A Journey Into Submission
Voluntary Enslavement

The Attorney

By: Dawson Spear
(© 2012 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 14

A continuation at the same time.

When my cock came to a halt as a result of the resistance, I paused only momentarily before reversing course and pulling out.  Again I pulled the head so that it rested on the slave’s lips, allowing him to take lung-full after lung-full of resuscitating oxygen.  Again my brain instantaneously took inventory of how much I had battled into him, the fact that he had not moved his head, arms, or feet, and yet was still breathing.  I looked over at Dr. Taylor who was monitoring the slave’s blood pressure and other vital signs transmitted by the electrical connections from the iron collar; he gave me the thumbs up.  At this point I figured that I had inserted the three inches to the gag point, the three inches already reamed, an inch-and-a-half accomplished on the first thrust for a total of seven-and-a-half out of twelve before the first real forceful salvo just finished.  I figured that by now we were at between nine and nine-and-a-half inches.

I had no way of knowing how much of the cock had been driven into my throat much less how much more was left.  I was now afraid; I was being snatched out of my dream state and hurled back to the present.  I felt the cock pull out of my throat, scraping all in its path as it slowly dragged upward, past that little tab of flesh that hangs down, over the tongue and then there was this void. My brain was firing urgent messages to suck in air; fast deep breaths; trying to replenish my blood oxygen as quickly as possible for at least subconsciously I realized that I had not felt the hair around Trainer Steve’s cock; his pubic bone had not come in contact with my upper lip or ground itself into my nose.  As that subconscious thought emerged into my consciousness, my inner self was comforted by the fact that it was becoming obvious that Trainer Steve was helping me by taking a longer break than normal before he continued the deflowering, pillaging, and conquering of my throat.  Then I came to the conclusion that in fact what was happening was not a rape and that the adjectives (deflowering, pillaging, and conquering) were really not appropriate.  What was happening here could be compared to the construction of a new road through previously virgin forest; Trainer Steve was clearing trees and removing stumps at the owner’s request.  I felt the cock re-enter my mouth as I took in an extra deep breath; the battering ram head picked up speed; I could sense Trainer Steve’s ass muscles clinch as his thick, furry hips snapped forward with knees bent increasing the speed and gathering the force behind it.  The helmet roared through the previously cleared right of way and met the remnants of my throat and suddenly came to a screeching halt; I could feel Trainer Steve’s body shudder as if he had hit a brick wall; in a fraction of a second all of that force ceased; all of that effort lasted less than a nanosecond.

After all of that time and effort was spent I was shocked at how easy the last two or two-and-a-half inches were reached.  My cock hair was rubbing on his nose; I looked down and he was fine. I pulled my cock back so that just the head was in his mouth, let him get some air and then I plowed back in; at this point there was no opposition and so I simply fucked his throat; all the way in until my hair touch his upper lip and then all the way back out until the helmet of my cock caught his lip and then back again.  I did this for about five minutes, letting him breathe as necessary.   I removed both ear plugs at the same time and said, “I am all of the way done. I am going to pull out but I want you to continue lying there, while I remove the patches on your eyes; leave your eyes shut for a moment.  John gently pulled that rod out of his dick and the one in his pussy.”

I pulled my cock back so that he was empty, swung my leg over him and stood up for the first time in an hour.  I hurt from having to stand still in one position for so long.  I stretched my back and legs, and then turned to the slave.  I reached down and slowly took the eye patches off and told him to slowly open his eyes to get use to the light.  He did and then I offered him my hand to help him stand.  He still could not talk because of the apparatus in his mouth.  I told him he could not have anything to drink just yet because we still were not done; he did not act surprised.  I gently reached into his mouth and undid what we call the jaw breaker and removed it.  I told him to slowly work his jaw muscles until he could get comfortable.  After several minutes of simply opening and closing his jaws, I told him to get back onto the bench; he complied still without having said a word.

