soon he couldn't help himself, but jacked off wildly.

After he had cum, soiling himself and the sheets, he was overcome with guilt. He should be having ordinary sex, not this S&M stuff, be with a nice guy and not with someone who made him lick off a mixture of semen and shit.

His crotch told him otherwise as he felt the pain from yet another brutal kneading of his balls, this time performed by himself. Thinking of this made him horny all over again and this time he craved an intrusion into his ass. Rummaging through his small kitchen, he found the only thing approximating a goodly sized cock: the handle of his only frying pan. It wasn't long before he lay in bed, the handle of the frying pan shoved in as far as it would go, while he masturbated frantically while abusing his balls.

Interrupted by short bouts of guilt-filled rest, this continued for the rest of the evening until Jonathan fell asleep with the handle still in his ass and his lower body smeared in his own cum.

Day 2

The next morning Jonathan felt horrible, filled with guilty feelings about his own behavior and the fact that he in effect agreed to be Professor Trenton's slave. A slave! It was horrible and wrong. And yet the thought again provoked a stirring in his crotch, but this time Jonathan rebelled against it, resisting the urge to masturbate. Determined to get back to a normal life, he ignored his cock and sat up in preparation to leave bed. Or rather he tried to sit up, because the minute he tried it he felt the intruder in his ass, the handle of his frying pan, preventing him from doing so. A wave of arousal swept over him briefly until he managed to get it under control. Ignoring his stiff, little cock begging for attention, he pulled the frying pan's handle out of his ass. Unable to control it, a moan of lust and pain escaped him and when it had left his ass the predominant feeling was one of loss. It was like his ass missed the handle filling him up.

Jonathan, however, was determined to ignore his guilty urges and get on with his life. He quickly washed the frying pan (taking his time caressing the handle as he washed the shit off) and ate breakfast after showering, washing off the cakes of congealed cum on his stomach. All of his sheets went straight into the dirty clothes hamper and he almost ran out the door to make it to the first lecture.

Jonathan felt like he was a step behind the whole day. For the first time in ages he hadn't prepared for the lectures and as such was reduced to sitting mute, passing on the few questions directed at him.

But it didn't matter, because he felt that he had successfully laid the nasty, dirty and demeaning experience of his sex with the professor behind him and that he could now start a normal sex life. The encounter with the professor had been gratifying but brutal and it was now time to move on. He was determined that it should be so and their scheduled five o'clock meeting was the perfect opportunity to tell the professor. Respectfully, but with determination, he would tell the professor: "Thank you, but no thank you!"

Jonathan carried this determination with him the whole day. At five he stood outside the professor's door knocking, his determination unwavering. Upon hearing the professor's call to enter, he did so, shutting the door behind him. Looking up from his reading with an evil smile, the professor immediately gave an order: "Get over here and suck my cock." Jonathan fought the urge to obey without question and instead said: "I'm very sorry Professor Trenton, but I have to say no to that." The professor eyed him suspiciously, but did nothing as Jonathan continued: "Yesterday was a huge experience, but I'm more interested normal sex, not S&M. I'm sorry."

To this the professor had no response, sitting silently watching Jonathan for a few minutes. As time went by Jonathan began feeling distinctly uncomfortable, but the professor did nothing to make him feel better. Finally, when Jonathan was just about to begin talking again, just to provoke some sort of response from him, the professor got up. Looking strangely distracted he walked around to Jonathan's side of the desk, standing with his side to Jonathan and looking out the window.

Jonathan was just starting to feel a little bad for him, when he turned towards Jonathan with a truly astonishing speed. With a look of fury on his face he slapped Jonathan with such force that he was thrown across the floor. Before he had any chance to recuperate, the professor was on him, first slapping his face hard several times in a row and then holding him by the throat. Seeing Professor Trenton's furious face almost pressed against his own scared Jonathan so badly that he pissed in his pants. He whimpered with shame as he felt the warmth spread across his lap, but this did nothing to abate the anger of the professor who spat at him: "Get undressed, now!"

Still whimpering with fear, his face stinging from the vicious blows that the professor had delivered, Jonathan undressed as quickly as he could. Calling for help or trying to run didn't even cross his mind as the professor had paralyzed it with fear. Once his clothes were off, the professor cleared the top of his desk and threw Jonathan face down on it. Moving much faster than Jonathan had imagined possible, he tied Jonathan up. His legs were tied to the legs of the desk on the front side of this, his feet resting on the floor. His arms were tied to the legs on the other side of the desk, forcing him to lie across the surface of the desk, his head right over the spot where Professor's Trenton's crotch would be, had he been sitting at his desk.

The professor knelt down in front of the terrified slave boy and said: "You do not have a choice in this matter. You are mine and will remain so until I tire of you and sell you to someone else." Even in his terrified state this made Jonathan open his mouth object. The response was swift and brutal, the professor delivering a long series of vicious slaps to Jonathan's face. With Jonathan now crying openly, the professor continued: "I don't care what you think or want. You are a slave now. And don't try to deny it; you've wanted this all along." With these words, he shoved Jonathan's own underpants, sopping with urine, into his mouth and fastened them there with a bit of string. Having thus gagged his slave with soiled underwear, the professor removed his leather belt in full view of an ever more terrified Jonathan and moved behind him. But as Jonathan waited for the belt to start hitting him, he instead felt the professor's hand touching his genitals ever so gently. "So you don't like it, is that right?" the professor asked Jonathan. Not expecting an answer he went on: "Then how come you are rock-hard, like a little he-bitch waiting impatiently for a nice, hot spanking?"

The professor was right and although Jonathan had tried to tell himself otherwise, he was harder than oak and it felt like his whole body was waiting impatiently for the professor's abuse. It didn't have to wait for long. With a brutality Jonathan could never have guessed, the professor launched a furious beating, covering most of the back of Jonathan from his calves to his shoulder blades. Most of the attention was of course directed at his ass, but no part of him was spared.

It was far, far worse than he had expected. Far more painful and far more demeaning and humiliating to be whipped like the completely powerless slave that he now was. It was also far, far more arousing than he could ever admit. Even as the professor whipped him and tears ran down his face while he cried like he had never cried before, Jonathan felt his cock stirring, telling him that he wanted this, that he needed this. Even more humiliating was the growing need Jonathan felt to get fucked again. Through his revolting gag and his own desperate sobs he tried begging the professor: "Fuck me. Please fuck me."

After what seemed like forever, the professor finally did. Lubing his cock up as the only consideration to Jonathan's well-being, he rammed his cock so hard up his ass that all the air was pressed out of Jonathan's lungs in a huge moan. The fucking was long and brutal and although it hurt him very much, making him cry with pain and humiliation, Jonathan loved every second of it. After only a few minutes of vicious slamming, the professor found Jonathan's sweet spot. Every stroke that the professor's cock made took Jonathan higher until finally he came, a massive orgasm rolling over him. Screaming and thrashing, desperately trying to tell himself that he really hated this, he rolled with the orgasm, shooting his load on the professor's desk. Not long after the professor came, screaming profanities at his slave boy while letting the belt rain down blows on Jonathan's back. As the professor withdrew, his cock leaving his ass with a small but audible "pop", Jonathan moaned with lust and regret. In a state where it was hard to deny what he was, almost impossible to lie to himself that he didn't want this, he wanted only for the professor to fill up his ass with his magnificent tool.

After leaving Jonathan's ass, the professor came around to his head. Presenting his cock to his still gagged slave boy, it wasn't hard for Jonathan to figure out what would be asked of him once the gag was removed. A minute later Jonathan, who had uttered not a single sound of protest and who had not hesitated one second, was licking the professor's cock clean from the mixture of semen and shit that covered it. From his uncomfortable vantage point he even tried looking adoringly up at the professor, in a futile attempt to placate him.

Professor Trenton did not seem impressed with his disobedient slave boy. Once his cock was clean he sat down and ordered Jonathan to start sucking his cock. Again there was not even a hint of hesitation in Jonathan's actions. He had liked sucking cock from the very start, but his swift compliance was motivated primarily by an almost overwhelming fear of punishment at the hands of the professor.

While he attended to his cock, the professor instructed Jonathan in how to perform a good blowjob, constantly correcting his technique. He also repeated to Jonathan just what he was to the professor: a slave, a mere object. He stressed that any form of disobedience, any at all, would result in punishment and that he expected absolute and immediate compliance with his orders from Jonathan's side.

As Professor Trenton spoke Jonathan realized that he was trapped, perhaps hopelessly. Trapped by not only the professor's brutality, but also by his own lust. He wanted this, no matter what he told himself. Jonathan, however, also realized that getting what you want is not always a good thing and that he would have to come up with a plan for escaping the professor, because there could be no doubt that he was serious when he said that he would keep him until he tired of him and then sell him. If Jonathan stayed with the professor he could kiss all hopes of a free life goodbye. Being dominated from time to time would be great, but the prospect of a lifetime of slavery, no matter how arousing, could not be a good thing.

While thinking this Jonathan diligently sucked the professor's cock, obeying every letter of his instructions. When he finally came, after what seemed like hours of hard work from Jonathan, he held on to Jonathan's head forcing him to take the whole load into his mouth. However, it came too fast for him to cope with and a large part of if spilled out of his mouth and into the professor's lap. This did not sit well with the professor who shouted yet another volley of abuse at him while slapping his face repeatedly, before moving once again to Jonathan's rear where he launched another furious whipping. Jonathan's ass was very tender having had less than half an hour to recover from the previous beating, but that didn't stop the professor from really leaning into the blows. In fact it seemed that the sound of Jonathan's screams from his now ungagged mouth, only spurred him on and soon Jonathan was reduced to screaming babbling wreck, begging for forgiveness from his owner.

When it was over it took Jonathan a few seconds to realize that the beating had stopped, so sore was his ass. Panting slightly with the exertion the professor stopped and listened to the sweet sound of his slave sobbing softly. Breaking in a new slave was always a pleasure and Jonathan was certainly one of those slaves whose mere presence cried out for a beating. There was something irresistibly tempting about him that begged for abuse and Professor Trenton was sure that he was the man to do it. Jonathan might even grow to like it, there was much suggesting that he already did, but really Professor Trenton didn't care. He would have him as his pain slave no matter what.

Hanging down between his outstretched legs and pressed up against the front of the professor's desk, Jonathan's genitals were perfectly exposed from where the professor stood. The slave boy's sobs had quieted down a little and the professor could feel how a fresh need for punishing the boy was manifesting itself.

Without a single sound of warning to Jonathan the professor's heavy leather belt fell on his genitals. The pain was unbelievable and Jonathan screamed until his face was red and he had run out of air. Just then the second blow fell, almost making him faint as he tried to scream with empty lungs. He had just managed to inhale when the third blow struck. After that the blows came hard, heavy and regularly, reducing Jonathan to a gurgling mass of pain close to outright panic.

But however much pain the blows inflicted on him, Jonathan had to admit that the pain in his genitals was also good. Very good. Not in spite of, but because of the almost unbearable pain it was causing his cock and balls, Jonathan began feeling aroused in a way and with an intensity like he had never felt before. After a few minutes Jonathan's screams had become screams of both pain and passion and his cock was hard as rock and twitching with lust. When the professor saw this, he stepped up the intensity of his beating until Jonathan's screams signaled the onrush of an unstoppable orgasm. He stepped back and with the words: "Let's get it all out," he kicked Jonathan's exposed and needy genitals - hard.

Jonathan's scream was earsplitting, but nowhere near as powerful as his orgasm. It was the best Jonathan had ever experienced, filling both his body and mind and blanking all other thoughts until he fainted from the sheer intensity of the orgasm.

Professor Trenton was impressed. The boy really was a pain slave and clearly loved getting his genitals abused. While he slowly regained consciousness, the professor removed his bonds and threw him on the floor where he woke up shivering. Looking up at the professor his expression clearly revealed all the conflicting emotions coursing through him: the realization of what he was, the strong desire to run away and be "normal" and the strange and involuntary affection he was starting to feel for the cruel man standing above him.

It was also quite clear that the poor slave boy had never been in so much pain. Jonathan's body screamed pain. The welts on his body were staring to swell to their full size and his genitals were well on their way to becoming bigger and far more tender than he had thought possible. Staring up at the professor, now his owner, Jonathan dared neither move nor speak. He simply lay in silence waiting fearfully for what the professor would do next.

"Clean up your mess," came the order and Jonathan quickly and dutifully licked his own cum from the floor and the front side of the professor's desk. Finished with this task he sat quietly waiting for new orders. Seeing his control over the slave boy made the professor horny again and soon Jonathan was sucking his cock again. It was over soon and this time he actually managed to swallow all of it, even if he almost gagged on it.

After the blowjob the professor had had enough and Jonathan was sent on his way. Not without a parting present though. Before he left the professor stuffed Jonathan's own soiled underwear into his mouth and instructed him not to remove it before he got home. Tears of humiliation in his eyes, Jonathan nodded and got up to leave. Only to be slapped back to the ground as the professor instructed him that the only way Jonathan was allowed to move in the professor's office was by crawling. Thus corrected Jonathan crawled sobbing into the mercifully empty hallway, shutting the door behind him before getting up. Putting on his clothes almost made him faint with pain and he was strangely grateful for the urine soaked gag stifling his screams. Especially putting on his pants proved nearly impossible. Jonathan had long favored fairly tight-fitting jeans, always enjoying the way they made his tight little ass look. Now pulling them up his beaten legs and his impossibly swollen genitals was pure torture, making him scream with pain one again. When they were finally on Jonathan felt the most unwelcome sensation of his cock once again being stiff from the pain that had been inflicted.

Jonathan cried with shame and humiliation the whole way home, but he managed to keep the underwear in his mouth a secret from the other people in the street by looking down for most of the time. Removing them before being allowed to was out of the question.

Once he got home, he took a shower and went straight to bed, being very careful to lie on his stomach, as his back was far too badly beaten to lie on. No position, however, could relieve the pain in his genitals, which filled his whole body with a dull, almost unbearable ache. Before going to bed he had placed a bag filled with ice on them to ease the pain, making him shiver uncontrollably with cold in the process, but now the ache had returned and nothing seemed to be able to make it go away.

Day 3

It was almost morning before he finally fell asleep and when the alarm clock rang, the jolt it caused in his body made him scream with pain. Staggering, he made his way to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. That his body was covered in huge welts that were turning from red to blue was no real surprise and neither was the fact that his cock and balls had swelled to nearly three times their normal size and turned blue in the process. But that his face was so swollen and bruised was a nasty surprise. In all the other beatings Jonathan had completely forgotten how much the professor had slapped him around.

Looking at his reflection it was clear to Jonathan that he had to remain indoors at least for the day. He looked like he had been assaulted and beaten badly, which of course wasn't far from the truth. Again the thought that getting what you wanted not always being a good thing surfaced and it occurred to him that he ought to go to the police and get the professor arrested for beating and raping him. This thought was immediately followed by thoughts of what the professor would do to him if he did go to the police. It was enough to make Jonathan loose bladder control and whimper with fear and after cleaning the bathroom floor he abandoned the idea, thinking that there had to be a way to escape the evil professor without going to the police.

For the rest of the day, lying in bed, Jonathan thought about this in between frantic, guilty bouts of intense masturbation.

Right after lunch his cell phone rang. Jonathan didn't really know anyone and was genuinely puzzled as to who it could be. It was the professor and when he heard his voice Jonathan involuntarily fell to his knees in submission. Professor Trenton had noticed Jonathan's absence at his lecture and while he understood why his slave chose not to show his face in class, he also wanted Jonathan to know that this was no excuse for staying away from his five o'clock appointment at the professor's office. An almost senseless babbling Jonathan assured his owner that he would turn up. Satisfied the professor hung up, but not before telling Jonathan to stop playing with himself. This made Jonathan cry as he realized that he had been masturbating to the sound of his cruel owner's voice without even thinking about it.

Jonathan was trapped and he knew it. He had to go to the professor's office and he wanted to go too. He knew that going would not be good for him, far from it, but not going was out of the question. He would just have to conceal his bruised face and try putting on loose clothes so as not to irritate the welts healing on his bruised body.

The walk to the professor's office was mercifully uneventful, but Jonathan felt distinctly circumspect wearing a jacket with the high collar turned up, sunglasses and a baseball cap.

After hearing the professor's shout that he could come in, Jonathan was very careful to get to his knees in the hallway and to crawl in, shutting and locking the door behind him. Seeing this, the professor chuckled evilly but said nothing as the already terrified slave boy crawled over to sit in front of the professor. As he removed the jacket, sunglasses and baseball cap, the professor noticed the clothes that Jonathan was wearing. He was not pleased. Not pleased at all. First delivering two vicious slaps to Jonathan's face he shouted: "Useless bitch! Never wear loose clothes unless I specifically tell you to! Slave boys wear tight clothes, revealing their useless little slut bodies. Understood?"

The suddenness and ferociousness of the attack made something snap in Jonathan. He had been so scared of doing something wrong, something that would anger the professor, and now he had done something that did anger him straight away. He broke down and began to cry inconsolably, babbling out his excuses to the professor, trying to beg forgiveness. Professor Trenton instantly recognized what had happened. He had managed to break Jonathan and he had done it so very quickly. The trick was now to use the situation to enforce in Jonathan's mind his status as a slave. He had to be made to realize that he was nothing but a useless slave, that he had no rights and that it was for his own good that the professor owned him. Jonathan had to know that he was inferior to everyone else. This would not be achieved right away, but this had the potential to be a good start.

Still shouting at the crying slave boy, the professor ordered him to undress. Having done this as fast as he could, Jonathan then sat sobbing at the feet of his owner. Taking Jonathan's chin in his hand and forcing him to look into his eyes, the professor explained patiently to Jonathan what he was, that he must know what a worthless piece of slave flesh he was, that he was better off in every way being owned and that he had to work constantly to prove his devotion to his owner.

The almost kind and caring tone from the professor touched Jonathan deeply. Maybe the professor was right. Maybe he, Jonathan, was nothing but a useless slave boy and maybe it was all for the best that he was being treated so harshly by the professor. If so, all the professor's abuse, all the brutal beatings and fuckings, had been done out of caring and this touched Jonathan so very deeply, making him cry anew. He now cried because he had been behaving so very badly towards a man who only wanted the best for him, who understood what he was and knew that worthless slaves like Jonathan should be beaten into submission - for their own good.

He also realized that saying this is not enough. He had to prove it to the professor. In a flash he realized what he must do and with a quivering voice he asked the professor to please punish him. He knew he has been bad and must be punished for it. Sneaking a hopeful glance at the professor, he saw the cruel man smile at him before answering: "I think that today it would be best if you punished yourself, proved to me and to yourself that you can behave correctly." The words made Jonathan both happy and confused. Happy that his owner had approved, at least partially of his offer and confused as to how he is to do it himself. The professor cleared up his confusion by telling Jonathan how he must punish himself and Jonathan was thrilled and scared when he heard the orders.

Soon Jonathan knelt in front of the professor, his left hand holding up his genitals with his right hand his held high, posed to strike his exposed genitals. At the professor's command he brought down his hand with as much force as he dared. The pain from his bruised genitals was very bad, but not nearly enough for the professor. Scolding Jonathan he told him to do it much harder next time. So Jonathan did it again. This time harder. It was still not hard enough for the professor, who told Jonathan that he thinks that he is pulling his punches. So he tried again. And again. And again, until the professor was pleased with the force of the blows. Jonathan's balls were screaming with pain and Jonathan was crying, gurgling with pain from his beaten balls. But it wasn't over. The professor finally pleased with the force of the blows, the punishment could begin. He ordered Jonathan to start hitting his balls and keep hitting them until told otherwise. Without hesitation Jonathan obeyed and started beating his balls. Soon a high-pitched keening could be heard from Jonathan's mouth, a keening of pain, fear and contrition that he was unable to control.

At the tenth blow Jonathan for the first time noticed how hard and aroused he was. Once again a beating of his balls was turning him on and he looked at the professor for help and guidance. What was he to do? He couldn't very well cum while being punished, could he? Professor Trenton knew exactly what was happening and smiled at the slave: "If you punish yourself hard enough, you can cum. So you'd better punish yourself as hard as you possibly can." The words filled Jonathan with love for his owner and he increased both the force and the frequency of his beating. Soon he was completely lost in a haze of pain and lust, frantically whacking away at his poor balls as his arousal mounted and he shot his load, his keening turning to a gurgling scream of pain. Again the orgasm was fantastic as was the pain, and he collapsed in a heap at the professor's feet, cupping his damaged genitals as he whimpered with pain.

Professor Trenton was most pleased, although Jonathan would never know it. Not only had the boy almost been broken, but he was undeniably turned on by pain, especially pain delivered to his balls. And the professor was very fond of administering pain in just that area, a sport he had been practicing for a long time.

The professor bent down to his slave and said: "Good boy," making Jonathan cry with gratitude.

Then the professor picked up Jonathan and made him stand with his hands held over his head, his back to the still sitting professor. Complying instantly Jonathan was filled with gratitude for the professor and when he felt him lubing up his ass, his heart began to race with joyful anticipation. Feeling the professor's strong hands grabbing his hips, he let the professor guide him until he felt the tips of the professor's cock pressing against his asshole. With a groan of pain and joy he was pressed down on the sitting professor's cock and while still holding his hands on his head, he was instructed in how to move his ass and body to provide the maximum amount of pleasure for the professor. The slow but insistent fucking was good for the professor, but it was certainly not unpleasant for Jonathan. Soon he was moaning with passion, the pain of having his ass stretched completely forgotten as he rode the professor's gorgeous cock. His only regret was that he couldn't manipulate his needy member. However, that proved unnecessary as the professor once again found Jonathan's sweet spot and after only a few strokes more, the pressure from the professor's cock against his insides made Jonathan cum, emitting a high-pitched, almost girlish, scream as he shot his load. Not long after the professor came as well and true to form it wasn't long before Jonathan was licking clean his cock, this time with real devotion shining out of his eyes as he swallowed the professor's load after a very long blowjob.

Looking down at his slave boy, the professor smiled and said: "Good boy," again making Jonathan swell with pride. The thoughts of how he had to escape from the professor and how what you wanted wasn't always good for you, had been muted down until he almost couldn't hear them in his mind. As he basked in the warm glow of his owner's praise and two glorious, if rather painful, orgasms, the voice telling Jonathan that he had to find a way to escape this evil man before it was too late, was just a little whisper at the back of his mind.

"It's time for you to go home," the professor said to Jonathan, "but before you go I have few instructions and a couple of presents." Jonathan's heart skipped a beat at the mention of presents. Surely these had to be painful, didn't they? Not caring about Jonathan's reaction, the professor went on: "First of all you will continue to turn up here at five o'clock, even if you are still too bruised to show you face on campus. Secondly, I will not tolerate my slave wearing loose fitting clothes. No matter how bruised, battered and swollen you are, you will wear your tightest jeans and yours smallest T-shirt, is that understood?" Jonathan indicated that he had indeed understood and began a new round of apologies, which the professor promptly cancelled.

"Now for the presents," he continued with a little wicked smile. "This you will have in your ass at all times, unless you have to go to the bathroom or I am fucking you." He presented Jonathan with a long, but still quite fat, butt plug. With it came a tube of lubricant, which Jonathan was sure was going to be necessary. This proved entirely correct when the professor ordered him to shove it into position. Of course Jonathan complied at once and after a bit of groaning, the butt plug was in place, leaving Jonathan to squirm from its fullness until told to stop by the professor.

The professor's second present was contained in what looked like a shoebox. And it did, somewhat to Jonathan's surprise, actually contain shoes, although not the kind Jonathan was used to. Inside the box lay a pair of high heeled shoes. Shiny, black pumps with six-inch stilettos, the kind almost exclusively worn by women. Jonathan looked up at the professor in surprise, but said nothing. "Yes, it's a pair of shoes for you to wear. I like my little bitch to wear stilettos. They work wonders for the bitch's posture and walk. Put them on and stand up."

