Chapter 3: Guy Enjoys His Slave

Guy slept in the next morning as well, having used Fuschia's face as a urinal a couple of times during the night. He slept very soundly, snuggled and warm in his soft bed under several layers of blankets, while Fuschia lay flat on her back, strapped down, motionless, shackled by her wrists and ankles in his slave machine, with her head locked in his chair-box and her hair soaked through and through with his urine.

Guy arose a little after 10:00 and stepped up to Fuschia. "Are you thirsty, Fuschia."

"Yes, Master. Please, may I have some water?"

"Open your mouth, slave?" he told her.

Fuschia sighed and obeyed, opening her mouth for him. He grabbed his cock and sprayed a stream of urine directly into her mouth, splashing a little on her face at first. Fuschia swallowed his flow as best as she could until her mouth was full and couldn't swallow fast enough, then the overflow simply ran down the sides of her face, into her hair, and into the plastic tub under the "chair."

He squirted a few last drops onto her face, then walked around to the other end of the insidious device, its sole purpose being the complete and utter humiliation of female slaves.

Facing her, he unlatched the gallows holding her ankles rigidly in place and then shackled her ankles to connection points at the sides of the machine, her legs spread open.

"What are you doing to me now, Master?" Fuschia sobbed.

"I'm feeling horny. I'm going to suck you and then fuck you."

"Oh, yes, Master! Please do!"

Guy knelt down at the foot of the machine between her spread knees. Spreading her labia with his fingertips, he bent forward and gently licked up the length of her vulva from her perineum to her clitoris. Fuschia quivered gently at that first lick. He licked back down again, evoking another gentle quiver from her. Licking back up for the third time, lapping the fresh wetness seeping from her vagina, he stopped at her clitoris. Drawing the little nub between his lips with his breath, he sucked it deep into his mouth.

He began steadily drawing it in and out, in and out, over and over again, until Fuschia finally let out a long slow moan.

Guy continued sucking on her clit like it was a lolly, drawing it deep into his mouth and back out again.

Fuschia began panting and quaking while locked into the slave machine.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she screamed as Guy sucked relentlessly on her clit.

Minutes passed as Guy continued his steady rhythm of sucking on her clit.

Fuschia bucked wildly against her bonds and cried out, "Stop! (gasp) I can't! (gasp) Take it! (gasp) Any more!"

Guy ignored her and continued sucking, swallowing mouthfuls of her natural lubricant.

Fuschia began moaning incoherently. Guy continued to suck on her clit. Her vagina was oozing sweet feminine juice faster than he could swallow, and it dribbled down his chin into her ass crack.

As her breath became erratic, Guy could feel her heart pounding in her inner thighs pressed against his ears. Still, he continued to suck.

Her rabid thrashing eventually calmed down to occasional twitches with every flick of his tongue against her outstretched clit deep in his mouth.

At last he stopped and crawled up the length of the machine to face her. She was out cold, her breathing slow and shallow. He closed the lid of the toilet seat and lay flat upon her.

After that marathon pussy suck, his cock was harder than it had been for a long time. Resting his body upon hers, he slid his hungry manhood into her thoroughly soaked entrance and began pumping.

Though he was facing her, and could hear her panting, his view was of the top of the toilet lid closed upon her face. Well-primed as he was, he exploded into her in a sudden wave of ecstasy, filling her pussy with his hot seed.

All too soon, he was expended. He dismounted her and replaced her legs in their original outstretched position and replaced the gallows over her ankles.

Listening at the lid, she still breathed a slow shallow pant, so he left her as is and went downstairs to have breakfast.

A cup of tea, and some bacon and eggs filled his belly, then he caught an episode of Max Headroom on the Sci Fi Channel. Edison Carter was chasing down a story about BlipVerts, malicious television advertisements that hypnotized people to buy the advertised products, often with harmful side-effects to the unwilling consumers. Edison and Theora saved the day, with some help from Max, their AI sidekick, of course.

Returning upstairs, he went over to Fuschia, still shackled and belted inside his slave machine. Opening the lid to take a pee, he saw that she had revived. She scrunched her eyes and mouth closed as he emptied his bladder upon her face.

He then unlocked the chair-box and unshackled her from the machine.

"What now, Master?" she asked in a hoarse sort of wheeze.

"You've been a lusty wench all your life, eh, Fuschia?"

