Date: Mon, 19 Jan 2009 09:51:10 -0500 From: James True <firstname.lastname@example.org> Subject: The Merchandise Part 6 This story is copyright 2009 by James True. The following is a work of fiction, and it involves sexual situations between men. The author appreciates any and all feedback about the story and the events depicted, as well as the general subject matter of sexual slavery. I hope you enjoy the story. The Merchandise Chapter 6 Paul went downstairs, leaving Jim alone on the top floor, locked in his cell. Jim tried to understand his feelings, and his responses to what has happened. It was, what, just two days ago, he descended upon New York City, scared, but ready to take on the world. Now, he was a prisoner in an attic room, meekly awaiting his next command. Just today, he ate a bowl of cereal soaked in piss, and stuck his tongue up a man's asshole. And he enjoyed it. And he is enjoying sitting here thinking about it. His newly freed cock started to rise again. Without thinking, he started stroking it. And before he knew it, he shot his load. Jim knew Paul would be angry if he were to find out, but what could he do to hide the evidence of drying cum on the floor? Before he could even think of doing something, he heard Paul coming upstairs. "I'm disappointed in you, boy," Paul said. "You promised you would not cum without my permission, yet I see by the nanny-cam I have set up that you did just that. You know you have to be punished, boy." "I'm sorry, Pau-- Sir. I couldn't help it. It won't happen again." "You still have to be punished, boy." Paul opened the cell door and took Jim's arm and marched him over to the cross. This time, he strapped Jim facing the cross, his back out. He then went to the wall and took one of the cat-o-nine tails hanging there. "I don't enjoy doing this, boy. But you must learn. Your punishment will be five lashes." Paul reached back and brought the cat-o-nine tails down onto Jim's back with a loud crack. Jim cried out in pain. "That's one. Only four more." "No! Please don't!" Jim yelled. "Not the response I want to hear boy. You should thank me for caring enough to correct your behavior." With that, Paul brought down the whip again onto Jim's back. He cried out in pain. "Thank me, boy, for correcting your behavior." "Thank you, sir, for caring enough to correct my behavior." "Three more." Paul brought down another strike at Jim's back. Jim was in tears now. "Please. I've learned my lesson, sir." Another whack. "No!!" "Thank me, boy!" "Thank you sir," was Jim's whispered reply. "One more, boy. You can take it. I know you are strong. I know you are sorry for disobeying me. One more lash." And Paul then administered it. Jim was whimpering now. "There, there, boy. You did well. No more. And, I trust, no more disobeying." "Yes sir. I will not disobey you again. I will not cum again without your permission. Thank you for correcting my behavior with the lashes, sir." "Very well, boy." Paul said as he reached to remove Jim from the cross. Jim collapsed to the floor. "There are no permanent marks. Just redness where the lashes hit. You will be fine in no time. And I'm sure you will remember this for a long time and think twice before disobeying again." "Yes sir." "Good. Now I'm going to put you back into your cage for a while." Paul went to a cabinet and took out two leather bondage mitts. He placed one onto each of Jim's hands, then locked them so they could not be removed. He then brought Jim's hands behind his back and attached the mitts to each other. He then reattached the chastity device to Jim's cock and balls, and then led Jim back to the cage and locked him in. "Now, just rest, and think upon your behavior and how to improve it. I shall return later." Paul went back downstairs, leaving Jim alone, sitting on the floor of the locked cage, hands bound behind his back, tears streaming down his face. When Paul returned to his living room, he watched Jim on the laptop via the nanny-cam. He hated having to punish him. Punishment was the least favorite part of the training process. But he knew it had to be done. He knew that the slaves he trained had to be able to take punishment. Paul left Jim alone upstairs, locked in his cell for about an hour. Then, he took up a sandwich and a bowl of water for Jim's lunch, which Jim had to figure out how to eat and drink with his hands bound behind his back. He managed by lying on his stomach to eat the sandwich. The bowl of water he had to lap up like a dog. Jim hadn't peed since morning, so Paul asked him if he has to go, and Jim nodded yes. Without speaking, Paul reached into the cell and removed the mitts from Jim's hands, and