Having no choice but to comply, Jonathan put the shoes on. Even on feet as small as his own, the stilettos were very small, too small, hurting his feet. As cautiously as possible Jonathan mentioned this to the professor. To his surprise the professor did not get mad at this objection. Rather he seemed pleased: "Good. Small feet are attractive and a slave should never be entirely comfortable. Now walk for me." Thus defeated Jonathan began parading around the professor's office.

Walking in the stilettos was not only painful for his feet, but also surprisingly difficult. Keeping his balance was quite hard and he stumbled ungraciously around the professor's office, trying to find the trick to walking in them. Maybe there was a trick, but the professor didn't really care for shortcuts for his slave. What he cared about was hard training for his slave and so he made Jonathan walk in endless circles or back and forth until he gradually got the some feeling for how it should be done. The tips and training from the professor consisted entirely in annoyed shouts accompanied by hard blows from his leather belt. When Jonathan stumbled and fell about half an hour into the training, Professor Trenton stormed over to the prone slave, raining blows from the leather belt down on him and reducing him to a tearful, broken wreck. Seeing his slave thus made the professor horny again and in no time he held Jonathan by his hair, fucking his face furiously. He fucked Jonathan's face deep and hard, making him retch and cough, setting a pace that made it difficult for Jonathan to breathe. When he shot his load Jonathan only just managed to swallow it all, avoiding punishment narrowly.

The training continued and Jonathan's already bruised body was given a brand new set of welts on top of the old ones, only this time the professor also covered his front with them. Belying his screams for mercy and abject apologies was Jonathan's cock, having once again risen to the occasion, proving him a hopeless pain slave.

When the training was finally over, the professor moderately pleased, he rewarded Jonathan by making him stand with his hands above his head and his legs spread wide. Standing like that the professor whipped Jonathan's exposed genitals, already very swollen and tender, until he came with a girlish shriek of pleasure and pain. When the professor saw Jonathan's orgasm begin, his pre-cum making his cock glisten, he stepped back and kicked Jonathan in the balls so hard that Jonathan's feet actually lifted from the floor. The result was more pain than Jonathan had thought possible from just one place on his body and an orgasm that was equally powerful and as his cum shot out over the professor's floor Jonathan shrieked loudly and collapsed in a now almost familiar heap, cupping his damaged yet satisfied genitals. The pain was worse than ever before and so was the sudden rush of devotion he felt for his owner, who was willing to do this for him

After a minute the professor decided that Jonathan had had enough rest and ordered him to lick the floor clean. Having finished this, Jonathan was once again reminded of their appointment the next day and escorted to the door. Professor Trenton gave Jonathan his jacket, his wallet and his keys back, but kept all his other clothes.

Closing the door he told Jonathan goodnight and that he had better not remove any of his items of clothing before he got home. Then he shut the door, leaving Jonathan in the hallway. Briefly and hysterically, Jonathan wondered which items of clothing he could be talking about. Jonathan was only wearing his jacket, reaching no further than his waist, and his new stilettos. The butt plug was of course still in place and although it technically wasn't as piece of clothing, Jonathan had no doubt that the professor's words covered that too. This meant that Jonathan had to walk home wearing a jacket not even capable of covering up his lower body, which was again sporting a very prominent erection on one side and the fat end of a butt plug on the other. And he had to do it in stilettos.

Jonathan's mind was briefly clouded with near-panic, before he willed himself to go. After all he had no choice. Luckily it was very late, the professor once again having subjected him to hours of hard training, and there were practically no one in the street. Practically no one. Just one block from his apartment a woman came straight at him. She was the first person he had met since laving the professor's office and he spotted her when she was less than twenty yards away. Jonathan stopped dead in his tracks and for a second he considered trying to hide. But not only was there nowhere to hide, it was also clear that she had already spotted him.

As she walked under the streetlamp right in front of him, Jonathan could see that she was a woman in her mid-fifties, trim and fit and wearing an obviously expensive black business suit. On her feet were black stilettos remarkably like the ones he wore, except that she walked very elegantly in them. She stopped under the light and waited for Jonathan to come into the light so that she could see him properly. When he hesitated she called out to him: "Get over here boy! Let me see you properly." With a defeated whine Jonathan stepped into the light where he could see the woman smiling wickedly at him. "Take of your jacket, you little swine. It's not as if it covers anything anyway." Jonathan wanted to object, after all she wasn't his owner and he was under no obligation to obey her, but the long and brutal sessions at Professor Trenton's had beaten the fighting spirit out of him and he docilely handed over his jacket and stood completely naked in front of the woman. First she studied his front and after making him turn around with only a wave of her hand, she took in the damage to his backside. She grunted approvingly and had him turn around and face her. "Master or Mistress?" she asked him and Jonathan whispered that his Master had done this, for the first time uttering the proper word for the professor. "He's done a fine job, your master has," she said and unbelievably Jonathan felt himself swell with pride that she though his owner a good master. While she spoke she had removed Jonathan's keys and wallet from his jacket, which she now threw unceremoniously in a trashcan. Rifling through his wallet, Jonathan not daring to object, she absentmindedly ordered him to kneel in front of her. Not believing his own willingness to serve without question, Jonathan dropped to his knees, quite defeated by the events of the evening.

Having seemingly satisfied her curiosity as to where he lived, she dropped Jonathan's keys and wallet into her bag. Then she removed the belt of her suit, a shiny, narrow, black leather belt and tied it around Jonathan's neck like a leash, while Jonathan began to cry quietly at his own weakness and inferiority, his inability to fight these cruel people taking over his life.

In response to this the woman lifted his chin and said: "There, there, my little doggy. I'm not going to kidnap you and take you away from your beloved master. I'm only going play a little with you before letting you loose. Now remember that doggies always walk on all fours. Come along." With that she led him away on all fours in the opposite direction of where he had come from. Stilettos on his feet and his butt plug clearly visible, he crawled alongside the lady as she lead him into a small park, about fifteen blocks from his apartment. Here she found a streetlamp so that she could see the little slave boy properly. She seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, because the "only" things she subjected him to, was a vicious kicking of his groin. With her pointed shoes she found his cock and balls again and again. When she saw his response to her kicking, Jonathan's cock becoming predictably hard again, she laughed and kicked harder. As he approached his orgasm, she had him lie down on his stomach so that she could better trample his genitals with her stilettos heels. Of course the pain was unbearable and of course Jonathan couldn't help himself. With a defeated whine he came, his jism shooting out into the cold gravel he was lying in. Not only was it painful, but also demeaning in the extreme. He had been kicked into cuming by a woman, him being gay and by a stranger when the professor had made it quite clear who owned him. He just knew that the punishment would be terrible.

The woman, however, seemed to have had enough. She removed her belt from around his neck and said: "You have been well-trained and I'd like a word with your master. When and where will you meet him next time?" Meekly Jonathan replied and immediately the woman smiled: "Excellent. Give him my card and tell him that I'll be there at seven if it suits him. That should give him time to punish you for going along with a complete stranger and telling her all about your master. If he would like me to come around another time, he can call me on this number," she said pointing to the card, "Now scoot along." With that she gave him her business card and a little note she had written, together with his wallet and keys, and shooed him away. Not wanting further trouble Jonathan scampered away as quickly as he could in his new heels.

He was farther away from his apartment than he had been when he started and he was now completely naked except for his stilettos, his body was covered with welts and bruises and his genitals, already swollen to at least three times their normal size, were covered with a disgusting mixture of dirt and semen, drying slowly to an unappetizing cake. Luckily it was the middle of the night and his long walk home was mercifully uneventful, even if he was spotted by a few people along the way, all staring openly at him.

Once at home he was completely exhausted. His feet hurt very badly as did the rest of his body. In fact the only part of him that didn't hurt was his face and his hands. He knew that he should shower, but he was too exhausted. Instead he merely collapsed on the bed, rolled himself into a sheet and fell asleep, the butt plug still in place and still wearing the stilettos.

Day 4

The next day when Jonathan woke up, he nearly screamed with pain when he tried to sit up. Every square inch of his body felt like it had been beaten, which was of course not far from the truth. Not thinking clearly enough to take of his shoes or remove the plug, he limped to the bathroom to relieve himself and to take a shower. In the bathroom his eyes fell on his reflection in the large mirror on the wall. What he saw surprised him. He was surprised to see how quickly the bruises on his face were fading. In just a few days he would be able to show himself in public. He was also surprised at the extent of the bruising of his body. The welts quite literally covered his whole body, from his ankles to just below his neck. The professor's beating had been even more thorough than he had thought. And finally he was shocked to see how good his legs looked in heels, how good he looked in stilettos. Suddenly he understood why the professor made him wear those shoes.

Seeing himself like that he also understood that he had to escape. It would have to be planned and he would have to do exactly as the professor ordered until then, but in the end he would have escape. If he stayed on as the professor's slave he would never, ever escape and be permanently and irreparably damaged, or worse, very soon. Although Jonathan knew this with absolute certainty, he couldn't help but feel that it was too bad, since the prospect of slavery to the professor made him so outrageously horny. So horny in fact, that he had to masturbate right then and there. His mindset was still so dominated by the professor, that he didn't realize that he could have just wiped his cum of the bathroom mirror and sink instead of licking it up, until well after he had done it. His face burning with shame, he showered before eating a small breakfast. After brushing his teeth, he found that he was too tired to read and he simply went to bed again, being very careful to set the alarm clock so that he would make it to the professor's office in time.

Several hours later Jonathan stood in front of the professor's door dressed in his tightest jeans and his smallest T-shirt, his whole body aching from the welt covering him. Especially his genitals hurt terribly, but here the pain coupled with the anticipation of further abuse merely fuelled his lust and so Jonathan was already half-mast. He had been unsure of whether or not he had to wear his new stilettos or merely bring them, but in the end the fear of embarrassment had won and he had brought them along with him opting not to wear them. As he crawled into the office, locking the door behind him, the professor's cold voice informed him of his error. Having yet again angered the professor before even reaching his feet, Jonathan quickly undressed and put on his shoes before presenting himself for punishment.

This time the professor centered his attention on Jonathan's ass and back, putting new welts on top of old ones with real gusto. Afterwards a sobbing Jonathan sucked the professor's cock contritely, while presenting his master with the woman's business card and note, mewling his apologies over a mouthful of cock.

The professor was both pleased and amused at the woman's treatment of Jonathan and her note. Not only was her request interesting as she asked him for assistance in finding a fresh slave girl on campus, something the professor was confident he could do, but he also appreciated the fact that she had further punished and humiliated Jonathan while at the same time providing him with a golden opportunity to punish Jonathan. It was all good. So instead punishing Jonathan right away for being with another dom, Professor Trenton decided to wait until the woman arrived so that they could punish him together.

Of course Jonathan was told none of this. He just sat waiting anxiously for the punishment he knew must come, becoming more and more nervous as time went by. The professor used the waiting to hone Jonathan's sexual skills and to train his high heeled walking technique. By seven o'clock, when the woman arrived, Jonathan had been fucked twice and sucked the professor's cock just as many times and his calves were cramping from walking in his heels.

When the woman knocked on the door, it was Jonathan who answered, stark naked wearing only his stilettos and sporting a butt plug to go with his small, but insistent erection.

The woman smiled broadly at him and before realized that he had to kneel, she had slapped him hard, although it felt more like she had slapped him on general principles than because she was angry. He dropped to his knees, closing the door behind her as she passed and crawled behind her into the professor's office. Getting the professor's approval with a slight nod, she commanded him to lick her boots while she discussed matters too complicated for his tiny slave mind. Burning with shame Jonathan licked her boots clean, making sure that he didn't miss a single spot. The woman wore leather boots with five-inch stilettos and she must have made an effort to walk in as much mud as possible on her way over, because Jonathan would have thought it impossible for such fine boots to be so dirty.

The discussion between the two doms lasted a few minutes and Jonathan was further shamed to realize that he hadn't heard a single word they had said, as he had been so preoccupied with licking her boots clean. As a result his mouth was filled with dirt and the taste was awful, although it was nothing compared to the humiliation he felt when he discovered that he was hard as a rock. His continuing discovery of just how submissive he was, was a source of immense embarrassment.

Their chat over, the woman and the professor turned their attention to the useless and disobedient slave awaiting their punishment. While telling himself desperately that he didn't want this, the signs of Jonathan's arousal were evident not only in his insistent erection, but also in his flushed face, his wet lips and the fearful but adoring looks he cast in the direction of the doms whenever he could.

In a matter of minutes Jonathan was again tied down spread-eagle on the professor's desk, but this time on his back. The professor, being a gracious host, let the woman do the serious beating. Not surprisingly, she concentrated her efforts on Jonathan's genitals. Instead of a belt or a whip she switched between a wooden ruler and some very inventive kicking. When the wooden ruler wasn't hammering the insides of his thighs, his balls or his cock, the woman used her boots, now shiny and clean, for great effect. His balls were poised at the very edge of the table, offering a perfect target for both kicking, trampling and stabbing with her pointed heel.

In a matter of seconds Jonathan was screaming his head off. Or rather he would have screamed his head off if it hadn't been for the professor. The second Jonathan opened his mouth to scream the professor looped a belt around his neck and tightened the noose, cutting Jonathan's breath off almost completely. Not only did this shock and scare Jonathan a great deal, but it also aroused him insanely. Very quickly his cock, stiff and ready since before the beatings that he loved so began, was throbbing and slick with pre-cum. Recognizing the signs, the woman stopped her mutilation of Jonathan's genitals and the professor loosened the belt just enough to allow a little air into Jonathan's lungs. Without the abuse of his cock and once again having the ability to breathe, Jonathan's orgasms stopped in its track, leaving his cock twitching futilely.

After couple of minutes the couple resumed their torture, once again continuing until Jonathan was just about to explode, his face almost blue, with his tongue sticking out and eyes ready to pop out of his head. Having brought him to the edge, they stopped again, leaving him hanging again. This went on for half an hour until Jonathan was completely desperate. His balls felt like they were going to explode, but whether it was from the beating or the pent-up desire was unclear. His cock was not only unpleasantly hard, but also raw, bruised and scratched from the woman's attention. Even when the professor loosened the belt Jonathan felt like he would never breathe freely again and he spent all the time he wasn't choking, crying and begging soundlessly to be allowed to cum. And finally, with a kick that jarred his teeth and with his consciousness fading from lack of air, the woman and the professor let him cum. As his vision faded, Jonathan felt like a fountain of cum shot from his abused cock.

Jonathan came to coughing and retching and shuddering from the massive orgasm that had just rolled him over. Just as dominant in his mind was the memory of the intensely unpleasant and enormously arousing strangulation that the professor had subjected him to. His genitals were hurting badly and he had to remind himself once again that getting what you wanted wasn't always a good thing. But he wanted this. He wanted it desperately. He wanted the ropes pulling his arms and legs so far apart that he felt as if he was torn limb from limb. He wanted to loose the feeling in his hands and feet because the ropes were too tight. He wanted the feel of a hopelessly bruised body, badly beaten genitals and the feeling of being completely and totally helpless at the mercy of a master who had no mercy whatsoever.

Realizing jut how lost he was made Jonathan want to cry but before he did, the two doms were over him again. The woman was now sporting a truly massive double-ended dildo from her crotch and an evil grin to match. She removed his butt plug with a swift pull and before his asshole had time to close up she thrust her giant tool into him with such brutality that the air was knocked out of him. As he opened his mouth to draw a deep breath, the professor pulled back his head as far as it would go and rammed his cock down Jonathan's throat. Without giving him any time to recover or prepare, the two doms began fucking him at both ends. The woman filled out his ass completely and the professor shoved his cock deep down Jonathan's throat, cutting off his breath as the moved his tool around. With his head bent over backwards Jonathan had a clear view of the professor's balls slapping his face as the professor moved in and out.

While they fucked him the two doms found time to torture Jonathan's front as well. First they practically covered him with clothespins, pinching his skin most uncomfortably, and then they used leather paddles to beat the clothespins off. At the same time they also spent a lot of time abusing his cock. The professor beat it and the woman used her long nails to scratch it and they both kneaded his balls as much as they could. With the professor's cock only out of his throat once in a while so that he could grab a much needed mouthful of air, Jonathan couldn't even scream.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the professor came, filling up Jonathan's mouth and throat with a torrent of hot, sticky jism. Although he nearly choked on it, Jonathan had already learned that he had to swallow all of it, not spilling a drop. The consequences if he failed were too well-known.

When it was over the professor released Jonathan and pushed him off the table, allowing the slave to collapse in a sobbing heap on the floor. His hands and feet were still useless from being bound too tightly and his ass was leaking lubricant, still partially open from the brutal fucking. The professor had dumped him on his face and he now lay with his ass sticking up, crying with shame and humiliation. It wasn't so much the pain (he had to admit that he loved it), but the fact that he was too weak to resist his urges. This was clearly bad, yet he was turned on something awful by it. Even now at the height of his degradation and with his whole body aching from abuse, his cock was embarrassingly erect.

The woman and the professor finished their business and bade a pleasant farewell, but just before leaving the woman asked to be allowed to reinsert Jonathan's butt plug, a request the professor readily granted. She bent down and placed the plug between Jonathan's butt-cheeks and ordered him to lie still. Jonathan would never disobey after what he had just been put through, but with his hands and feet still not operable he wasn't in a position to disobey had he wanted to. The woman took a step backwards and drew her foot back in the same motion. Then, with and swift, hard and precise kick revealing her past as a soccer player, she kicked Jonathan's butt plug further up his ass the it had ever been before, making Jonathan scream with pain and discomfort as the pointed toe of her boot connected with the plug. The kick was so powerful that the plug disappeared completely up his ass, with even the flared end, designed so that the plug could be easily removed, disappearing far up his ass. Whimpering with humiliation Jonathan realized that he would need help to remove it and that until it was removed he would be unable to go to take a dump.

Meanwhile the woman had left and the professor returned his attention to Jonathan. By now he had regained most of the use of his feet and hands and was able to crawl over to his owner's feet when he got the command. Denying his complete subjugation was meaningless. When the professor was around Jonathan had no will of his own and was completely controlled by the evil academic. The professor looked down at the slave trembling at his feet and was most pleased. Jonathan was exactly the pain slave he had been looking for and his subjugation was already such that he was ready for the next level. Communicating none of his satisfaction to the worthless slave, the professor gave Jonathan a detailed set of instruction for the next day, making Jonathan cry again at the hopelessness of his situation.

But there was no mercy from the professor who simply kicked his slave boy out of his office, shutting the door behind the naked slave wearing only a pair of high-heeled shoes. Jonathan sobbed for a few minutes more before pulling himself together. He dressed, making sure that he wore his stilettos instead of his ordinary shoes, and began making his way home.

It wasn't even midnight and he met several other people on the way. More than a few noticed his footwear and he got more than a few dirty looks and a few remarks as he passed them, but he almost made it home unmolested. Almost. With the front door of the apartment building in sight Jonathan was stopped by two policemen. The cops were on foot patrolling the neighborhood and as Jonathan drew even with them, hoping to make it all the way home, one of them called out: "Hey you! Stop right there!" His heart sinking Jonathan stopped and faced the policemen. Both were huge guys and both grinning broadly. "Well-well," said one of them, "aren't we a sexy little bitch?" The tone drew an involuntary whimper from Jonathan, sparking a round of derisive laughter from the policemen. Stepping aside and indicating a back alley, the other policeman said: "Step into our office."

With no other options (and a raging hard-on to prove how much he hated that lack of options) Jonathan stepped in between the two policemen, into the alley. Using their nightsticks to poke his back, the policemen forced Jonathan far into the alley, thereby avoiding prying eyes from the street.

The policemen first used a bit of time humiliating Jonathan. They commented on his shoes ("straight from the cheap whore and bimbo store"), on his tight clothes ("they aren't tight enough for us to see the wrinkles on your tiny little cock") and on his submissive behavior. But when they lifted up his T-shirt they stopped cold. As they spotted the welts and bruises, their eyes widened and Jonathan saw how the bulge in their pants grew extra large. "Strip bitch," one of them ordered his voice raw with lust. Not wanting to anger them, Jonathan instantly stripped, but made sure to put on his shoes again. He didn't want to anger the professor more than absolutely necessary.

Both policemen whistled appreciatively at all the welts and bruises on his body. "Nice work," one of them commented and let his hand wander down Jonathan's body, lingering ever so briefly at Jonathan's bruised and battered, but also very erect cock. "Your master did this to you?" they asked him and Jonathan answered that his master had indeed done this to him. He was then ordered to kneel and to stick his ass up. Complying instantly Jonathan found himself on all fours in the dark alley, his ass pointing straight at the two policemen who had decided to "arrest" him. Not longer after his ass had been pointed in their direction, Jonathan felt how they tried to shove a nightstick up his ass. This was of course impossible, since his ass was already packed with a huge plug, but since the plug was not visible from the outside, they tried for several painful minutes until they asked Jonathan why they couldn't get in. When he answered them in his meekest voice, they burst out laughing.

The policemen decided to stop their torture of Jonathan out of respect fro the master who had done such a fine piece of work. Jonathan's heart swelled with pride at their praise for the professor. He once again tried telling himself that he didn't want to be a slave to the professor, but if that was the case why did he then have this absurd sense of pride in his master?

The two officers settled for a hand-job from Jonathan and soon their stiff cocks were pointing straight at Jonathan. The professor's education had only encompassed sucking and proper asswork, so suddenly Jonathan was forced to do something that he had so far only done for himself. However, it didn't prove too hard, especially since he soon discovered a real passion for the work. Yet again humiliation and submission had triggered Jonathan's deepest desires and being abused by two large policemen in a dirty back alley was straight out his dirty little fantasies, the ones he had masturbated to before Professor Trenton had taken over, filling up his entire universe. The policemen certainly didn't seem unhappy about his work and in a surprisingly short time they began breathing hard before shooting their loads straight into Jonathan's face a very short time apart. When they were finished they used Jonathan's hair to wipe the remaining cum off their cocks.

Zipping up their pants they commanded Jonathan to remain kneeling with back straight and his hands behind his head. They had decided to reward him. Trepidation fighting his intense arousal, Jonathan knelt with his hands behind his head, thereby presenting his nice little hard-on. It amazed him that it could remain hard after all the abuse and all the orgasm he had had, but there was no way around it: His cock was once again begging for attention. And that's just what it got. With a keening of near-panic Jonathan realized what the policemen had in mind, but there was no way to brace himself or prepare as the two men brought their nightsticks down on his cock, swinging hard and fast, first from above and then from below. Not surprisingly the pain was overwhelming and Jonathan collapsed onto his side, all the air gone from his lungs. Still, he was well enough trained already to keep his hands behind his head as they kept up their assault on his exposed genitals, his cock still hard and needy. Proving that he really was a pain slave, Jonathan came with a shriek of pain and pleasure after fifteen minutes of whacking with the two policemen's nightsticks. Again the orgasm was intense, satisfying and extremely humiliating.

Cupping his damaged genitals he thanked the two men, who in turn made him pick up his clothes and stand up. Moaning with pain he obeyed. Then they said that he could go home, but when he started to put on his clothes one of them said: "No, no, no my little bitch. Slave boys like you should show the world what you really are. You can carry your clothes home with you, but don't put them on." With no other choice, Jonathan thanked them again and scampered away to the sound of their derisive laughter.

He got home without anyone seeing him and after a quick shower, he put his shoes on again as the professor had instructed him to. Then he wrapped himself in a sheet and fell asleep.