"Yes, Master. I told you I'm always randy. Having another go with me now? But I'm all drenched!"

"Not just now. Before I fuck you again, you need your pussy muscles tightened up a bit."

"How, sir?"

He reached down and tugged at her elbow for her to stand. "Follow me."

He led her across the short hallway into a second bedroom full of obviously home-made furniture similar in construction as his slave machine.

"Come stand here," he said, pointing to a spot in the middle of the room.

Retrieving a step-stool, he stepped up next to her and attached a short chain to each of her wrist shackles. He then attached the other ends of the chains to two large eye-bolts mounted into the ceiling several feet apart.

Next he attached two more chains to her ankle shackles, and then attached the other ends of the chains to two more recessed rings embedded flush with the floor after bending up flaps in the carpeting to reveal them.

The result was that Fuschia was hanging, spread-eagle, from the ceiling in the middle of the room.

"How is this going to make my muscles stronger, er, down below, Master?"

"Ha! You'll see, my sweet Fuschia! You'll see!"

Guy returned to his master bedroom for a moment, and slid a small box out from under his bed, and returned to the dungeon.

Kneeling before Fuschia, he opened the box and produced several odd implements.

First, he hung a small plastic box against her belly hanging by a loose leather strap around the back of her neck. Two long wires dangled loosely from the box, one of which ended at a pair of metal alligator clips.

Next, he took two small metal pins from a small plastic box and jabbed them into each of her pussy lips. "Ow!" she screamed as a trickle of blood oozed from each of the pinpricks.

"It'll stop hurting in a minute," he said.

Next, he clipped each of the alligator clips to the ends of the pins sticking from her pussy lips.

Next, he removed a small electric gizmo and plugged it into a power point on the adjacent wall.

Next, he plugged the wire from the box on her chest into a jack in the transformer.

Next, he removed plastic rod, that looked somewhat like a knitting needle, but had one rounded end and an eyebolt and a wire exiting from the other end. He slid the plastic rod, rounded end first, into her vagina. "Grasp this with your pussy muscles," he said.

Next, he plugged the cord dangling from her pussy into that plastic box hanging against her chest.

Lastly, he attached a small bowl by three leather straps to the eye-bolt in the needle inserted in her pussy.

Still in the box were a number of assorted small barbells of various incremental sizes: 1 pound, 2 pounds, 4 pounds, 8 pounds, and 16 pounds. By combining them differently, he could create a weight in 1-pound increments from 1 pound up to 31 pounds. He removed a pink one labeled "1 pound" and set it in the bowl.

Fuschia gasped and tensed up.

"Now, Fuschia. Better not let go of the rod."

"This isn't so hard," she said. "I can grip this, easy."

"What about after several hours?"

Fuschia gasped. "Several hours, Master? No! You can't leave me like this for several hours! Please, Master!"

"Yes I can. Now let me explain. If you drop the rod, the wire will pull out of the box on your belly. That'll close a switch, sending the current from the innards of a cattle prod over there through your pussy lips."

"Please master!" she gasped. "Don't do this to me! Please!"

"Today, you'll have to hang on to only one pound. Each time we do this exercise, I'll increase the weight by a pound until your pussy muscles are tight again."

At that, he left the room and went back downstairs.

Flipping through the channels revealed a Thunderbirds episode on Nickelodeon. Lady Penelope was trapped in a runaway monorail, and International Rescue had to stop the train before it reached a bridge that had been washed out. But, of course, the heroes saved the day.

About halfway through the program, Guy suddenly heard Fuschia screaming. He ran upstairs to see the bowl containing the weight on the floor between her legs with the little plug pulled from the jack on the box hanging at her belly. Fuschia was screeching as her body twitched and jerked. Guy unplugged the power cord from the wall, whereupon Fuschia stopped screeching and merely struggled to pant rapidly.

"That will not do, Fuschia," said Guy. "You need to hold the weight for longer than a half-hour."

"But I can't, Master!" she cried.

"You can. And you will eventually be able to hold 16 pounds with your pussy muscles."

Guy reached down and slid the plastic rod back up into her pussy and plugged the wire back into the box on her belly.

"Hold on tight!" he said as he plugged the cord back into the wall. "Now, I'm going to take a walk down the street to my local and grab a bite. You don't want to drop it while I'm out."