then passed him a jar. Jim looked at it, and tears formed in his eyes as he realized what he must do. At first, Jim thought he could hold his pee and not give Paul the satisfaction of giving in. But the pressure of his bladder was too great to ignore. He reluctantly took the jar and peed in it. Then, without prompting by Paul, Jim raised the jar to his lips and started to drink it. Slowly at first, and then, as he got used to the taste, Jim gulped down the piss as quickly as possible, to get the ordeal over with. Jim placed the empty jar on the floor of the cell. Paul, satisfied, went back downstairs without saying a word. Jim sat down and cried, glad his hands were now free, but unable to get to the sink to wash the tears from his face. His back still stung from the lashings, but fortunately, that pain was easing. Jim was scared. He knew he was helpless. Naked, held prisoner, caged, and helpless. Forced to do things he didn't want to do. And, he had to admit, finding much of it enjoyable, but some of it not so much. What was going to happen to him? Was Paul going to keep him, never let him out? Being alone with his thoughts caused those thoughts to take a dark turn, and he started crying again. He decided that until he found a chance to escape, he would do what Paul wanted him to do, in order to avoid punishment like this morning's. Paul left Jim alone for the entire afternoon. He wanted him to think about what was happening, about his future as a slave, and of the consequences of disobedience. Jim did think about these things, and realized Paul had all the power, and he had none. Paul was indeed his master. And was that necessarily a bad thing? Jim didn't know. Paul finally went up the stairs to the fourth floor at around 5:30. Jim looked up as Paul came upstairs. "I see you've been properly contrite this afternoon," Paul said. "Yes, sir. I've been thinking about my position here, and have come to realize I must obey you in everything. You are my master.," Jim replied. "Good, boy. I'm glad to hear you say that. I don't like having to punish you. I don't enjoy it. I would rather reward you for good behavior. Understand, boy?" "Yes, sir." "Good. I am going to take off that chastity device for now. But remember I can put it back on you if you show any signs of gratifying yourself. Now, it occurs to me that you have had very little exercise since you came here. That's not good. I'm going to let you use the treadmill for a while." Paul unlocked Jim's cage and led him to the treadmill. Jim stepped up onto the machine, and reached out to the handlebars. Before he knew what was happening, though, Paul had taken out some rope and had tied Jim's right wrist to the right bar. Jim started to object, but Paul told him to be quiet, while he went to the other side and tied Jim's left wrist to the left bar. Jim was now tied to the treadmill. "What's going on?" Jim shouted. "Just want to make sure you do your exercises. But I see you have not learned not to speak unless asked a question." Paul went over to the cabinet and took out a ball gag, and stuffed it into Jim's mouth, hooking it at the back of Jim's head. "Now, I will turn on the treadmill, and you will exercise for the next 45 minutes." With that, Paul turned on the machine, and the rolling mat started to move. Jim started walking to keep pace. With the gag in place, and tied to the treadmill, Jim had no choice, no way to control the speed of the treadmill. To avoid injury, he had to keep up with the rolling mat. Paul was aware of the dangers of someone using the treadmill while tied to it, but he kept a close watch on Jim. Any sign of trouble, Paul would pull the emergency key that would automatically shut down the treadmill. After all, he can't let anything happen to damage the goods. Currently, the treadmill was moving at a comfortable 3 miles an hour...walking speed, nothing strenuous. Paul stood back to watch the naked Jim walk. Watch the gluts as they alternately contracted and expand for walking. Then, slowly, Paul moved up the speed a bit. Jim was now walking faster, not yet a jog. Jim had no idea how fast he would have to walk. He could see the treadmill was up to 5 miles per hour. Certainly a doable speed, but could he keep it up for 45 minutes? Gagged, and tied to the machine, Jim realized he had absolutely no choice in the matter. He had to keep moving at the speed of the treadmill, and he could not fall or even get weak-kneed. Paul soon upped the speed some more. Jim was doing a good jog now. Paul started to slow the speed back down to a walk. Jim could manage this quite easily without exertion. It was almost a relief not to have to