Day 5

He didn't even consider going to lectures the next day. His genitals were so damaged from the beatings they had received the day before, that even very slight movements caused him great pain. He spent a great deal of the day standing by the bathroom sink, his balls immersed in ice water. His mind was consumed by the conflict that on one hand he knew that the professor's company was pure poison, that there was a good chance that the professor's handling of him would one day result in him being permanently and irreparably damaged or even killed. On the other hand the professor's brutal manhandling of him turned him on like nothing he had ever experienced. As he stood by the sink, the only reason he didn't have a hard-on, was the fact that his genitals were immersed in ice water.

Around four in the afternoon it was time to go to the professor's house. Professor Trenton had ordered him to get there on foot, walking all the way. The fact that it was an hour's walk did not seem to bother the professor. In fact it seemed that the walk was part of the torture, because the professor had commanded Jonathan to walk to his house wearing his high heels. Apart from drawing a lot of attention, the long walk was going to be pure murder on his feet and legs.

As he dressed Jonathan discovered that his feet were not the only things that were going to cause him great pain on the walk. Not very surprising, his badly bruised genitals, now further squeezed by his ultra-tight jeans, were aching before he had even shut his front door behind himself and the plug filling him unpleasantly made every step a trial.

The walk to the professor's house was every bit as bad as he had imagined. His body and feet ached the whole time and his embarrassment was acute and ever-present. His feminine legs, body and footwear combined with the fact that he was obviously a man, if a very feminine and delicate one, attracted a lot of attention, none of it good. More than a few cast indignant looks in his direction and most also had an acidic comment. Others thought it was funny, but the worst were the ones who instantly spotted him for what he was: a feminized slave boy. A group of three women in their forties stopped him and pulled him into a doorway where they showered him with abusive remarks while they pinched and slapped him. Luckily they didn't go so far as to make him perform sexually, but he had to lick their high heeled shoes before being allowed to get on his way.

Already late he tried to speed up, but it was hard with his whole body aching and with such difficult footwear. Not that he had trouble mastering the stilettos anymore. He had worn them for days now and was almost confident enough to run in them. His calf muscles hadn't quiet caught up yet, so he couldn't run just yet, but soon he would be able to.

Several more people cast dirty looks in his direction and twice he was stopped and asked for if he would like a quick fuck. These he respectfully declined, telling them he had an appointment. The third time, however, he almost didn't get away. He was stopped by two huge guys in leather, obviously bikers of some sort. Before either of them had said a single word, it was clear to Jonathan that they wanted to take him and abuse for at least the whole night, if not the rest of his life. The looks they cast him were distinctly predatory and they asked him no questions but simply took him by the arms and began dragging him towards a big, black van parked by the road. He wanted to scream and fight back, but already the professor's conditioning had turned him into an almost completely docile slave boy incapable of resisting an insisting master or mistress. Crying and begging softly he allowed himself to be abducted by the two bikers. He didn't even notice that his ever-present erection had not gone away.

He was saved by the very two policemen who had abused him the night before. Apparently on a double shift, they cruised by and sounded the horn once to signal the bikers to let him go. With a look of disgust and resignation they let him go and he scampered over to the police cruiser. This time he thanked them with all his heart and to his great surprise they just watched him go, making sure that the bikers didn't return, but not molesting him as he had expected.

Finally, more than half an hour late, Jonathan arrived at Professor Trenton's house.

It was a huge mansion in a quiet and wealthy suburb. Dreading the consequences of his tardiness, Jonathan climbed the stone steps leading up to the door. Here he followed the professor's orders and undressed. He put his clothes, except for the stilettos which he of course wore, in a plastic bag. This he closed as best he could before hiding it in a bush beside the door. Then he knelt and rang the door. After ringing the bell, he put his hands behind his head and waited for the professor to open the door. The door was could not be seen from the road, but Jonathan still felt awfully exposed kneeling in front of the closed door, but since he was the professor's slave he had no choice.

Jonathan waited for a long time in front of the closed door. The sun set and he began to freeze. His knees began to hurt front kneeling on the hard concrete steps and his arms began to tremble from being held high for so long. It wasn't until he was shivering with cold and trembling with fear that the professor opened the door and looked down on his slave boy. "You're late", the professor sneered down at him. When Jonathan opened his mouth to apologize the professor slapped him viciously in the face. The blow was so powerful that Jonathan lost his balance and was thrown sideways. He would have been thrown all the way off the steps had the professor not displayed truly astonishing speed. Before Jonathan had fallen all the way, the professor had caught him and was dragging him into his house- The professor had caught Jonathan by the hair and he dragged him by the hair into the lobby, closing the door behind them.

Once inside the professor twisted Jonathan's arm behind his back, forced him onto his knees and entered him from behind, forcing his way into Jonathan without warning or lubrication. The move was so fast that Jonathan barely had time to register that the professor had removed his butt plug. As the fucking progressed, he grabbed Jonathan's hair and forced his head all the way back, enjoying the slave boy's cries to the fullest as he thrust up his ass.

The fuck was brutal, ruthless and shocking and Jonathan loved every second. The feeling of being taken, of being owned was so good, so satisfying. In the back of his mind a small voice cried that this was wrong and that the professor wanted only to hurt him, that he would regret it, but as the evil academic drilled his cock up his ass all Jonathan could think off was how good it was to be back with his owner.

At some point during the fuck the professor let go of Jonathan's arm and reached around to grab his cock. To his embarrassment this made Jonathan mewl incoherently with delight and when the professor squeezed his balls hard enough to make his vision fade from the pain, Jonathan came with a girlish scream as he once again confirmed that he was a pain slave first and foremost.

After the professor had shot his load too, Jonathan was briefly allowed to lie on the cold floor cupping his bruised genitals as he croaked out his heartfelt thanks to his owner. He wasn't allowed to lie there for long. Soon he was commanded to clean the floor, licking up his own cum with devotion. His eyes shone with mindless, submissive pleasure when the professor shoved Jonathan's butt plug into his mouth, making him mewl his thanks around the dirty piece of rubber.

The professor then made Jonathan crawl across the lobby to a spot behind the staircase than occupied the center of it. Here, concealed from the casual observer was a door, which opened down into a basement or rather dungeon. Jonathan, his mouth still holding his own disgusting butt plug, looked down the stairs and thought how difficult it was going to be to crawl down those steps. As it turned out he didn't have to. The professor ordered him to press his head to the ground and put his hands behind his head. Then he made Jonathan spread his leg wide. When Jonathan had obeyed this command the professor reached down and got a good, firm hold of his genitals.

His grip secure, he then lifted up Jonathan by his cock and balls only. With Jonathan screaming as the weight of his whole body was lifted by his genitals, the sound escaping from around the plug in his mouth, the professor lifted Jonathan clear of the floor and carried him down the stairs and into the dungeon. It was by far the most painful trip Jonathan had ever taken and he screamed the whole ay down, but still he so well-conditioned already that he dutifully kept his hands behind his head and that he didn't try to put his feet on the floor a single time. The professor had taken ownership of Jonathan only five days before and already Jonathan was completely obedient.

In the dungeon the professor dumped Jonathan unceremoniously on the floor, completely ignoring the slave boy's gurgling and incomprehensible thank-yous. He knelt down beside the cowed slave boy, lifted up his chin and looked him straight in the eye as he laid out his future for him: "You are mine; my little slave boy, my bitch, my property." Jonathan's eyes grew wide and frightened as the professor continued: "Every minute of the day you'll think of how to best please me and I'll make sure that your dreams fill up with this too." Jonathan had never been so frightened in his life. Everything he had supposed about Professor Trenton was turning out to be true: he didn't care about Jonathan; he simply wanted to use him. Although he had so far said nothing about what he wanted to do to Jonathan, his tone and his previous actions left no doubt that he intended to hurt him just for sport.

Seeing Jonathan's fear painted on his pretty face made the professor smile and he continued: "You are a useless slut, good for only one thing: punishing. The sooner you realize this; the better is it for you. You probably think that you should have an "ordinary" little life and shack up with some stud who'll tie you up on Sundays, but otherwise treat you like his cute little boy-wife to be pampered and spoiled." Jonathan cried when he heard this description, because it was essentially true. He had wanted a big, strong stud to come and take him, maybe show him a bit of rough stuff, but otherwise be nice to him. The professor's words made this dream sound ridiculous, especially considering the marks on Jonathan's body and his open arousal at being beaten and tortured. The professor proceeded to demolish Jonathan's dreams: "This is wrong. You are a pain slave. Pain is good for you and you need it. Your destiny is to be used and abused by cruel men who don't care if you live or die, whether you are comfortable or crippled as long as you scream for them. You'll lead a short and painful life and you'll last only a couple of years before you are worn out and discarded." The casual way in which the professor referred to the horrible fate Jonathan could look forward to, made him whimper with terror and loose bladder control, provoking a snort of derision from the professor. "Useless slut. You can't possibly deny that you love this and need this. Being beaten and tortured is what you really want, not that other vanilla crap." Jonathan whimpered in defeat. It was literally hard to deny that the professor was right, since Jonathan's cock was so hard it seemed almost impossible. The professor cast a brief glance at Jonathan's tell-tale erection and handed him a wooden paddle: "Prove, to me and to yourself, that you really are nothing but a useless pain boy. Beat your own balls until you cum."

Lying on his back on the cold dungeon floor wearing only a pair of stilettos, Jonathan looked up at his owner, his eyes wide and a small, desperate whimper of utter hopelessness escaping his throat. This was one more, big step on the way to loosing himself completely, to becoming nothing but the worthless pain slave that Professor Trenton said he was. Part of him wanted to scream and run; wanted to return to the real world and escape from this nightmare existence of constant pain and degradation, wanted to pursue the dream of an education and finding a nice guy who'd treat him right. But another part of him, the part which now raised the wooden paddle, ready to strike, wanted to submit completely and utterly and become the object that the professor wanted to turn him into. To that Jonathan the prospect of being used up and discarded by ruthless sadists without regard for his health or safety was so arousing that he brought the paddle down with such force that he was unable to even scream. The pain slave part of him had won for now and while the pain in his groin was still too intense to even draw breath, he still raised the paddle again and struck with the same amount of force. As small screams and moans began to escape him and a little air found its way into his lungs, Jonathan continued beating his balls with undiminished power. Again and again he brought the paddle down until at last he came with a violent shriek, his whole body convulsing with the power of the orgasm. His cum shot up and hit his chest, neck and face adding further to his humiliation.

Afterwards he again lay balled up, cupping his damaged genitals. The pain and the satisfaction were immense as was the shame and humiliation. The professor had watched all this impassively and he acknowledged Jonathan's submission without a word or even a nod. He simply stood up and for a short while left his slave to recuperate. Not for long though. Soon he came back carrying a bundle of things for Jonathan. Meeting no resistance whatsoever, he inserted a rubber bladder into Jonathan's mouth. The bladder was a pump gag, with the pump itself being connected to the bladder by a short tube. Without further ado the professor began pumping up the bladder and soon the pressure was almost enough for Jonathan's jaws to dislocate. While Jonathan whimpered, again, the professor pumped the gag all the way up, so that Jonathan's panicky eyes now looked down over bloated cheeks. The next item was a pair of earplugs and the professor pushed them so far into his ears that Jonathan feared that they'd never be retrieved. Then came a thick, black rubber hood, encasing Jonathan's head completely. The only thing sticking out was the pump for his gag. He was able to breathe through two tiny holes in the rubber hood positioned over his nostrils. As the earplugs expanded to their proper size, the final few sounds of the outside world vanished and Jonathan was left in silent darkness. Gagged, deaf and blind but otherwise untied, Jonathan felt the professor secure a broad collar around his neck. It didn't seem like he attached a leash to it, though.

The professor then helped him stand and for a while Jonathan just stood in the dizzy darkness. His balance in heels was now good enough for him to not fall over and he could move his arm freely, but he had no references except what was up and down. He thought that moving without permission would probably be seen as a sign of disobedience and while he had to admit that part of him loved pain, he also wanted to avoid the professor's punishments at all costs. It was all very confusing and not a little arousing. Despite the pain in his much abused genitals, his cock was once again rising to half-mast and beyond.

Then, suddenly and viciously, a crop struck his ass. He tried to emit a small scream, but the gag stopped the sound quickly. The shock made him jump and in his cocoon he had trouble keeping his balance. After a few faltering steps he regained his balance and again stood waiting. This time the crop struck his thigh and again he was sent reeling. The blows began raining down from all directions and soon Jonathan was doing a weird and confused tap-dance as he tried to keep his balance. He tried not to move away and thus invoke the professor's wrath. Likewise he tried to keep his hands in a neutral position so it didn't seem like he was trying to prevent the crop from hitting him. The result was complete confusion mixed with pain and humiliation. He couldn't help but imagining how he looked scampering around in high heels, wearing only a hood with a rubber ball dangling from his gagged mouth. A slave like that would look completely ridiculous. Such a slave would have a body covered in welts and bruises from long and hard abuse. And such a slave would have an impressive hard-on for such a little bitch.

He did have a hard-on and it was impressive. Jonathan moaned with pain and his mind was filled with the enormity of the humiliation he was being subjected to, the degrading thought that he was worth no better than this, that he was a useless boy bitch.

Suddenly the blows stopped and strong hands grabbed his wrists and locked them in front of him in what felt like thick leather cuffs. Then his hands were raised above his head and pulled further up until his feet dangled uselessly above the ground. Soon his shoulders began to hurt and his feet kicked uselessly while he whimpered behind the gag. Big hands grabbed his hips, holding him down and holding him still before the professor's cock thrust its way up his ass. For some reason this surprised him, but feeling the evil professor's tool filling him up made Jonathan forget all about escape. As the professor began to work his cock in and out at a leisurely pace, Jonathan tried to work with him, tried to find the pace no matter that it was extremely difficult hanging by his wrists. But he did find it and soon the professor hit just the right spot. His arousal mounting Jonathan now only waited for the moment when the professor would squeeze his balls viciously. As the professor came, shooting his massive load up Jonathan's ass, Jonathan felt his own orgasm coming on and just then the professor squeezed his balls. But this time he did it much harder than he had done before. Holding on to Jonathan's balls with a vice-grip, he calmly allowed Jonathan to jerk and spasm silently with pain and orgasmic delight.

When his orgasm was finally over Jonathan hung from his wrists, utterly spent. His balls hurt worse that ever before, but he didn't even have the energy to stir. He just hung limp, only pain penetrating his cocoon. After a little while he felt how the professor grabbed his ankles and tied them so that he now hung with legs spread wide. Jonathan knew that it couldn't be good, but he was too spent to even moan in protest. Not that the professor would have heard him with the massive gag in place and if he had heard Jonathan he wouldn't have cared at all.

For a few minutes he just hung there, cold air caressing his bruised body and very sore testicles. Then the first blow fell. It was a whip and the long piece of braided leather wrapped itself, almost lovingly, around Jonathan's upper body, once gain filling him up with pain. Jonathan woke from his stupor and began to twist and turn to get free, to get away from the whip. But of course there was no escape and soon he thrashed around futilely, screaming into his gag as the blows rained down on him, covering his body with long, red welts.

The whipping went on for what seemed like forever, until the only parts of him not marked by the whip were his feet, shielded by the shoes, and his face, covered by the hood. Jonathan had screamed himself out and from his throat a low, hopeless keening could be heard. He had never been in so much pain as he was right now and he now knew with absolute certainty that if he really became the piece of pain slave property that the professor wanted him to be, he would be worn out in a very short time. If the professor didn't kill within a year or two, someone else would. He would be tortured to death for someone else's amusement. And the worst part of it was that an ever-growing part of him would love every blow.

For now, however, the professor continued the torture. Jonathan felt how the professor looped a piece of rope around the base of his balls and as the rope was pulled taut, he felt how a weight pulled on the rope, swinging gently back and forth while tugging at his testicles. Then a somewhat thinner piece of rope was tied around his cock, right behind the head, and this too was weighted and the weight allowed to swing freely.

At first it was merely unpleasant, but as time went by the pull on his genitals became more and more painful. It didn't help that he couldn't keep completely still and so the weights were constantly swinging and tugging at his genitals.

But the weights were only the beginning. After letting them swing, the professor took a giant dildo and pushed it none too gently up Jonathan's ass. With some very nice rope work through Jonathan's crotch, around his waist and down through his butt crack he made sure that Jonathan couldn't expel it. Before he went on the professor turned it on, making the dildo vibrate furiously inside Jonathan.

Then Professor Trenton, in a display of true evil patience, started using clothespins on Jonathan's body. Every available surface of Jonathan's body, from his wrists to his ankles, was covered with clothespins pinching his skin. On his torso, arms and legs they were arranged in long rows and connected with string, forming "zippers", but in his crotch and around his nipples the professor simply wanted to put as many as possible, covering these parts completely.

Inside his cocoon this reduced Jonathan to absolute panic. His entire body, already beaten bad enough to draw blood from many of the vicious welts, was now pushed to a completely new level of pain. Everything hurt and hurt bad. The professor's final touch before leaving him was to place something over Jonathan's nose that dramatically reduced the airflow. The result was that Jonathan had to work very hard to breathe, something that definitely didn't make his situation any more comfortable.

Then the professor left him. Jonathan was on the verge of panic. Everything hurt worse than ever before, he had trouble breathe and he was loosing the feeling in his hands from hanging by his wrists for too long. Only three sounds penetrated his prison: The vibrations from the dildo in his ass, the sound of his labored breathing and a keening sound of panic coming from his throat whenever he exhaled. Although he tried, he simply couldn't stop himself from making it.

In his mind two conflicting thoughts bounced around feverishly: The first was that he had to escape before the professor killed him, something that could only be a matter of time. The second was that he would do anything, absolutely anything to please the professor, to not provoke further punishment. The professor had established a permanent presence in Jonathan's mind and even if he did manage to escape, he would always be there.

Jonathan had no idea how long he hung there in extreme pain, but it must have been hours. Gradually the pain from the clothespins faded as blood flow was reduced in the pinched places and after a while he could no longer feel his fingers and hands. He was sure that the damage done to him was permanent. How could the whipping not leave scars and would his genitals ever be useful again after the abuse they had taken? Jonathan also feared that he would be unable to use his hands again, that hanging from them for so long would damage them permanently.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity, the professor returned. Jonathan didn't hear it, but rather felt it as the first thing he did upon his return was to pull one of the zippers off. As the blood rushed back Jonathan was subjected to a whole new sensation of pain and again began thrashing. Or rather he began thrashing as much as his limited air supply would allow him before he ran out of breath.

The professor proceeded to remove al the zippers at a nice, leisurely pace, making sure that Jonathan had almost gotten over removal of one zipper before removing the next. When all the zippers were gone, the clothespins in Jonathan's crotch and around his nipples still remained and Jonathan had just enough air to really fear the removal of these. And well he should. Because the professor was not content with simply pulling them off. Instead he preferred beating them off with a bamboo stick, sending Jonathan to new heights of pain. He took special care whacking away at Jonathan's crotch, making sure to hit hard as possible. Halfway through Jonathan finally and mercifully passed out. But of course the professor wouldn't allow him to get off that easily. He simply used some smelling salt to wake up the poor slave before continuing the torture.

Inside his rubber hood Jonathan was broken. He would never disobey the professor again. Not that he could remember having disobeyed him to deserve this punishment, but he was sure that he must have. He was completely certain that he, the useless slave boy, must have offended the professor and thus invoked this just punishment. The professor must be right and he, Jonathan, vowed never to be disobedient again.

As Jonathan reached this state the professor removed the rope around his genitals. Again the blood flooding back into them made this an extremely painful experience, further reducing Jonathan. Then the dildo was removed with a slurping sound Jonathan was unable to hear and finally his hands were released and he was allowed to drop to the ground completely exhausted. He did, however, try to worship the professor, blind and fumbling crawling around to worship his shoes. Finding nothing, while the professor stood by laughing at the obviously broken slave's futile attempts at worship, Jonathan finally collapsed to the ground. Not only was he in a great deal of pain, but his hands were completely useless. He couldn't feel it, but they were very swollen and their bluish color was fading only very slowly.

Jonathan felt how his hips were being raised and how the professor entered him from behind. The fact that his owner would still want to fuck such a worthless pain slave as himself moved Jonathan deeply and inside his hood he began crying with gratitude. As the professor moved his cock expertly around inside him, Jonathan found to his immense surprise that he was getting hard. He had thought that the massive abuse would have damaged it or at least drained him of the ability to get it up. This was clearly not the case as he rose to full mast and the professor, in an even more surprising move, began stroking him ever so gently. Crying and screaming futilely with gratitude Jonathan came, thrashing weakly with a massive and very painful orgasm. Afterwards he was allowed to rest for a while on the cold dungeon floor. Some of the feeling was slowly returning to his hands, which were now filling up with tingling pain.

A sharp blow with a crop delivered to his ass, signaled that his little rest was over. Communicating solely via the crop the professor made Jonathan understand that he wanted him to crawl on all fours in the direction signaled by the crop. Still not in full control over his hands and with an aching body, Jonathan finally got the message and managed to crawl to the dungeon door. The professor would, however, not let him crawl up the stairs. Instead he rolled Jonathan onto his back and once again grabbed hold of his genitals, lifting him by those very tender parts. Of course the trip up the stairs was pure murder for Jonathan, but even though his hands were free he didn't even dare to move them below shoulder height as he was too afraid that this would be interpreted as a sign of disobedience and punished by the professor. At the top of the staircase Jonathan was thrown on the ground and whipped onto all fours again and sent crawling, only to find that he had crawled to a new staircase and had to be carried by his balls yet another flight of stairs. At the top of these he was again sent crawling.

After a few minutes of crawling around in the blind, the professor's crop guiding him to his destination, Jonathan bumped him head into something and right after that he was lifted up and deposited on the professor's bed. He felt how a chain was fixed to his collar and guessed, correctly, that the other end was secured to the bed. The bed moved as the professor got in with and soon the professor was playfully, but still quite painfully, slapping his slave around. His hands focused, as always, on Jonathan's genitals and even though he was very tired and hurt all over, Jonathan felt himself get hard again. He really was a pain slave and all attempts to deny it were utterly futile. Soon the slapping gave way to fucking and the professor took him while he lay on his back, his cock and balls freely accessible to the evil academic. Unsure of what to do with his hands, Jonathan elected wisely to keep them behind his head, out of the way. His docile obedience was eventually rewarded when the professor, just as he came, manhandled Jonathan's genitals until he too came, thrashing and jerking with the last of his energy.

Afterwards the professor threw the spent Jonathan down and went to bed. Jonathan was dimly aware that the professor's feet sometimes kicked him and that he spent the whole night under the blanket by the professor's feet. It didn't matter. Jonathan was completely exhausted, broken and drained of free will.

Day 6

When Jonathan woke up the next day he was so sore that he didn't dare move. His whole body ached and all his joints were stiff from the cramped positions he had occupied during the previous day. He was both very thirsty and very hungry and he desperately needed to pee. The feeling had returned to his hands, but they still felt oddly clumsy and impaired in their mobility.

But still Jonathan didn't dare move. He could feel the professor's feet on his head and knew that moving might wake him up; a thought that filled Jonathan with such dread that a small whimper escaped his throat. The professor, who had been awake for some time and who was actually propped comfortably up on pillows, reading the paper, noted with some satisfaction that the stupid slave boy didn't dare move, no matter that he had to be desperately thirsty and in need of a piss. It was only right that he learn his place and so the professor simply continued to read while Jonathan lay under his feet in increasing discomfort.

An hour later the pressure in Jonathan's bladder had reached a level where he had to react and the professor felt a slight tremor under his feet as Jonathan shook ever so slightly, apparently trying to wake the professor up, whom he evidently thought was still sleeping, without incurring his wrath. This amused the professor a great deal and instead of pretending to wake up, his shuffled his feet a little on Jonathan's face, as if stirring in his sleep. A whimper escaped Jonathan as he tried stirring a little more forcefully, but the professor just shuffled his feet again. Jonathan tried this three more times with ever increasing force until finally he had to give up a "wake up" the professor by shaking his feet ever so gently.

