Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 THE NEW BIRTH - Part 8

   by Psychmstr SykeMstr@gmail.com

   Read all of Psychmstr's stories at:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/The_Leather_Room/

   THE TRAINING ROOM



   As i entered the room my overseers immediately fell to their knees,
wrists gripped behind their backs and proud eyes cast down to the middle
distance between us, in a most respectful Full Present position.  i was
pleased.



   "gentlemen, rise.  i wish to propose a little contest that should appeal
to your fancy and give me much pleasure to boot.  There's not a reason in
the world that our hard work in training should not, because it is work, be
pleasurable, wouldn't you agree?" i didn't expect an answer to this
rhetorical question.  it pleased me, however, to play with their minds,
just for the hell of it.



   "There's five overseers and i think this father-son duo has, without
question, earned a flogging, wouldn't you all agree?"



   "Yes, Slavemaster, Sir," they all cried in unison.



   "Good!  Well, mace, let me take a look at the Marine.  How did his
depilation go?"



   "Slavemaster, Sir.  Very well, Sir.  While this property shows good
definition, further weight-training, vigorous aerobics, and a rigorous
diet, should enhance its marketability, especially if its balls are cut,
replaced with prostheses, and it starts on a moderate steroid cycle."



   "Yes, mace, i agree completely with your assessment.  i see only one big
problem--the property's regrettably hostile attitude." As i spoke i
approached the Marine and gently stroked his widely muscled shoulders and
allowed my fingers to trace the fine exterior edge of his right lat down to
the lower part of the back and then across the gluteus maximus.  he would
be a very fine addition to the Elite program, yes indeed.  i suspected that
we wouldn't have much luck with using just plain physical torture, as his
Marine training taught him stoicism.  i mean, torture would certainly do
the job, but i didn't want the property damaged permanently.



   "clay," i whispered in the property's ear, "i understand how hard it is
for you to surrender your will to me.  But clay, consider this.  you've
already surrendered your will to the Marine Corp for twenty years of your
life on this earth.  you had no problem doing that, did you?"



   "I didn't surrender anything, you bastard!  I supported my men, that's
all."



   "Who gave you orders, clay?"



   "My superiors, of course!"



   "So then you agreed, didn't you, to follow the orders of your superiors,
for the best interests of your men and to accomplish the military
objectives your superiors had, is that right?"



   "Yes." A wave of doubt seemed to cross the Marine's face when he
admitted this, as though it had never occurred to him that when he followed
orders he was also 'surrendering' his will to a superior.



   "So, clay, in a sense, one might say that you gave your obedience to
your superior officers, is that correct?"



   "Yes, I did."



   "Well, then, clay, what's the problem here?  The very Corps that you
obeyed for twenty years cashiered you and sold you into slavery.  Now clay,
you and i might think that this was an unjust act on the part of the Corps
and the Court, but the fact is that a change in ownership has taken place.
Do you see that?"



   "Not ownership, you idiot.  The Corps did not own me!"



   "What does ownership mean, clay?  The Corps had the legal power and you
acknowledged their moral authority to command your obedience, is this not
true?"



   "Yes, but I agreed to it.  Nobody forced me to do anything I didn't
agree to!"



   "Ah, yes, i see, clay.  you agreed to be bound by the orders of the
Marine Corps, is that correct?"



   "Yes, I did!"



   "clay, that same Marine Corps court-martialled you for dereliction of
duty, and it determined that your penalty would be a dishonorable discharge
and penal servitude, or did i get something wrong here?"



   "No, you've got it right.  But I was set up.  The only thing I did to
get into trouble was fuck the wife of a Marine Corps general!  Everything
else is a lie.  I did my duty toward my men and toward the Corps!"



   "you and i both know, clay, that none of that makes any difference now.
you cuckolded a general and he gave you the shaft of your life, that's it,
isn't it?"



   "Basically, yes."



   "So, clay, if you hadn't cuckolded the general, you'd be in the Corps
right now, wouldn't you?"



   "Yes!"



   "Doesn't that mean, though, that your conscious decision to screw the
general's wife resulted in your own slavery?"



   "That's how it turned out, yes."



   "So, tell me now, clay, by your own admission, who is responsible for
your slavery?"



   "Fuck you, bastard!"



   "you are a slave, then, is that correct?"



   "Well, I'm here ain't I?"



   "Yes, clay, you are.  And what's more, you belong to me.  The Marine
Corps gave me complete command of your mind, your spirit, and your
body--complete use and disposal.  Whether you want to accept your slavery
doesn't effect in the slightest degree the fact that you are, now, just a
piece of property, for me to do with precisely as i wish.  And you know
something else?  The Marine Corps simply gave to me what you had already
given to them.  They've just transferred ownership, that's all.  Do you
understand?"



