Chapter 4
Realizations...
Inmate # 3657892 had bent his head forward in dejection at
her words that fateful day. After that moment it
became quickly apparent to him that he'd merely traded
'one' prison and death sentence, for 'another' much
more 'harsh' one.
In this prison he was 'allowed' no freedom of
movement. He had to 'earn' his rights and privileges
just like any 'other' inmate in the prison.
From the moment he'd been brought inside, he'd been bound
in some way. At first 'so' constrictively that
movement was impossible. Unless 'she' allowed it.
As the days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into
months, he quickly adapted to learning the 'rules' of
his new prison. And his new life. Where before he'd
been kept in a plain ten by ten white cell, now he was
'kept' in a common area with all the other inmates.
Or in 'her' terms, slaves.
Which is 'exactly' what they all had turned out to be.
Right after he'd first arrived though, the first set
of five had been sold away at an unseen auction. The
night he'd arrived, they'd gone from being
just 'in chains' to being dressed in their 'finest'
chains of what looked to be pure gold and were led
away.
They never came back, but he was not given the
opportunity to ask about them because he was never
ungagged long enough to form the words. If it wasn't
the penis gag in his mouth, it was a ball gag, or a
bit gag, or a harness gag, or 'something'.
But he had to admit after the first couple of days
he'd gotten used to it. After that he hadn't really
worried overly much about it and just readily excepted
whatever she put there, opening his mouth without
hesitation for the most part.
Now though, several weeks into his 'training' he found
himself in a decidedly uncomfortable position as a
punishment. He'd spent his time thus far relatively wisely,
learning what she wanted, learning what moods she was
in when, what pleased her, what didn't.
He'd had a 'few' punishments, but they were mostly
'light' whippings with a crop or a soft tailed
flogger. But now was 'completely' different.
He'd broken one of her 'cardinal' rules and was paying
'dearly' for it now. One of the very 'first' things
she'd instilled him with was her rule about touching.
She'd made it crystal clear from the
beginning that he was in 'no way' allowed to touch his
genetalia without 'her' express permission.
Well, considering prior to that morning, his hands had
'mostly' been cuffed together behind his back, this
hadn't been a problem. But that particular morning,
she'd woke him with the others, cuffed his
hands in front of him and given him a list of chores
for that day.
Now, while this act in itself was 'hardly' unusual,
the list of chores she'd given him was. Where prior
to this point he'd usually helped out the others in
some form or fashion, today her list would keep him
working independently of them.
She'd sent him to the upper rooms of her vast almost
40 room mansion with the chore of cleaning some of the
bedrooms there after a function she'd had the night
before. He'd been charged with making the beds
neatly, picking up the rooms, etc. Typical, normal
chores.
She'd even allowed him freedom from the 'cock cage'
he'd worn constantly prior to then. She'd generously
unlocked the cage from its ring and allowed his
manhood a few hours of freedom from its constant
prickly companion. He'd been 'extremely' grateful and
mewed his thanks in the back of his throat as he
gently rubbed his head against her flat stomach.
This pleased her, and she gave his head an
affectionate rub before shooing him off to his tasks.
He'd left just as she was turning to one of the others
and setting him about his own set of chores. She
had yet to remove the prison issue shackles from his
ankles, but he'd become accustomed to moving around in
them with ease, and now thought nothing of it.
He'd made his way up the long stairs easily enough,
and began his work. About two or so in the afternoon,
he'd worked his way into his fifth room and was just
finishing when he noticed something peeking out from
between the mattress and the box springs of the massive
four poster bed.
He'd groaned deeply behind the ball in his mouth as he
pulled the object free and found himself staring at
the latest issue of a Playboy magazine. Within a
heartbeat of finding it, he was flipping threw the
pages making soft growling sounds in the back of his
throat. His breathing became ragged as he reached the
centerfold and his now free manhood sprang to life
with so much force he'd thought he'd come right then
and there.
For a long moment he 'struggled' with the sense of
discipline she'd instilled in him thus far, then he
broke. She was nowhere around, no one 'else' was
around either, and he had 'no' fear of being caught
in the act as it were.
So, he'd knelt on the floor, the magazine open and
just in front of his knees and given himself a
tentative touch. It was 'almost' enough to send him
over the edge given his constant state of arousal,
but not quite.
Taking his hard manhood in 'both' his hands then, he'd
jerked a couple of times and soon found the glossy
pages of the magazine splattered with his juices.
Suddenly he jerked back to the present with a shocking
realization that he'd done something 'very' bad as
far as 'she' was concerned, and had set about cleaning
up his mess.