Finally the professor seemed to wake up and he of course promptly rewarded Jonathan for his gentleness by kicking him in the head - hard. Then he threw his slave boy out on the floor. Jonathan landed awkwardly and instantly began to freeze. But he had matters that were more pressing and he tried communicating to the professor that he had to pee, something he tried with sign language as he could still neither see, heard or speak. The professor knew exactly what Jonathan needed, but he still pretended ignorance for a few minutes before making Jonathan kneel with his hands behind his head and his cock sticking straight out. This time he didn't use the crop, but simply moved his limbs into the positions he required them to be in. Jonathan then felt how a tube or a container of some sort was pushed up around his cock and with a sigh, muffled by the gag, he let go, filing up the bottle the professor held.

When it was over Jonathan felt how the rubber bladder in his mouth was deflated. His jaws were almost frozen in position and it took him a while to flex some mobility back into them. He was most careful not to speak without permission and as there was no sign that the hood was coming off, he wasn't likely to get such a permission. Instead the professor pulled the bladder out through a hole in the hood. Then he bent Jonathan's head over backwards and inserted what felt like a funnel into his mouth. If Jonathan had expected a nice drink of water to come down the funnel, he was sorely disappointed. What the professor poured down was urine, salty and bitter. First the most of bottle Jonathan had just pissed himself and then the contents of his own bladder. It was absolutely disgusting and Jonathan made sure not to miss a drop as he was sure that this would result in terrible punishment. It didn't really make his thirst go away, but at least he didn't feel like dinking anymore.

After filling up Jonathan with piss, the professor removed the funnel and fucked Jonathan's face as brutally as possible, several times pushing his cock into his throat and making him gag. But Jonathan was grateful for the fucking. He had begun enjoying servicing his cruel owner a great deal and besides the taste of cum washed away the revolting taste of urine. After shooting his load, the professor fetched some dog food and fed Jonathan this, washing it down with the last of Jonathan's own urine, now cold and just as revolting as before. Breakfast thus over it was time to get on with Jonathan's training/torture.

Regretfully the professor had to admit to himself that Jonathan's body really couldn't take any more abuse right now. The professor wanted to abuse Jonathan a lot more and unfortunately this required that he hold back right now.

So instead of active torture he would have to think of something else, something that would allow Jonathan's bruised and damaged body to heal at least a little bit so that he might be tortured again soon.

The professor then dragged Jonathan, still hooded but not gagged, down into the dungeon again, taking great pleasure in lifting up the poor boy by his genitals. It really was a most satisfying way to punish a slave. Once in the dungeon the professor first lathered up Jonathan's body in a soothing crème to help heal his wounds. Then he briefly took off his stilettos while dressing Jonathan in a shiny, black, full-body rubber suit. The suit covered Jonathan from his toes to his neck, leaving only access to his genitals and ass. Once the suit was on he put the high heels back on Jonathan's feet and allowed his slave to stand on his own for a minute, enjoying the luxurious feel of rubber against his skin. Jonathan still didn't dare speak or move his arms and hands without specific orders, so he was completely docile when his owner imprisoned him in a black, rubber straightjacket with free access to his ass and genitals.

When Jonathan was hugging himself very tightly, the professor led him to a corner of the dungeon and forced him down on his knees. The professor spread his legs wide and then strapped them to the floor, straps going around his ankles and just behind his knees. Then the professor forced Jonathan forward and carefully guided his mouth down over a rubber cock sticking out of the floor. When Jonathan had taken all of it in and it pressed against the back of his throat, a strap went around the back of his head, securing him to the floor. For good measure, although it strictly wasn't necessary, the professor also chained Jonathan's collar to the floor. Jonathan was now pressing his face to the ground and tied in this kneeling position. He rested on his knees and face only, since his arms were hugging his rubber clad body tightly.

The position became uncomfortable after a few minutes since practically his whole weight rested on the rubber cock pressing against the back of his throat. It also put a great deal of strain on his neck, since he couldn't even use his shoulders to take some of the load.

While trying to adjust to the position and hoping that the professor would soon put him into another, more bearable one, he felt how the professor moved behind him and began caressing his ass. The caressing was over soon as the professor began fucking him. This time he didn't touch Jonathan, but although disappointed he still loved the feeling of being taken by his owner.

His business over the professor got up and left Jonathan, but not before giving him a parting blow. Aiming carefully and stepping back for maximum power, the professor kicked Jonathan in the balls so hard that had he not been tied down as he was, he would have lifted up from the ground.

Then he left Jonathan kneeling in the corner, constantly on the verge of gagging on the intruder in his mouth. At first Jonathan waited anxiously for the inevitable blow; the kick in the groin or worse. But it never came. The professor had reluctantly decided that Jonathan needed to heal before he could abuse him more, so he left his slave tied up that way for more than twenty-four hours. For the first few hours he had to fight the gagging reflex all the time, but then he found a position where he could endure the presence of the rubber cock in his throat. It was far worse for his neck and shoulders. They now supported him in a most uncomfortable position and the pain got worse with every minute. At the same time his rubber coated body experienced terrible aches and itches as it healed from the damage inflicted by the professor. It was awful and there was nothing he could do about it; no escape and no relief. He just had to take it, accepting his fate as a plaything. To his intense embarrassment this aroused him and adding to his degradation was his own very visible erection.

Those twenty-four hours were the worst and longest of his life so far, yet he had no illusions that it could get much, much worse. During the night the professor fucked him several times and each time Jonathan found himself gasping with happiness as his brutal master proved his ownership. Escaping his fate as a pain slave to be used up and discarded after a short life of screaming servitude seemed increasingly unlikely.

Day 7

Late on Sunday morning the professor released Jonathan from his position in the corner. After a terribly uncomfortable night, filled with nightmares (or were they really fantasies?) about absolute slavery and brutal punishments Jonathan was exhausted. When the professor pulled his mouth off the rubber cock and dumped him on the floor, Jonathan didn't have the energy to move so he simply collapsed on the floor in the same position he had just occupied for the last day and night. His neck and shoulders were almost completely numb and locked, and only very slowly could he begin to move his head back into a more natural angle with his body. Naturally it hurt terribly as did his whole body, even if the pain was less raw and intense than the day before.

Inside his rubber hood Jonathan had no idea what came next or if he had pleased the professor. He had no doubt that he was in for punishment, but would it be punishment for crimes he had committed against his master or punishment simply for sport, because he was a pain slave, supposed to scream?

He still didn't have a clue when a funnel was shoved down his throat, but at least he would get something to drink that way, even if it was urine and it made him gag and retch. With almost hopeless resignation Jonathan realized that drinking piss and worse would probably be something he would be doing a lot of in the future.

After giving Jonathan a drink of his urine the professor made him piss in a bottle and then fed him most of his own. With some satisfaction he noted that Jonathan didn't object in any way, but simply swallowed dutifully. Jonathan felt very full, the disgusting liquid sloshing around inside him and more than a little nauseous but he knew that he had better not throw up. Instead he sat quietly as the professor gave him breakfast, this time a can of cat food forced down his throat. This was chased down with the last of his of piss and true to form the piss was followed by the most welcome intrusion of the professor's wonderful and very hard cock. Whimpering with delight without even realizing it, Jonathan sucked the fat cock, again relishing in his submission as the thoughts of the outside world and a normal life drifted further and further away, the professor's cum washing yet more of Jonathan's independence away.

Having kept his hands off Jonathan for so long, the professor felt that he had some catching up to do before the weekend ended. Moving quickly he removed all of Jonathan's binding and all of his clothes, except for his shoes of course. Swaying unsteadily in the sharp light Jonathan of course offered no resistance as the professor cuffed his hands in front of him. As before the cuffs were connected to a chain and this was used to hoist Jonathan up until his feet were well off the ground. Also as before the professor tied his legs wide, further hampering Jonathan's already very limited mobility.

A small whimper escaped Jonathan as he prepared for the whipping that was bound to come. Looking down his body and seeing the terrible welts, welts that were no doubt much worse on his back, Jonathan wondered how much more he could take. At the present speed he doubted that he would survive even a single week more as the professor's slave before being worn out, whipped to death or worse. The prospect was absolutely terrifying and Jonathan shook with fear, embarrassing himself by loosing bladder control. Even more embarrassing was the fact that the stream of urine he could no longer hold back came out of a rock hard cock. His terror fuelled his lust and the knowledge that he his lust was thus fuelled increased his terror, creating a loop of mounting terror/lust. A stream of urine came from Jonathan's cock as he emitted a hopeless little keening sound and in the end the terror became so great that he lost bowel control, his very liquid feces running down the inside of his legs as he cried and keened with terror and lust.

The professor saw how his slave, without even being spoken to, worked himself into a state of obvious terror and just as evident arousal and stood back to watch the spectacle. He already knew that Jonathan, no matter what he tried telling himself and others, was a complete pain slave, a natural submissive. For such a slave to be aroused by the fear of being hurt or killed was not unusual, but Professor Trenton was still somewhat stunned at how aroused Jonathan became by these thoughts. For although Jonathan hadn't said a word, it was quite clear that it was terror feeding his lust. The professor decided that torture involving very real threats of permanent damage and death would be used to shape the useless slut. Starting now.

Once Jonathan's bladder was empty and the risk of catching spray from it was over, the professor walked up to Jonathan and grabbed him by the throat with one hand and his cock with the other hand. The slave boy's erection moved in involuntarily thrusts and the terrified Jonathan's eyes were teary and panicky, his breath ragged and his face flushed with lust. Squeezing slowly, but very tightly, the professor gradually cut off Jonathan's breath, while still manipulating Jonathan's cock ever so softly. As the slave's face became redder and redder and his eyes began to protrude more and more, the professor leaned in and spoke: "You really are the most disgusting piece of slave meat I have ever had the misfortune of seeing." Jonathan's breath was now a weak sputter as the professor continued: "Maybe I should just off you right here and now. Save myself a bit of trouble and strangle you right now. I can always get a better slave bitch tomorrow." By now Jonathan was thrashing in his bonds, trying to get away from the hand that was choking him. It was no good. No matter how mush he fought he couldn't escape. The professor was strangling him while jerking him towards a great orgasm.

Jonathan was out of air, his face almost purple and his eyes and tongue protruding alarmingly as the world around him grew faint; sounds vanishing and spots appearing before his eyes. As his struggles became weaker and Jonathan in his fevered mind knew that he was dying, an orgasm rocked him, his body spasming with his last energy as a fountain of cum shot from him. As he slid into darkness his final thoughts were of how much he loved being the professor's slave and how grateful he was for the professor catching him.

He woke up coughing and retching, gasping for air. The professor was no longer in sight and as he realized what had happened, Jonathan began to sob from sheer hopelessness. He was lost and he knew it. The professor had driven his point all the way home. Not that Jonathan, after reacting like a bitch in heat to a week's brutal torture, had doubts any more. He knew that he was a pain slave and that he craved brutal torture and the wonderful feeling of being owned; of having lost control completely and utterly. But know the last piece of the puzzle had been revealed to him. He now knew that he was actually and astoundingly impossibly turned on by the prospect of being worn out, discarded, snuffed by a brutal master. The prospect of being strangled by the professor made him hornier than anything had ever done before.

He knew that if it ever came to the point where the professor wanted to strangle him, he wouldn't run, wouldn't scream. In all likelihood he would stand perfectly still, panting from lust with a throbbing erection, waiting for his master to do whatever he wished. Getting what you wanted and craved was not always what was good for you and not for the first time Jonathan knew he had to escape from the clutches of the evil professor.

Standing behind Jonathan, preparing his next punishment, the professor laughed inwardly. He had a pretty good idea what Jonathan was thinking and the slave boy's thoughts were an ideal handle to manipulate him into complete and total obedience. Professor Trenton had no desire to snuff Jonathan. Ever the consummate sadist, he thrived on the pain inflicted on his victim, both mental and physical, and in his slave's complete subjugation, but killing a slave was simply not his thing.

Suggesting that he did want to snuff Jonathan, however, when Jonathan was so obviously turned on by the prospect while at the same time being absolutely and understandably terrified of it, was a very good way of driving him down the short path to complete subjugation, to the point where he had no free will, no independence, but existed only to please his master. The professor thought that he would probably achieve this within a week, if not sooner. Jonathan was obviously prime material. There was only one downside to Jonathan's almost ideal submissiveness: Torturing him was simply too attractive. It was going to be very hard for the professor to keep himself from beating Jonathan to the point of ruining him altogether.

Professor Trenton had been teaching at the university for fifteen years now and each year he had taken a new slave, broken him, had fun with him and sold him after picking a new one soon at the start of the fall semester. Elsewhere in his basement right now, bound, gagged and caged, was Jonathan's predecessor, ready to be sold and just waiting for Jonathan to be taken and assume his position of full-time slave.

The professor had beaten, broken, abused and sold many slave boys in his time all the way back to high-school where had had caught his first. Only once before had he encountered a slave so susceptible to pain and as submissive as Jonathan. The professor remembered him well, a pretty black boy he had caught in his first year at the university.

The professor had been younger and less experienced then and he had let his sadism get the out of hand, ruining the slave boy in less than two months. In the end he had sold the slave, now armless, legless and castrated, to be installed as a toilet in a gay S&M-club in town. The slave boy had tearfully thanked his brutal master as he was secured in place just before his head was tilted back and the funnel from the toilet was installed permanently in his mouth. When the professor had last talked to the proprietor of the club, the slave had still been alive and secured in his position as a toilet. This meant that he had done nothing but swallow shit for more than fourteen years now. Maybe it was time to pay the club a visit, perhaps after a night of eating a lot of beans, chili and such.

The professor tore himself away from these thoughts and returned to his present slave. The next bit of torture in store for Jonathan would not harm him as much as the ones previously inflicted on him; at least not on the outside. Jonathan, who still hadn't noticed that the professor was behind him, emitted a girlish shriek of surprise as something was shoved up his ass with great force. Although he couldn't see it, it was an enema tube with a little, or perhaps not so little, balloon placed just inside his sphincter. Once the tube was in place the professor pumped this balloon up so that Jonathan would now be unable to expel the enema tube and anything else for that matter. Jonathan, already used to brutal fuckings, only moaned softly as the balloon was inflated. He actually found the intrusion somewhat pleasant, a feeling that would soon leave him.

Then came a catheter forced up Jonathan's urinary tract, something that was unpleasant and painful to a degree Jonathan hadn't tried before. As seemingly endless inches of the large bore tube was forced ever deeper into him, Jonathan writhed and groaned with discomfort and pain. Finally all the way in, this device too proved to have an inflatable balloon preventing him from expelling it.

The last part of the torture was a gag strapped around his face. Through the front of the gag yet another tube was led, forcing him to swallow whatever came through it.

The three tubes were then connected to three bags filled with liquid. The one in his mouth was water laced with a strong laxative and an equally strong diuretic. The one going into his bladder was filled with ice-cold water and finally the one containing his enema, by far the largest of the three, contained very warm, soapy water.

The professor opened all three to allow the liquids to flow freely into his slave and soon tears began to flow from the increasingly desperate slave boy's eyes. Because of the trickle of water in his mouth he couldn't scream and all that escaped him were loud broken and gurgling moans as his belly began to distend and his bladder filled up with icy water he was unable to get rid of. The additives to his drinking water only increased his need, but because of the firmly secured tubes he was unable to expel anything and thus his desperation only increased with time. Seeing that Jonathan's torture was well under way Professor Trenton left him to writhe humming a little tune.

Seeing Jonathan like that had aroused the professor a great deal and since he couldn't very well fuck the already stuffed Jonathan, he would have to do with his present house slave. The boy was also a fine catch an absolutely beautiful black boy, skin the color of coffee with cream and large brown eyes, who had once been called Anthony. He no longer answered to any name or nickname given to him by people who had loved him. Now he only answered to calls of "slave", "slut", "bitch" or similar abuse. Unlike Jonathan, who had just been waiting to be dominated, Anthony was not a natural submissive, just as he wasn't a homosexual. This didn't matter one bit to the professor who had known within seconds of seeing him that he had to own him. He had tested the water briefly, just to see if Anthony could be enslaved gradually as Jonathan was being right now, and when he the boy had politely rejected him, he had simply beaten him and tied him up and taken him back to his home. Here he had conditioned him until he was completely broken, his past, his family and friends and even his own name forgotten. Anthony now lived in an unbreakable prison of absolutely terrified submission. Every second of the day he thought of nothing but pleasing the professor. He hated being fucked, hated giving head, hated and feared everything the professor loved doing to him, but he was completely terrified of the consequences of disobedience. He was completely dominated by the professor. After about two months of slavery, now broken and docile, he had begun cuming from time to time when the professor fucked him. This didn't make him hate being fucked any less, but only reinforced his feeling of being a worthless slave, just as the professor had conditioned him to. With time the conditioning got stronger and he began to get more and more susceptible to the professor's touches. After three months he got hard just by seeing the professor or hearing his voice and after that he was lost. Now he was not only terrorized into obedience, but the thought of the hated pleasure that the obedience might bring as a reward held him in a vice grip. When around the professor he watched with bated breath, his member twitching for attention. This of course meant that the professor stopped giving him orgasms altogether and now the slave boy who had once been called Anthony lived in fear and futile hope of being allowed to cum, his mind and spirit utterly crushed.

Although he didn't know it soon he would no longer have obey the professor. Of course he wouldn't be going to a place where he would be treated much differently, so maybe it was just as good that he didn't know the professor's plans for him.

So while Jonathan slowly filled up with disgusting liquids and writhed in extreme discomfort, the professor fucked Anthony who groaned and writhed in fake passion, just as he had been conditioned to.

The professor left Jonathan dangling all afternoon, filled to the point of actually bursting. When the professor finally returned Jonathan cried with relief at seeing his cruel master, convinced that he would finally be able to expel the liquids he had been filled with. The professor, however, loved seeing his slaves in agony so he just sat down and watched Jonathan thrash as he mumbled incomprehensible pleas for mercy behind his gag. Only after watching Jonathan cry for some forty minutes did he remove first his gag and then the tubes in his ass and cock. As soon as his gag was out Jonathan cried his profuse thanks out to his master, but his thanks soon turned to garbled moans and screams as the other tubes were yanked out and liquids exploded from him, blanking out his mind with a mixture of relief and extreme discomfort.

When it was over Jonathan hung limply over a very large puddle of revolting, polluted water. The professor had of course done this before so the room was equipped with a floor drain and using a hose he quickly washed away Jonathan's mess, after which he washed Jonathan. Then, making Jonathan cry hysterically, he reinserted the hose in Jonathan's ass. To the sweet sound of Jonathan's cries he gave him three more enemas before finally deciding that the boy had had enough.

He released Jonathan from his bonds and watched him flop to the floor, his arms useless after the long hours of suspension. Nonetheless he crawled to his master's feet and kissed them while he thanked him profusely. And as the professor flipped him over and took him from behind Jonathan cried again, this time out of gratitude for being owned and fucked by his wonderful master. As he came the professor also manipulated his slave to an orgasm, making Jonathan thrash mindlessly as pleasure took over his mind and body.

After that he was spent. He lay on the floor, his body still haunted by orgasmic aftershocks, huddled at the professor's feet. It was getting late and since the professor still wanted to have some fun before actually grabbing Jonathan and imprisoning him permanently, it was time for Jonathan to go home. He flipped him onto his back and lifted up the moaning slave by his balls and carried him upstairs, depositing just inside the front door. His only words of parting were: "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, five o'clock in my office," before shutting the door behind the naked and trembling slave boy lying on his doorstep.

For the longest time Jonathan was unable to even get up. He just lay there on the door step hugging himself. His body was so incredibly sore and his mind couldn't quite comprehend what had happened. Only minutes before he had been enslaved completely and utterly, convinced that he would never escape from the professor's house and that his permanent slavery had in fact begun. Now he was naked and on his own, his master having kicked him out. Then he picked himself up and focused. He found the bag with his clothes behind the bush by the door and dressed. Then he began the long walk home. It was supposedly about an hours walk, but again it took Jonathan longer. This time he went unmolested, but he was so exhausted and his body so sore that every step was pure agony.

He only stopped once and that was when he met the woman who had dominated him into meeting with the professor. He met her not far from his apartment and this time she was not alone. She had obviously found the slave she had been looking for and was now dragging the poor girl somewhere. The girl was a very pretty and very chubby girl, with very light blonde hair, small blue eyes and beautiful smooth and pale skin. Her skin would have been even prettier if her face hadn't been puffed up from crying and an obvious barrage of slaps, rendering her cheeks an almost uniform bluish color. She was dressed in a tiny black mini skirt, several sizes too small, just as her black stilettos and the black turtleneck sweater she wore were. She looked ludicrous and very sexy. She looked at her mistress with a mixture of fear and admiration and although she was untied and held hands with her mistress, there could be no doubt as to the roles of their relationship. She might not have been a submissive lesbian before, but she sure as hell was now.

As her mistress told her what Jonathan was an understanding passed between the two subjugated bitches. They both knew that they were lost and that submission was the only way ahead for them.

A couple of minutes later Jonathan finally came home. The place was unchanged, a college student's modest apartment, but for Jonathan everything had changed. He was longer a college student and would probably never be again, at least not at this university. His dreams of getting an education and a good job, of finding a nice guy who would treat him right were all but shattered. The professor had proven to him just how submissive he was.

Only a few hours after being dragged through the professor's door Jonathan had practically forgotten about the outside world. He could vividly remember how he had resigned himself to a lifetime of slavery, how effortlessly he had accepted a fate that included the seemingly very real possibility that his master would strangle him just to have fun. Jonathan had actually accepted this as his master's natural right and had even been excited by it.

Jonathan had made it as far as his bed before collapsing and now he lay on the bed, wrapped loosely in a blanket and remembered all these things, remembered how he effortlessly had submitted. He remembered this and cried. He was lost. There were only two ways out of this: one was submission and the other was flight. If he submitted he had no doubt that everything the professor had said, how painful it was going to be and how he was going to be worn out, was true. If he chose to run, he would have to do it tomorrow. Drop out of college, leave his apartment and go far away from the professor.

Jonathan knew that if he wanted to live more than a few years and make a single independent decision in his life he would have to run. So that was what he decided. First thing in the morning he would pack his bag and leave. Hopefully he would be far enough away by five o'clock for the professor to loose his trail.

For now, however, he needed to rest. He fell into a deep sleep after masturbating to a guilt fantasy of the professor tightening a noose around his throat and cutting off his breath altogether. As his dream reached its climax, Jonathan's final twitches, he came, soiling his clothes and his blanket.

Day 8

It was nearly 11 A.M. when he woke up and when he realized this he very nearly panicked. Soon, however, he had his fear under control and started to pack his things. He didn't have much and the apartment had been rented fully furnished so it didn't take too long considering that he was packing up a life. It wasn't until he had been packing for nearly an hour that he noticed that he was still wearing his ultra tight jeans and his stilettos. Feeling dirty he discarded his T-shirt and his jeans, but he just couldn't make himself throw the stilettos out. For the longest time he just held them in his hands, staring at them. He stood naked and shivering slightly, unable to make himself do what had to be done. In the end he couldn't and with a massive blow to his self-esteem, he put them back on and completed packing up his life wearing nothing but a pair of black stilettos and a raging hard-on.

Determined as he was to escape the clutches of the evil Professor Trenton, he couldn't escape his submissive tendencies, exposed to himself as they now were. When he had finished packing, his old life just two suitcases in a hallway, he caught a glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror. What he saw was a badly beaten slave boy wearing a pair of sexy high heeled shoes and sporting a telltale erection. He simply couldn't help himself and dropped to his knees as he jerked off like crazy. With a choking scream he came, spraying the mirror and the floor with his cum. It wasn't until all of the cum was gone that he realized that he had licked it up. Sobbing with shame he took a shower and dressed before telling the landlord that he was leaving. That done he picked up his suitcases, closed the door behind him and dropped off the key on his way out. At the nearest mailbox he dropped off a letter to the student administration, informing them that he was dropping out. Then he set off towards the buss station, finally free.

