The Club Owner's Troubles

Chapter One-2

She unlocks and opens the third door from the end.

Drew

Today is an exceedingly special day for me.

I haven’t been disciplined for eight straight days by my count, eight very long and disappointing days. Even if I were not gagged most of the time it’s not my place to question anything. A slave doesn’t speak unless it’s indicated that he should. But one of the ladies that came in to feed and water me and change my bondage this morning took pity on me. Seeing my plaintive expression when she appeared without a whip or any other weapon, reading my clearly thwarted craving for this most necessary sort of interaction with holy femininity, she volunteered the information that Mistress Nera wants me without a single bruise, welt, scratch or blemish anywhere on my body. I’ll be having a visitor today, she confided, someone I’ve never met before. This will be my most important interaction ever, and I’ve been admonished to make a very good impression on her. I’m told that if she likes me my whole life will be changed for the better. She’s a buyer apparently. And I’ve long been told that being sold represents the ultimate culmination of my upbringing, that which my entire existence has been leading up to. If accepted by her I must love and serve her unconditionally, and in return she will expand my horizons in ways that are currently inconceivable for me.

My heart is all aflutter, and my shameful little man-thing hurts with the madly compelling pain that comes with its inexplicable but always exciting swelling. Though I haven’t been gifted with the whipping or other forms of torment that so thrill me (at least when it’s one of the women doing this) I have at least been kept tied up as much or even more than usual. My lessons in duty and deportment have also been put on hold, and this morning I’ve been bound in a particularly evocative fashion, one which has had me panting and swelling and straining deliciously at the ropes for hours as I wait for this all-important encounter.

Lying on the thinly padded floor of my cage I can’t see anything. A narrow leather blindfold is buckled about my head. Instead of the usual hood, heavy leather gag or complicated harness obscuring my face only a single thin strap secures the large ball in my mouth. That strap runs under my hair to the base of my neck, letting my freshly washed and brushed locks hang free in a way I’ve been assured looks lovely. I’ve been warned not to thrash around too much and let this get fouled by the drool that seeps from my lips, and despite the more intense than ever excitement that grips me I have obeyed. Slaves don’t wear clothes you know, unlike mistresses and their servants, and thick, soft white ropes much nicer than usual bind my naked body all about. My legs are tied together with many tight loops of this at the ankles, just above and below the knees and right at the tops of my thighs. More of this wonderfully sensuous rope binds them folded up with my heels pressed up snug against my butt.

Other tight loops about the base of my scrotum and all around my testicles separate, stretch, and bulge out my balls. The rope from these runs taut up the crack of my ass to where it is lashed thoroughly about my wrists, bowing my back and pulling my hands down to where my puffy numb fingers can just tickle my toes and the bottoms of my feet. Further loops bind my forearms and elbows together, making a wonderfully stressful triangle of my upper arms and shoulders, and a complicated wrapping all about those shoulder harnesses up my torso beautifully. One last rope binds my big toes together and then runs thrumming up to the buckle of my blindfold, stretching my head way back. Though I still want to roll all around and revel in the way being restrained like this makes my heart pound and my man-thing swell inside its tight steel sleeve I force myself for about the thousandth time to exert the discipline (discipline in all things!) necessary to refrain from this. I mustn’t mess my hair. Moaning with that evocative upset I content myself once again with straining against my bonds, and try to pass the time by wondering what it will mean for me to finally be sold.

Will I never see Mistress Nera and my other mistresses again? Will I be moved to a different room, learn different things and have new experiences? Most of all I wonder: what will this new mistress be like? Will she like me? Will she be nice, or cruel, or the usual unpredictable mix? These questions are impossible to answer, and I must simply wait until they are answered for me. But then suddenly out of the blackness that envelops me I hear the door being unlocked at last. Perhaps those answers are imminent even now! Mindful of everything I’ve been told I try to quell my hammering heart and present as becoming an appearance as possible as the heavy door to my world swings open. Immediately I recognize Mistress Nera’s voice.

“And here we are: isn’t he simply adorable?”

“Absolutely!”

This new voice is a pleasing contralto, and enthusiastically approving. My heart swells in response – with one word I’m captivated. Mistress Nera calls out to me as their heels click closer over the concrete floor.

“Roll onto your side, slave. Let Mistress Dara see your penis.”

Right away I comply, though I can feel my face coloring as this new mistress gasps with appreciation.

“Oh my goodness! Good thing you keep that monster caged up!”

They both laugh at this, and my face flushes hotter.

“I think we had to replace the sleeve with a larger model every year for a while there. Of course, we sedated him while we did it. Drew honey, do you have any memory of a time when your p***s wasn’t confined?”

I shake my head at this, feeling the rope tugging on my toes. The clicking of heels comes closer, and I sense the ambience of someone crouching right outside the bars of my cage. Fingers skate lightly over my cheek, and test the texture of my hair.

