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Two. Older Owner.
After
the formalities of transferral were over, I was again completely stripped and
chains were fastened about me, clasping my wrists and ankles and neck. I was
dragged by a burly fellow through twisting corridors until we reached a line of
small cells.
The
cell was smaller than I imagined, this I could see as the guard pushed me
inside, his strong fist wrapped tightly around the neck chain, and thus
controlling me easily. It is a fact that my many years of being a slave with my
previous owners have made me completely submissive. Thought of escape never
eneters my waking mind any more, but sometimes my dreams.
The
tiny cell was cold, dark and damp. Light spilled in when the door was opened,
of course, the harsh yellow glow of the few bulbs in the corridor, but it would
be nearly impossible to see once the door was closed again. There was no
window.
He
pushed me to the ground, and then folded me easily with his powerful arms,
snapping a padlock to fix my neck to my ankles so that I was bent double. The
floor was cold on my body, and I began shivering immediately. In a matter of
seconds my wrists were pinioned behind the small of my back, and that was me
completely under control.
I had
time enough to glance about the small room before the door was slammed and my
predicted darkness consumed me, and I saw only the sharp white lines of the
previous inhabitant, stark bones shining in the gloom.
It
was not the cold that began me shaking then, but the slowly settling terror
which grasped my guts and prickled the few unshaven hairs on my body. It was
like a blanket akin to the darkness, but worse, more effective in disabling me
than even the chains I was tangled within. This was terror in its purest form,
and due to my nature - my twisted nature maybe - I was able to find inside it,
like a gift wrapped with fear, the strongest arousal that my mind and body
could contain.
Of course, such arousal is only a side-effect of such
rough treatment, and can lead nowhere. My penis stood up fully to attention,
and I imagined I could see its tip, though I could not; the sign of my maleness
just a few inches from my face, a single rope of pre-cum hanging in the frigid
air.
I was able to rock from side to side marginally, not
enough to provide comfort from the muscle cramps which were big and threatening
in my future, but enough to provide relief from the cold floor for one buttock
and thigh at a time. So, I began my slave's dance, a dance of constraint, and
pain, but mostly terror.
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