   "I understand what you're saying, but I was not treated justly!"



   "That may be true . . .  most probably it is true.  It is also true that
you are now just a piece of property.  It is my job to help you realize
that fact, too, clay.  we all want life, clay.  i have the power of life
and death over you.  The question is, do you want to live, or do you want
to die?"



   "What kind of a stupid question is that?  Of course I want to live, but
life is not the highest value, honor is!"



   "Is there no honor, clay, in offering service, your supreme obedience,
to those who have bought and paid for you?"



   "What are you talking about?"



   "In good faith, clay, i have purchased you from the Marine Corps.  i
didn't give up good money just to buy an assemblage of body parts to be
sold off if somebody somewhere needs to have your kidney or heart or skin
for a tissue transplant.  your son here would be a better candidate for the
organ banks in any case since his organs are so much younger and less worn
out.



   "i could do that, and i will do that if that's all you're going to be
good for.  But i have been thinking, clay, that you've got a lot more to
give--a lot more--than just a few spare parts.  we can't transplant your
brain, we can't transplant your spirit, so if we take your heart, or enough
of your other organs for our organ banks we lose out on the use of those
things that only you can give us.  i can always simply force you to obey,
but i want you to obey because i ask it of you, not because you want it. 
So, what's it going to be, clay?"



   "You would sell my son to the organ banks?"



   "If all i wanted were spare parts, sure i would."



   "How could you do such a monstrous thing to someone who has never done
you any harm?"



   "clay, i see that you really haven't grasped your situation and that of
your son fully and accurately.  The two of you are simply pieces of
property--human animals.  The two of you no longer enjoy the dignity and
status of free human beings.  i can do anything i want to either of you.  i
am offering you and your son both a great gift--the opportunity to serve
me, to obey me in all things, to surrender your will to me.  i don't expect
that you will be able to jump right in and accept the full meaning of your
slavery.  how could you?  you don't yet understand the full meaning.  But i
want you to make that first step, to trust that i do what i say i will do,
and that if you obey without question, if you give me your unquestioned
obedience, you will yet have honor, for that decision, to embrace your
slavery, lies with you.



   "While you chew that over, clay, my assistants here are about to help
you understand in a direct physical way what it means to be the property of
another, a property that has displeased its Master by showing discourtesy
toward others--a behavior that simply cannot and will not ever be
tolerated. Properties do only what they are told to do; they seek to
increase the pleasure of their Masters in all things, and eager obedience
is most pleasing in a slave." i took my leave of clay.



   "gentlemen, here's the contest.  each of you gets to lay four of your
best stripes on the body of this ex-Marine.  you'll start at the shoulders
and work your way down to the muscled thighs.  you'll go in predetermined
order and keep the stripes seriatim, so the first group will be shoulders
only, then lower back, then glutes, then thighs.  The winner will be he who
lays on the best four stripes that just break the skin without drawing
major blood.  The prize?  First fuck.  Second, third, and fourth prizes
will also be rewarded with the winners taking their fucks in the order of
the award.  The last place finisher rims the ex-Marine's hole and cleans up
his associates' dirty cocks.  Any questions?"



   clay was, of course, fastened to a St.  Andrews cross, facing away from
us, arms and legs stretched taut, the fine skin slightly irritated, i could
tell, from the depilatory, and my five overseers were given leave to
commence their little contest.



   As they did so, i found my myself looking at the delightfully hairy and
muscled back of little tony, his relatively short legs in comparison to the
length of his trunk and his long arms.  These measures were subtle, it is
true, but nonetheless real, and all at once inspiration hit and i knew how
i was going to use this property.  i would make him a dog.  his size would
also make his body useful as a piece of mobile furniture.



   Long i have thought that some canine companionship--in the form of a
human animal, of course--would be very useful for me, a four-legged friend
to accompany me about my routine chores, an animal that could even serve as
chair or footstool, for it was inappropriate for a slave such as myself to
use furniture free human beings used.



   In addition, tony's fur-covered hide seemed to mark him out for this
role.  i really enjoyed viewing his furry back and voluptuously muscled
rump and if he were to become a dog, i could always avail myself of the
view.  his cunt, of course, would also be available for an idle fingerfuck
as i sat upon him listening to my lieutenants make reports.  i called dave,
my surgical assistant, over the intercom, and he presented himself to me in
a matter of moments.