I saw John come over to Trainer Steve and hand him two very small blocks of what appeared to be wood or plastic.  My trainer told me to open my mouth, explaining that these two little blocks would suffice to help me with keeping my jaws open during the final stages.

“Alright slave, open up and let me put these two little blocks in your mouth. As you know, having something holding your mouth open wide is helpful.  Now we have to go back in and clean up the job.  As you know you have taken all of me.  To go back to that analogy that we used before, the river is there, all I have to do now is to deepen the channel and make it a little wider.  It won’t take long; but, by the same token it ain’t easy and it sure as hell ain’t pretty.  Now we are a team, so put your hands on my thighs and keep your eyes on mine. I don’t have to look at anything to do what needs to be done, so I will keep eye contact with you.  When you need me to stop for you to get air, if some of the slime gets in your windpipe or you need to swallow simply squeeze my thighs and I will stop until you are ready to continue.  Do you understand?”

I could not believe it.  For the first time in more than an hour I was going to get to speak.  “Sir, Yes, Sir.”  You would never have known what I said if you had not read my lips. My throat was scratchy, my voice past being horse, and my tongue refused to work with my lips to enunciate properly.  Trainer Steve knew what I said.  I lay back on the bench as I had just before the break with my head flat on the bench.  Trainer Steve pulled me forward telling me that with my head over the bench it would be easier and faster.  Once my head was in position he looked at me and I looked at him.  He smiled and slowly sank his cock into me.  I was looking up at him as he stood almost directly over me, bending his knees; he kept coming and coming as his cock simply crossed my lips, slid along my tongue until it got to the turn in my throat where it barely slowed making the turn and then sinking into a bottomless pit.  He surprised me because he basically dropped down until he actually touched bottom and bounced back as though his pubic bone ricocheted off of my lip.  Everything came to a standstill for just a second and then he started his up and down and side to side exercise as opposed to an in and out motion starting deep and slowly pulling out, letting me take a couple of breaths.  I noticed that John was there kneeling on the floor with a soft cloth wiping up the excess slime and mucus as it was dredged out of me.  I felt the sweat dripping off of Trainer Steve as he worked his cock opening up the channel of my throat.

This slave was well behaved.  He simply lay there staring at me the entire time it took me to widen and deepen his throat.  Deep throating is a great experience.  It is under rated for a couple of reasons:  first, people are scared because they are afraid they are going to choke which is why Dr. Taylor decided we were going to teach it at this indoctrination school.  Second, it is different from a blow job, because most cocks that are long enough to enjoy deep throating are of such large girth that the slave cannot close his lips around the cock and thus there is no friction or rubbing on the shaft.  So what has to happen is the slave has to be taught how to accept the cock without panic and how to pleasure the cock he is servicing.  So to do the act properly takes the partnership of the master and slave and the two of them have to act in concert; the secret we share with our slave students is that it is up to them to supply the master with enough information to bring the master to orgasm.  Normally we would teach that later in the day, but I had forgotten that this slave’s education and experience were unfortunately not the norm.  I announced that the job was complete, the slave’s education finished and his throat altered.

Trainer Steve had been so nice and kind as he taught me how to deep throat a cock and had gently as is possible stretched my throat.  We had worked well together in finishing the project with my hands on his thighs and with our eye contact.  He made the comment that we were done.  As he made the announcement he broke eye contact until he was finished and then returned his eyes to mine.  He was slowly withdrawing his cock, enjoying the sensation of my throat rubbing on his shaft.  I very lightly tightened my grip on his thighs by simply applying pressure with my fingers and allowed my tongue to lift up causing additional tension on his shaft.  His eyes widened as his cock left my throat and came back into my mouth and I automatically allowed my lips to latch onto him creating suction.  As the head got to my lips my tongue swirled around over and into the piss slit and then back to my lower teeth to cover them as he slid back into my mouth, repeating the basics of a blow job without including deep throat action.  We did that together as a team and then I felt his legs tighten on my sides where we touched and I realized he was sending me a message. I stared up at him; my mind acting on his unspoken message prepared my body as his blunt headed cock reached the back of my throat, made the turn and sank out of sight.  As it did so my mouth had to open all the way which caused my lips to lose the suction, but it was replaced by the tightness of my throat. He rabbit punched my throat until the pressure from my hands told him I needed air and he reversed course.