But it wasn't enough. The rest of the day he'd felt a
gnawing fear deep in his gut that she'd find out in
some way, though he'd spent extra time making 'sure'
there was no trace anywhere in the room. But somehow,
he knew she 'knew', or would know.
Sure enough, as he'd come back down to the long
basement where he was kept, she was standing in the
center of the room, arms crossed over her ample chest
and staring at him with a deep frown etched across
her forehead.
He'd fallen to his knees and crawled across the floor
toward her, whimpering in the back of his throat and
raising pleading eyes toward her to beg her
forgiveness. But it wasn't enough he knew.
She'd calmly cuffed his hands behind him again and
clipped a leash to the collar on his neck. Without a
word she led him out of the long basement and into a
private room.
Pushing him to his knees again, she gone about the
room collecting the various items she would need.
This room, like some others was primarily 'bare' except
for a few things.
For one a long 'thick' metal rod ran from one wall to
another. Set into the concrete of the walls at about
shoulder height for a six foot tall man or so, it was
smoothed round, but whether it was from time, or by
design he did not know. Set into the concrete of the
floor were several rings. One was directly beneath
the thick metal pole, while another was a foot or so
in front of it. Yet a third was a foot or so in front
of that.
Between the second and third rings was a hole in the
floor. It was pitch black, and about two inches in
diameter, and two shiny screws winked at him from the
lights set into the wall around the chamber.
He 'gulped' deeply behind the gag, unaware and
decidedly fearful as to what these things were meant
for. He looked up slightly and saw another set of
rings set into the far wall behind the pole, and
another on the ceiling. Three of them were in each
set and hung at regular intervals on both wall and
ceiling.
Again a shudder passed over him as she came back to
him from the wardrobe that was sitting against the
other wall. She carried a multitude of objects in her
hand, too many for him to count or guess at their
intent, and all he could do was sit there and wait.
The first thing she did was slide a long piece of
leather over his arms. When she was done it covered
him from upper arm to wrist. He grunted slightly as
he felt her begin to lace it up tightly. When she was
done, his long muscular arms were pulled together
until they 'almost' touched. He felt her zip
together two pieces of leather over the laces next.
She picked up two thin straps that hung from the
sides, crossed them in an 'x' over his wide, now
straining chest, then he felt her lock the ends to the
top of the zipper. This ensured that no matter how
much he squirmed against the binder, it wouldn't slip
down his arms.
Next she pulled him up by the neck again and led him
over to the pole. Bending him slightly at the waist,
she pushed up on his arms then pulled him back until
he felt his wrists slid over the top of the bar.
Attaching a chain to his cuffs, she pulled him back
until by standing on his tiptoes he could lift
himself up and over the bar itself.
As soon as the metal had settled against his armpits,
he felt her pull the chain at his wrists tautly and
then heard her lock the end to one of the rings in the
floor. He tried then to lower himself onto the flats
of his feet, but found the pressure on his arms
quickly became decidedly uncomfortable.
He pushed himself back up onto the balls of his feet
and waited. If 'this' was 'all' his punishment was
going to be, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad, he
mused to himself.
But it wasn't. This was just the beginning he found
out a moment later. She moved off slightly then came
back with two long lengths of soft white rope. She
pulled his long legs together with her hands and
coiled the first piece around them just about the
knees. Coil after coil wended it's way around his
thickly muscled legs until finally she fed the two
ends of the rope threw his legs above and below the
coils and tied it off with a deft twist of her
fingers.
He gave an experimental tug at the coils and found
that while they didn't cut off his circulation he
couldn't part his legs at all. She did the same with
his feet a moment later then stood for a moment to
admire her work.
It was only then that she spoke. "You've broken the
first rule of life here slave. And for that you will
be punished severely. Maybe after the night is through
you'll have learned your lesson well." she stated
softly then turned away from him to finish her work.
She stepped to the pile of things on the floor by his
feet and produced what looked like a couple of
pulleys. Reaching upwards she connected them to two
of the three rings in the ceiling, then bent to
retrieve another piece of long, white rope.
She tied one end to his ankles, and then fed the
corresponding ends threw the pulleys and let it hang
for a moment while she retrieved something else from
the pile. This was a rod, similar to the one to
which his face had been attached on that first day,
and she stuck this into a hole in the ceiling that he
hadn't seen before.
She gave it a twist and he heard it lock into place.
This rod however had a hole at its end, and after
bending to the pile once more, she produced what
looked like an elongated spoon and twisted it into the
end of the rod. Its long end was a smooth, highly
polished steel looking substance and she gave this
a twist until it locked into place at the end of the rod.