   "Sir, Slavemaster, Sir."



   "dave, unfasten that hairy little muscle stud over there on the wall and
install him in this training chair." tony was brought over, struggling, but
dave had him firmly under control.



   tony looked at me furiously, for even as i approached the chair the bull
whips were laying welts across his father's upper back.  Round one was
about coming to a close and i would have to judge their quality so the next
round might commence.  my overseers had, of course, removed the penis gag
in clay's mouth to better appreciate the screams and yowls of anguish, and
they were not disappointed.  little tony, of course, still had his
penis-gag and all he could really do was to try to get enough air in his
lungs, as the protrusion activated his gag-reflex, making breathing
difficult, especially as he was under stress watching my overseers working
over his father with evident gusto and high-spirited enthusiasm.



   Looking at dave, but within hearing range of tony, i said, "dave, what i
want to do with this property is turn it into a dog."



   "Well, Master, its body seems well proportioned for that purpose and
certainly the luxurious fur covering the skin makes the choice realistic.
Do you wish your assistant, Sir, to make a suggestion?"



   i nodded.



   "Male dogs, especially young horny ones like this property is destined
to become, are a real nuisance to their Owners, since they are always
trying to mark their territory with urine and if given half a chance will
begin to hump just about anything they get access to.  Such behavior can be
quite embarrassing to their Owners.  i suggest we infibulate the property's
cock in the old-fashioned, Roman manner by inserting a large surgical steel
ring through the shaft of the penis, a little behind the glans, and attach
the other half of the ring close to the trunk of the slave, passing the
ring horizontally through the shaft of the penis through the suspensory
ligament.  The dog's penis will be bent double so that the head points
towards the body, the penis head lying on top of the shaft.  As the dog
will be moving on all fours, any time it urinates it will be pissing on
itself, requiring its Owner or whoever is tending to the animal to insert a
foot under the ball sac and retract it somewhat in order to redirect the
urine more to the ground rather than the dog's underbelly.  Of course,
pissing on itself is grounds for punishment, the infliction of which would
offer great delight and satisfaction."



   "What a brilliant solution, dave!  Of course the dick will have to be
circumcised first.  If this dog tries to hump anything, he's sure is going
to get the surprise--and the hurt--of his life!  That infibulator will be
wicked!



   "But let's consider the situation in more detail.  What if we were to
insert two smaller rings, one at the base and the other at the head?  To
infibulate its cock, then, would just be a simple matter of attaching these
two much smaller rings with a third, no larger than would be needed to make
the attachment.  That way i would have greater flexibility in controlling
the dog's dick, sometimes rewarding it for good behavior by letting it get
a hard-on, or punishing it by fastening the two rings together tightly so
any engorgement would cause extreme pain?"



   "Sir, Slavemaster, Sir.  Your suggestion, Slavemaster, is a creative
variation on an old classic, and is one for the record books, that's for
certain.  Perhaps Slavemaster would consider using such infibulation more
frequently.  Indeed, even on properties where rings were not inserted,
straight bars could be just to keep the piercing holes open, should the
need arise for infibulation at a future time."



   "we're on a roll, dave.  Make it so.  In any case, i want a few more
things attached to the dog's body.



   "Insert the largest possible nose ring that extends no further down than
the upper lip.  I want to be able to use that hole for piss and cum.  Also,
when the dog sits up to beg or balance dog biscuits on its nose, it will
have a particularly hard time trying to catch the biscuit with its mouth
after tossing it up in the air.  he's got good-sized nipples, so insert
heavy, gauge six tit rings, well into the aureoles.  But we do have a
little problem, dave.  If you install a muting bar, gluing it in the
conventional manner to his lower molars, he'll only be able to make animal
noises, which is good, but then he won't be able to lick like a dog should.
If you cut his vocal chords, he'll be like a Besenji, but he'll be able to
use his tongue.  What do you suppose we ought to do?"



   i asked this question for no other reason than to horrify little tony to
so great a degree that he would find the power within himself to cease
making human speech for the rest of his natural life--that is, if he valued
having his vocal chords left intact!  Of course, tony would not always be a
dog.  In private i fully intended to fuck him on a regular basis and i
certainly wanted his tongue for more than servicing my cock.  he seemed
like an intelligent and alert dog who would pick up much valuable
information, always at my side and so forth, and i fully intended to
debrief him after our various and sundry forays into my daily rounds were
completed.



   This apparent contradiction in my use of the slave merits a note of
explanation for whose unused to the training of slaves; in particular, in
the training of born slaves, where the goal is to induce over time a deeper
and more profound commitment on the part of the slave to its slavery, a
craving, an aching need to obey, thereby surrendering control of its mind
and heart to its Owners and Masters.