A man and his partner receiving and giving oral sex are like professional dancers.  They not only know the song, but they know the arrangement.  One leads, the other follows.  A well-orchestrated blow job is a conundrum in the master/slave world because it is the slave who leads, the master who follows; and a good and well taught slave never lets the master become aware of that fact.  As I was withdrawing my cock the slave simply tightened ever so slightly his fingers on my thighs; I received the signal, looked in his eyes, and felt his tongue shift positions.  My brain translated those touches, look, and movement to mean he wanted to carry out the oral sex act.  I slowed the withdrawal of my shaft and felt his lips tighten down on me; it felt so good.  I then performed the in and out action of what people think of a normal blow job; this slave knew to breath in and out of his nose while at the same time keeping the suction tight around the shaft of my dick.  As the feeling started a stirring in my balls, I looked up and realized that the other trainers had figured out what was going on and had directed the student slaves to pay attention and learn; I directed my attention back to the bench.  I blinked at him and tighten my legs around his waist and he blinked in return acknowledging receipt and understanding of my message.  As I bent my knees, my cock hit the turn and kept on going until I hit his upper lip.  I stayed in the position, knees bent, simply bouncing up and down fucking way down deep in this throat; he pressed on my thighs and I withdrew into his mouth.

I felt Trainer Steve’s cock start to swell, sending me the signals that the end was in sight.  He pulled back allowing me to breathe as my lips and tongue delivered the final sensations.  I took in a couple of fast deep breaths and squeezed him again so that he sank into my throat for the first blast or two to be delivered straight to my gut and then withdrew so that the last weaker blasts and the dribbles were to my mouth so that I could taste and enjoy him.  A proper partnership of sucked and sucker brings pleasure to both.  The slave has to become of the mindset that the master’s cock snot is its reward for a job well done.

It was now eight o’clock at night and after conferring with Dr. Taylor and the other two trainers it was decided we would break for the day and let the twelve slaves do their exercise program while I took what was being referred to by everyone as “the Slave” and spent some quality time with him teaching him some slave etiquette, but not the kind found in a book by Emily Post.  We went from the training area to the section of the warehouse used as private quarters.  This job is really nice for me as when I am on duty with the Fire/Rescue Department I am supplied with a bed and locker and when I am off I am supplied with a bed room that is large enough that it has a sofa and some chairs in a sitting area and a small dining table that seats four.  The kitchen is a Pullman kitchen.  I also have an area that I use as an office with a desk.  It is really quite large and supplied by Dr. Taylor; no rent.  Dr. Taylor had owned his office building and then purchased this three-story plus basement warehouse for his slave training school and remodeled it.  I know it is not the norm, but I am going to call the slave by his name from this point on; he deserved it and in considering everything, I think I will be more effective.  That is another nice thing about working for Dr. Taylor; once you are accepted on the team he allows you to use your own judgment.  There are some hard and fixed rules but otherwise it is kind of nice to know he trusts us.  As an example, there was never an discussion about my completing the exercise with a blow job, but the team realized that I had control of the situation and used the circumstances to accomplish the team’s goal; I just improvised by having  gotten my rocks off but it was not in a sexual sense, but rather in a professional sense.

