One Year – Part 10

By Taurus

Part 10 – “Something Changed”

The number of days since James had last seen civilization, and treated like a member of it, just crossed into the triple digits.

100.

100 consecutive days locked in chastity without any clothes and almost always toiling for one thing or another.

Arnold, as ever, entered James’ cell in the morning, the occupant of which faced the other way from the cell door, owing to its symmetrical design whose task was to disorient. He spun himself around by instinct and knelt on his mattress, back straight, legs crossed, looking straight ahead and arms squared behind his back.

The many days where the same old stuff happens has allowed the slave and his handler to go through the day without much talking, if any at all. No need for commands if tasks could be done out of habit. The first day of perfect silence was day 25, and many more have been achieved since then.

Then again, when one spends most of their time gagged or muzzled with the threat of severe pain looming over them if they do try and say a word, one tends to keep a little quiet.

Not that you would have any choice.

Today, there was finally a change.

“Slave.”

“Yes, sir. Good morning, sir.”

Arnold responded to his slave by throwing a ball gag and a blindfold in front of him.

“Put these on.”

James was incredulous. For fuck’s sake, he had fist mitts on! Locked on no less.

“I can’t, sorry, sir.”

“Should I punish you then, slave?”

James had enough. This was not a playful taunt.

This was abuse of power.

He decided to rebel. At least he would keep his mind sane another moment.

“No. YOU should put these on me.”

After being slapped in the face, James received his restraints and was walked to the dungeon, where he was tied in a standing spread eagle. Without warning, flogger hits began to land on him.

They were merciless, uncaring, focused only on inflicting pain for the sake of it. Different from Arnold’s usual flavour of precise control, these were messy, scattered all over James’ body, with a purest caustic intent to torment.

Being blindfolded, James had no way to predict when and where a hit would land. One would strike him on the ass, then immediately a flurry on his chest. A dry spell of 10 seconds or so and an especially heavy blow lands. One such lash was on the cock, which made him scream like his life depended on it.

Or such a hit could be soft. Who knows what the next hit, or the next hundred hits would do?

Being blindfolded for so long trained James to “sense” the mood around him, the intents of the people doing things to him.

A chill went down his spine. Arnold was a man possessed, hell bent on torturing James.

Attuned to his surroundings, James only felt a most primordial fear – the fear of an impending critical injury.

Or death.

He started to tremble.

He was swept up in a storm, and he could do nought but bear it all and let it destroy him.

His arms were released and the ball gag was removed after each half an hour of flogging, and Arnold replaced it with a urinal gag. He poured some water down James’ throat. As the slave drank unsteadily and drew ragged breaths, bits of water splashed over the rim of the gag. The imperfect seal between his lips and the gag itself leaked out strings of drool and water.

The liquid wet his chest, already matted with sweat. The dungeon did not breathe well, not to mention his full coat of chest hair that had been growing for the months prior.

Arnold allowed him to rest no longer than it took him to drink up the water. Quickly, he re-tied James, swapped the gags again, and continued flogging.

With moistened lips, drool escaped James’ mouth all the more easily. As the session went on, he became, increasingly, a stinky mess soggy with sweat. When he was released, he was made to kneel on the spot to have lunch, still dripping with sweat and drool all over, not given a cleaning.

Dinner was no different than lunch – made to eat in the dungeon as droplets of body fluid mixed on his skin.

As for handler time, James was ungagged, but still blindfolded, as he was backed up into a cage, facing the door which remained open.

A loud bang on the top of the cage perked his ears and his undivided attention.

In stark contrast was a silky, serpentine voice that hissed a whisper by his ear.

“Enjoy your night, pig. Now I’m just gonna get my fill.”

With that ominous message, the unmistakable smell of a cock emanated from the one hidden in Arnold’s jeans. It drew closer, and knowing better than to resist, James began using his training and sucked.

Soon, Arnold blew his load, pulling it out before he came, and sprinkling the caged slave with white all over.

A slap, and the cage door was closed and locked after removing James’ blindfold. He was left alone as the lights went out. This meant to him that he had to sleep in a tiny, cramped cage when he had gotten used to sleeping spread eagled for more than three months.

He wriggled all about, perpetually changing positions as regardless of how he tried to sleep, some tendon or some muscle would feel terribly compressed. Quite on the contrary, for once since his arrival, he has not felt the cage pressing against his cock.

Uneasily, he slept.

He dreamt of Russell.

“Slave James, hang in there.”

“I’ll try.”

To be continued …

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