   On the one hand, as the astute reader probably has already noted, i
treat slaves in training as objects, as mere pieces of property.  Of
course, they are mere pieces of property, but it is one thing to call them
property and it is another thing entirely for them to think of themselves
as mere objects existing for the pleasure of their Masters.  As they make
this transition from being persons having free will and self-responsibility
to being slaves, mere means to the pleasure of others, to be used and
disposed according to the whims of others, their self-identity must undergo
a radical change.



   Under the initial training, all choice is prohibited to
properties--speaking, pissing, shitting, moving, sleeping, eating--each and
every bodily function, anything and everything they once had the power to
do for themselves is systematically taken from them, rendering them as
completely helpless and alone in their helplessness as it is possible to
make them.  They are deprived of everything.  Each time a slave obeys a
command, immediately and without thinking, and performs the command well,
it gets a tiny award.  Perhaps an extra food ration, a little more sleep, a
kind word, an ever-so-slight reduction in the heavy physical burden that is
imposed upon it twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, fifty-two weeks
a year.  Each time a slave disappoints its trainer, it gets a severe
punishment, from deprivation to isolation, to deeper forms of humiliation,
and, of course, whippings, canings, and body modification.  The forms of
punishing and torture are simply endless.



   This training regimen serves to destroy the property's ego control and
even the self-image it had developed up to the time of its enslavement.  As
each new condition is imposed, it struggles to accommodate the new routine,
to figure out ways to justify to itself why it must obey.



   Just as a slave begins to "settle in" to its latest routine, having
accepted for the most part the definition of what it is from its Master,
the Master who needs to take the particular slave to the "next level" of
its slavery introduces confusion in the slave mind by treating it in ways
that are completely at odds with its previous treatment.



   With this dog, for example, just when it truly accepts the fact that it
is a genuine, real dog, i will unexpectedly, and under certain
circumstances, begin to treat it as though it were not a dog, perhaps as
one of my valued assistants with whom i expect to have intelligent
conversation, possibly discussing some matter of personnel or slave
training.  he will again begin to struggle to figure out what i really
think he is--he will be looking to me for guidance for he, by that time,
will have given up any will, or desire, to make these decisions himself. 
Getting him to that point is really what deeper slave training is all
about.



   "Slavemaster, Sir.  i suggest that the property be given a chance to
earn its vocal chords, by not using them, except to make appropriate dog
noises.  it seems like an intelligent dog who can understand what its Owner
wishes.  Once the chords are cut, after all, they cannot be mended."



   "Perhaps you are correct, dave.  we can always cut the chords later, if
it disobeys.  i've been thinking about what to call it.  Once infibulated,
of course, its cock is really useless; it's as though it really won't have
a cock any more.  No more fucking, no more cumming, at least not in the way
a male dog fucks and cums.  For all intents and purposes this property will
be a dam, not a sire, a bitch, not a stud.  its hole will be used regularly
as a cunt.  In fact, that's the only way it will ever get any sexual
relief--by inducing someone to fuck its cunt and maybe give its prostate a
little rub here and there.  What shall it be called?"



   "Slavemaster, Sir.  How about 'bitch'?"



   "But he's still got those big, low-hanging balls, dave.  And i want to
put a heavy ball-stretcher on them to take them even lower."



   "Slavemaster, Sir.  What about 'dog'?"



   "That might just do the trick, dave.  dog.  i like it.  and we can still
call him 'bitch' as a nickname, can't we?" i said with a wink at dave.



   "Slavemaster, Sir.  Sir, You can call it anything You damn-well please,
Sir!  You are Slavemaster, Sir!"



   "dave, use a one-pound ball-stretcher on the dog--I really enjoy seeing
a pair of large, pendulous balls, especially big ones like its got, hanging
down between its thighs.  Now dave, i want the property fitted out
additionally with some leather knee boots that will strap around the dog's
ankles, keeping them tight against the upper thighs.  After spending some
time like that, i can assure you, dog will be grateful at having the
temporary ability to move on all fours, as a special reward for pleasing
me.



   "But i want something really special done to this property's perineum.
Insert a series of cascading rings, largest toward the beginning of
scrotum, smallest toward the cunt hole.  Maybe about five or six rings
should be about right.  Will create an interesting visual effect as the dog
moves about on all fours, don't you think?  In addition, put the heaviest
solid steel neck collar, rather than the spiked type, since i'll be using
its body as furniture as well as creating a delightful pet to take along
with me.