run. Jim was not sure how long the treadmill had been on when Paul stopped it. Paul got a blindfold from the cabinet and placed it over Jim's eyes. "You don't need to see where you are going or what speed you are moving," he said. Paul started up the treadmill again. Now blind, Jim had no idea what speed he was doing. The rolling mat was still slow enough to be a quick walk, but Paul soon sped it up. Jim was doing a jog now. Paul loved watching Jim jog, loved watching Jim's penis and balls flopping up and down as he jogged. He upped the speed again, and Jim had to run to keep up. Jim started to breathe harder, but was glad the ball gag did allow him to get some air through the mouth as well as the nose. Jim lost all track of time. He only knew he was getting tired. He tried to protest to Paul that he could not do much more, but only mumbles came out. Being blindfolded, keeping his balance was proving to be harder than he expected. He was scared of what might happen should he lose his balance. He could really injure himself. He was relying solely on Paul's ability to stop the machine quickly if necessary. But Jim had no choice but to keep running. Soon, Paul started slowing the treadmill, and Jim was again moving at only a quick walk. He could catch his breath. It was still weird doing this while blindfolded, but he managed to keep his balance with some difficulty. Jim had lost all sense of time. It felt as if he was on the treadmill for hours, when Paul finally stopped the machine. Jim was exhausted and breathing fast, but was forced to remain standing as his wrists were still tied to the handlebars. "I bet it felt good getting some exercise after all that inactivity," Paul said, removing Jim's blindfold and gag. Jim just blinked and looked at him as if he were crazy, but decided against saying anything. Paul untied Jim's wrists, and Jim slumped down to sit. "You did good, boy," Paul said. "Now wash up, and I'll get you some dinner." Jim went over to the sink and started to wash up as best he could with a small sink. He really wanted a shower, but there was no shower on this floor. After washing himself, and cleaning the area around the sink, Jim went back to his cage to sit. His legs were a bit sore, as he was not used to so much walking and running. After a while (Jim realized he really had no idea what time it was), Paul came back upstairs with a plate of cold spaghetti and meatballs and a bowl of water. Once again, Jim had to figure out how to eat that from a plate on the floor, without utensils and without using his hands. Fortunately, this time his hands were not bound behind his back, so he was able to eat the food on his hands and knees. Paul stood outside the cage while Jim ate, but poked his hand into the cage and started to caress his upturned ass. Paul's touch startled Jim, and he jumped a little. Paul just laughed took his hand away. Jim wondered if Paul plans to fuck him. He realized that is likely to happen sooner or later. And there is nothing he can do to prevent it. He just hoped Paul would be gentle. After Jim finished eating, Paul approached and told him to open his mouth, and he will give him something to wash the food down with. Jim, aware of what was coming, reluctantly opened his mouth. Paul took out his cock, and aimed it at the open mouth, and started a stream of piss, which went right into the waiting mouth. Jim swallowed as fast as he could, but much of the piss ran out and dripped onto his body and spilled onto the floor. When Paul finished, he told Jim he did a good job, but did not offer to let him out to either clean up himself or the floor. Instead, Paul just locked him into the cage after taking the plate and water bowl. "Another thing you are going to have to learn is to accept all that your master gives to you without wasting it. That includes any bodily fluids he gives you. To help you learn this, you are going to have to spend the night sleeping in the piss you spilled. Good night, boy. I will see you in the morning." And with that, Paul went back downstairs, turning off the light and leaving Jim in the darkness once again. As the previous night, Jim stretched out on the floor, with his legs jutting out between the bars. But this time, there were no pillows. Paul must have taken them. Naked and with no covers, covered with drying piss, and with only his own arm as a pillow, he fell into a fitful sleep. To be continued. Comments on this story are greatly appreciated. I thank all who have sent me comments on past chapters, and I hope you all enjoy this one. I'm also interested in communicating with those who wish to share with me their experiences as a slave.