Sausages for the Slave

Dan's new life in Paris properly began the day after Mary, his wife and former owner, had departed on her three year posting to Dubai. It took that reality; her on a plane heading for Dubai, him chained in a basement in some suburb of Paris, to force Dan to accept the facts. Mary had sold him on. Like a second hand car is sold on.

There was no going back. Money had changed hands. He now had a new owner. A total stranger, Sophia by name, or so she says. She was an American of French descent. That that was a good thing, Dan realised, it meant she spoke English. In his new 'slave for sale on the open market' state, there was no guarantee that any future owner would speak his language.

On his first night as her slave, Sophia had said she would make him suffer a whole week of punishments for attempting to escape from his former owner, and wife, Mary. That first night, he was whipped with a riding crop. Dan carried five livid red stripes on his ass for the next two days. The next day's ball beating had left him very tender in that area. On the third night she had stung him all over with nettles, the painful effects of which had lasted till dawn.

As a result, on this his fourth morning under Sophia's roof, Dan was most anxious to please his new owner ahead of his anticipated fourth punishment that evening. At the same time he had quietly resolved in the course of his sleepless, nettle stung night that he would escape the first moment he could. This despite having recited after each of the three previous punishment sessions that he would never, ever, attempt to escape again. Even honest Dan had concluded that honesty is not always the best policy. He would walk out Sophia's front door naked and in chains, if that is what it took, the first chance he got.

Sophia did not wait till evening to begin Dan's fourth punishment. What she had planned was more a humiliation than a punishment. After Dan had washed and was breastfed for breakfast, Sophia had him bend over, hands on the ground, feet spread, no diaper.

He heard her go across the room to the toy box, as he had named it, and fumble around in it. When she returned she moved in behind him, grasped his balls and pulled them back between his legs. Dan felt her place something like a length of wood against his thighs and over his stretched scrotum so that the wood or whatever balanced on top. He felt her place a second piece of wood against his thighs and beneath his scrotum. Next his balls were squeezed as Sophia brought the two pieces of wood together somehow, either some screw tightening mechanism of just by tying them tight to each other.

Dan gasped and whimpered involuntarily as the tightening grip of the two pieces of wood set up a dull painful ache in his balls. Sophia eased back a little on the tightness and his breathing eased. It's a humbler, thought Dan, recognising the scenario that was playing out. His knowledge of humblers extended only to what he had seen online back in the day when he could access the internet. Back when all this sort of stuff seemed very exotic and exciting. This was the reality. It was unexciting, and painful.

'Let's see you stand up, Slave.'

Dan lifted his hands off the floor and got to where his body was horizontal without any problem. The pull on his balls began to increase as he raised his torso further. The ache grew steadily and became a severe pain before he was anywhere near upright. Dan gasped at the pain and abandoned trying to stand up any further.

'OK. That seems about right, said Sophia, noting her slave's discomfort. 'You can bend forward till you are comfortable,' she offered gracefully. Dan quickly bent over till he was horizontal again, his face facing the floor below him. Sophia clipped his wrist cuffs under his chin.

'Walk around.'

Dan walked carefully around the basement room, his day chain clanking and dragging behind him, bent over like a ninety year old man. Each step caused a little twinge in his balls, so he moved slowly and carefully. Sophia assessed his painful progress and was satisfied.

'That looks about right. Now, tell me why you are going to be humbled for the day, Slave.'

'Because I tried to run away, Mistress.'

'That's right. Keep walking and say the magic words over until I tell you to stop, Slave.'

Dan, bent over and suitably humbled, continued stepping gingerly around the room. He repeated the mantra of the last three days.

'I'm sorry I tried to run away. I will never run away again, Mistress.'

Sophia scrolled through her phone while she had Dan continue his penitential shambling around the room for about twenty repetitions of his lines. Dan felt mocked, pathetic and powerless. And there was nothing he could do about it, because he was powerless, and pathetic. Eventually Sophia directed him over to the desk and unclipped his hands.

'Sit down, Slave and get to work. You have a full programme of lesson plans to get through today. I'll check in on you later and let you use the bathroom.'