He was feeling good about himself for escaping the clutches of Professor Trenton and he could actually see the buss station when it all collapsed. The small street leading to the buss station was deserted and so no one heard Jonathan keen with fear as the professor suddenly stepped out of a doorway. Jonathan was paralyzed, literally unable to move, as he saw the evil academic approach his with a very angry look on his face: "How good of you tie up all the loose ends before joining me as my slave on a more permanent basis." The professor's voice was as smooth as silk and utterly menacing. "Your landlord was so kind as to inform me of your packing and leaving and he couldn't help but notice you dropping off a letter, which I'll wager was to the student administration." Jonathan's hopeless whimper and the fact that he had once again soiled himself from pure fear confirmed the professor's assumptions. The professor continued, anger straining his voice: "I had planned to play around with you for a few more days so you will soon come to appreciate the very real cost of upsetting my plans." If Jonathan hadn't already wet himself, he would have done so now. He had no idea how the professor could hurt him more than he already had, but he had no doubts that he could. A very stern look on his face, the professor pointed the way to his car and Jonathan found himself walking docilely towards slavery, his free will removed by the professor without the slightest bit of effort.

Jonathan could see people going about their everyday lives, making their own decisions, being in control of their lives, yet here he was without control of any kind. He didn't even have the strength to call for help. He knew that it was hopeless. The professor had already proven his ownership, his dominion over him. Jonathan had been foolish to even think that he could escape him.

At the car, a large SUV with tinted windows, the professor positioned Jonathan at the back. He unceremoniously threw Jonathan's luggage in before proceeding to pack Jonathan up too. Without even the slightest bit of hesitation he tied Jonathan up in broad daylight without anyone noticing. His arms were tied behind his back, his legs together at his ankles and knees and a great big ball-gag was forced into his mouth. Then the professor removed Jonathan's shoes and only then did he open one of Jonathan's suitcases. Right on top lay the stilettos the professor had ordered him to wear. "How can you possibly think that you are not a slave, when you still carry these around?" he asked Jonathan, who broke down, his defeat a fact, his true nature so cruelly exposed even to himself. He was still crying when the professor put the shoes on his feet, blindfolded him and placed him in the back of the car. All of it in broad daylight.

Once he had Jonathan inside the car and could work in relative safety, he turned Jonathan into a ball, strapping him down so that his chest pressed against his thighs, which in turn pressed against his calves. Then he closed the doors and drove back to campus, where he finished work. Luckily Jonathan's enslavement had not interrupted any classes.

In the car Jonathan lay absolutely still. He had no hope left. He knew that whatever tiny chance of a normal life, whichever lies he had told himself about his nature were now not only definitively exposed, but also crushed. The professor was going to turn him into his permanent pain slave and he was going to love it. Every blow, every humiliation and every brutal fuck. It had been a long time since he had been able to deny these facts, but now in the back of the professor's car, he finally accepted it. Accepted that he was nothing. Accepted that everyone had the right to abuse him. Accepted that his life would be short and painful, filled with humiliations. And finally accepted that he had to be grateful for the professor teaching him this.

Accepting his fate, Jonathan lay quietly in the professor's car, waiting to begin his life of servitude and pain in earnest.

Day 12

When the professor let Jonathan out of his cocoon after almost four days of extremely painful confinement, even the professor was convinced that Jonathan was broken and that he would never try to escape again. Jonathan had of course known this in the back of the professor's car, but the evil academic wanted to be sure.

The punishment he had subjected Jonathan to had been a sort of sensory deprivation, except that there had been one sense left to the poor slave boy: pain.

For almost three days he had been immobile in the silent, rubber smelling darkness while his body was wracked by electric shocks, filled to the bursting point with burning liquids, beaten with any number of terrible things and finally had his air cut off so many times that the slightest hint that he might not get air enough was sufficient to send him into a complete panic.

But the part of his body that had taken the brunt of the professor's anger had been his genitals. As Jonathan now lay almost motionless on the floor, trying to crawl over to kiss the professor's boots, his genitals were in worse shape than they had ever been before. His testicles, now blue and black, were the size of grape fruits and his cock had swollen so much that it now resembled a blue tennis ball with a tiny hole in it. Jonathan doubted that it would ever function properly again.

Still he had never felt more grateful or happy than when the professor knelt down and held his head up by the hair and said: "You are mine now, slave. You will never, ever be free again and I'll make damned sure that every day will be painful and demeaning." And then, standing up and stepping on Jonathan's damaged genitals he rammed his point home: "You may cum now slave." The pain was extreme, unbearable, blinding... and it propelled Jonathan into an orgasm of such intensity, that it blanked out everything else. The mere effort of trying to expel that tiny bit of jism in him was so awfully painful that he couldn't even thrash or scream properly. Jonathan lay twitching with a silent, horrible and utterly devastating orgasm to the sound of the professor's soft laughter.

When it was finally over and his cock burned with pain Jonathan, crying with exhaustion and gratitude, tried to thank the professor, but his throat was too damaged from trying to scream for almost four days in a row and he nearly wasn't strong enough to crawl over to his kiss his mater's boots properly. But he did kiss them and a feeling of relief and gratitude washed over him as he lost consciousness.

Day 14

When the professor decided that the pain in Jonathan's limbs had subsided sufficiently for him to be let out of the cage the he had been put in to recuperate, it was time for Jonathan to assume his duties as the professor's fulltime slave.

Jonathan was still hooded and wearing a rubber straightjacket so he didn't understand that it was time to emerge from his cramped "resting place" until the professor pressed a cattle prod against his thigh. With a muffled yelp of pain Jonathan tried to wriggle out of the very tight cage. His whole body was one great, big mass of pain. He had been fed through a tube in his gag while he had been in the cage and as such had had only liquid nourishment for the last two days. But emptying his bladder was still painful in the extreme, making him scream as his urine tried to force its way out of his monstrously swollen cock.

None of the mattered to the professor who quickly divested him of all his tubes and bindings. In no time Jonathan was again hanging from the ceiling, suspended from his wrists and blinking against the bright light. When he was able to see again he could see not only the professor, but also the professor's current slave boy, the gorgeous and very well disciplined Anthony although he of course answered to other names now.

He stood at attention right behind the professor holding in his hands a tray with various instruments that might be useful in the very near future. He was dressed in a full-body suit made from thick and shiny white rubber and on his feet were white Oxfords with ultra thin heels almost seven inches high. Around his neck was a broad, white collar and in his mouth a huge white ball-gag. The suit was of course open in the crotch and here he sported a prominent erection, the result of being beaten into loving his master and being denied an orgasm for eight months. For although he had never been fitted with a chastity device, he had never even once dared to touch his cock. Professor Trenton had forbidden this expressly and his slut had obeyed him with terrified fervor.

Jonathan wanted to look at his master, to tell him of his devotion but he knew that he as a slave had to look demurely down and be silent until ordered to do something else. He looked at the professor's feet, but couldn't help but steal a look at the awesomely sexy slave boy right behind the professor. This did not go unnoticed: "Filthy slave shit. You'll wear the same uniform soon enough. Now concentrate on what's happening now." Jonathan made a remorseful sound and hung his head in submission.

Then the professor began to lather him up with an extremely foul smelling goo, covering his whole body from just below the eyes to the tips of his toes. He forced the disgusting mass into every crevice and crack on Jonathan's body and no sooner had he stopped the process than the goo began to burn. At first it was a weak, distant burn but soon it felt like his skin was on fire. Jonathan struggled in vain against his bonds, screaming in pain until finally the professor decided that any further exposure to the goo would damage Jonathan's skin. Using an ice-cold jet of water he washed the goo of Jonathan, who babbled inane thank-you's at his cruel master.

The professor left Jonathan to dry in the cold dungeon air, shivering as he hung suspended from his wrists. While he waited for this to happen he attended to poor Anthony, who had until now been miraculously unmolested.

Jonathan was too exhausted to notice anything but the slave boy's desperate screams, but when the professor returned his attention to him and forced him to look up he saw that not only was the slave boy in pain from beatings that had left markings on his shiny, white rubber suit, but he also had terrible trouble breathing. The professor had tied a piece of rope very tightly around his throat. So tight in fact that had it been just a notch tighter poor Anthony would have been throttled. His eyes stood out, bloodshot and his tongue was a horribly swollen thing sticking out if his mouth. His breath came in labored rasps and he took one tiny step at a time trying to catch up with his tormentor. Had he tried to walk any faster he would have fainted from lack of air. He still held the tray in his outstretched arms and his cock stood at painful attention. It was raw and bruised and in obvious and desperate need of attention. Attention that would not be given.

For now the professor took a bottle of crème on the tray and applied it to Jonathan's terribly bruised genitals. The crème was cool and soothing and it soon made Jonathan cry with gratitude. He could feel its healing effect at once the crème was applied the professor took the last item on the tray. It was a small black, pouch made of thick, shiny rubber. None too gently he sealed Jonathan's genitals inside and finished by pulling on a steel wire, which he then secured with a small padlock. Jonathan's cock and balls were now trapped inside the constrictive rubber sphere, out of harms way but also cut off from any chance of providing him with any pleasure.

Then the professor sent Anthony to fetch Jonathan's new uniform. It took ages before he again stood gasping for breath before his master, who informed him that his deliberate tardiness would be severely punished. Anthony acknowledged this with a small curtsey that required so much effort that he nearly collapsed.

Soon after Jonathan stood beside the other slave boy, dressed in exactly the same way. A full-body suit made from thick, white rubber, shining slightly in the cold neon light and leaving free access to his ass and crotch. Around his neck was a thick and broad white collar and on his feet were white Oxfords with ultra-thin heels almost seven inches high. In his mouth was a huge, black, jaw-wrenching ball-gag but he had been left untied, just like the other slave boy.

A truly evil and expectant smile on his face, the professor sized the two slaves up and drawled: "Dirty, useless sluts. I'll have to make sure that you are aware of your proper station." Then looking at the eager and terrified slave boys he added, almost as an afterthought: "You don't match." Not long after Anthony had been equipped with a black pouch holding his genitals and Jonathan was gasping for air as a piece of rope now constricted his throat horribly as well.

Not long after the two slave boys knelt before the professor's crotch. Their hands were clasped behind their backs and they worked as diligently as they could to provide their master with the best oral service imaginable. With spots dancing in front of their eyes as they constantly struggled for air, they kissed their master's cock from either side, their tongue locking over the head. Kissing like that Jonathan gradually noticed that he could feel no teeth in his fellow slave's mouth. Because of the difficulty he had breathing it took several minutes, but eventually he realized that the other slave boy was completely toothless. Jonathan had no illusions that this meant that he too would end up toothless and a submissive thrill ran through him as he realized that this would render him even more helpless, push him even deeper into submission.

Finally the professor came and the two slave boys did their very best to swallow all of his wonderful juice. The struggle to keep up was so intense that when the professor had shot his load his laves lay twitching on floor, unconscious from lack of air.

Day 15

Jonathan had been too damaged still for the professor to torture him during the night, but he had allowed Jonathan to spend part of the night in his bed. The professor had fucked him hard, very hard, at both ends before gagging and hooding him and throwing him out of his bed. Jonathan had loved it, every painful and humiliating second of it. The professor had once again claimed him, controlled him and proven his dominion over him and it had filled Jonathan with joy.

In the morning he had prepared breakfast for the professor together with Anthony (Jonathan still didn't know his name and he never would and the same held true fro Anthony). The slave boys were dressed as they had been the day before, but with the rope around their necks removed and a huge ball-gag inserted into their mouths. Anthony showed Jonathan how the professor preferred things, knowing full well that it was only a matter of time before the other little he-slut took over his position and he was sold off to an unknown, but no doubt terrible fate.

Anthony served breakfast, showing Jonathan how to perform every little movement to the professor's satisfaction and Jonathan eagerly sucked every last detail up, committing it to memory. He also watched with envy as Anthony moved beneath the table to suck the professor's cock ever so gently while he ate his breakfast. Putting his coffee cup down turned all his attention to the slave under the table and fucked the slave boy's head furiously, before again returning his attention to the paper.

The slaves participated in every little step of the professor's morning routine, including licking the professor's ass clean after he had taken his morning dump. When it was time for the professor to go to work, the slaves stood at attention by the door, dropping to their knees to kiss his shoes right before he left. They closed the door behind him and turned their attention to their master's house. Not even after hearing the professor's car leave did any of them even consider escaping. They were both slaves now and would never be free again.

In the afternoon the professor returned to find his slave waiting for him, standing at attention by the door, again dropping to their knees as he approached. As was his habit he hardly paid them any attention, merely dropping his coat and bag for them to catch before they touched the ground. Needless to say the punishment would be severe if that happened.

After eating the professor took Anthony down to the dungeon where he hung him by his wrists and whipped him until he lost consciousness, just for the sport of it. Leaving him like that he turned his attention to Jonathan. He secured his arms in a white arm binder and led the gagged slave boy out of the house and into his car. He placed Jonathan in the backseat where the windows were tinted and drove off. In the backseat Jonathan sat completely still watching the people outside the car. He couldn't really understand that only a little over two weeks ago he had been just like them, or rather he had behaved just like them. The people outside the car were free and had at least some control over their lives, but Jonathan had none whatsoever.

He had to admit to himself that he had been a slave all along, but that it had taken the professor to teach him that. But now he knew. He could never return to that world. He had to be owned, had to be controlled completely and utterly. He looked out and knew that not only was he enslaved, but also that he didn't want freedom any more. He would forever ever need the pain and the humiliation and he had lost all desire to make decisions. He felt like a burden had been lifted off his shoulders, like the professor had so much enslaved him as liberated him. Liberated him from the burden of responsibility, of decisions, of independent thought. Again he felt deeply grateful that Professor Trenton had taken all this away from him and replaced it with a life of pain, degradation and absolute and unquestioning obedience.

Jonathan turned his eyes away from the window and looked down, knowing that he had only one responsibility: please the professor. Please the professor at all costs, even if it meant a short and painful life. He loved the professor more than anything in the whole world.

Not long after they arrived at their destination, a high-rise in the center of town. The professor parked in the basement and led his slave into the elevator, which whisked them both to one of the top floors. The building was almost deserted but one office was still open. The sign on the door simply read: "J. Stevenson. Dentist." Both the door and the sign were discreet and obviously expensive.

Inside the clinic was empty, but a receptionist sat at the front desk and she had obviously been expecting them: "Professor Trenton!" she chirped, "the doctor is waiting. May I say how good it is to see you again and congratulate you on your latest acquisition?" The professor exchanged pleasantries with the woman for a minute until the dentist turned up.

He was a man of average height and looked completely unremarkable. He and the professor obviously went way back and greeted each other like old friends. Chatting the dentist led them to a waiting chair, which the professor strapped Jonathan into with stunning speed. Once strapped in, the dentist removed Jonathan's gag, inserting instead a steel contraption which held his mouth open. The professor was shown a chair from where he could watch the procedure and to amuse him while Jonathan had his teeth removed, a slave boy was conveniently there to provide service. The slave seemed to be part of the inventory, completely covered in black rubber: super tight pants, straightjacket and hood. On his feet were hard, black orbs preventing him from even standing up and the hood covering his head only had openings for his mouth and his nostrils. The slave was chained by his neck and the other end of the chain was secured to the wall. The chain was long enough for the slave to crawl over to the dentist's chair and provide service to customers having their teeth done and Jonathan had no doubt that he had been chained like that for a long time. As the dentist, humming a merry little tune, began removing his teeth Jonathan speculated that the chained house slave probably didn't have any teeth either.

Jonathan was of course strapped to the chair, right down to having his head strapped securely to the headrest, but the dentist didn't seem to be interested in causing him undue pain. Being a slave Jonathan of course received no painkillers, but the dentist moved swiftly and efficiently and the whole thing seemed to be a standard operation designed simply to remove teeth and nothing else.

That wasn't to say that it didn't hurt and when Jonathan stood trembling beside his master, once again gagged and ready to be driven home, he hoped vehemently that he would never see the dentist again. As they left Jonathan saw that the slave had now been gagged and sat motionless in the corner, chained and ready to perform the next blowjob. Jonathan idly wondered how long he had been enslaved thus and probably wouldn't have been surprised to know that the answer was almost five years. Five years of darkness, silence and an endless procession of cocks that all had to be blown perfectly lest the needles return to his balls. It was all he could think about, his whole existence.

Jonathan of course would have understood, but he didn't know as the professor took him home presently to continue his new existence, not too different from the rubber slave at the dentist's office.

Day 16

The day had begun much like the one before and already Jonathan felt very familiar with the chores to be performed. The keywords were: care, repetition and above all perfection. He now worked under the supervision of Anthony who merely stood by to watch the new boy work. Both their cocks were free and both stood at attention, but neither dared touch either his own or that of the other. Their painfully erect presence was a constant reminder of the total obedience they owed their owner. At the breakfast table the professor had ordered them to give each other a handjob, but of course without cuming. The two horny slave boys now minced around in their rubber outfits and high heels aching to touch, but too obedient to do so. Once or twice during the day their cocks accidentally rubbed against each other provoking frustrated groans of lust and an exchange longing looks between them.

That evening the professor used his slave boys for a little sport. Commanding them to strip until all they wore were their heels and their collars, he took them down into the dungeon. Here he tied their arms in white arm binders and led them to a spot on the floor, where a small steel plate rose, perpendicular to the floor itself. The plate rose about ten inches, was almost an inch thick and was clearly a new installation. To either side of the plate a D-ring had been welded and to this ring a short length of chain was secured. The professor positioned his slaves on either side of the plate facing each other, with the toes of their stilettos touching the plate. They stood so close that their chests and genitals touched and the two slaves, who were almost exactly the same height, looked deeply into each others eyes while the professor worked at their feet.

Here he cuffed their feet, connecting them with a very short piece of chain and to this chain he padlocked the chain secured to the plate, thus preventing the slaves from moving away from it. He them proceeded to tie a piece of rope around Anthony's scrotum and once this was accomplished, he tied the other end around Jonathan's scrotum. The rope was quite long, several feet and both slave boys began whimpering with fearful anticipation.

The professor stood up and looked at his slaves and said: "In a minute you are going to balance very precariously. Stay balanced if you don't want to scream in pain for three days in a row." Jonathan and Anthony swallowed involuntarily and waited for the professor's next move. It was deceptively simple. He grabbed them by the D-ring in their collars and then began separating them. Since they couldn't move their feet, this meant that they leaned more and more back until finally the rope connecting their scrotums was taut. Then he let go. With their legs held straight and their toes pushing against the steel plate all that prevented them from falling over backwards was the rope pulling ever more painfully at their balls. Soon both could see their scrotums being elongated and their balls turning first red, then blue as the rope pulled at them. But although both screamed from the unbearable pain in their crotch, neither fell. They focused all their effort on keeping their balance, even if it meant that their genitals were being mangled, because both knew that falling would mean almost endless torture at the hands of a true sadist: their owner.

For Jonathan it was not only extremely painful, but also extremely arousing. His genitals having almost recovered from their last abusive session with the man who controlled both Jonathan and them, his true nature as a pain slave again showed itself. In minutes he was not only screaming and moaning with pain, but also arousal. Anthony watched in fascinated horror as his successor proved beyond a shadow of a doubt just how much he loved pain. As his balls were pulled further and further away and Anthony's thought were occupied with thoughts of whether or not his balls would ever return to normal, Jonathan's mind was occupied with the enormous need to cum.

The professor didn't fail to notice it either and decided to step it up a notch. Picking up a wooden paddle covered in metal studs he began beating the slave boys' cocks. First a blow for Anthony, then a blow for Jonathan. As their screams increased in strength, so did their tone. Anthony's became ever more desperate and Jonathan's ever more passionate until finally he could control himself no longer. With a high-pitched scream he came, almost showering Anthony's upper body and face with his cum. As he came he nearly lost focus and for a split second he knees gave way and both slaves experienced a sharp jolt as he straightened up at the last second, only just escaping even more punishment.

For Anthony it was unbelievable. His own unquestioning obedience had been beaten into him, his adoration tortured into his mind and his devotion to the professor forced upon him by days and months of brutal abuse. But Jonathan's obviously came from a deep desire to submit and a truly staggering need for pain and abuse. Anthony was deeply envious. Normally he was too terrified and too well-conditioned to think of anything but blind obedience, but seeing Jonathan react in a way he never could himself, he was once again reminded that he had not been submissive before his capture. His submission had been beaten into him and had never been something he relished. Anthony knew he would never rebel, never try to escape, that he was a slave now and would be until some cruel master wore him out, the but he wished that he could enjoy his slavery the way Jonathan did.

The professor already knew of Jonathan's super-submissive tendencies and his insatiable need for pain and abuse, but he also found it highly inappropriate that a slave came without permission, unforgivable in fact. It had to be cured. He watched the two slaves having their balls stretched further, still screaming and moaning, while he thought of how to deal with and after half an hour of that sweet music he came up with a plan.

He released the two slaves from their bonds and ordered Anthony to get back into uniform instantly. A weak and shaken Anthony obeyed instantly, while the professor turned his attention to Jonathan. Jonathan stood at attention before his owner, fearing what would come next while at the same time looking forward to it. It was quite clear that his cuming had not gone over well with the professor, but he had simply been unable to hold back. He loved the professor and the pain and humiliation too much not to cum in such a sexy situation. The fact that he could feel how his balls had been pulled away from his body, did not diminish his arousal.

The professor knew that curing Jonathan of his lack of orgasmic discipline was going to be hard, but once accomplished it could be used as an endless source of punishment for the little slut. The professor had, through an old friend in the CIA, gotten hold of equipment to brainwash people. It was quite simply a set of earphones and a pair of glasses projecting images into the wearer's eyes. Over the next few weeks Jonathan spent hundreds of hours wearing them both during the day and during the night. The sessions left him dazed and confused for almost half an hour after they had ended: He couldn't remember what he just done or what it had been for and always wondered what he was doing sitting with all that gear on his head. So each day the order to put the gear on came as sort of a surprise, sending shivers of submissive thrill down his spine as he imagined what would happen to him when he put it on.

Soon cuming became harder and harder until the conditioning was complete about two weeks later. Severe beatings of his genitals, which had previously brought thundering orgasms in a matter of minutes, now "only" made him desperately aroused, his balls becoming blue with unreleased pressure as well as bruising from the beating, but without the professor's say-so he couldn't cum. The same was the case with masturbation. The professor would command Jonathan to masturbate in his presence, something that humiliated and so also aroused Jonathan enormously. Before he would have exploded in minutes, if not seconds, but now he could jerk off for hours without cuming. The professor would just watch as Jonathan cried and begged while his cock became more and more red and raw and Jonathan so desperate that he cried. Jonathan was now utterly unable to cum without an order and that order had to cum from the professor.

But that was in the future. For now the professor settled for a more conventional approach to his slave boy's disobedience and for the next hour Jonathan was subjected to a session of brutal breath control torture while tied down tightly with his bowels full of hot water. He ended yet another day by crawling to his owner's feet and croaking out his endless affection for the evil master that had enslaved him and then passed out as his crotch received a final kick.

Day 17

Early next morning, before the professor had gotten up, the two slaves prepared for a new day of abuse and humiliation. After a quick, cold shower they were once again dressed in white rubber and ready for the day's chores. Again Anthony merely watched as Jonathan performed his duties, in spite of the fact that he was on the brink of collapse from the previous day's torture. His devotion and will to serve, however, were undamaged and in spite of his exhaustion he completed all his chores to perfection. When serving such a wonderful master he had to accept sleep and rest as privileges afforded only after exemplary service, and since Jonathan knew he had let his master down, he also accepted the fact that he deserved only punishment, not sleep.