She reached up and gave a pull on the rope she'd fed
through the pulleys and lifted him by his feet off the
ground until he was hanging by his feet at a
forty-five degree angle. Once settled
into that position, she tied the end of the rope
around the base of the long spoon like object right next to the
end of the rod itself. He gave this too an
experimental tug because this position put 'most' of
his weight on his arms and shoulders now, and found
that he couldn't lower his feet out of the air at all.
She moved again and he watched as she grabbed one of
the last objects from the pile. This was a pole as
well, similar to a microphone stand. However, instead
of a microphone at one end, it had a large, very large
black butt plug screwed tightly atop it.
She collapsed it as far as it would go, and then stuck it
in the floor giving it one hard twist at the base to
lock it into place. With squirming, squealing horror,
he realized her intent with it as she slowly began to
slide it up toward his own anus.
She placed a hand at his behind and worked his smaller
plug free with a slurping sound and a soft pop a
moment later. Again he squirmed and squealed behind
the ball in his mouth and tried to move as far as
he could away from her.
But it was useless. She lifted him slightly until his
entire body lay almost at a 45-degree angle to the
floor itself and pushed the tip of the plug home in
his anus. She didn't force it, but instead pushed the
stand a notch higher, which caused him to lift himself
reflexively to stay away from it. Once into position,
she picked up another item from the floor and a moment
later was buckling the weightlifters belt tightly
around his waist.
A chain was attached to a ring in the back and
summarily pulled taunt to the third and final ring in
the floor, ensuring that he couldn't lift his hips any
higher of the supremely large plug just beginning
to intrude his behind.
He groaned and squirmed a bit, pulling his weight back
onto his arms and shoulders for a moment to ease the
tension in his behind. He heard his butt slurp off
the plug for a moment and he felt a bit of relief.
It was then that she picked up the final object for
his punishment during that night. A single, long,
trim white candle. She twisted this into the spoon
like object hanging at the end of the rod and he
realized with a jerking start that the end of the
spoon now lay 'directly' over his genitals.
He lifted his head and grunted pleadingly behind the
ball in his mouth for a moment to try and gain her
attention. She came to him then, holding the 'very'
last piece to his torture in her hands now. His
favored hollowed out penis gag.
Without a word she unbuckled the ball and switched
them, leaving the plug end off as she did so. She ran
another piece of rope from the ring over the buckle at
the back of his head and pulled it tautly toward the
wall so that he couldn't lift his head much farther
than it was now.
As she turned toward the candle with a lighter in
hand, he squirmed in earnest, his eyes pleading with
her and his mewling sounds taking on a begging tone
from deep within his chest. He squirmed upwards
again to relieve the pressure on his backside, which
brought his genitals closer to the end of the unlit
candle again.
~PLEASE...~ his eyes begged her understanding. ~I
WON'T DO IT AGAIN...PLEASE...~ he tried to whimper
out around the penis in his mouth.
She seemed to understand what he was trying to say in
that moment. She spoke softly then, her smile cold
and not quite reaching the blue depths of her eyes.
"Your right slave, you 'won't' do it again..."
she said as she reached out and flicked the lighter
against the end of the candle.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The moment the first drop of hot wax hit his
manhood it set off a chain reaction of things over the
next hours. His immediate reaction to the hot
sensation between his bound legs was to pull away
from it. This caused the large, black butt plug at
the entrance to his behind to sink deeper into him as
he literally 'sat' down on it.
This caused him to jerk back up again with a
tightening of his stomach muscles and arms, which
brought his genitals closer to the flame, and the
second drop of hot wax.
The second hit and he sank away from it again and
back onto the large plug.
Over and over it went until finally he realized she
was causing him to 'fuck' himself on the black plug.
Over and over, up and down...away from the scalding
hot wax, into the plug, off the plug into the wax.
Tears of sincere remorse quickly pooled in his eyes
and began to run out of their corners within the first
hours of his punishment. He kept watching the candle,
willing it to burn faster. He knew once the flame
reached the base of the long, steel like spoon it
would burn through the rope holding his feet aloft and
he'd be able to reach the floor and stand somewhat to
take the pressure off his anus.
Until he realized it was one of those 'slow' burning
candles. The kind that took literally hours and hours to
burn down.
Still up and down he went...up and down...farther and
farther he sunk down on the plug. His arms began to
shake at the strain he was placing on them to hold
himself aloft and off the plug until he would sink
down against it again.
After what he figured was the first hour or so, the
wax had begun to form a pool around his manhood,
covering it from more hot drops. He breathed a sigh
of relief out his nose until the door opened again on
the far side of the room and she walked in with a
second slave in tow.
He too had his hands cuffed behind him, but instead of
a ball gag he wore a full head harness complete with
thick metal bit pressed tightly into his mouth. The
chin and head straps kept the poor man from opening
his mouth much more that the bit would allow and she
came in and guided him to a stop beside the sweating
Trent.