   As i stood there thinking profound thoughts about the fun i was going to
have with my new dog, mace approached me, fell to his knees and awaited my
acknowledgment of him.  i motioned for him to rise.



   "Slavemaster, Sir.  we are ready for Your judgment on Round One, Sir."



   Turning to dave, i said, "dave, do the circumcision now, and get
prepared for the infibulation.  i want to get everything done this
morning."



   i walked over to the St.  Andrews Cross where clay, the ex-Marine with a
sassy mouth, lay stretched out in agony.  i inspected five beautiful welts
across the property's well-muscled upper back, laid out splendidly parallel
to each other, and obviously put down with both authority and real panache.



   "These welts are beauties, boys.  i have to give the the round to number
four from the top.  The skin is almost broken, but there is no blood. 
Excellent work, boys.  Start Round Two."



   Back at the training chair, my new dog was getting all strapped down to
keep him from moving his body as his foreskin was cut, high and tight.  i
noticed that dave left the catheter in the dog's dick.  i made a mental
note to ask dave if he thought the circumcision was easier with or without
the catheter.



   "Master, do You wish me to use any anesthetic?"



   "If you can cut my dick without pain-killer, my little dog here's got to
go through that same experience, don't you think?"



   dave pressed a button on the control panel and the leg supports forced
the dog's hind quarters apart.  Another button tilted the back of the
restraint chair so the vet could get his head right up close and over the
dog's dick.  A retracting stainless steel platform extended out from
between the hind quarters.  Once fully extended and put into place, the
dog's scrotum fit through a drop hole and a penis clamp fit tightly over
the shaft just where it was attached to the dog's trunk.



   "So dave, are you going to mark the foreskin first and then cut, or just
cut creatively?"



   "Slavemaster, Sir.  Since dog is Master's first and will probably become
His favorite, a little extra care might be in order, or should i bother?"



   "No, dave, you are correct.  The dog's dick will be visible whenever he
is doing tricks, since it will be folded backward and the underside of the
head will be exposed.  Use a sharp scalpel and care.  One day this dog may
get its dick back."



   i looked into the terrified eyes of my dog and patted its head.



   "Calm down, dog.  i'm going to take out the penis gag so you can breathe
a little easier while we're modifying your body.  i expect a dog to make
yowls and yips of pain, but dogs do not talk or form words.  Do you
understand?"



   The dog nodded its assent.



   "If any words are spoken then i will insert a spiked muting bar over
your tongue." i loosened the fastener behind the dog's neck to remove the
gag and the gag game out without a hitch.  The dog moved its lower jaw up
and down to stretch out the facial and jaw muscles.



   "dog, i think it would be best if you bit into this piece of leather. 
That will help with the pain." Suddenly, dog's muscled belly and chest went
taut, all the muscles standing out in considerable relief as dave cut the
dog's foreskin.  "Only a little more, now dog, and dave here will be all
done." A second bolt of pain shot through the dog's body, as dave's scalpel
cut away the other side.  "Now, dog, only one last little cut, right under
the cock head.  dave, leave a nice sensitive bit of skin under the glans.
we don't want to desensitize its dick--we just want to expose it to public
view.

   "Yes, Slavemaster.  i think we've just about got the dick cut perfect."



   "dog, there will be one last big shot of pain.  dave, stick the dick in
the salt powder to cauterize the wound." i knew that last maneuver would
cause more agony than the three previous cuts put together, so I wasn't
surprised when the dog simply fell unconscious.  i had to give it to him,
though, he didn't make any human noises, just low guttural moans, the sort
an animal makes when it suffers serious disabling pain.



   "dave, revive the dog with some smelling salts.  i want it fully awake
and sensitive to the next stage of body modification."



   "Yes, Slavemaster, Sir."



   The dog revived and i noticed some tears running down its cheek.  "dog,
i know that was some pretty tough pain, but you handled it well.  i am
highly pleased that you made no human sounds at all.  The next thing we're
going to do is puncture a couple of holes through your dick--one just below
the helmet made by your cockhead and a second hole through the upper part
of your shaft, where it attaches to your pelvis.  we're then going to
insert a couple of rings made of surgical steel through each hole and then
fasten the two rings together, causing your dick to bend back on itself,
making an erection impossible."



   "Slavemaster, if the dog's dick were say nine or ten inches, even eight
inches flaccid, three rings would bend the cock back sufficiently, but
we're going to have a problem since the dog's dick is only four to five
inches flaccid and only six inches erect.  Certainly those are perfectly
acceptable and normal ranges for an adult man, but on this dog i think
we're going to have to go with a single ring through both holes--otherwise
the dick just won't be bent tight enough."



