By Taurus

Part 3 – ”Destination”

James was asleep when he arrived at his destination. He was awoken by the sensation of being blindfolded and ballgagged.

He was untied and pulled from the trailer. The moment his feet met solid ground – coarse concrete – the rope nooses on his wrists were brought behind him and secured to each other. The leg rope nooses were connected as well, but with some slack to function as a makeshift leg chain. As he shuffled about to find his footing, bits of sand he felt between his toes told him he was in a desert.

It was a hard day for James.

The dry heat on his skin triggered him to sweat, indicating to him that it was morning, and not just any old morning either. It was the kind where there were no clouds at all, just the sun bearing down with all its might, and every movement is laboured, seemingly weighed down by the scorching hot light.

Being knocked out the night prior and being moved around like a box of old clothes – unceremoniously and harshly – have taken a toll. He felt a little dizzy, as his sense of balance was disrupted. The loss of use of his eyes did not help either.

His one saving grace was his arousal. He was about to be imprisoned in the middle of a desert, stripped of his humanity, and even if he screamed for help, no one would save him and the only thing waiting for him is a painful, painful punishment.

However, before James could fantasize about what would happen, arms were forced into the tightened gap between each of his biceps and his torso. Consequently he had no more control over his upper body.

As fast as possible (about 90 percent walking pace for an unrestrained adult), he was walked 50 yards. Couple being marched at what was functionally breakneck pace with the fact that there was a blindfold over his eyes and a rope between his legs, stumbles were sure to happen, which did, though each time he was caught and steadied.

James was just glad “breakneck pace” did not translate to “breaking neck.”

After the 50 yards, a relaxing coolness cut sharply against the sweltering heat, indicating he had entered a building of some sort – likely the facility he had signed up to be in.

Mmm, air conditioning…

He was stopped and his feet were wiped down. Then, with feet free of dust and sand, he was made to continue walking, though now on smoother concrete flooring.

After a series of twists and turns, James was sat down on a chair, with his blindfold removed. Quickly, his limbs were disconnected from each other and were fixed to the chair, still with the same rope nooses.

His year-long stay would begin now.

James had a minute or so of solitude.

He scanned the room – literally nothing of note other than a light fixture, a door behind him and mirrors on the remaining sides of the room. At least one of them was a two-way mirror – he just knew it.

As he swiveled his head around, he noticed that the chair was bolted to the ground – he never budged – and that it was cold, bare metal.

Then, a clean shaven, military-looking man entered the room. He walked around James and looked at the naked, bearded man tied to the chair.

In a stereotypical booming voice, characteristic of a bossy sergeant, the man announced, “My name is not important to you, so forget about it.”

Moving closer, inches from James’ face, “I don’t know who you were or who you are, but I know exactly who you will be by the end of your stay.”

There was a foreboding pause.

“A slave.”

Shivers ran down helpless James’ spine as the man stroked the gag.

“Don’t worry if you can’t get the hang of it. There’s a year, right?”

James froze in place, unsure of what to do.

The man slapped his captive’s face.

“What do you call a man, boy?”

James blurted out “hir,” as close as he could get to “sir” with a gag lodged in his mouth.

“What should you have said, BOY?”

“Yeh, hir! Horry, hir!” (“Yes sir! Sorry, sir!)

He was not ready to rack up punishments, not yet anyway.

“At least you made my job of kidnapping you easy.”

“Hank you, hir!” (“Thank you, sir!”)

James’ gag was promptly removed, but he was commanded not to speak. He was read the list of rules he must abide by at the facility:

1. All members of staff must be duly addressed as “sir.”
2. All commands issued by any member of staff must be duly obeyed.
3. Orgasms and self-pleasuring are strictly forbidden without the express permission of the handler.
4. Chatting with the staff is strictly forbidden. The only exception is polite inquiries for a handler.

With that out of the way, the sergeant-like man left, and in came another man with lighter, softer complexion, and a tablet in his hands. A name tag on his left chest read “Arnold.”

Arnold took a few minutes to walk around and appraise his slave. Knowing better than to look, James kept his posture up, eyes trained on those of his reflection in the mirror on the wall, not once daring to move his eyeballs to look at Arnold.

The handler stepped in closer and started to touch and squeeze the muscles. He had some difficulty concealing his smile and maintaining a poker face; he was eager when he knew he got to work on a slave as good as James, but he was jumped out of his skin when he learnt his term of stay was one whole year.

