Things are quite leisurely at the training facility with only two slaves in stock. It was wild a few weeks ago because we had eight on the go but, as it is, I feel like I’m on holiday.
Shit-head has been with us a few days now. So far, it’s spent 24 hours isolated in its pod, exercising and learning how to drink from the water dispenser. Following that, it spent the best part of a day hanging in the factory area being broken. Like its peer resident in the next pod (piss-slit), shit-head has also been through its very first training session, lesson one – SPEECH LAW NUMBER 1.
Today, it’s SPEECH LAW NUMBER 2 and shit-head is already in place, eager to begin (I’m sure).
My little brunette fire-plug is standing in one of the classrooms, one foot on each of two large blocks. The blocks are 3 feet apart so its legs are spread wide. Wrists are in 18th century iron shackles and pulled straight up, forcing the slave onto its toes. It still wears the heavy ball stretcher that it’s involuntarily had to endure for several days, making its balls ultra-sensitive and very tender. Around its neck is a shock collar, the remote control handily in my jeans back pocket.
“Good morning shit-head” I say in greeting.
“Hello Master” it responds.
“Are you ready for your next lesson?”
“Yes Master” as it totters, slightly losing balance.
I’m always uncertain of slaves that become so compliant this early in their training. There’s a chance the slave is just biding its time and will be very rebellious at a later stage. In any case, I play along….
“Would you like me to remove your ball stretcher, slave?”
“Yes please Master” it responds politely.
I crouch down and unlock the heavy donut allowing the balls freedom.
I stand, looking the slave in the eye and ask “What do you say, slave?”
“Thank you Master.”
Moving in to offer a kiss, shit-head shows no hesitation and we spend several passionate minutes, lips locked, before I pull back.
I pull over the now familiar trolley with laptop and 17” monitor. Press a few keys and the screen displays “SPEECH LAW NUMBER 2”, and after 30 seconds changes to add:
“The slaves response to its Master, or other superior, will always be prefixed with the word ‘Sir,’ and post-fixed with the words ‘, sir. Thank you Master’.”
“Ok Shit-head, you know what to do.”
To my consternation it reads the law perfectly. Time to have some fun. A click of the laptop key displays:
“___ slaves ________ to ___ Master, or other superior, ____ ______ __ prefixed with ___ word ____ and ________ with ___ words ‘, sir. Thank you Master’.”
“Again!” And to my surprise shit-head is word perfect, five times in a row. At this rate, I’ll not have the pleasure of applying any correction. Where’s the fun in that?
An evil grin curls my lip and I say “shit-head, recite for me Speech Law number ONE!” There’s a pregnant pause whilst the slave processes the instruction and then clearly enunciates “The slave will never speak unless spoken to by its Master or another superior.”
Shit! Absolutely word perfect. Impressed but frustrated, I click the keyboard and the screen displays:
“___ slaves ________ __ ___ Master, or _____ ________ ____ ______ __ ________ with ___ word ____ and ________ with ___ _____ sir. ______ ___ ______.”
“OK – back to law number 2. Recite it now.”
Again, shit-head gets it spot-on, five times in a row.
Clearing the screen makes no difference.
I’ve never had a slave with a photographic memory before. This could be interesting.
Right hand palm down, I slide its scrotum between my second and third fingers. I close my fist to enfold its balls in my hand, two fingers behind each bollock. They are warm and twitching. They seem to invite pain and I apply slight pressure. Shit-heads eyes squeeze shut.
I notice a bead of sweat on shit-heads forehead that wasn’t there a moment ago. My left hand parks itself in my jeans rear pocket clutching the remote control.
My fist tightens around the sensitive balls. There’s a grimace on the slaves face, its perfect teeth gleaming between upper and lower lips, now stretched tight across the enamel. The tighter my grip becomes, the greater the face contorts until, finally, there’s a squeak of pain from the slave and it blurts out “Please Master, it hurts. Please stop.”
I keep the pressure applied and explain “You recite the laws perfectly, shit-head, but you don’t obey them. What have you done wrong?”
There’s a long delay as the slave tries to think. The agony spreading from its balls is disorientating and it can’t see through the fog to the truth. I am getting impatient. My thumb squeezes down on the trigger in my pocket and a searing jolt pulses through the slave’s neck. Its whole body convulses, feet launching off the blocks leaving its full weight yanking down, steel cutting into its wrists. Flailing legs desperately try to guide its feet back to the blocks but I now have its balls held firmly away from its body and the supportive blocks are now out of reach. The slave cries out in pain and panic.
“shit-head. FOCUS! What did you do wrong?”
After a 30 seconds, “I, ummm. I broke the law.” It said between clenched teeth. “Yes, yes… Which one? And before you answer, think very carefully because, from this moment on, every time you break a law, you’ll get punished.”
Again, there was a delay before I said “Which law did you break?” I could hear the cogs turning. Finally, it said “I broke” and before it could say any more – ZAP! There’s a wrenching twist from its body and a scream of anguish. The balls yank in my grasp but my grip holds fast. Christ! That must have hurt!
After three or four minutes of struggling, it calms down and I casually ask “Want to try that again?” I could see the slave trying to work it out. Then, slowly, I see realisation in its eyes and it hesitantly utters “Sir, I broke the second law, sir. Thank you Master.”
“That’s correct! And?”
There’s an instant look of confusion and the onset of panic on its face. It tries to look around as if the answer lies somewhere in the room, but can hardly move its head, trapped as it is between its biceps.
By default there was only one possible response, but I could see it didn’t really understand. To its credit, it doesn’t answer immediately. And then the penny drops. “and, I spoke without” ZAP! Again the slave goes flying, held taut between its wrists and its balls. The feet desperately looking for a way to help alleviate the pain. But this time the slave understands and responds “Sir, I also broke the first law by speaking out of turn, sir. Thank you Master.”
Satisfied at a job well done, I release the slave’s balls which sends it swinging backwards between the blocks. After a few seconds of hectic scrabbling, it manages to regain its footing on the blocks and relieve the pressure on its wrists.
“Good slave. I’m proud of you. Now you wait there for a while whilst I get some lunch. I’ll be back to administer lesson number 3 in a few hours.”
To be continued …
Metal would like to thank PredicamentBondage for this story!