I was tired and my throat hurt from being stretched.  The Trainer put his arm over my shoulder, not in a sexual sense but in a buddy or brotherly sense; a friendly gesture.  He said that he was going to call me William and that I should consider the rest of the evening in what he called as relaxed mode.  He said that meant that there was no need to use the sir no sir cadence or other formality; he was still Trainer Steve or Sir, but other than that we were just like a student and his teacher.  He shared with me that he had read all of my background supplied by my Master; he then told me that he had lived his entire life in the Atlanta area, had gone to college to be a nurse and had taken the additional courses to be an advanced life support technician and was thirty-one years old. He said he knew he was gay since he was fifteen and regretfully had never been in a full time relationship which he wanted and said further that he wanted to have children; and then laughingly added by adoption.

I tried out my voice and discovered that I was very horse and my throat hurt; I was also very thirsty.  When we got to his apartment he said to sit on the sofa and went to the refrigerator to get me a frozen popsicle for my throat and to his bar to get himself a glass of red wine.  I thanked him and he explained that my master had made it clear I was not to have any alcoholic beverage to drink and then he told me what was going to happen tonight.  We would work for a while and then supper would be brought in and we would continue to work through what Dr. Taylor said he wanted accomplished so that tomorrow morning we would have a final session and then the Dr. wanted to meet with me, Trainer Steve and Master.  I asked him if I could get myself another popsicle as it tasted great, was wet and I was thirsty.  He asked how my throat was feeling.  I told him better and he replied that in the morning it would feel just like a sore muscle. 

As I was walking back with the popsicle Trainer Steve stood and said, “Let’s go through a couple of exercises.”  He was standing in the middle of the room and continued, “pretend that I am your master and that we were just walking into this room either alone or into a room with other people.  Where would you stand and what would you do?”

“I would stand beside him and when he stopped I would stop as well.”

“Perfect, and by that I mean it is wrong but sets up for me to explain the first part of etiquette.  Everything I say to you tonight is subject to your master’s change so as to suit him; but, unless he says otherwise these are the things that a properly trained slave would do.  Hold on a minute.”  He went over to a canvas bag he had been carrying and withdrew a pair of the backless jock underwear that master had bought me and handed them to me.  “Put these on, and then come stand over here.  A properly trained slave would have opened the door for its master, held it open for the master to enter into first, and then closed it behind the two of them.  You would follow your master into the room and then stand one pace about two-and-a-half feet behind and to the right of him.  If he is wearing a coat you would take it and figure out how to dispose of it; otherwise you stand there until he moves or gives you some instruction.  For example he might say to you, ‘When we enter into a room and there is a bar, go and get me a drink,’ and that would be a standing order.  Now let’s practice it.

We walked out into the hall, he in shorts, sandals and a shirt, me barefoot and in my jock.  We approached the door, me behind him and on his right.  I stepped forward and hesitated.  The door opened from the left and opened in – was I to cross in front of him or behind him – did I open the door and then enter before him?  Trainer Steve smiled and said, “See why we practice these things? Seems easy until you have to do it.  When the door opens inward and you are at someone’s home they will open the door and it is not a problem.  If you are coming home or are in public, go around your master, step in front and open the door, you standing out of the way and then hold the door; if there are other people with your master you hold the door until they enter; if not then pass the door to someone else.”  It was that type of thing. I noticed that his glass was almost empty and I poured him a glass without incident other than he said, “You would be surprised how many slaves don’t know how to pour a glass of wine.”

We spent some time teaching him the hand signals.  For example I would touch him to get his attention.  Then I would touch my zipper; if I then continued the hand movements towards my own zipper then I wanted him to give me a blow job there; if I pointed or nodded to a person then he was to lower that person’s zipper and blow them.  Another signal indicated that he was to get on all fours to be fucked or his back with his legs spread and knees up by his chest.

The slave indicated that he wanted to ask a question.  “Master Steve, these hand signals would only be given by Massa, correct?”

“No, slave; if for example I was sitting at a table with a person you had never met serving us and I gave you the signal you would go  under the table and blow that person then and there.”

“I don’t understand.  Why would I be blowing someone other than my master?”