However, training does not complete itself. Arnold had to find his slave’s weaknesses.

He pulled up a chair and sat in front of James.

James locked his eyes with Arnold’s, desperate to seek solace in the one thing that had seemed to be less than austere around him.

Arnold decided he should introduce himself and put a name to his face. More comforting for all parties.

“Hello, boy. I’m Arnold, and I’ll be your handler.”

“Thank you, sir,” James said, more calmly than just a moment ago.

“Do you have anything to ask me?”

James thought for a moment. He never really knew what a handler would do.

“Ah, I’ll manage your schedule for your sleep, your meals, your workouts, your training, your pleasure sessions and medical check-ups if needed.”

A pause.

“Ever had a long-term dom, boy?”

“No, sir.”

“Oh well, just imagine me as your owner who arranges everything for you.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Recite the rules for me so that I know you’ll be a good boy.”

Now that was a tough ask for many, but James was a businessman. He knows exactly what to listen for and remember in meetings.

“One, all members of staff must be addressed as ‘sir.’

“Two, all commands must be obeyed.

“Three, orgasms and self-pleasuring are not allowed unless the handler permits it.

“Four, chatting with staff is not allowed except for polite inquiries for the handler.

Arnold placed himself in front of James, closer this time. Now that he was here, James could see him more clearly: a young, clean shaven lad in his late 20s, with musculature that was just right, the kind one would see on a model, posing in swimming shorts on a beach perhaps.

He had that kind of beach boy tan too. Must be from working in the desert.

James was dragged back to reality by his handler’s lecture.

And a slap for his mistakes.

“Two mistakes. In rule two, you don’t just follow any command. Would you follow a command by a slave like you? No, it has to be by staff. Then in rule four, you can ask any handler, not just me. The year’d be over before we get training done if I had to answer every question you had.

“You didn’t read it word for word either. I said ‘recite,’ not ‘paraphrase.’”

James hung his head down. Good try.

“Oh cheer up, so many others have forgotten the rules completely this first time. I’ll go lighter on you – your punishment is 10 lashes of the flogger daily and no pleasure sessions for a week.”

This was logged into the tablet.

“Thank you, sir!”

“Ready to become a proper slave now?”

“Yes, sir!”

James was blindfolded and gagged again, and was led to another room where mugshots were taken. His weight and his bodily dimensions were recorded. The photos would serve to act as reference for the maintenance of his appearance, and his measurements would allow a diet and some pieces of gear to be tailored to him.

James was then led to his cell, this time to the place he would call “home” for a year, which was a surprisingly expansive space.

After the gag and the blindfold were removed, he was thrown into the cell and the unnecessarily hefty blast-resistant door, situated in the corner, was shut and locked behind him, sitting perfectly flush and camouflaged with the rest of the wall. Without prior knowledge, it might as well not have existed. He was definitely not getting out anytime soon, since the door controls were only accessible from the outside, and operating it meant having a staff ID card.

I do believe an experiment is not needed to conclude that concealing a card the size of a credit card on a buck naked body is extremely unlikely, if not absurd and impossible.

James surveyed his surroundings. Naturally, he spun himself around and discovered the room was rotationally symmetrical.

Imagine a big cube, side length 6 metres (a touch more than 19 feet). Start from there.

A square, bleached white leather mattress replaced the centre grid on the floor, and a speaker marked that on the ceiling. If the “back wall” was the one opposite to the one the door was on, then the plaques that detailed the rules he was to abide by adorned that and the wall opposite. On each of the “side walls” in the corners sat a toilet and a sink – no mirror. In each corner of the ceiling sat a camera, predictably for surveillance. Even those were identical to each other.

The cell’s job was to disorient. From the naked man’s spinning, it was safe to say that it was doing its job. Rather impeccably too, might I add.

Left and right now had no bearing.

The lighting system was unique; instead of having conventional lights, the lights were embedded within the ceiling, wall and floor tiles. When the lights were on, the entire cell could be flooded with dazzling, cold white light if Arnold so chose, or it could be gentle and warm, yellowed light emanating from just a few selected tiles in the ceiling. At the moment, it was the former, and no shadows could be found in the room.

On the floor, James wondered in horror how he would cope with this maddening place, designed to inflict unspeakable torture upon the minds of those who enter. With him being naked, he felt weak and crippled. He fell to his knees, feeling alone in this dungeon of haunted proportions, as if sitting in the bowels of an ungodly abomination – O he-who-shall-not-be-named, quiver and tremble at the implications of his might – ready to be digested.