She blew out the candle without a word and nodded to
the second slave whom he recognized as Jarred, one of
his former death row inmates. He bent at the waist
from her nod and pushed his face into Trent's genitals
until he'd scraped up as much of the wax as he could
into his mouth. Once done, he moved up to Trent's own
gag and used what he could of his tongue to push the
wax out of his mouth and into the penis gag.
She spoke then, her words cold and full of meaning as
Trent struggled to lift himself away from the plug
pressing insistently into his behind. "Didn't think I
was going to let you off 'that' easy, did you slave?"
she asked though she expected no answer.
"You wanted to play with yourself...well, now you
are..." she said on that same soft commanding tone.
She turned back to the cabinet, retrieved a second
candle, lit it and set it on the floor. Trent didn't
know what 'that' was for, but found out a moment later
as Jarred finished cleaning the cooled wax off his
genitals and placing it into his mouth. He bent out
of Trent's line of sight and came back up a moment
later, holding the second candle in his teeth again.
Placing one wick to the other, he lit the first then
knelt out of his line of sight again to wait. He
heard Jarred 'huff' out a breath and assumed he was
blowing out the second candle.
The rest of his evening passed like that. The wax
would pool and congeal on his manhood, Jarred would
stand up with the candle in his mouth and light it off
the first then set it back down again. Coming up
again, he'd 'huff' out the first then clean Trent off
of wax.
Once done he'd bend to retrieve his candle, light the
first, then disappear out of sight to wait again.
Each time Jarred cleaned him off, his body cooled a
bit from the wax, only to increase the sensations all
over again once the first candle was relit.
It wasn't long before he was completely lost to the
mix of sensations.
pain...pleasure...need...desire...all rolled into
one as his gag was filled with more and more wax.
What seemed an eternity later the candle burned down
to its end. With a crackling snap the rope caught
fire and burned through, at last releasing his
straining, well-muscled legs. Sweat rolled down the
length of him as his feet fell to the floor. He'd
long ago taken 'all' the butt plug into him, and now
could do nothing more than weakly try and get his legs
beneath him to push himself off of it one final time.
But he was too weak and merely sagged down further,
spreading himself painfully as he did so. Jarred
apparently had further instructions and turned his
back to the pole to get his hands around it. Once
there, he gently lowered it away from Trent. Done, he
rose and hobbled over to the door and disappeared out
of it.
A moment later she came back in and he weakly lifted
his head to look at her with pleading eyes. His tears
had long since dried, leaving trails in his sweat
caked face. The wax inside the gag had heated
within the warmth of his mouth and was slowly
re-hardening to fit the shape of the penis gag.
He gulped then, dryly, wishing in that moment for
nothing more than for it to end. All of it...he
tried to blink back his tears of pain then, but
couldn't manage too as new ones were forced out of his
eyes and he sent pleading whimpers in her direction.
She came to him then, helped him stand more fully and
began to undo his bondage. Within moments he was free
of the torturous position and standing in front of her
on rubber like legs. He sank to his knees then, his
legs unable to hold him any longer and again cried
fresh tears of remorse.
Weakly lifting his head to her, his eyes again pleaded
with her to understand and accept his remorse over
touching himself. She hadn't removed the arm binder,
but he couldn't even feel the strain anymore after
what he'd just endured.
She spoke then, still standing away from him as she
did so, her tone calm and cool as it reached his ears.
"Do you know why I punished you?" she asked softly.
He could do no more than nod his head slowly.
"And do you know why I chose the method I did?"
Again, all he could do was nod his head.
She squatted down in front of him then, and gently
lifted his chin until their eyes met. "And have you
learned your lesson about touching yourself without
permission?" she asked softly.
As he knelt there staring into her eyes, he saw it at
long last. A flicker of his pain in her eyes as a
single tear escaped her and slid down her smooth
cheek. A crack in the armor, his mind wondered
weakly. But surely not, but then again maybe...just
maybe...doling out his punishment had hurt her just as
much as it had him.
The 'male' side of him took control then, and he
leaned forward ever so slowly to rub the side of his
head against her smooth cheek and wipe away her tear.
When he sat back, his eyes were full of understanding,
though still a good dose of pain from the punishment.
He gulped softly and nodded his head slowly in
response to her query.
She smiled softly, touching the side of his cheek with
her fingers then. Reaching behind his head, she undid
the wax filled penis gag and slowly pulled it free.
"Would you like some water slave?" she asked then,
still not having moved from in front of him.
And for the first time in many months he spoke his
first words. "Yes...please...Mistress..."
The End