When the professor came home in the evening his slaves were once again waiting by the door, bowing down in submission as he entered. A short command made them scamper after the professor, down into the dungeon. Here the professor gave the command for them to strip and soon the slave boys stood naked, except for their stilettos. Using simple handcuffs the professor secured their hands behind their backs with one pair at their wrists and one pair at their elbows before proceeding to gag them with huge black ball-gags. Black collars were then put in place and they were dragged out of the house and placed in the backseat of the professor's car. On this trip none of the slaves looked out the windows as both knew that they would never rejoin the outside world. They had been enslaved and could not escape. Even if they could, neither would be able to rejoin the outside world. Anthony because he had been beaten and tortured so badly that he simply couldn't remember what his life had been before his capture. All he could remember were the lessons beaten into him by his owner. Lessons teaching him how worthless and useless he was and how he wasn't fit to think for himself or fit to make independent decisions. For Jonathan it was different. He remembered that he had been part of the outside world only days before, but he also remembered the lessons of his own uselessness. But most of all he felt the enormous relief at being enslaved, the joy of submitting, of being owned. He would never escape and it made him happier than anything else in the world.

The drive was rather long and at then end of it they once again stopped in a parking basement. The place was exclusive, filled with very expensive cars and guarded by burly men who obviously knew their jobs and who knew the professor and what he carried. They looked at the slaves as if their presence was the most natural thing in the world. After parking the professor led his slaves towards an impressively carved door, guarded by two large guards dressed in black leather. Both greeted the professor like a valued patron as they opened the doors, which turned out to lead into a large elevator. The elevator spelled extreme wealth, with gold plated panels and beautiful engraved artwork everywhere. It traveled only down. In fact it had only one button marked simply: "Pleasure."

The trip down was unusually long and Jonathan got the distinct impression that they were far more than just one story below ground. Had he been asked to guess, he would have said ten stories down, a figure not far off. The elevator doors opened into a small lobby area where the professor handed his coat to pretty boy chained by his neck to the coat check counter. He was naked except for his collar and was impeccably trained, accepting the professor's coat and the derisive remark accompanying it with submissive grace.

After handing over his coat the professor led Anthony and Jonathan into the club itself. The place lived up to its name in that provided you were a master and you had the money required for a membership, the club did practically everything to provide you pleasure. Very, very few wishes were too extreme, whether you wished to bring your own slave or use a club slave. When the professor entered the first thing they saw was a master taking his slave from behind up against the bar. The slave's hands were tied behind his back and his neck had been secured to the rail running the entire length of the bar with a slipknot. The slave's eyes were ready to pop right of his head and his swollen tongue protruded dangerously and his legs spasmed uncontrollably as his master fucked him hard, more and more turned on the closer he got to strangling his slave. Jonathan didn't stay long enough to see if the slave's was actually strangled as the professor moved along at a brisk pace until he reached the center of the room, where a small crowd had gathered around a small stage. The professor greeted several of the masters around him and then turned to watch the spectacle.

A pretty, little sissy was being castrated. He was tied down to a punishment chair and his body, smooth, lithe and with small perky tits, already bore the markings of a lengthy torture session as did his voice. His testicles had been tied very, very tightly with rope and one of them had already been popped. The sissy was pleading desperately to keep the other, but as Jonathan watched the sissy's owner took a pair of scissors and cut the other testicle off to the high and desperate sound of his slave screaming.

Anthony and Jonathan were both badly shocked by the two scenes, but the professor seemed to have enjoyed them both quite a bit as he hummed and dragged them further into the club. Although very scared Jonathan's cock was still at full mast and his ragged breath didn't speak of fear.

The professor led them along a corridor, deeper into the club. He stopped and chatted with another master leading his slave in the opposite direction. The slave was a young man who looked demurely down as was proper for a slave, but who still couldn't help casting adoring looks at his master. The slave boy, who was about the same age as Jonathan, had had his arms removed and was gagged with a truly enormous pump-gag. He had also been castrated and his master led him around by a leash attached to a huge ring piercing his now tiny and useless member. He had been branded in several places on his naked body, most notably on his forehead where the brand now proclaimed him as: "Cum hole".

Jonathan wondered how long the other had been a slave and how long it would be before he was worn out and discarded. He would probably not have been the least bit surprised had he known that only a year and a half ago the slave boy had been an aspiring actor who had met a man of whom he had been told that he could do wonders for a young man's career if only that young man was willing to provide certain favors.

He had never returned to his one room apartment after the first meeting with the man. Instead the man had tied him, beaten him and fucked him and kept him as his pet. The young actor had found that the firm hand of an older man was what he had craved all his life and had, after several days of brutal treatment in a backroom of the man's apartment, declared that he wanted to belong to the man for the rest of his life.

This was of course nice to know for the man who had enslaved him, but really didn't make all that much of a difference. He would have taken him no matter what. And the slave boy had certainly not counted on just what slavery would do to him. Within two months he had healed up from having his arms removed and three months after his capture he pleaded, begged and finally screamed as the man removed his balls. Since then he had been beaten and branded more times than he could remember and had done things to him so painful, humiliating and disgusting that his mind blocked them out whenever something reminded him of them.

As for how long he would last before being worn out, that was a question Jonathan never got the answer to. But the castrated and armless slave boy did get part of the answer less than two hours later. When the professor stopped them they were on their way to a session the man had been planning for a while. He had just found a new aspiring actor who would do just about anything to get ahead and who would do absolutely anything to please his master. He didn't know this yet, but he would very soon.

This meant that the branded slave boy standing next to him now, casting him loving glances when he thought his master didn't see it, was now superfluous. So the man was taking him to one last fisting session. When the session ended, after four hours of brutal fisting, the slave's ass had been irreparably broken and was now unable to hold anything in and the slave had been further reduced. His owner sold him to the club for a pittance and went home to plan his next slave's horrible fate. The broken and beaten slave pleaded to be allowed to remain as his slave, but was of course ignored. Having been used in a very brutal manner already he was cast into the role of fisting and punishment pet, a role he lasted less than a year in before choking to death with one fist up his ass and another far down his throat.

All of this Jonathan never knew as the professor and the other master said their goodbyes and led their slaves to their respective, but all horrible fates.

Soon after they turned a corner and the corridor widened into a large room. For now the room was empty except for a master and his slave. The master was a huge black man, his body bulging with muscle. He sat on an equally huge chair, which in turn stood on a solid looking dais. His slave was an equally huge black man, also bulging with muscles, but unlike his owner he was naked and tied very tightly.

His hands were sealed inside rubber mittens and his arms were tied in a brutal back prayer kept in place by four sturdy leather straps encircling his upper body. His neck was encircled by a neck corset, forcing him to look straight ahead and slightly up and his mouth was filled with giant penis-gag, hidden behind a thick patch of leather, which was secured to his head by two solid straps. His feet were imprisoned in black tubes tapering of to a cone shape at the end, effectively a heelless ballet boot, forcing him to carry all of his weight on the very tips of his toes. From his ass protruded at least a foot of the absolutely enormous steel dildo that filled him up.

The slave was trying to pull his master sitting on his chair, but not by the harness that imprisoned his upper body. No, the slave was trying to pull the master by a rope tied around his scrotum. The master weighed at least two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle and the chair and the dais it stood on weighed at least the same, more likely fifty pounds more. Finding traction in the brutally restrictive footwear was exceedingly difficult for the slave and he had to lean forward a great deal to apply enough force to move the chair at all. Even then it moved in tiny leaps of a fraction of an inch every minute or so.

The room was perhaps fifty feet long and Jonathan estimated that the slave had pulled his master perhaps five of those feet. From his throat came keening and grunting sounds as sweat poured down his face. A face where the eyes stood out along with all the veins. To make his slave move at all the master used a combination of a whip and a cattle prod. He applied both with great vigor; the whip all over the slave's backside, whereas the cattle prod was mainly applied to the slave's balls and to the steel dildo in his ass. Both actions caused the slave to scream behind his gag as every muscle in the vicinity of the affected area spasmed involuntarily.

Jonathan had serious doubts that the slave would have any balls by the time he reached the other end. Already his balls, dark blue orbs, had been pulled almost five inches out from his scrotum and they looked positively ready to pop.

The master greeted the professor with a friendly wave, but his slave didn't even notice that he had spectators to his painful and drawn out castration.

Finally the professor and his slave boys reached a room at the far end of the club, where a group of his friends waited to receive them. One of these was the owner of the club. He and Professor Trenton had gone to college together and over the years both had benefited from their friendship. The professor caught and trained a new slave boy each year and many, but not all, of those slaves wound up at the club. The owner paid the professor handsomely for the perfectly trained little slave boys, who were all completely docile and obedient. Since they were so well trained sexually the professor's former slave boys quickly got an excellent reputation, so much so that the owner could charge more for the use of them than he could for the rest of his slaves.

Over the years the professor had sold the owner of the club twelve slave boys of which five were still at the club. These five now stood lined up against the wall, each greeting their former owner by falling to their knees and pressing their heads to the ground. Of the five, three no longer had any arms and two no longer had any testicles. The savage torture they had been subjected to over the years had ruined them and necessitated their removal. Two of them looked decidedly worse for wear and in the case of one of these the professor was astounded that the slave hadn't been worn out yet.

In a sense these slaves were the reason for bringing Anthony and Jonathan to the club. Anthony recognized his predecessor among the poor slave boys, he was missing both his arms and his balls, and he knew that he would soon join them. Soon he too would prance around the club wearing only stilettos and a collar. Soon he too would cater to every painful and humiliating whim of the club's patrons and he had no illusions that he would end up much the same as his predecessor. A hopeless keening escaped his throat as he realized what was about to happen.

Jonathan too soon understood what was happening. The fact alone that the slave boys in the room all looked much the same as he and Anthony did at least suggest that possibly they had all been owned by him. Their behavior was also remarkably like that of Anthony and himself and they clearly recognized the professor, although Jonathan had an idea that every slave who had been used by the professor remembered him.

The owner of the club took possession of Anthony, freeing him of his bonds before providing him with his uniform: black Oxfords with six-inch heels and a broad black collar. No bonds. The masters who would use him could apply those for himself and he was too well trained to try and escape. Even if he did, he would never even make it to the elevator.

The owner briefly felt up his new slave boy and then turned to the professor. He handed him a fat envelope, which the professor didn't even bother opening to check the contents of. Then they shook hands and Anthony had a new owner, while Jonathan was now the professor's house slave.

The deal was celebrated first with a bit of champagne and then by a small discrete orgy where the professor and his friends indulged in their insatiable taste for brutal torture, using primarily Jonathan but also the six other slaves in the room.

After three hours of brutal torture and equally brutal sex the professor decided that Jonathan had had enough. He retied his slave, gagged him and led him out of the club again. Although Jonathan was exhausted and walking in an almost bowlegged manner, he did notice a few things on the way out. It was late and the club was nearly empty, but the huge black slave was still trying to drag his huge black master across the room. Jonathan estimated that he was halfway there and he was completely exhausted. Sweat poured down his body and his tiny steps were weak and faltering. Naturally his balls were in a very bad shape. His scrotum was now more than a foot long and his testicles had turned black from lack of blood. Even if he did manage to pull his master to the other end of the room without pulling his balls off, something Jonathan regarded as highly unlikely, it was very doubtful if his genitals would ever recover from the abuse they were being put through.

At the bar two masters were having a quiet conversation with a slave boy each worshipping their cocks, while an employee of the club was removing a slave from the bar. It was the slave they had passed on the way in, being fucked and strangled against the bar. Now he hung from the rope that had been used to strangle him, which was still attached to the bar. His face was blue, his tongue protruded alarmingly and his eyes had nearly popped out of his head, but he was still alive. His muscles twitched and a hopeless croaking sound came from his mouth as his protruding eyes darted back and forth in search of a rescuer. From his ass a steady stream of cum ran down the inside of his leg, telling of the many, many times he had been fucked before his master had left him tied to the bar. Jonathan shuddered as he remembered the professor tightening a similar rope around his throat.

The coat check boy was still chained to the counter and he instantly fetched the professor's coat, accepting the verbal abuse that came from the professor with profuse thanks. While Jonathan had been fucked and tortured inside the club, someone had seen fit to whip the coat check boy and his body was now covered with red welts. Jonathan could see a sadistic sparkle in the professor's eyes and judging from the frightened look in the slave boy's eyes he could too, but in the end the professor decided against it and settled for taking his slave boy home and screwing him brutally before pushing him onto the floor.

Day 35

Jonathan knelt in the dungeon in front of a large picture of the professor. He stared intently at the picture while sucking an exact rubber replica of the professor's cock and masturbating frantically. He had been jerking off for nearly an hour now and had a full hour to go before he was allowed to resume his other chores around the house. He was completely desperate and completely unable to cum

Three days earlier his conditioning had been completed and the professor had introduced this routine into Jonathan's daily chores. Not only did it reduce the time he had to perform his other duties, but it drove him absolutely mad with lust. He loved the professor above all else and sucking his rubber likeness while masturbating to a picture of him was the next best thing to actually serving the man and so he was desperately aroused. But he was unable to cum unless he was issued a very specific command from his owner. Without it he could co whatever he wanted to, but would be unable to get off.

Jonathan had settled completely into his new life and the memory of his old one was fading so rapidly that he had trouble remembering that he had ever been free. Sometime flashes of him walking freely down the street or admiring some handsome stud, hoping the muscle bulging hunk would grab him and fuck him, came to him and he became so very confused. He knew he would never be free; should never be free, but the flashes made him feel good as if he had enjoyed being free. He also remembered being caught by the professor, being beating and tortured until he finally submitted and accepted his fate.

But all of these flashes were becoming weaker with astounding speed. Every blow from the professor's whips, every single time his tongue touched his master's magnificent cock, every brutal kneading of his balls pushed his previous life further away. And the few times the professor showed appreciation for his slave, usually no more than a pat on the head or a hard, but affectionate slap to the face, he was filled with such joy at being owned that could hardly contain it. He loved the professor and so he had to love whatever he did to him. The professor knew what was best for him and if that meant being tortured or teased sexually every day, so be it.

Jonathan's life was mostly routine. He got up an hour before the professor - if he wasn't tied up in some way. If he was he of course had to wait for the professor to untie him. This meant he was late in his chores and this in turn meant that he was in for punishment, having not been on time.

He showered in cold water, changing to plastic mules with seven inch heel that could stand the water. During the shower he administered three huge enemas to himself so that he would be clean for his master.

After showering he dressed again. The professor had him wear one of two basic uniforms: one was the white full-body rubber suit, with the white collar and white ball-gag and white Oxfords with seven-inch stilettos. The other consisted of a black collar and ball-gag, a tiny white rubber apron and black Oxfords with seven-inch stilettos. He was told the night before which one to wear, but the professor frequently changed his mind so that Jonathan had to be punished for wearing the wrong uniform.

Today he was wearing a black collar and black Oxfords. The ball-gag lay next to the picture of the professor and Jonathan's hand was frantically manipulating his overworked and outrageously frustrated cock under the tiny white apron.

As a result of the conditioning he was developing a permanent and very bad case of blue balls. His testicles ached all day long from unfulfilled need and even the light brushing of the rubber apron was enough to cause both pain and arousal.

After another hour of masturbation he could finally resume his other duties. He had already cleaned the house and now he could retrieve the laundry from the washing machine and begin cooking for the professor. When the professor got home he would stand by the door waiting for him, ready to kiss his feet before relieving him of his coat. After dinner he would serve the professor in whatever way he might want. Most nights he would end up in the professor's bed being fucked or providing hours of oral service, usually accompanied by the professor's trademark brand of brutal abuse. Jonathan loved the professor's bed. Although he had never cum in the professor's bed, it was here that he felt the closest to his master, the place where he could show his affection most intimately.

Day 47

Jonathan was in the club again.

The professor had taken him there the day before, again descending with the luxurious elevator. This time the professor had taken the time to fuck the coat check boy while kneading his balls until the poor slave boy screamed for mercy, which was of course not given.

Leaving the coat check boy clutching his damaged genitals while he dutifully whimpered his thanks to the professor, they moved further in to the club. Along the way they met the master whose slave it was that had pulled dais, chair and master by his own balls. He now towed two slaves. One was the huge black slave that had been pulling the chair. His arms were still secured on a back prayer, his head was held high by the same neck corset and his mouth was still sealed with a huge penis-gag hidden behind a leather flap. His feet were also still crushed inside plastic boots so that his entire weight rested on his toes. But he no longer had any testicles. His crotch was now smooth and his useless sex had been equipped with a huge ring piercing the head. He followed his master docilely, looking down demurely at his feet taking tiny mincing steps due to the very short chain connecting his feet.

The other slave was white, but was also a huge bundle of muscles now struggling futilely against his bonds. He wore the same collar, gag and shoes as the other slave and his arms were tied in the same way, but he walked in a very different manner.

Between his knees was a steel bar, but the bar did not reach all the way out to the knees. Instead it was secured to his knees with sturdy straps of very elastic rubber that required a lot of effort to keep taut. The reason for keeping it taut was the fact that his balls had been tied to the bar with a short piece of rope, necessitating the slave squatting down to keep his crotch as close to the bar as possible and to do this he had to spread his knees as wide as possible. To make sure that the slave did just use the elasticity of the rubber straps to straighten up wires connected the bar to his ankles so that he couldn't raise the bar higher than the level of his knees.

The effect was that he had to strain to keep his knees as far apart as possible, while still being able to walk. This put terrible strain not only on his leg muscles, but also on his balls. He grunted and sweated as he tried to keep up with his master without ripping off his balls.

For now he stood still together with the other slave as their master chatted with the professor. Jonathan listened as the man talked calmly of putting this new slave through the same pulling exercise as the poor castrated slave beside him. A fearful keening could be heard from the slave when this was mentioned, something that was instantly punished. The slave, like the castrated slave beside him, had a gigantic steel dildo in his ass, the end of which protruded almost a foot out of his ass. While the man held him the professor used a cattle prod to apply electricity to this, causing the slave to scream and jump as he tried to plead for mercy.

Once their chat was over the two masters broke up and the man took his new muscle bulging slave away for a session of merciless pulling that would no doubt castrate him like the other slave, while the professor led Jonathan to the small stage in by the bar. On the stage three poles rose out of the floor: the lowest, a telescopic pole, had a large dildo at the end, while the other two had long straps attached to them.

The professor positioned Jonathan over the dildo pole and adjusted it until it was all the way up Jonathan's ass, almost forcing him to stand on his toes. Then he tied the straps secured to the two other poles around Jonathan's upper body before strapping Jonathan's feet to the dildo pole. Jonathan's arms were sealed inside a black arm binder, which was now secured by the same straps that encircled his upper body. On his feet were standard black Oxfords with seven-inch heels but he wore neither his gag nor his usual collar.

The torture was simple. A master would bring his slave boy to the club and take up the challenge. The slave boy would have one hour to bring Jonathan to three orgasms. If he failed all the other patrons of the club could participate in the two hour torture session that followed.

So far Jonathan had been tied to the pole almost twenty-four hours and he had yet to cum. He knew that he couldn't cum with the professor's say-so and he was beginning to suspect that this would never come.

The slave boys that tried to make him cum were all good. Terribly good. Talented hands, gorgeous asses, fantastic mouths. They used all with ferocious intensity at first and then with ever mounting desperation. They played with his cock with their hands, they backed their fine asses down over his cock as they flexed their muscles as best they could and finally they sucked for all they were worth, using their tongues and lips to try to extract the tiniest drop of cum from Jonathan.

Not a single one of them had been bad and in fact most had been fantastic, but none had made him cum. He had screamed, pleaded and begged to be allowed to cum, but to no avail. Some had tried to cut off his breath and make him cum that way and others had tried various forms of torture to appeal to his nature as a pain slave, but in the end all were dragged away to be punished as a result of their failure.

Jonathan's conditioning was bullet proof. There was no way he could cum unless the professor uttered a very specific sentence and of course he didn't. When there were no slave boys to take up the challenge, at night for example, the club's slaves would take turns sucking his cock. They would change once every hour, but apart from the short periods of time when one mouth took over from another his cock had not been without attention for twenty-four hours. He was completely desperate, on the brink of breaking down, willing to do anything, absolutely anything to cum.

But the professor only wanted him to do one thing: suffer. And what Jonathan was going through now was the perfect way to make him suffer. The professor came to see Jonathan while one of the house slaves, one he had captured a few years ago in fact, was sucking Jonathan's cock. Jonathan cried and when given the opportunity to talk he pleaded with his owner to be allowed to cum. The professor merely smiled before he lazily slapped Jonathan's face, signaling for him to shut up: "Quiet slave," he drawled, "you are here to suffer because you are a useless slave-shit and I'll keep you here for as long as I see fit. Now suffer for me, slut."

With that he left and a new pretty boy knelt in front of Jonathan, ready to do his worst.

Jonathan stood with the pole up his ass for more than a week. At night he was given liquid food and he was even able to expel urine while being sucked, but in that week his cock was never without attention for more than five seconds at a time. He was hard as cement and so aroused that every fiber of his body was ready for the explosion that never came. Soon even a warm breath touching his balls would be enough to make him scream with pain as his balls became so enormously sensitive. But still he didn't cum. His entire being was engulfed in desperation and his submissive mind knew that he had deserved this, that the professor treated him so very kindly and that he should love him even more for subjecting him to this torture. Every second was frustrated torture and with every lick and stroke he moved deeper into submission.

Jonathan had longs since lost track of time when the professor came to fetch him after almost eight days of continual sexual denial. Jonathan could only just walk as he was led from the club by his owner, a leash attached to his red and raw cock. His cock had several abrasions and bruises from all the hard wear, but still it remained hard.

After the session at the club his cock wouldn't get soft for any reason at all. Blows, cold, heat whatever the professor did to Jonathan his cock remained hard and he experienced a permanent case, and extremely severe case of blue balls. Always he was ready to cum and with time his balls grew larger and larger from all the unreleased jism stored in them. Nothing he did cold make it go away and the professor was certainly not going to let him cum as the permanent erection provided for wonderful opportunities to torture Jonathan.

Day 102

Jonathan's tiny white apron barely covered his erection. It peeked out under its white rubber cover, which stood straight out in Jonathan's crotch as he minced around preparing for the evening gathering.

It was the professor's turn to host the weekly poker night. Often his friends would bring their own slave so that there were enough to go around. Poker night really was about poker and the slaves were rarely tortured other than for serious infractions. But the slaves were expected to provide service, serving drinks, sucking cocks, throughout the night while being seen and heard as little as possible.

Jonathan loved poker night as much as he loved any activity that provided him with an opportunity to prove his devotion to his owner. He would mince around in his tiny costume and serve drink and go down on whoever wanted him to. As always he was careful to provide the best possible service. It would be awful for his master if one of the others thought that Jonathan was lazy giving head. Embarrassing the professor in any way was unacceptable and the mere thought made him shudder.

He had prepared everything for the arrival of the guests and was now waiting in the hall, standing at attention until the doorbell rang.

The first to arrive was Judge Harrison, who as always had a new slave with him. He was known as a pillar of the community who had taken care of many young men about to get into trouble. The one he dragged with him today was a Hispanic looking slave boy of about twenty-five. His hands were cuffed behind his back and in his now smooth mouth a huge red ball-gag resided. He wore extremely tight black rubber hot pants and on his feet were white cotton socks and shiny leather shoes. He was led by a leash and looked like he had only recently been broken. Once Jonathan had greeted the judge with the proper respect, the judge removed his slave's gag briefly so that the two slaves could greet each other properly. Keeping his hands clasped on his back Jonathan closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss the Hispanic slave, who in turn kissed Jonathan thoroughly, if not passionately like Jonathan kissed him. Jonathan knew that the other slave only kissed him back because he was too afraid not to.