Dan sat down gently on the edge of the chair. It was a relief to know that he could sit carefully without adding any more discomfort than the persistent dull ache caused by the squeezing of the humbler on his balls. Once Sophia left the basement, Dan examined the humbler as best he could. It was nothing fancy, just two narrow lengths of wood with rounded edges. There was a curved slot in the centre of each length of wood to keep his scrotum in position behind his squeezed testicles. At each end, a threaded bolt held the two pieces of wood together. There was a lock nut on top that locked the humbler at whatever tightness Sophia decided. Nothing fancy, no bespoke varnished black curved mahogany elegance. Just two pieces of wood. Sophia doesn't do fancy when it comes to BDSM equipment, decided Dan, Highly effective at the same time, was the considered view of Dan the scientist, as he tried to settle down to writing up his lesson plans.]

Towards lunchtime, Sophia arrived into the basement with what Dan would come to know as his classroom clothes. Sophia advised Dan that she had created the outfit for him to wear when he was on display to others. That would be mostly when he was giving online tutorials, which he would be starting shortly, she said. It was a two piece outfit, consisting of a roll neck pullover and a pair of stripper trousers. The turtle neck sweater was normal, with the advantage that it covered his collar and wrist cuffs, just like the one he had worn back when he was Mary's slave but still teaching.

His trousers were different. Either Sophia had ordered a pair of stripper trousers online, or altered a pair of normal trousers by inserting Velcro seams starting at the back of the waistband and running down the lengths of the back of the trouser legs. Think of your typical male stripper reveal moment, The Full Monty or Magic Mike, when they rip their trousers off. Same principle only in reverse -- and not at all exciting.

After directing Dan, bent over by the humbler, to the shower/toilet corner and callously watching him pee, Sophia had him put the outfit on. The roll neck sweater was no problem. It covered his collar and cuffs nicely. She had him stand as upright as he could, with his hands resting on the desk and wrapped the trousers around his waist, pressing the Velcro together at the back. Then she pressed the trouser legs closed around each of Dan's legs starting at the ankle and moving up. The fit around the crotch was loose enough to accommodate the humbler inside the trousers. Sophia shackled Dan's ankle cuffs together with the short chain and clipped his wrist cuffs to his collar.

'Let's see you walk around with the clothes on.'

Dan obediently shuffled across the basement bent almost horizontal to ease the painful drag of the humbler on his balls.

'You'll do, Slave. I'm going to display you to the neighbours over lunch. I have invited them in to view my new slave. They will be having wine and canapes. Your job will be to circulate, bent over as you are, holding a plate of canapes in each hand.'

The shock of the announcement stopped Dan in his tracks. Forgetting his humbler, he attempted to stand upright and look suitably indignant. A sharp pain in his balls and an aching pull in his groin stopped him dead and he was forced to bend forward again and take a few breaths. It should have reminded him that as a slave it didn't matter what he thought. But Dan was well past thinking straight, such was his disbelief at what Sophia was proposing. Ignoring the absolute impropriety of it, the slave dared to question his owner.

'But Mistress, what will they think? Keeping a slave is considered very uncool these days,' he interjected bravely, desperate to put Sophia off this mad idea. Dan still harboured some vague notion of escaping the slavery yoke while in Paris, yet still working for Sophia for no wage. While earning his freedom he could present himself in the neighbourhood as a science tutor just lodging in Sophia's. If Sophia told the neighbours he was her slave it would blow his chances of achieving any sort of normality. Not good.

'I didn't ask for your opinion, Slave. And neither am I amused by your impertinence. Clearly, a little more training is needed in that regard. I'll come back to that later.'

Dan, bent over and humbled, knew well that he'd overstepped the mark, but he had been desperate to avoid being outed as a slave. He accepted that he would pay a price for it. He had tried, was all he could console himself with. Sophia decided it was time Dan understood his position in relation to the neighbours in the little suburb of Viroflay.

'I'll lay it out for you, Slave. The neighbours are already aware that I keep slaves from time to time. You are not the first. I find it useful that the neighbours know and recognise my slaves. Come spring, I might let you out in the back garden, or beyond. Even walk you down the main street. The neighbours need to know who you are, and what you are. If anyone doubts the fact that I have voluntary slaves, I show them the contract the slave has signed. Then they realise that the slave wanted to be a slave in the first place, and entered into slavery voluntarily. Which is a completely different thing from enforced slavery.'