   "Umm, i see what you mean, dave.  Well, we'll just have to go back to
the Roman original and use a single tight ring--just enough space so
cleaning is easily accomplished but tight enough so not even a
semi-erection is possible without a lot of pain.  you see, dave, one of
things i want to accomplish here is to get the dog thinking that its only
sexual organ is its cunt, not its dick.  it will certainly ejaculate
frequently enough while flaccid when its cunt gets fucked and the prostate
is stimulated, see?"



   "Yes, Slavemaster."



   dave used a hollow tube surgically sharpened at one end like a
hypodermic syringe--only this tube was quite a bit larger.  As dave pierced
the dog's cockhead the tube would cut a column of cockmeat as it passed
through the dick, leaving a nice canal through which the gauge four
infibulating ring could pass.  the dog started to moan, groan and yelp in
deep anguish as dave tapped the syringe-like tube though its dick, but the
process didn't take long at all.  i kept my hand on the dog's scalp and
offered some comfort to it as it went through this ordeal, constantly
reassuring it that it would survive and be OK at the end.  Each "breather"
from the exquisite pain gave dog the opportunity to look piercingly and
imploringly into my eyes, which were close, and i permitted the dog to
drink in the strong physical and spiritual passion i was feeling.  i knew i
was going to love this dog with a deep love that would know no bounds. 
dave pierced the cockshaft up near the dog's pelvis and another bolt of
pain shot through the dog's muscled torso, muscular legs and arms.  The
veins in its neck stood out like a fucking relief map.  my dick was so
hard, and i could feel the cocksnot dripping out the end, landing on my
right thigh.  my imagination and fantasies were in full overdrive mode and
seemed to cascade one upon the other in a riot of amorous and lusting
passions.  i was truly wise to let dave do this surgery as i was in no
condition mentally to do much but let my heart beat strongly, my blood
pounding, as i placed my left hand on dog's breast, also pounding, and i
brought my cheek close to its cheek and just held its body tightly in my
arms.



   i was thinking how there was nothing like physical pain to bond a Master
to His property.  To feel empathetically the pain this dog was suffering
just opened me up like a clamshell--there is a brutal honesty, a blazoning
truth that connects the Master to his slave when the whip meets its target,
when the slave offers itself up to its Master's sadistic pleasure.  This
cannot be faked.  It is real.  It is as real as reality gets.



   True, in dog's case, there was the small matter of my coercing it.  But
my sense was that dog could be turned, that a time would come--soon--where
it would want and crave my use and abuse, just so long as it felt it could
trust me to protect it as my property.  it would want to give up all effort
to think anything but what i wished it to think, and could not even
conceive of disobedience, as its consciousness gradually became a part of
my own consciousness and through me united with Master Lord.



   Now that dog's dick had been properly pierced, dave took a second tube,
something like a funnel, to guide the heavy gauge-4 infibulation ring first
through the upper cutting, near dog's pelvis, and then through the lower
cutting, just below the dickhead.  These maneuvers seemed to cause dog even
more pain than the original piercing and there was quite a lot of blood
everywhere.  Once the ring went through both holes, i moved the dickhead
around the ring to expose enough of the ring for dave to use his clamp to
tighten it, making a permanent seal with the special glue we use for the
purpose, forming a bond stronger than the steel itself, so that the entire
ring now appeared to be a single, solid piece of workmanship.  i imagined
that dog, when later inspecting what i had done to its cock would get the
idea that the new modification to its body would be permanent, and that it
would never use its dick again.  The mental anguish this would cause dog to
feel would, i sensed, help dog to accept its new status as nothing more
than a chattel--a piece of property its owner could use however he pleased.



   dave then used a slightly smaller cutting tube for the dog's tits,
punching a hole first through the right, and then the left aureoles, and
worked the gauge-6 tit rings--just like my own-- through the piercings.



   "the dog's got really nice large tits, doesn't it?"



   "Yes, indeed it does, Slavemaster.  And that reminds me, Sir.  You had
asked about some new removable tit rings to replace the ones Master Lord
removed so He could get your nips through those great looking tit cinches
you're wearing.  Sir, the tit cinches just look incredibly hot on you."



   "Master doesn't want me to go thicker than gauge 6.  What have you got
that would be heavier?"



   "The old rings were about an inch in diameter, Sir.  Could we use
inch-and-a-half captive bead rings with an especially large and heavy bead
to add to the weight?"