The next one to arrive was the dentist, Dr. Stevenson. Behind him followed a pretty boy of about twenty-six, blond and blue. He was toothless and armless and his body was marked by several distinctive tattoos and brandings, all proclaiming him to be a useless slave shit. On his feet were ankle-high, white stiletto boots and around his neck was a white collar, to which a leash was attached. His cock was imprisoned in a steel tube, held in place by numerous piercings. A small, but steady stream of pre-cum dribbled from the tip of his cock, telling of the fact that he had not been allowed to cum for more than five years.

He was ungagged and followed his owner meekly. His name was Timothy and he had been the dentist's slave for a long, long time now. Unlike the other slaves, who in one form of the other had been taken by force, Timothy had given himself up. He had known he was a slave since very early on and when he had met the dentist in a chat room, he knew he had found his master. They had met and the dentist had explained exactly what was going to happen, exactly how much surgery he would subject his slave to and how much torture he was going to put him through. Finally he explained that when he tired of him he would not sell him or set him free, but simply dispose of him in whatever manner he saw fit. None of what the dentist had said deterred Timothy who submitted gladly. The dentist had been as good as his word, doing all the things he had said that he would and more and his slave boy had loved him all the more for it.

Once Jonathan had greeted the dentist properly, he kissed Timothy who kissed him back passionately. Both slave boys had lust painted on their faces and in their eyes when they withdrew from the kiss and neither could enjoy the prospect of being allowed to cum.

Third in the line of the professor's friends to arrive was chief of police Robertson, a large, beefy man dragging one of his many slaves behind him. Being chief of police had many perks and one of them was the ability to get away with just about anything. The slave was a nephew he had taken a shine to and as a consequence grabbed him under some flimsy pretext. The young man's mother had been dead but his father had objected a great deal. His days of objecting were over. The chief had taken him too and sold him to a pimp in one of the large cities. These days he was a transvestite hooker "enjoying" his last months of usefulness to his pimp. Soon he would be discarded, the chief knew that his pimp made many very brutal movies and suspected that he would star in one of these as the last thing he did.

Meanwhile his son had been turned into the chief's fucktoy as a large tattoo across his forehead proclaimed. A slight young man with jet-black hair, he minced behind the chief dressed in a full-body suit made from thin, red rubber. On his feet were black stiletto boots reaching his knees and his hands were clad in black rubber gloves. Around his neck was a broad black collar and a ring-gag somewhat superfluously kept his toothless mouth open at all times. He too had a chastity device imprisoning his cock, but no bonds. Too well-trained and knowing full-well that escape was impossible he had accepted his fate and sometime even enjoyed it. Like when he kissed Jonathan. Kissing other slaves was one of the few times he enjoyed a little tenderness in an otherwise brutal existence.

The fourth and final guest was the huge black master who had now had at least two slaves pull their own balls off trying to drag him across the large room at the club. His name was Rick and he was notorious for enslaving body-builders and turning them into muscular, but completely docile shemale slaves. With him he brought the black slave Jonathan had seen on his first visit to the club. His feet were still in the brutal ballet boots and around his neck he still wore his black neck corset, but he was no longer tied up. And it was beginning to look as if calling him "he" was no longer appropriate. Since Jonathan had seen him last he had lost a lot of his muscles and had obviously been given massive doses of female hormones. His skin looked softer and a nice pair of tits were growing on him. He had had facial surgery to make his features more feminine and remove his Adam's apple and his voice was now a soft, if a little squeaky, soprano. He followed his master without a leash and cast loving glances at him whenever he got the chance. He and Jonathan kissed passionately before all of the guests retreated to the living room to play poker.

After serving the first round of drinks and seeing to it that there were plenty of snacks, Jonathan and Master Rick's slave were charged with providing the first bit of entertainment. After first kissing and feeling each other up for a couple of minutes, Jonathan was ordered to fuck Master Rick's slave. The slave boy who would soon be a pretty, sexless shemale, lay down on his back and let Jonathan enter him. Pushing his pelvis up to meet Jonathan's thrusts, he grabbed Jonathan by the hips and the two slaves began to fuck. Since neither could cum it was hard to tell which was the most frustrated but after an hour of intense fucking both were crying with frustration.

After that the slaves provided oral entertainment for the poker players, though of course not for their owners, and after every slave had been fucked by every master and a great deal of poker had been played, the masters took a vote as to who owned the most useless slave.

The decision was that judge Harrison's Hispanic bitch-boy was the most useless and the evening ended with a lengthy torture session where he was tortured by all the masters, while the rest of the slaves struggled not to incur the wrath of the masters.

Jonathan was tired, but very happy, when the professor had bidden the last guest goodbye with Jonathan kneeling at his feet. Judge Harrison's slave had been screaming hysterically behind his gag even after the torture was over and his owner had thrown him in the truck of his car.

Day 250

Wearing his white rubber suit and being very careful that the heels of his Oxfords didn't damage the professor's silken sheets, Jonathan was gently sucking his owner's cock to wake him up. He felt how the professor grabbed his head and he knew that he had to be ready to swallow his morning urine, careful not to spill a single drop. After the flood of acrid urine had ceased he blew his master ever so gently, swallowing all of his cum with relish.

He assisted his owner in his morning routine and served him breakfast before slipping under the table to hold his cock gently at full mast while the professor read his newspaper. When the professor finished reading he again got the opportunity to prove his oral skills to his master, before assisting him in the rest of his morning routine.

He waited by the door as the professor left for work and dutifully kissed his feet, keeping his head to the ground until he heard the professor's car move away. Then he moved downstairs where he spent the next two hours sucking the replica of the professor's member while he masturbated futilely and frantically until he was again crying. His permanently erect member, as well as his balls and the rest of his body, now bore permanent the marks of long and hard abuse. Scars, bruises and abrasions covered him and his status as a useless pain slut was plain for all to see.

Tears of frustration in his eyes and panting from the exertion, he resumed his chores after the mandated two hours of masturbation. These continued until the professor came home and Jonathan served him dinner.

After dinner the professor read a book for hour while Jonathan stood at attention by his side, ready to perform whatever his master required of him. Done reading he took Jonathan down into the basement and hung him by his wrists. Then he shoved a tube up his ass and filled him with hot water until Jonathan pleaded and begged to be allowed to expel the water. The professor did not grant his wish, but instead he proceeded to whip Jonathan as hard as he could until his arms got tired. Then he pulled out the plug in Jonathan's ass, making the slave boy cry with relief as he was finally allowed to expel the hateful enema. Letting him flop to the floor, he ordered Jonathan to clean himself up and join him in the bedroom. As his footsteps retreated up the stairs and Jonathan found the strength to make himself presentable, he was again filled with gratitude for being allowed to serve such a wonderful man.

Quickly he cleaned himself up and joined the professor in bed for a long and hard fuck before he was kicked out of bed. Thanking his wonderful master he curled up under his bed and went to sleep with a happy smile on his face, glad to be a slave and now completely unaware that he had ever been anything else.

Day 361

It was the day Jonathan had feared for so long, the worst day of his life so far. The professor had brought his new boy home with him today. The slave boy, perhaps twenty-three years old, was a slight white boy with dark hair and brown eyes. His body was marked by the very recent beating the professor had administered to make him his property, but he was as of yet not marked in the way Jonathan was, scarred and bruised from long and hard abuse.

His beaten cock was not hard and his demeanor indicated that he had not given himself up voluntarily, something that made Jonathan very angry on the professor's behalf. A pretty boy like that obviously owed the professor to serve him in whichever way might be required.

The professor's instructions were simple and depressing: Jonathan had two days to make sure that the new slave boy, Jonathan never knew his name and vice-versa, could perform all the housework that Jonathan took care of now.

Although the command made him want to cry and beg, Jonathan knew that the professor always knew what was best and the he, Jonathan, owed his owner complete obedience. So instead of pleading and begging like he wanted to, he simply fell to his knees and kissed the professor's feet, accepting his fate.

The new slave boy may not have been a natural slave like Jonathan, but he had already been beaten and abused enough to follow orders. Instructing him in his chores was simple and when night fell Jonathan was, for the first time in months, locked inside a cage while the new slave boy was taken to the professor's bed for a night of abuse. Jonathan cried himself to sleep knowing that he would soon be sold. He dreaded the prospect of being sold to the club, although he had to admit to himself that the prospect of being a house slave in such a brutal place, being used by so many evil men excited him a great deal.

Day 363

This was the day then. Jonathan kept a straight face only because he didn't want to embarrass his owner, but inside he wanted to cry and beg. He sat in the backseat of the professor's car, his arms cuffed behind him, his feet in black Oxfords and was gagged and collared. Even now he was hard as cement, his erection really was permanent.

Interestingly the professor's new slave boy was not in the car with him and Jonathan sat alone, looking at the floor as he knew he had no right to even look at the outside world.

After a long drive the professor stopped the car and lifted Jonathan out. Still keeping his eyes on the ground he was pulled by a leash into a house, where a man greeted them. At the professor's command he looked up.

The man greeting them was at least as tall as the professor and looked like a very rugged outdoorsman. White with brown hair and cold blue eyes, he had huge hands and a smile that made Jonathan shiver with submissive anticipation. Jonathan was able to hold the man's gaze all of a fraction of a second before casting his eyes down.

They were in a large hall, the floor covered in brown tile and the rest of the room covered in wood. The interior matched the man's looks, at least so far. At the man's feet were two dogs, or rather doggy slaves. Although both had started out their lives as human males, they now had different roles. One was obviously a male dog; big, strong and dominant, while the other had obviously been pushed into the role of bitch. He was small, slim of build and clearly submissive to not only the man but also to the other doggy-slave.

Both doggies had had their arms and legs folded up, forearms almost welded to upper arms and calves welded to thighs with sturdy rubber bags. Their hands were hidden from view, sealed in rubber mittens and tucked into their armpits and their feet were held in very, very small heelless ballet boots bent in over their buttock at a rather severe angle. Naturally both wore collars, but no leashes. They were ungagged but the sounds coming from their mouths did not sound human. As Jonathan watched with fascination the male mounted the bitch, panting and growling while the bitch in turn whined and moaned like a bitch in heat. The bitch's cock was imprisoned inside a steel chastity tube, but the male's enormous member was free and erect and he fucked the bitch doggie with gusto while the professor and the man who would soon own Jonathan exchanged pleasantries.

The man's name was Reinhardt, or Master Reinhardt as Jonathan would come to know him. Presently he invited the professor into his living room, completely ignoring the doggies going at it in his hall. The living room was very spacious and discretely furnished, mostly with Scandinavian furniture made from light wood. As the professor and Reinhardt sat down, Jonathan knelt at his old master's side. Although he looked down as was expected of him, he couldn't help notice that more doggies ran around the house and not all were human. Master Reinhardt had two huge Rottweilers that seemed to at the top of the pecking order. One had a male dog by the throat, showing what had once been a handsome Hispanic man who was in charge, while the other was taking a pretty black bitch-boy from behind to the obvious delight of both.

The bitch-boy's name had once been *** and the dog fucking him was called Butch. They had been sold to Master Reinhardt as a package by another master. The bitch-boy had once been a promising law student before being captured and turned into first a feminized slave and then a doggie. Butch had been his de facto master for years now and although he of course obeyed the commands given by Master Reinhardt, he was really Butch's slave/partner. His once brilliant mind had been systematically ruined by years of abuse and he was now a dog first and foremost, nearly all of his human faculties lost. He derived his greatest pleasure from being fucked by Butch, preferably as brutally as possible.

Jonathan overheard the two master talk about him and when the subject of his conditioning came up a glimmer of hope stirred in him, only to be crushed. He hadn't been allowed to cum since completing his conditioning, which was almost a year ago and he needed so badly to cum. But when the professor mentioned this to Master Reinhardt both had a massive laugh. Master Reinhardt thought that it was wonderful and most fitting considering all the other nasty things he had planned for Jonathan. It seemed that Jonathan was not to be turned into a regular doggie and neither was he to be turned into a "normal" house slave. The uncertainty filled Jonathan with desperate arousal, the terrible and wonderful feeling of not knowing what your master will do to you and knowing that it will he horrible and fantastic no matter what.

It turned out that Master Reinhardt was perfectly satisfied with a recording of the professor giving the "you can cum" command and didn't want to change Jonathan's conditioning. He declared that it was highly unlikely that he would be allowed to cum anytime soon if at all. Jonathan's heart sank at this, but he didn't make a sound and merely accepted his fate. This provoked a small appreciative glance from Master Reinhardt, but Jonathan never saw this.

At Master Reinhardt's invitation he and the professor took a tour of the house, leaving Jonathan kneeling by the chair. Ever the obedient slave boy he remained kneeling with his head down, completely immobile. While he sat there the two doggy-slaves came into the living room again. Both sniffed at Jonathan, but neither touched him. They didn't speak either and in fact they seemed to be extraordinarily well conditioned, so well conditioned that is was entirely conceivable that they perceived themselves as dogs.

Having satisfied their curiosity regarding Jonathan they again began fucking frantically as if they were unaware that they had just enjoyed a lengthy fuck. The bitch howled with frustration but the male clearly enjoyed it immensely, grunting and panting as his huge tool pumped in and out of the bitch's receptive ass. Sneaking a look out of the corner of his eye, Jonathan thought that he looked completely demented, as if his mind had been reduced to that of a fucking machine, capable of little else.

His thoughts were interrupted as Master Reinhardt and the professor returned. Ignoring Jonathan completely they walked into the hall and he heard how they finished his sale before saying their goodbyes. Professor Trenton, whom Jonathan loved dearly and belonged to with all of his being, had just sold him to another master with as much fanfare as one would sell a used bike.

Presently Master Reinhardt returned. Jonathan heard the familiar sound of a zipper being pulled down and felt a hand lifting his chin. He looked straight into his new master's face, but also in his field of view was his master's cock. He couldn't help gasping. The man's cock was enormous, gigantic. Jonathan had had fists up his ass that had been smaller than this cock. The head of Master Reinhardt's cock was very big and actually looked a little like a blue fist. It looked much too big for either his ass or his mouth, but Jonathan was far too well trained to hesitate. The second he saw the cock his mouth opened wide. Even Jonathan's toothless mouth had trouble accommodating the enormous cock head, but as Master Reinhardt forced it into his head, Jonathan had to admit to himself that it's sheer size was a huge turn-on. He was overcome by a wave of gratitude towards the professor, who had sold him to this most well-endowed man Jonathan had ever met; making sure that a slave so useless as himself had a good master to look after him.

Meanwhile Master Reinhardt spoke: "Look up bitch. All blowjobs are to be performed with eye contact." Instantly Jonathan looked into his owner's eyes. Had he not been issued a direct order, he would have been unable to hold the man's gaze. It pierced him, held him and took possession of him. The eyes spelled complete and total control. They spoke of Master Reinhardt's domination and of Jonathan's complete subjugation.

As he gagged and struggled to take his owner's cock into his mouth and provide a proper blowjob, Jonathan nearly cried with happiness as he felt Master Reinhardt take control, relinquishing Jonathan of all doubts and all independent thought, making sure that Jonathan would never have to make a decision for himself. With only the instruction as to how he was to perform a blowjob, Master Reinhardt effortlessly took over from the professor, leaving no doubt as to who now owned Jonathan.

Taking his owner into his mouth was a challenge and several times Jonathan nearly choked on the huge cock head, but he knew that he had to perform for his owner so he struggled on. In the end he managed to provide proper oral service, but the price was spots appearing before his eyes as he struggled to breathe around the monster in his mouth. And the amount of cum from Master Reinhardt's magnificent cock was more like a flood or a deluge than anything else. Only by doing his very best did he manage to swallow all of it and when Master Reinhardt patted his head afterwards and said: "Good boy," he nearly cried with joy. He had been given to a true master.

Then Master Reinhardt yanked him to his feet rather unceremoniously and using his cock as a leash he guided Jonathan into his basement. Master's hand on his cock brought Jonathan to the very brink of cuming, but of course his conditioning prevented him from actually shooting his load. Instead he merely gasped with frustrated joy all the way down into Master's dungeon.

The dungeon was one huge room, the area of which was at least as large as that of the house above. Although no wall divided it into smaller rooms, different parts of the dungeon were clearly used for different things. Master led the panting Jonathan to a section of the dungeon used in the final conditioning of Master's dogs. He turned to Jonathan and said: "As you can see I prefer my slaves as dogs." To this Jonathan merely bowed his head in acknowledgement as Master Reinhardt continued: "You too are going to be turned into a dog." This neither surprised nor scared Jonathan and in fact he was getting very aroused by the thought of serving this man on all fours. "Most of my slaves are conditioned with a combination of brutal torture and an equally brutal reduction of intelligence." The last part made Jonathan gasp involuntarily. The gasp made Master Reinhardt smile as he showed Jonathan exactly what he meant: "Basically I employ two methods. The first is chemicals, as with this piece of shit." He pointed to a very muscular doggy slave standing, naturally, on all fours. His limbs were tied to rings embedded in the concrete floor and a butt plug protruded from his ass. A thin tube filled with some kind of liquid came down from pump above his head and ended in the back of his neck, where the liquid was pumped directly into his brain. His face was contorted with discomfort and the slave seemed unaware of his surroundings, trapped inside his own diminishing mind. He drooled and uttered grunts of pain at irregular intervals.

Jonathan also noticed that his cock was not only very large, but also very erect and that a small puddle of cum was lying on the floor between his legs. As he watched the doggy barked briefly as his face became completely red. The dog's body convulsed and suddenly he shot another load. The orgasm left the dog's body shaking for several minutes afterwards while Master Reinhardt explained: "I use this kind of conditioning for my male dogs. Their cocks grow huge as a result of the chemicals so that they are better equipped to fuck the bitches and their minds are reduced to mush. Once the conditioning is complete, this one will be ready in the morning; all they can think about is fucking the bitches. Discipline has to be beaten into them, which is of course great fun."

Jonathan was terrified that this would happen to him. He wanted to serve, to submit, not be turned into some mindless fucking machine. On the other hand he was very much aroused by the complete control the dog was subjected to and again he reminded himself that he wasn't fit to make such decisions. He was after all only a useless boy-bitch.

Leaving the grunting male dog, Master Reinhardt then showed Jonathan how he produced the bitches. The bitch was a much smaller young man and like the bitch he had seen in the hall when the professor had brought him, his cock was imprisoned inside a chastity tube. Like the big male, the bitch's legs had been tied to rings in the floor, but the bitch's conditioning wasn't handled by chemicals pumped into the brain. The bitch's head was sealed inside a plastic bag. A flexible tube ran into the bag as the only source of air to the bitch. This air supply was cut off for extended periods of time and only reestablished right before the bitch lost consciousness. The cycle was kept up for days and weeks Master Reinhardt explained and only when the bitch's mind had been all but eroded away was it released into the general population of other dogs.

This conditioning terrified and excited Jonathan even more and he waited breathlessly to be told which one he would be subjected to, but he already knew. He was a little boy-bitch and the breath control option had to be the one he was put through.

But again he was shown why others decided how his life should be run and why he had the role of useless plaything. Master Reinhardt turned to him and said: "I have other plans for you, but I want you to see what will happen to you if you should fail. If you do not live up to my expectations I will make sure that you are put through both training programs and reduced to a completely mindless beast. Understood?" Jonathan dropped to his knees and kissed Master Reinhardt's boots. Being a special doggy slave could only mean pain and humiliation and the prospect made him desperately horny, as did the possibility of failure.

He imagined himself standing with a tube running into his brain, making him dumber while enlarging his cock, a cock which could not produce a single drop of cum unless a recorded command from the professor was given. This command would of course never be given and he would spend his life as a mindless beast, rubbing his giant cock against anything in the frustrated and futile hope that he might cum. And the chemicals wouldn't work alone. His head would also be sealed inside a plastic bag, making him panic as air was cut off and every muscle in his body spasmed in a fruitless struggle to breathe.

Jonathan was not allowed to indulge in these fantasies for long. Master Reinhardt yanked him to his feet and brought him to another part of the dungeon away from the dogs. He stood Jonathan up against a wall and leaned in over him as he spoke. Had he been able to cum Jonathan felt sure that he would have exploded with submissive delight, so great was the feeling of domination as his owner informed him of his expectations: "You will be a dog like all the rest of my slaves. But whereas they are all dumber than real dogs, you will be allowed to keep your tiny little mind. I want you to know and fully understand what you have become. I am going to make sure that every beast, whether it was born as a dog or turned into a dog, understands that you are the lowest creature on the planet." He couldn't help it; a whimper escaped his throat as his cock became harder and more ready than it had been in weeks. To be allowed to live as the lowest of this cruel man's creatures was an honor for a useless slut such as himself, so Jonathan whimpered with delight.

Master Reinhardt recognized the whimper for what it was, smiled and carried on: "You will eat like a dog, fuck with the other dogs and behave like a dog, except for one thing: I never want to hear you bark and or utter any dog-like sound at all. But since you are a dog, neither will you utter any recognizable human sound. You may scream and groan, but if you utter one recognizable word or even syllable, or if utter as much as a single bark, I will etch your mind away with the techniques you've just seen. Understood?" Again Jonathan whimpered, this time a combination of an acknowledgement and submission.

Master Reinhardt finished: "From now on I expect only dog-like behavior from you," not missing a beat Jonathan dropped down and stood on his knees the second Master finished the sentence; his arms were still bound behind his back. Master continued: "And of course I expect perfect slave behavior. No hesitation whatsoever to given orders. Understood...doggy?" Signaling his complete surrender Jonathan whimpered again and rubbed his face against Master's feet. The large and patting his head filled him with joy as he heard the words coming down from above: "Good dog."

Master Reinhardt then freed Jonathan's arms and made him follow him on all fours to the next stop in the dungeon. It looked completely unremarkable, but it marked the transition point where Jonathan definitively stopped being Professor Trenton's slave boy and became Master Reinhardt's bitch. First he removed all of Jonathan's old "clothes". Then he fitted him with a broad and sturdy, black leather collar. Around Jonathan's waist a very broad and very sturdy black leather belt was fitted and tightened until it functioned like a corset. His feet were forced inside very, very small ballet boots with no heel. Then his legs were folded up until his calves met with his thighs and black rubber bags were pulled up over them. Using an industrial blow drier Master Reinhardt made the rubber shrink until Jonathan's legs were nearly fused, calf to thigh, putting an awful strain on them.

Then Master Reinhardt turned his attention to Jonathan's hands and feet. First his hands were sealed inside very small rubber pouches, which were shrunk with hot air as with the bags on his legs. His hands hurt terribly as his fingers were practically fused and Jonathan knew that it wouldn't be long before he would be unable to use his fingers if he wasn't allowed a little more space. At the tips of the pouches for his hands were rubber straps. As Master folded up Jonathan's arms in the same way he had folded his legs, these straps were used to first pull Jonathan's hands into his armpits, hiding them, and then to secure them there as the straps were pulled all the way around his folded arms and reattached at his wrist.

Once this was in place his arms were sealed inside the same kind of rubber bag used for his legs and it was also secured in place using hot air.

At the tips of Jonathan's boots small rings were attached. Using steel wire Master Reinhardt used these rings to force Jonathan's feet closer to his ass. The other end of the steel wire was tied to rings attached to the belt around Jonathan's waist and as his feet were forced into an increasingly strenuous position, Jonathan began to first keen, then scream with pain. His hands, his arms, his legs and now his feet were all under terrible stain and it was very nearly unbearable.