“Fabulous!” that delighted voice breathes. Mistress Nera’s words come from above and a bit farther away.

“Would you like us to get him out of there so you can inspect him more thoroughly? You haven’t seen those lovely blue eyes yet.”

“I believe I’ll wait until I get my property home before I unwrap and gloat over it,” Mistress Dara laughs. “I feel like it’s my birthday rather than his!”

“So I take it you’re sold on little Drew here?”

“Absolutely! Thank you so much!”

“Thank you, dear. I knew you’d be pleased, but confirmation is always welcome. Shall we go upstairs and conclude our business? I’ve got his key for you should you ever need it, and the shock fob which you certainly eventually will. I’ll have your property packed up and loaded for you while we see to that.”

“Excellent! See you soon, Drew.” Those fingers caress my head and pinch my cheek playfully. Then my soon-to-be new owner’s ambience withdraws. The sounds of their feet on the concrete recede, the door opens and closes behind them and I’m left alone (for the moment at least) to savor the excitement gripping me.

So I’ve actually been sold! That was quick. And my new owner sounds so nice too, and was actually even affectionate toward me. Not only will I be leaving this room, but even going someplace totally different. Why else would they be ‘loading me up’? I know vaguely that there’s more to the world than this building, though I know next to nothing about it. It will certainly be interesting and exciting to finally see some of it, not to mention enjoy some new experiences. Before I can explore this possibility further the door opens again and new footsteps approach, along with the muted squeaking of wheels rolling across the floor. I can tell by the tread that these are but male servants, yet still my excitement climbs. Everything that happens to me today is just another step into my truly unimaginable future.

The door to my cage is unlocked and slid open on its track. Rough hands grasp me by the legs and shoulders and pick me up. I’m carried a short distance and set down again in what is clearly a wooden box just barely big enough to accept me. A lid creaks closed and I hear a padlock being fitted into place and snapped shut.

The squeaking of wheels resumes, and I can tell by vibrations that I’m moving. After a while we stop, and I hear a grinding and clanking as we’re transported upwards. Soon we’re on the move again. We bump over a threshold of some kind, and suddenly the air in the box is fresher, though it carries an unwholesome tang. I’m rolled over some more bumps onto a softer surface that deadens the sound of the wheels before stopping again. Doors close with a muffled metallic clanging and I’m left in silent darkness a while.

Finally, I hear more clunking, and the world rocks briefly a little. A grinding noise is followed by a low roar that doesn’t stop but only changes in pitch. Suddenly I’m rocking and swaying and I can tell I’m moving again though the box stays in the same place. There’s another rattling rumble, more bumps, and the inertia I’m experiencing both increases and smoothes out. Unexplained words I’ve been inadvertently exposed to over the years – vehicles, travel, roads – occur to me, and with a mix of excitement and trepidation I guess that I’ve left both my cell and the larger building around it for the first time ever. I’m out in the world, the real world!

An agoraphobic panic grips me – ironic since I’m presently locked in a confining box smaller than a coffin. Then reason reasserts itself. Scary though this experience is it can only be good for me. Some instinct warns me that the way I was raised was unnatural, even for a slave. As I proceed by stops and starts, through smooth stretches interrupted by occasional bumps and jolts until finally we stop for good and the vibrations and that muted roar cease, I quell my recurrent anxiety by reminding myself of all I owe my new owner. Respect, love, worship, instinctive submission and immediate obedience are her undeniable due. I was bred, born, raised and trained to satisfy her every need no matter how demanding. In return she will supply me with the madly exciting bondage and discipline I crave – as well as more mysterious and obscure fulfillments my mistresses have only hinted at over the years.

More thumps and clunks are followed by a change in the air again. After further rattles and bangs my box rolls backwards, down a steep incline and then across a succession of smooth surfaces interrupted by occasional gentle bumps. At one point I’m halted and can tell the box is descending though no sound or other movement accompanies this. Again I roll squeakily across some hard flat surface. At last I hear the rattling removal of the padlock. An inrush of fresher air indicates that the box has been opened. Eager hands untie the rope to my toes and finally the stress on my neck is eased. I let my head hang down in blessed relief and those hands unbuckle and remove the blindfold. I gasp and squint as light stabs my eyes for the first time in hours. A palm caresses my head in a way that can only be called loving. Then the voice of Mistress Dara, my wonderful new owner, addresses me playfully. There is a timbre of excitement to her words that matches my own and I blink rapidly, willing my eyes to adjust already.

“Welcome to your new home, slave. I can’t wait to begin playing with you!”

Lifting my head again my gaze goes from the rough unfinished wood of the box enclosing me to the sacred lady beaming down at me. Immediately I catch my breath in awe and wonder, and a thrill as keen as a paean of worship shivers through me.

She is so beautiful!