“Slave do you think that the only person you are going to suck or that is going to fuck you is your master or the persons your master tells you to?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wrong.  You are a slave.  You are affiliated with this facility.  If I or any other freeman signals you to perform some service or tells you to do something then you do so.  You are nothing but a slave and a slave does what a freeman tells it to do.”

The kitchen had fixed a dinner of chicken breast in a white wine sauce, salad and some pasta; easy and done in thirty minutes.  The slave had set two places at the table; one at the head and one beside it.  He fixed my plate and put it at the head of the table, and then went to fix his; I let him put the food on the plate and then said, “What are you doing?”

“Fixing my plate, Sir.”

“You are a slave.  Slaves don’t sit at the table with free men.  Look in the pantry closet there and get two bowls; put water in one and dry slave chow in the other.  When you have done that bring them to the table.”  While he was doing that I took his place mat off the table and put it slightly to the right and behind my chair.  He came out of the kitchen area surprised to see his place without utensils on the floor and me waiting for him to pull out my chair for me and to put my napkin in my lap.  He put his bowls down and got me seated.  He then knelt over his bowls and looked at the dried food which closely resembled dog food and then up at me.  I said, “You may begin, but you must eat without using your hands.”

I give him credit; he had eaten a good breakfast from what I had been told, but no lunch other than the dried slave chow which he could not have eaten with his throat and he had been given a bottle of liquid that included all kinds of nutrients, vitamins and some medicine that makes you shit even if it is nothing but water.  I knew he would freeze over his meal and had a belt handy; I leaned over and cracked the belt on his ass making him jump.  “I said eat and I want you to drink the water.  You have had a rough day and need the food and liquids.”

It was a resigned, “Yes, sir,” in response, and I started munching on the dried food, washing it down by lapping the water.  This was the pits; someone had fixed a damn good dinner and I had really been looking forward to it.  I managed the get the dried food down and was drinking the water when I felt his hand on my head.  I looked up at him and he smiled at me.  I went back to the water when his hand came down and fed me some chicken; I took it into my mouth and sucked on his fingers; he continued to feed me and then patted my head.  I looked up at him as he patted his thigh and smiled at me; I lifted my head to his thigh and he stroked my head.  Our lessons continued including teaching me to recognize signals such as if he pointed at a spot I was to stand there, but if he pointed to a spot and snapped his fingers I was to kneel beside his chair or where he was standing.  If someone came up to me and I had not been given permission to speak I was not allowed to answer even a direct question.  If I had been released to talk then I was allowed to tell the person that I was a slave and he would have to speak to my master.  I suppose the hardest thing for me to accept was the fact that unless given a signal of a touch with the hand causing me to look at my master and then a movement of the eyes, my gaze was to be on the floor except when outside.

The slave really was a fast learner and never did I have to tell him anything twice.  It was now time for bed and so I had him go into the bathroom with me.  I had read that he knew his way around the bathroom already.  I told him to get himself ready for bed and stood there to watch him.  He removed this thong, gave himself an enema even though he had nothing in him, brushed his teeth and got into the shower, washed and shaved himself.  I then told him to get me ready.  He removed my clothing, after asking put it in the hamper and stood there.  I walked over to the toilet and stood there; he looked at me and I looked at him.  I finally snapped my fingers and pointed to my right side.  He came over and stood there; I told him to hold my cock while I peed, shake it off and then go stand by the bed.  I walked into the bed area and told him we had a couple of more things to review.  I indicated that I wanted him to kneel by the bed so he did and I sat on the bed looking down at him.  “Where do you sleep at home?”

“In the bed with master.”

“How?”

“I don’t understand?”

“Beside him; how, where?”

“Usually beneath him, on my stomach with his cock in me.”

“What do you do when you wake up in the morning and have to pee?”

“I get up trying not to wake him.”

“No more.  I will give you a couple of condom catheters for you to use.  You will simply keep them handy and then put it on your dick and pee into the bag.  You may have to use an extra-large to take that PA in the end of your cock.”