But he had to endure. He had to be perfect; Master Reinhardt's perfect little fuck-dog, so while tears of ran down his face and every single move he made was new and painful, he scampered over to Master Reinhardt who had taken up position a few yards away. Walking on all fours like that was extremely painful and very unnatural, but he knew that he owed it to Master, that he had to be Master's perfect little doggy. At Master's feet he liked his boots and in a flash of inspiration he began fucking Master's leg.

It was a rare moment of independent thought from Jonathan and although he knew in constituted disobedience he did it anyway. Not only was it behavior to be expected from a brainless pooch, but it was also bound to provoke punishment, something he had been craving ever since arriving and something he knew any proper master would ache to do to a new slave.

Jonathan's guess was correct. After a second of wonder as to why Jonathan did this, Master Reinhardt had to stifle a laugh. The professor had told him how outrageously submissive the boy was and how he was a true painslave with an insatiable need to please his master, but it was only now that Master Reinhardt understood precisely what he had bought. As he scolded the bad dog at his feet he thought that two could play that game.

Half an hour later Jonathan was regretting his decision; regretting and loving it. Master had proven just as cruel as he had hoped for and as always Jonathan both loved and hated torture. He stood, his limbs tied to four rings in the floor (he had almost panicked when he thought that he had overstepped the bounds and that he was going to be turned into a mindless dog) and screamed his head off.

His genitals, which were swelling from the three vicious kicks Master Reinhardt had started the torture with, now had two needles in each ball. And thought the needles Master applied electricity with such ruthlessness that Jonathan had lost all bladder and bowel control; that his entire body was shaking with the shock and his mind had all but blanked out.

As if this wasn't enough Master Reinhardt was whipping his legs and backside viciously with a length of braided leather whip. The welts were large and red and more than a few were bloody as well. Sometime during the punishment, which lasted for well over an hour, Master Reinhardt used the braided leather whip to strangle Jonathan, sending him into spasms of first fear and then lack of air.

When it was finally over Jonathan stood on shaky legs, his body covered in bruises and red welts, one of them snaking itself around his throat, with balls that were not only turning a dark shade of blue, but also swelling alarmingly. He had not uttered a single word or syllable during the punishment and his eyes, wild and frightened, shone with submissive lust. In spite of the brutal torture his erection was still permanent, the abuse fuelling his lust rather than hampering it.

Day 392

Jonathan hadn't even been a doggy slave for a month and already every creature in the house, from the Rottweilers to the chastised bitches, knew that he was the lowest ranking creature in the house. Both the doggies and the Rottweilers fucked him relentlessly whenever the chance presented itself. It was fortunate for him that the other dogs had neither teeth nor claws, because they all clearly despised him, even if their tiny minds couldn't quite understand why.

Jonathan was clearly Master Reinhardt's pet. Jonathan spent more time being fucked and tortured by Master than any of the others and he was the only dog allowed to perform real blowjobs. When Master Reinhardt wanted to use the mouth of one of the other dogs, he usually wound a strap around the throat of it and lifted it up until its mouth was in the proper position to fuck while he stood up straight. This meant that the dog was being choked during the whole experience and usually they ended up on the floor unconscious or worse.

But Jonathan was seen providing real oral service to Master and thus invoked the wrath of all the others. Had they known what Master Reinhardt did to Jonathan they might have been less envious, but since he saw no need to inform them and break the abuse of Jonathan, their envy persisted.

Master Reinhardt had decided that Jonathan should learn to deep throat him, to be able to take all of his massive cock into his throat. Master Reinhardt had tried this many times and no one had managed, at least not without choking to death.

Master Reinhardt still had fond memories of the last little slave boy who had tried. He had met him at an S&M club where the poor guy had been out looking for some action for the very first time. He had found Master Reinhardt and after a whole night of screaming, he had had Master's cock forced down his throat. By that time he had been crying and begging to be released, but Master Reinhardt had had far too much fun. The slave boy's arms were sealed inside an arm binder and Master Reinhardt had simply grabbed him by the head and forced his mouth open with his cock. After a great deal of effort and gurgling protests from the slave boy, the head of Master Reinhardt's cock was three inches down the slave's throat. The slave's muscles cramped and Master was unable to pull his cock out without expending a great deal of effort. And since the cramping throat felt so very nice enveloping his cock and the boy's frantic struggles were so very enjoyable, he waited until he came, shooting his load down the slave boy's throat. As he came he grasped the slave's head even firmer and forced his convulsing cock even further down his throat. By the time his orgasm had subsided, the slave's struggles had become erratic spasms. His eyes had nearly popped out of his purple face and he was quite dead, having choked to death on Master Reinhardt's cock.

This was what Master Reinhardt had decided that Jonathan had to be trained to do, but preferably without choking to death. The training was brutal and unrelenting and every day Jonathan's throat was raw and sore, torn by the massive cock working its way down inside him. Naturally his breath was cut off and he spent a great deal of time fearing for his life as spots appeared in front of his eyes and his struggles grew weak. Master would pull out at the last moment, but there was always a look in his eyes as if he had really wanted to watch Jonathan choke to death on his cock. The look made Jonathan's insides weak with fear and submission. Seeing that look in Master Reinhardt's eyes he knew that Master would never sell him. From that look Jonathan knew Master Reinhardt would rather see him choke to death on his cock than sell him.

When he was not trying to accommodate Master's giant tool in his throat, Jonathan ran "free" with the other dogs. Only Jonathan didn't run nearly as much as the other dogs. He spent most of his time being screwed by the other male dogs, whether they had been born that way or turned into one by brutal and systematic abuse. The first time one of the Rottweilers had mounted him he had keened with fear, but he soon found that being fucked by the Rottweilers was very arousing. When he was being fucked by a real dog he felt acutely how he really was the lowest of the low, a useless bitch. This was further enhanced by the fact that the Rottweilers hereafter treated him as one of their harem, sometimes fighting off others so that they could fuck him for themselves, sometimes protecting him from abuse from other dogs. He was property even to the dogs.

Day 411

Finally he was able to take all of Master's magnificent cock down his throat. By lubing up his cock and holding on to Jonathan's head Master Reinhardt was able to press his cock into Jonathan's face, all the way to the hilt by exerting constant pressure. Jonathan had learned to control the gag reflex and to hold his breath long enough for Master to squeeze his cock all the way in, hold it there for half a minute and then slowly pull it out. Once out Jonathan would gasp for air, fighting off the approaching unconsciousness. Before he had fully recovered Master Reinhardt would press his cock into Jonathan's head, once more cutting off his breath. With each stroke Master would keep his cock inside Jonathan's face for longer and longer periods of time, leaving him with less and less time to recover between the strokes. Master Reinhardt especially enjoyed the feeling of Jonathan's, now considerably distended, throat spasming around his shaft. When Master Reinhardt finally came Jonathan was unconscious, convulsing from lack of air and all but dead when he was pulled off Master's cock. The experience was terrifying and Jonathan loved it.

This was just one more of the routines that Jonathan's life was comprised of. As the lowest dog in the pecking order, he was still fucked relentlessly by the others and always pushed away by the others, an object of despise even among the lowest. He spent a great deal of time being screwed by Master, minutes and hours he loved dearly, even if they left him outrageously horny. There was still no sign that he would ever be allowed to cum.

He slept either with the other dogs on the floor, usually huddled together somewhere around the house, or under Master's bed when he had been kicked out after being fucked. Like all the other dogs he received only liquid nourishment; a thick substance with the exact same texture and taste as cum. The Rottweilers of course ate real dog food, but the dogs sucked their food out of rubber cocks mounted in the wall. It was the only thing they ate or drank other that Master's jism or his piss.

When he wasn't being punished (Master Reinhardt, like the professor before him, had developed a taste for punishing Jonathan as brutally and as often as possible) or fucked, Jonathan ran around the house in relative freedom. He loved being a slave and could no longer remember a single moment of freedom in his life. He existed only to please others, no matter what this entailed. Often he stood completely still, thinking of absolutely nothing while he waited for something, anything, to be done to him. As long as others took whatever decisions need to be taken he was happy.

Once every two weeks his limbs were freed, washed and dried before being sealed up again. This was done to prevent their limbs from rotting. Jonathan could no longer move his fingers and his arms had a very limited range of movement left to them. They had also shrunk considerable as the muscles were never exercised and the pouch holding them became ever smaller.

All the dogs received the same treatment, but again Jonathan was different. Unlike the others, his legs were stretched and the handler made sure that he had an almost full range of motion left in them. Jonathan didn't understand this as he expected to spend the rest of his life on all fours, but he didn't spend much time thinking about it. Master knew what was best and besides there was nothing he could ever hope to do about it.

To change the pouches holding his limbs and to exercise them Master Reinhardt had a couple of handlers. The handlers were slaves too of course, just not doggy slaves. They were rubber slave boys, every square inch of their bodies covered with thick, shiny, black rubber. Their suits, which had tiny back entries, included not only rubber socks for their feet, but also rubber gloves and the hood covering their shaven heads only had three tiny holes: one over the mouth and one at each nostril. Incorporated in the suit were tinted lenses covering their eyes so that these could not be seen. The hole over their mouth sat right over an equally tiny hole in the gag they had filling up their mouths. Their chastised cocks were sealed inside a rubber pouch in their crotches and the pouch was of course also part of their suits. On their feet were black ballet toed boots and their ankles were always connected by a chain no more than ten inches long.

These handlers took care of everything around the house; cleaning, cooking, grooming the dogs, but since Master Reinhardt's primary turn-on was doggies they only attention they received was corrective punishment. They lived an anonymous and unrewarding existence, hardly seen and never heard, never the center of any kind of attention unless they had screwed up.

Jonathan himself hardly noticed their presence, his tiny mind taken up by more urgent matters; how to please Master and his own pent up desire. The only thing Jonathan really disliked about his life was the fact that he wasn't allowed to cum. Although his concept of time had become very fuzzy indeed, he knew that it was a long time since he had been allowed to cum and with every single fuck, every blow from Master Reinhardt's whip and every choking blowjob he administered he became more and more frustrated. It felt like his balls were growing and becoming heavier with unreleased cum every day. His erection really was permanent and not even when he passed out with Master's cock in his throat did it go away.

His enforced chastity was the worst torture Master Reinhardt inflicted on him.

Day 762

Jonathan routines had recently been changed as Master Reinhardt had begun subjecting him to a concerted regime of testicle stretching and this filled him with inexplicable terror.

Jonathan's mind was being steadily reduced by the constant choking, but the thing which reduced his mental capacity the most was the constant conditioning to become ever more dog-like.

Whatever the reason he had trouble remembering the details of his life as a slave (his life as a free man had been erased completely), but somewhere at the back of his mind he remembered the two slaves that had been forced to pull off their own balls in a futile attempt to pull their master across a room.

Now that Master Reinhardt had decided to elongate Jonathan's scrotum he filled up Jonathan with dread every time he started the "exercises". The simplest was a variation of the one Jonathan had witnessed. A rope would be tied around his scrotum and tied to a ring in the floor. Then Jonathan would be ordered to run to Master as fast as he could and not stop trying, regardless of what happened. It put a terrible strain on his balls and afterwards Master Reinhardt punished him for not reaching his goal. Severe whipping and the liberal application of chili oil to Jonathan's genitals were the preferred methods of punishment.

Another favorite was having Jonathan engage in a tug of war with another dog, their respective scrotums of course being where they "held on to" the ropes. Yet another was equipping Jonathan's balls with some kind of weights and letting gravity do its thing over the course of a few days. Whichever method employed the result as the same: Jonathan's scrotum became longer and longer.

But there were other changes to his daily routine. Master had recently acquired another dog. Like Jonathan this dog had clearly not been reduced to the level of the other dogs, but rather it lived under the same rules as Jonathan. The other dog, he had been a young actor with pretty blue eyes and blond hair before meeting Master Reinhardt, was now the focus of attention as Master Reinhardt began teaching it how to deep throat him. This in turn meant that the new dog instantly became the most hated beast in Master Reinhardt's menagerie and that Jonathan almost accepted by the other dogs. It was a strange and disconcerting development and Jonathan was quite sure that he didn't like it. He would rather endure all sorts of abuse at the "hands" of the other dogs if only he was the one being used and abused by Master Reinhardt. But there was nothing for it. Being a lowly slave meant accepting whatever your master did and so Jonathan nearly cried with happiness whenever his bruised and scarred skin was touched by Master's whips.

Day 790

Jonathan's scrotum was now so long that that his balls dragged along the floor. This meant that the other dogs could get to him by stepping on his balls as he walked by, something they did not neglect to do. It was also intensely humiliating and further fuelled Jonathan's submissive and still frustrated desire.

His ever present erection was slick with pre-cum and now the even the bitches had found a way to torment him. While one of the dogs was fucking him a bitch would slip underneath him and suck his cock. Somehow they had found out that he was unable to cum and that attention to his poor frustrated cock was pure torture.

Having a huge doggy cock in his ass and the soft, warm mouth of a bitch enveloping his member made Jonathan crazy with unreleased desire. His eyes would roll back and all the muscles in his neck and face would strain as he grunted his mindless frustration to an unreceptive world.

He had once again reverted to being the lowest of the dogs as the pretty doggy that had taken his place had failed and started talking, begging to be spared some brutal punishment. Instantly he was thrown into the dungeon and when he reemerged his mind had been crushed and discarded by Master Reinhardt. Now he ran around as the dumbest of the bitches, but no longer the object of envy.

Jonathan had been running around with his scrotum scraping the ground for six days now and finally it was revealed to him why Master wanted him to have such a long sack for his testicles.

Master Reinhardt had Jonathan follow him into the dungeon. On a table lay a very strange looking dildo. The part that was going up Jonathan's ass looked perfectly normal. Quite large, but nothing compared to Master Reinhardt's own tool. But attached to the dildo was a narrow tube a little over a foot long, mounted at an angle away from the dildo. The tube was hinged along its entire length so that one side of it could be opened.

First Master Reinhardt forced the dildo up Jonathan's ass to the sound of his dog's delighted moaning. He then opened the side of the tube with one hands, while grabbing Jonathan's scrotum with the other. Then he placed Jonathan's scrotum inside the tube and closed it. Jonathan's scrotum now formed a long and stiff tail, angling away from Jonathan's ass, his balls perched in a very vulnerable position at the end of the tube. Master Reinhardt had made a tail out of Jonathan's scrotum, while at the same time positioning his balls ideally for numerous blows and bites.

Seeing his own image reflected in a glass door, his testicle tail held high, made Jonathan weak with submissive delight. As Master Reinhardt celebrated by fucking his face, Jonathan's cock was ready to burst, but of course he wasn't allowed to cum. His continued chastity was a wonderful source of torture and Master Reinhardt had not paid good money for his slave so that the slave could enjoy himself.

Day 792

His tail had not even been on one day when the other dogs found a way to use it against him. As they could no longer fuck his ass they had to fuck his face. This in itself did not pose any problems, but when the dog was fucking Jonathan's face its mouth was mere inches away from Jonathan's vulnerable balls. So while a huge cock was pumping in and out of his throat and bitch was teasing him with its talented mouth, the dog would maul his balls with its mouth, sending Jonathan into hysterical spasms of pain as toothless gums squeezed his balls relentlessly, thus further increasing the pleasure for the dog screwing his face. Needless to say this was both a source of great pain and of great, if frustrated, pleasure for Jonathan.

It was a trick all the dogs had learned, at least all the ones who had once been human. Luckily the Rottweilers had not developed any taste for this and were satisfied with pounding his mouth.

Day 1173

The situation was not exactly uncommon, but it never failed to make Jonathan scream hysterically with pain. Master Reinhardt was entertaining guests and his dogs ran around in the house for the general amusement of his guests. Master now had two more dogs like Jonathan and one of them also had the horrible tail. But somehow it was always Jonathan who attracted the most attention, or at least the most brutal punishment, from the guests or from Master for that matter.

Dinner was over and coffee had been served in the living room. Right beside the coffee table Jonathan stood completely still as ordered and screamed with pain. His balls, held high by the tube as they made up his "tail" were the focus of attention. The game being played by the guests was simple; very simple: How many needles could be pushed into the dogs balls before running out of space? Running out of needles would never happen. The previous record had left Jonathan a complete wreck for several days afterwards, but it looked as if this batch of guests were going to break the that record. Some clever guy had understood that the primary obstacle when applying needles to a surface is not the space on the surface, but rather the "knob" at the other end of the needle taking up too much space. So he had simply proposed that the first set of needles were pushed in almost to the hilt, the second were pushed halfway in and that the third set only pierced the testicle "slightly".

Being the well trained doggy Jonathan stood completely still, screaming and moaning with pain when his mouth wasn't being stuffed full of cock.

Jonathan could no longer remember how long he had been a doggy or how long since he had cum the last time, but he could still remember his former owner. The couldn't remember what the professor had done to him or that he had not been a doggy slave when owned by him, by he vividly remembered his voice, his face, his cock and his firm hand.

Other than that his world was filled by Master Reinhardt, whom he loved and feared more than anything else. The other doggies were good and took up a great deal of Master's time, but Jonathan was still the favorite and his soft mouth and by now automatically pulsing throat was a great source of pleasure for his owner.

Day 2196

Although neither Master Reinhardt or Jonathan himself knew it the day marked six years of sexual abstinence for Jonathan. For six years he had been frustrated and unable to cum, his whole body aching for release that was not granted. Not a minute went by during Jonathan's waking hours, and probably in his dreams too, when the thought and desperate hope of being allowed to cum as not on his mind. Only the thought of pleasing Master took up more space in his mind.

But the day was special for another reason. Master Reinhardt had taken him into the dungeon, past the dogs undergoing conditioning, past the dogs being punished and past one of the handlers undergoing horrible automated punishment for some transgression until finally at the far end of the room he stopped in front of a steel door. Jonathan had seen it before, but never seen what was on the other side and his mind had always been to preoccupied with other matters to speculate what was behind it.

Now, however, Master Reinhardt opened the door and led him inside by the leash attached to his collar. Inside was a corridor leading deeper into the basement. Most of the left side of the corridor was occupied by a large mesh cage. Hanging on neat racks and lying on shelves, grouped, tagged and ordered were hundreds of items used for making, training and keeping doggy slaves. There were hundreds of squared feet of rubber, yards of leather leashes, boxes full of gags, giant needle kits, electric generators and cables, vats full of chemicals and whips, crops and paddles in a variety Jonathan had never imagined.

Master Reinhardt, however, seemed completely uninterested in this. Instead he was leading Jonathan towards a steel door on the right side of the corridor. An inconspicuous sign on the door read "Nourishment" and just as they approached it opened and one of the rubber clad handlers came. He was pushing a trolley and on the trolley were two large plastic containers filled up with a whitish liquid. When he saw Master Reinhart he quickly dropped to his knees, but Master waved him off and the slave boy scampered off with his cargo as fast as his chained and stiletto clad feet would carry him.

Then Master Reinhardt turned to Jonathan, squatting so that he could look Jonathan in the face while he spoke: "Your life as a doggy slave ends now." The remark filled Jonathan with aroused horror. Was Master going to let him choke to death on his giant cock? Seeing the look on Jonathan's face made Master Reinhardt smile: "No, I'm not going to snuff you, you stupid, useless bitch." Jonathan was bewildered as Master Reinhardt continued: "Behind this door lies your fate and in a few seconds you'll see what is in store for you and I promise that this position will be for the rest of your life."

With that Master Reinhardt stood up, opened the door and led Jonathan into the room to see what was waiting for him. For a second or two he didn't understand what it was he was seeing or what it meant for him. The he began screaming, the high, hopeless and drawn out scream of someone who knows he's damned.

Day 5835

Jonathan had been right to panic, right to be utter terrified at the fate awaiting him.

After showing him what would become of him eventually, Master Reinhardt had taken Jonathan to a clinic to have the necessary surgery performed. First his arms had been removed and then his throat and nostrils had been fitted with steel tubes and fittings. The tube in his throat had been installed at the cost of his vocal cords and he was now completely mute.

He had had a final treatment removing what little hair he had left, leaving not only his body but also his head completely smooth. The final treatment at the clinic had been a very painful chemical treatment of his balls. The treatment made his balls produce truly staggering amounts of cum, so much so that they would rupture if they were not emptied regularly. A small piece of surgery was also performed right behind his scrotum where a socket for an electric cable was installed.

Once his wounds had healed his was shipped back to Master Reinhardt, who had taken him down into the basement room at once. Here his place had been prepared, the place where he would spend the rest of his life.

A pole rose out of the floor with a dildo-like appendage at the end. When Jonathan was lowered onto this, the tips of his ballet booted toes supported his entire weight and his legs were completely straight. The dildo in his ass administered enemas whenever necessary and removed all his waste. He was secured to the pole at his ankles and just above and just below his knees with thick steel straps, welded in place. A wire was inserted and secured in the socket behind his scrotum.

A narrow tube of thick, clear plastic encircled him and rose out of the floor, ending just below his crotch. The tube was so narrow that his genitals were outside the tube, resting on a rubber strip on the edge of the tube.

Apart from his ballet boots, the only thing he wore was a neck corset made of steel. This too was welded on and forced him to look straight ahead and slightly up. Secured to the pole as he was, he couldn't even see his genitals.

A clear plastic tube was forced into his mouth and down his throat and screwed in place, matching the steel tube in his throat perfectly. Similar tubes were screwed onto the steel fittings in his nose, connecting to tubes running directly into his lungs.

The he was sealed in as the other half of the plastic tube descended over his upper body until it met with the half already in place. A rubber gasket was placed around his genitals and glued to the tube and similar gaskets were fitted to his feeding and air tube.

Once the tube halves were joined Jonathan never got out again. Once a day he was sprayed first with soapy water, then with clean water before being blow dried.

Outside the tube was a small shelf for his balls, which grew to almost the size of basketballs. They were the only parts of his body outside a tube of some sort, as his cock was enveloped by a tube too. Inside the tube was a pulsating sleeve keeping him hard at all times. At the end of the tube was a plastic hose connected to a pump and a container. When he came his jism was pumped out of him and into the container.

Because that was what Jonathan had become: a cum machine. When he had been a dog he had eaten only cum but never wondered where it came from. Now he knew. He was never let out of the tube. All day and all night he stood inside his clear plastic tube. The tube was so narrow that his shoulders and hips were pressed against both sides. Air was pumped in and out of his lungs while a highly nutritious liquid was pumped into him. Some of was used to keep him alive, but most of the energy and liquid was used to produce massive amounts of cum.

He was milked once every thirty minutes around the clock. If he went without milking for sixty minutes his balls would rupture. The cum was collected in large containers, like the ones he had seen when Master Reinhardt had shown him his fate all those years ago.

He still couldn't cum unless he heard the professor's command and Master Reinhardt had installed on more obstacle; the electric socket behind his scrotum. Every thirty minutes he would, through earphones permanently installed in his ears, hear Professor Trenton's voice telling him he could cum. At the exact same time a powerful electric shock would be administered to his scrotum. The result was an extraordinarily powerful orgasm, producing staggering amounts of cum, enough to fill up one of the quite large containers every twelve hours.

The routine never changed, never varied. Every thirty minutes he was wracked by a massively painful orgasm as the electric current hit his scrotum. The orgasm was his whole life, the overridingly dominant thing in his existence. Their power eroded his already damaged mind and after a few months inside the tube they were all he could think about. Whatever he had done before being sealed inside the tube was forgotten. He thought only about when he would cum again. When he did cum, his mind blanked out completely, absorbed by the massive, painful orgasm coursing through his body.

He didn't really see the other tubes in the room, not to mention the rows of tubes being installed in other room as Master Reinhardt began selling all the cum produced by his slave boys to other masters. Jonathan could only think about the next orgasm lying in wait to remove yet another piece of his mind. Master Reinhardt and Professor Trenton were only present in his mind as voices to be obeyed as all that filled him was the anticipation of the next devastating orgasm.

THE END

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