'Besides, I tell them it's a form of psychotherapy. There is a little brass plate on the pillar at the front gate. Says I'm a psychotherapist and sexual therapy practitioner. As far as they are concerned, I'm facilitating you by letting you work out your fantasies. Instead of charging you a fee, I let you pay me by working for me. Which is sort of true. Isn't it, Slave?'

'Yes, Mistress,' conceded a defeated Dan. He thought about enquiring about what would happen if he decided he didn't want to be a slave any more. But, as if reading Dan's thoughts, Sophia pointed out that the contract states that the slave can only be released from slavery with the agreement of both parties, the owner and the slave.

'Slavery is what you signed up for, Slave. And slavery is what you've got. There would be no point in doing it if you could just opt out of it if you are having a bad day. To experience true slavery, the slave has to learn to do what they are told to do, even if they don't feel like doing it. That's what you will be doing this afternoon when you are passing around the canapes. So welcome to slavery, Slave. You might have gotten away with the "I'm your husband and you're my wife and we should be reasonable about this" trick with Mary. Not anymore. What you will experience from now on is true slavery.'

With that, Sophia bade Dan to open his mouth, which he did, obedient slave that he decided he'd better be. She stuffed the ball gag in and tied it tightly behind his head, forcing Dan into silence. Next she attached a light blue dog leash to Dan's collar. She led him out of the basement room and upstairs. Progress was slow as Dan gasped at the sharp jab of pain in his balls each time he lifted his foot up a step. She let his pause at the top, bent fully over to ease the pain.

'Good boy, the worst is over. Going down won't be so bad,' said Sophia as she looped Dan's leash around the banister post in the hall, near the front door. She left him there, bent over, facing the front door, awaiting with dread the first ring of the doorbell. It was the same spot she had parked him three weeks ago while he came to terms with the fact that his bid to escape Mary's clutches had failed miserably.

While he waited, resigned to being outed to all her neighbours, Dan imagined what it might be like in springtime. Sophia leading him down the road by the light blue lead. Dan bent double by the humbler. Walking him like you would walk a pet dog. They would walk up the street to the boulangerie, Sophia giving a 'bonjour' left and right as she meets fellow shoppers. Dan keeping his head down, because he had to, bent over by the humbler. Getting the occasional tousle of his hair, or a playful pat on his ass, from a passer-by. Then Sophia would tie off the lead to an iron ring set into the timber of the pastry shop doorframe and enter the shop. Dan would wait outside, bent over, tied to the ring by the lead, while Sophia browsed. She might even linger for twenty minutes over a coffee and croissant with a pal.

He could imagine some old lady pottering along with her poodle in tow, stopping to feed Dan a few doggy treats from the palm of her hand. Patting his head, muttering 'quel bel esclave' or some such. Dan obliged to snuffle up the dog nibbles and respond with a 'merci, Madame.' While across the cobbled street he could make out the metal loop outside the charcuterie where he would likely next be tied to as Sophia made her rounds of the shops. Dan had a roaring hard on by now. It was forced to point downwards towards the hall floor due to the pull of the humbler on his scrotum. He was doubly glad of the trousers because, as well as giving him some dignity, they would prevent him dripping precum on the parquet. Just then the doorbell rang. The first of the neighbours had arrived.

For the rest of the afternoon, Dan bravely suffered the utter humiliation of being introduced to Sophia's neighbours as her slave. Being forced to obsequiously circulate among these neighbours while bent double and holding a platter of canapes above his bent-over head, one in each hand, reminded him constantly of his condition. He was just a slave. All the while he suffered a dull ache from his squeezed testicles and the occasional sharp jab of pain when he stretched to reach his platter towards a visitor.

Dan knew he looked stupid, and he felt stupid. The language barrier added to it. He didn't know what anybody was saying, or whether they were talking about him. Every so often a guffaw of laughter would burst out from a group, and Dan assumed that they were laughing at him. Yet he had to continue circulating, bent over, with his platters of canapes held high, serving those who were laughing at and making jokes about him to his face.