"No! Master!" she gasped. "Please!"

Guy turned and left. It was a short walk to Le Buse Et Crachat where he had a burger and chips and a pint of Guinness.

After playing a few games of foosball with his pals, he returned home and found Fuschia wincing, but still grasping firmly onto that plastic rod with her pussy muscles.

"Ah!" he said. "Your pussy muscles are getting stronger already."

"Master!" she panted. "Please! I can't hold on another moment..."

Guy unplugged his apparatus from the wall, and she immediately dropped the bowl to the floor with a CLANK!

He unfastened her from the ceiling and the floor and, after letting her use the loo, led her back into his room.

While she stood, he pulled his bedding down to the foot of the bed and motioned for her to climb in.

She lay on the bed in the anticipated position with her arms and legs spread out in spread-eagle fashion.

"Not quite," he said.

"No?" she asked.

"Spin around," he said, "With your head at the foot of the bed and your legs stretched out against the headboard."

She tumbled around as instructed, her bum was pressed against the headboard and he shackled her ankles to the sides of the headboard at the top so that her legs formed a "V" up against the headboard. He put a posture collar on her neck, which was sort of like a medical neck brace, to keep her from being able to roll her head from side to side. And he put a metal ring in her mouth with a strap that he buckled around the back of her head--after all, he didn't want her to bite him in her sleep in the middle of the night.

After shackling her wrists to the ropes that held her ankles the previous night, he pulled the bedding up over her so that only her legs and crotch were visible against the headboard.

Leaving her while he took a shower, he returned a short while later and set a pillow upon her muff and climbed into bed on top of her.

Lying prone upon her he let his thighs straddle her skull while he slid his erect member into her mouth. Closing the light, he rested his head upon the pillow on her crotch and closed his eyes.

He squeezed his crotch muscles a few times, feeling his cock swell inside her throat. He relieved himself into her mouth, then drifted off to sleep.

Guy woke in the middle of the night because Fuschia was bucking and squirming under him. At that, he realized that he had a hard-on and was deep down her esophagus. She probably couldn't breathe. Her throat muscles were massaging his cock so well that he erupted deep down into her, causing her bucking to become even more strenuous. But after his release, his cock shrunk again, she ceased her exertions, and he fell back to sleep.

That happened a couple more times during the night, and 8:00 came too early. He climbed off her body, tumbled out of bed, grabbed a towel, and headed for the shower.

With the shower over, he returned to the bedroom and untied her.

"Master," she whimpered as he tugged on her collar and had her put on an adult diaper and then led her into a cage suitable for a large dog in the corner of his bedroom. Fuschia had to curl her arms and legs up snugly to fit inside the small cage.

Guy then handed a college composition book and several pens. "I have to go to work today," he said. "I want you to do lines. You are to write, 'I am a worthless slave' on every line. The composition book has 100 sheets with 25 lines on each side. That's 5000 lines. I expect you to have finished when I return home from work tonight."

Guy then closed the cage door and put a heavy brass padlock on the clasp.

"But Master," Fuschia pleaded. "I can't write 5000 lines in a day! That's impossible!"

Guy reached for his car keys and pressed the button on that "special" fob. Fuschia screamed and bounced wildly around the small cage.

"You'd better make it possible, bitch!"

Then, almost as an afterthought, Guy took a large water bottle off the side the cage--the kind with a metal tube hanging down so that an animal could suck water out of it--and pissed into it, then replaced it onto the cage near Fuschia's head.

Fuschia began writing while Guy dressed for work. By 8:30, he was out the door. A short drive on I-90 brought him to the offices of Megatelco where he chatted up his colleagues over a cup of coffee before logging on and picking up where he left off work on a COBOL CICS program to issue a DB2 query and send a reply back to the client application via MQ.

His workday was uneventful, and he arrived home at 5:30 that evening. When he want upstairs, Fuschia was still scrambling to write her lines.

"You're not done yet?" he said with a huff.

"Please master! Just one more page and I'll be done!"

Guy pressed the pain button and held it down for ten long seconds while Fuschia writhed and flailed inside the tiny cage.

Guy went downstairs to nuke some dinner for himself and watch TV for a while. He went upstairs some time later and gave Fuschia a bowl of cat food for dinner. He also refilled her water bottle with some fresh urine. He had her change her diaper and then went to bed, leaving her in the cage.