   "That sounds about right, dave.  Well, we've only got to give this dog a
nice snout ring, a branding, and a ball stretcher and we'll be done.  After
its tits have healed, i'll want the same sort of tit cinches on it that
Master's used on me, right?"



   "Sir, Yes Sir.  i'll see that that gets done."



   By this time, Round 4 was over and i could see mace on his way over to
me for my judgment and determination of the winner.  he entered my
consciousness on his knees, eyes downcast midway between us, forearms
clasped behind his back and he remained motionless, until such time as i
should choose to acknowledge him.  What a fine slave mace was!  It is true,
he was my favorite amongst all my overseers--a muscled, milk chocolate bar,
just as sweet to taste and as delightful in bed as he was stunningly
beautiful to look at, and he must have known my eyes worshipped his hunky
ass, for i always detected in his manner and facial expression the slight
hint of emotional vulnerability.



   "mace, i notice your fuckpole is as big and hard as the rest of you. 
Are you just glad to see me, or has bustin' that Marine's balls been
getting you wired?"



   "Slavemaster, Sir.  How would you have this worthless-piece-of-shit
who's only got mush for brains answer such a question?"



   "Honestly, of course, you dumb fuck."



   "Slavemaster, Sir.  This dumb fuck worships the ground You walk on,
Slavemaster Sir!  This black dick belongs to You Sir, and You like hard
dicks, Sir.  Beg your pardon, Sir, this dumb fuck's dick also gets real
hard working that Marine, Sir!"



   "Get your fucking mouth over here, mace, and suck my cock.  i'm starting
to drool." i loved the way mace would look up to my face to catch my
expressions of delight and pleasure as his cunt mouth worked my tackle. 
You might think that because my balls were prosthetic that i didn't feel
his wet mouth taking them in, first one and then the other, but that's not
at all true.  Just think about it for a minute.  All the exquisite
sensations a stud gets on his balls from a wet mouth comes from the
scrotum, not the balls themselves.  In fact, about the only time a stud
feels his balls is when they get knocked around, or tightly squeezed.  i
got all the sensation i ever did with my real balls, only i never
experienced the pain i would occasionally feel if Master Lord or one of His
guests got a little rough with them.  i placed my big hands on mace's fine
bald head and then moved my left fingertips round and down to the base of
his perfectly shaped skull--a fucking erogenous zone all by itself if you
ask me--and gently braced his head as i pumped my big dick down his
suctioning throat.  Damn, that niggah knew how to suck a big cock and i was
about to blow when i pulled out, grabbed my dick and started to beat his
cheeks and lips with full-blooded cockmeat.  he groaned and closed his
eyes--i knew he was about to blow himself without even touching his dick
and we both wanted just the tease, and to save ourselves for later.



   "bitch, crawl over here and let's check out your handiwork on this
pathetic excuse for a brain-dead ex-Marine." All my overseers were
groveling on their knees by now, their dicks angry and drooling.  Did i
know how to get these fuckheads wired up or what?  Damn i enjoyed fucking
with their dumb-asses and getting them hot and bothered and little prospect
of getting their rocks off.  Hot.



   The Marine's shoulders, back, rump, and thighs were a sight to behold.
Large angry red welts were raised all over its hunky musculature and my
dick was just about to pop its load of clear fuck juice.



   "i'm sorry you fucking meatheads, but i'm going to exercise my rights
here for first fuck.  Get his sorry ass down from that cross and bind him
to the fuck table.  Now.  If you hurry i might give you sloppy seconds." i
was in a rutting mood, that ain't no lie.  And boy i wanted to bust this
jarhead's cherry in the worst way possible.  i really hadn't intended
things to work out like this--i really was going to give the winner first
fuck, but after doing all those fun things to my little dog, and then
seeing these beautiful red welts on this hunky Marine's backside just about
sent me over the edge.  i was still getting off on the stripes Master Lord
had put on my chest, belly, thighs and backside the previous night, and i
noticed something else, and this is what really tipped me over the edge. 
The fucking Marine had blown his balls as my guys were beating his sorry
ass!  This guy was a natural for the whip!  See, that's why i just love
Marines.  Most of 'em just crave pain, agony, and misery.  Just live for
that shit--tests their manhood, it does, makes 'em feel more ballsy because
they can take the fucking punishment; in fact, they're generally proud as
shit the more pain they can take.  You just gotta love these guys!