Lifting his mouth off her nipple after his morning feed the next day, Dan wondered nervously what his day five punishment might be. He didn't have to wait till evening to find out. Immediately she had put her breast back in her nursing bra, Sophia led him to the whipping post, towing him by his penis. As she tied him facing the whipping post, and after she gagged him, Sophia told him the good news. This to be his last punishment for trying to run away.

The prospect of a daily punishment had hung over Dan like a dark cloud since Sophia had first announced it. It left him more than a little traumatised at the end of each day. No matter what she might be about to inflict on him now, Dan was still happy that the end of his 'running away' punishments was in sight.

'I am going to have you barcoded, Slave. Tattooed with the barcode of your slave registration number. It will be a 'lasting punishment' rather than a painful punishment. Every time you see that barcode on your arm it will remind you that you failed in your duty as a slave. Remind you that you tried to run away.'

Dan wasn't too fussed. Mainly because he didn't expect this 'punishment' to be particularly painful. People get tattooed all the time, he told himself. Apparently it's not pleasant, but not so bad either. While tattoos can last forever, Dan knew he could get it lasered off if he ever managed to escape from Sophia's clutches.

He waited about half an hour, tied to the post, naked and gagged, until Sophia led her tattoo artist friend into the basement. One hour later Dan had matching barcodes on the back of his neck, on his right shoulder, front and back, his left forearm, just above where he would wear a wrist watch, and on the back of his right calf.

Afterwards, as Sophia untied Dan from the post and ungagged him, she told him that if he ever tried to escape from her, she would have the barcode tattooed across his forehead and across each cheek. Dan didn't doubt it but said nothing while Sophia led him, holding him by the balls this time, to the computer desk. She told him to sit and switch on the laptop. She took out her phone and scanned the barcode on the back of Dan's neck, sending the results to the laptop.

Dan looked in horror at the screen. Up came his slave register file; Slave registration number, both his original name, and the name Mary had given him, a headshot and two naked photos of him, front and back. Beneath the pictures his vital statistics, eye and hair colour etc. were listed. After the label 'last known location' were latitude and longitude coordinates. These, no doubt, would locate him at Sophia's address right now. Worse was the footnote under the head shot: Warning: This slave has previously attempted to escape.

Sophia said a slave's location was not normally displayed on the slave websites. But it was an option that could be activated by her at any time. Should he run away, the barcode tattoos would allow runaway slave hunters track him more easily. She claimed there were lots of barcode reading devices out and about. They automatically scan and pick up any bar code that passes across their field of view. Airports and train stations as well as supermarkets and other shops, she said. You can post a barcode onto a watch list and you get a text whenever that code is scanned, stating where and when.

Fine, thought Dan, not too convinced about the scanners everywhere theory. I'll just wear long trousers and a long sleeve shirt whenever I break for the border. But he knew the internet wasn't quite so obliging. The 'right to forget' especially didn't extend to slave registers on the dark web. Dan's hope of disappearing back into normal society - after his escape - and allowing the whole slave phase of his life fade to a bad memory might not be as easy as he had hoped.

That evening, after he was fed and before being prepped for bed, Sophia led Dan, by the penis this time, to the whipping post once more. She gave him ten fierce lashes across his recently recovered buttocks with the riding crop for questioning the wisdom of meeting the neighbours the previous day. And that was that, subject closed as far as Sophia was concerned. Dan, suitably chastised and chastened, resolved never to try to second guess his owner again.

He lay face down that night on his mattress, his ass throbbing with pain. Once more, he lifted himself up on his knees and pushed a turd into his diaper. Sophia hadn't specifically asked for it, but Dan knew she expected it and he wasn't prepared to suffer further. As it happened, that was the last night that that he had to fill his diaper before morning. Sophia felt the point was proven. She was confident that her new slave would, from now on, comply totally with whatever she demanded of him.

After that, Dan's life in the basement settled into a simple pattern. Sophia was more relaxed around Dan knowing that he now understood and accepted that Mary was out of the picture for good. For his part Dan had no choice but to accept his new role as a slave owned by this person, Sophia.