He gave me more instructions as to bedroom etiquette and pointers.  Then he said, “Alright we now need to discuss fucking.  I understand you have been stretched and are regularly taking your master’s cock without problems.  Is that true?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ok. I want you to come up on the bed, get me hard and then lube my cock.  I saw that you lubed yourself after your enema.”

I did so with him lying on his back.  He said, “I want you to sit on my cock.  Slowly lower yourself; now let me tell you to go slowly; the reason that I am having you sit on it is so that you control the pace.  Before you do that, tell me why you are not insisting that I wear a condom?”

“Master told me before we got here that Dr. Taylor is very strict about the fact that everyone here is tested, even the outside help and if any of the trainers are caught messing with people on the outside they are terminated.”

I laughed and said that was true; that with the money that Dr. Taylor paid, none of us would fool around.  It took him a while but he finally took all 12 inches up inside him.  I let him sit there with it buried to the hilt so as to become accustomed to the feel before we started the exercises.  I told him that I wanted him to pull up so that just the head was inside his ring.  He did so.

“No. Go back down and start over.  When the cock that is fucking you is all the way in you and starts to pull out, you tighten your anal muscles as tight as you can to create friction, and when it is time to reverse course, then you push out to make it easier for the cock to sink into you.  When you have taken a shit have you ever tightened your anal muscles to cut off the turd?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right. That is what I am talking about.  When the cock is all the way in you then you clamp down and try to keep it from being withdrawn.  Now practice that.”

I tried that and as silly as it sounds it is damn hard work. I started to build up a sweat as I was trying to keep the cock in me, at the same time fighting against myself to pull up, stop, relax and let the cock sink back into me.

Trainer Steve said, “Do you continue to get the urge to have an erection?” 

“Not really. I asked master to put it on me last night because I got the urge.”

“Well, I understand that you have not had an ejaculation since you were pierced?”

“That is correct.  Master milks my prostate, but no sperm.”

“Sit still for a moment, When you last ejaculated what were you thinking, dreaming of, or fantasizing?”  While talking he was removing the cage from around my cock.

“The fact that I had given myself to master.”

“Ok, I want you to think those thoughts again.  What I want you to do is to think yourself into an orgasm.  I want you to be able to ejaculate on command.  Don’t worry you won’t be given the command standing around in a group of people, but rather in some setting in which your master makes it conducive to do so.”

We practiced it for a while and I had some small success but was going to have to work at it.  Finally he said it was time to go to sleep and said for me to get off of him, step down off the bed and to pull the dog bed out from under the bed. I did so and cleaned his cock before I lay down on the bed and he put a blanket over me.  I was less than happy but complied.  After fifteen or twenty minutes of tossing and turning, Trainer Steve patted me on the head, lifted the sheet and I got up into the bed with him.  He still was hard and I asked him if he wanted me to suck him.  He said no that what we had done this afternoon was clinical as was the fucking lesson tonight, and that it was absolutely forbidden for trainers to have sexual relations with slaves.  He tucked me in under him, and let his cock go in between my thighs.  I slept really well.

The slave was nice to sleep with, although I really want to get into a relationship with a guy.  I am ready to settle down.  I wish I could find me a man who would be a bottom for me.  If William were my age we would make a pair; hell I would be more than happy to take him even though he was fourteen years older than me.  If everything goes well we have two more things to do and should be done before lunch.  I got the message that Dr. Tom was operating on the slave last night or this morning, but that would not slow me down.  I woke the slave, had him go start the coffee while I took a pee.  I went over to the kitchen area and told him to fix me a breakfast of large portions of bacon and scrambled eggs with two biscuits.  I told him that there was some homemade strawberry jam for my biscuits.  I was going to take a shower.  I also told him that his breakfast was to be water and slave chow, in bowls.  I left him to cook while I enjoyed my coffee on the toilet with the paper and had my shower.

To be continued...

Posted: 05/04/12