Date: Mon, 27 Apr 2009 12:05:36 +0000 From: Dave Clarke Subject: REMANDED TO THE CUSTODY two Disclaimer: The following is an original work of fiction that contains graphic depictions of sexual activities and erotic abuse between males. All characters are portrayed as being over 18 years of age, as you should be to read this. If you aren't, or if such material is offensive to you or illegal to read where you are, then stop reading now. All rights are reserved by the author. Please download for personal use only. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between the characters and real persons or places is purely coincidental. REMANDED TO THE CUSTODY By humilus Two "Get onto the table," the fat man said. I heard Hans call him Otto. The only way I learned their names was by hearing them speak to each other. Since the day I arrived, no one addressed me by name—any name. They acted like I wasn't there unless they had some duty to perform on me. I said nothing unless spoken to. At first it was in defiance, then from fear. Otto left me strapped to the chair after the piercings for a few minutes while he worked at the computer in his office. Then he attached leather wristlets and anklets to my arms and legs before releasing me from the chair. "Get up on the table on your hands and knees." I crawled onto the stainless steel table as ordered. He pressed my back down and strapped my forearms to the table. Then he ran straps over my calves. I felt my face flush as he walked around me; naked, restrained and totally exposed. I heard the electric razor and then felt Otto spread my buttocks and trim the hair. He trimmed all of my pubic hair and the hair under my arms. He followed with a disposable blade razor. He removed the straps and pointed to a pair of rubber flip-flops on the floor. "Put those on." He buckled my wrists behind my back, attached a six foot leash to my collar and led me to the door. "What about my clothes?" I stopped walking. "You will have no clothes. You are a slave." He showed me he still carried the remote control and led me outside and down a walk. The sun felt warm on my body and the lush manicured grounds were covered with flowering tress and shrubs. I heard the hollow pop of a tennis volley, and the whine of a gasoline powered weed trimmer not far away. He led me into a small brick building next to the stables. That's where Hans waited, standing in the center of the room dressed in khaki shorts and teal golf shirt. He was as tall as Ignacio Kirby, but broader. His muscled biceps looked like they might split the sleeves of his shirt. He stood with his arms folded across his chest and glared at me. "Take off his leash and place it on the hook near the door," he told Otto. Otto did as he was told. "Now go-- leave." Otto waddled out the door without a word. "I will be your trainer slave," he stared right through me. "You first lesson shall be in the proper form to present. Kneel." I hesitated. He slapped my face with his open hand. The blow knocked me to the floor. "I am not a patient man," he hissed. I scrambled to my knees. "When approaching your master, you will kneel upright. Do not sit back on your heels. Lock your arms behind your back with each hand grasping the opposite elbow." He stepped behind me. "Move your knees further apart slave. They should be a shoulder width apart. Your head should be bowed unless you are spoken to, and then you must still keep your eyes cast down." I tried to assume the position. He pressed his hand against the middle of my back. "Straighten you back." His hand was firm and felt warm on my skin. I felt a chill go up my back and hoped he wouldn't see my erection. A sharp pain from the piercing caused me to flinch and loose the moment. "Get up slave." I rose and stood with my hands behind my back. "Present!" I kneeled in complete submission. We went through the same routine close to fifty times. I was getting tired and hungry and slow to get up. "I have a way to help you retain your lessons slave." He took the leash off the hook by the door and attached it to my collar, then turned me around and locked my wrist cuffs together. He put the ball gag back into my mouth... by that time I willingly opened my mouth to accept it. He led me back toward Otto's office, but turned toward the barn. I heard a horse approaching us from behind. Hans turned me off of the path to let the rider by. The rider's cream colored britches and black boots contrasted sharply with the horse's chestnut coat. The rider slowed and then glanced back when she passed. The look behind her sunglasses was amused indifference. She pulled a comb from behind her head and her shoulder length blond hair cascaded down and rested on her starched white blouse. I felt my face flush in humiliation as Hans led me into the stables. He marched me into the tack room and stopped in front of a large X shaped wood frame with eye hooks embedded along the sides. The mixture of saddle leather, hay and manure somehow smelled good. Hans unlocked my wrist cuffs and extended my right arm over my head. He attached it to the frame with a chain clip. He repeated the procedure with my left arm, and then spread my legs and secured my ankles. "When did the slave arrive?" The woman's voice came from behind me. "This morning," Hans said. "You father wants him trained properly, so there aren't any problems this time. "Hmm," she said. I heard her boot heels on the floorboards as she walked out into the barn. "I am going to use some discipline to help you in your training as a slave," Hans said. I tugged against the restraints but they didn't budge. The wall next to the frame was covered with bridles and other tack. He selected a leather strap and turned to give me a good look at it. I started salivating uncontrollably, and fought not to choke on the ball gag. The first blow to my bare buttocks stung and caused me to spasmodically jerk against my restraints. I fought back a yelp. The second blow drove me against the rough oak frame and caused me to scream. I pulled away from the frame to allow my swelling penis to point upright. The rough boards chaffed it. By the fifth blow I lost control and was sobbing and choking on the ball gag. Tears stung my cheeks and I tried to beg Hans to stop. "That didn't take long Hans," the woman said. "No, I think your father is right. He's a pussy boy."