And he fantasised. Fantasised about how they should torment him.

With that, James’ frustration and his cock grew, painfully bottled within the all too form-fitting chastity cage, even though he was fearing for his sanity. Yet, he suppressed his urges and made the only logical decision: he must get the rules right soon.

He sat on the floor, in front of the plaque and began to recite.

He was halfway done when the door was opened, and Arnold came in with a flogger.

“Slave! On all fours!”

James complied.

“You are not allowed to shout or moan. Any lash that makes you shout will be repeated until you can take it quietly. This is your punishment, not play.”

“Yes, sir!”

The 10 lashes were painful since they were concentrated all on one buttock. What came next was even more painful, however.

“Now recite the rules for me.”

Promptly, James pressed his forehead to the floor. He did not want to risk another punishment by giving himself any chance to cheat.

He could recite the first three perfectly, but he stumbled on the fourth, having to settle for paraphrase.

“Slave, you’re still getting the last rule wrong. I’ll add another week to your punishment.”

Oh great, he thought. Then again, what was 14 days in 365?

Regardless, James made sure he had the rules branded into his brain by the time lunch came. He would go crazy if he was not permitted any sexual pleasure in any form to any extent for any longer, since not even touching himself was allowed.

And who knows what sordid punishment that would entail, maybe having to go the entire year without any pleasure, just bondage, flogging and grueling workouts?

No thanks.

Lunch came at 12.

It was timed; no more than 20 minutes may be taken to finish all the food, delivered to his cell, to be eaten on all fours on the floor.

A protein shake was given in place of water, but otherwise he was eating a tray of prison food. But of course, no snacks.

James finished the food with time to spare.

Then came toilet time. He was instructed to sit for the entire duration of 5 minutes, even if he finished early. A bidet made its presence known by the end of these minutes, and cleaned his ass.

At 1, James was blindfolded and handcuffed as he was walked to the gym. Arnold stood waiting.

James trained in the pattern of an hour-long workout, followed by a half-hour stretching break. This repeated once, so that James trained until 4, at which point he was wiped down.

With the physical workouts done, James was brought to a room adjacent to the gym, again blindfolded, to apparently the dungeon playspace, where he would spend many more hours suffering.

The day’s training was, as requested, cocksucking.

James was sat on the floor, hands tied behind his back. A 6-inch dildo was strapped to a pole at his mouth’s height, while his legs were directed to either side of the pole and tied a ring on the backside. Then, his neck was roped to that same pole, leaving him at most 5.5 inches of slack.

He had to suck, or get another punishment. Not like he had any choice, since even if he pulled back fully, there would always be half an inch of dildo in his mouth. When he paused, a lash across his huddled back would (deservedly) remind.

Training was done at 5:30, when Arnold counted out exactly how many times James had broken the regular rhythm to stop and take a break, and James was flogged the corresponding number of times. Arnold (may have) inflated the number to some extent, but punishment was non-negotiable other than for medical reasons, and would otherwise be completely up to him.

For good or for worse, James got 42 lashes for the hour he had been sucking. For added effect, he was flogged on the front, just under the neck between each pec. Fortunately, screaming was permitted – the only luxury he will ever taste.

Arnold was an expert at flogging alright. And a sadistic one.

Dinner was at 6. Exactly the same proceedings as lunch. The gag was taken away from James after dinner.

The two hours between dinner and toilet time finishing at 7 and lights out at 9 were easier going. All James had to do was keep his hands off himself – which he did – and to think about what to say to his handler.

He decided to ask for fist mitts as an addition to his current ensemble of bondage implements for his daily outfit, even if he really wanted to keep his hands free. He had confirmed with Arnold that fist mitts will make him immune to punishments due to pleasuring himself.

He said goodbye to his hands as they were imprisoned in fist mitts. And then, lights off.

James found that since he had no pillow, he had to sleep face up or deal with a sore neck when he woke up. The most comfortable and natural position would have him interlocking his fingers and cushioning his head, but it was impossible. He settled for a spread eagle position.

He sighed. Even in sleep he had to be (indirectly) bound in the most exposing way.

This was day 1 out of 365. 364 to go.

June 5 has ended.

Sapped of strength, James slept dreamless in preparation for the next day.

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