   i'm beginning to think here that i'm just a switch.  i don't know how
else to account for the fact that i'm a natural-born sadist on the one
hand, but i also love to be used by a Master, i love being treated just
like a piece of property.  i don't think i am really that much of a
masochist, though.  i can't say that i really get off on receiving pain.  i
get off on it when i see and feel that Master is getting his rocks off on
giving me pain, but if it was just some guy whipping me, i wouldn't be
getting off on it at all.  That's why i know i am a natural born slave.  i
exist to serve others and to give pleasure to others.  But i can easily
take the Master role myself.  Life is some funny shit, ain't it?



   my boys had the Marine trussed up like a roasting turkey with his big
round bubble butt stuck up in the air and his pink fuck hole winking at my
thick rod, drooling a pool of cocksnot on the floor below.  God almighty
his body, roasted alive with twenty-five lashes from the bullwhip, starting
at his neck all the way down to his meaty muscular thighs, just begged for
my attention.



   "Marine, you want me to fuck your cunt?"



   The Marine mumbled something i couldn't hear.



   "Speak louder you dumb fuck.  You want your cunt fucked?"



   "Sir, please fuck my cunt, Sir!"



   "What?  i can't hear you.  you some kinda sissy boy?  Spit the words
out, you worthless piece of shit!  DO YOU WANT YOUR CUNT FUCKED?"



   "SIR, MASTER SIR!  PLEASE FUCK MY WORTHLESS CUNT, SIR!"

   Turning to my boys, i said, "Now how can anyone turn down an invitation
like that, eh boys?" "Slavemaster, Sir.  That worthless shithead
muthafucker wants his worthless asscunt fucked, i say we fuck it." "All in
good time, fellas.  First off, one of you fetch me some hydrogen peroxide
to rub into these welts.  Give this dipwad a little extra excitement while
i'm fucking that mush out of his head.  Yeah, that's good, doug.  Rub it
in. Yeah." The Marine obviously wasn't feeling so good as the liquid
antiseptic foamed on his back, mixing with the sweat and the blood that had
begun to dry.  i knew his skin was starting on fire about now and that's
when i took a little of my own cocksnot off my drooling dick and lubed his
cunt up a little.  This boy was tight as hell, but i just kept pushing and
finally got my big knob through his sphincter.  Damn!  There's just nothing
as nice as having your big raging dick surrounded by a tight hungry
asshole. "O yeah, Boss, fuck that tight-assed hole.  Yeah, Master, pump 'im
real good.  Master, Sir, can we lick your body while you're fuckin'im,
Sir?" "Be my guest, guys.  Make me feel real good, hear?" To my surprise,
dave, my surgical assistant, having finished branding and piercing my
little dog and tethering his snout ring to the floor with a short chain,
came up behind me and immediately started giving me one fantastic rim job,
jabbing his talented tongue right up my chute.  The other four wet mouths
were sucking my balls, licking my dick as i pulled out between thrusts into
the Marine's tight stud cunt, and worshipping my feet.  mace stood behind
me, dave on his knees between his legs, and nuzzled the back and sides of
my neck and ears while his hot fingers twisted and pulled on my big
distended tits.  i had no choice but to arch my neck backward in response
to mace's incredible kisses, while one of his hands continued with the tit
work and the other caressed my big muscular neck.  i am very sensitive on
my neck and ole mace knew every spot and exactly how to make my body writhe
in response to his expert ministrations.  my tits aren't particularly
sensitive--i mean somebody playing with them alone isn't going to make me
blow, but with my fuckpole planted deeply in the Marine's asshole, dave
working my own hole and mace's kisses and caresses, the tit twisting just
blew my sex juice deep into the Marines guts and i found my body fixed
there in a sort of spasm of pleasurable delight.  i guess i collapsed
backwards as mace caught the fall and passionately thrust his pierced
tongue deeply into my throat.  The feeling of ecstatic ejaculation was so
great my legs just gave way and my boys held me up to finish pumping my big
load up the Marine's honey cunt.  i regained my composure after a few
moments as mace continued to steady my body and the talented doug took a
breather from sucking my toes to putting his mouth to expert use licking my
dick and balls of my cum and the Marine's ass juices.  This must have been
a fucking hot scene, because i noticed out of the corner of my eye that my
little dog was writhing in agony from the infibulation ring that was
preventing his willing dick from going steel hard.  dog could see the whole
scene and that was good.  dave hadn't yet put on the blinders or the ear
plugs.  i wanted dog to see the humiliation of his father, of his father's
begging to have my big dick up his tight cunt.  i wanted dog to get a sense
of what he would shortly come to experience personally.



   End of Part 8

   TO BE CONTINUED . . .


   (C) 2004 Syke Master