A kinky story written by omegaboi | Chapter 1+2

Click here to see all published chapters. Illustration by Theo Blaze.

SLAVE TRAINING CONTRACT

PREAMBLE

This document constitutes a consensual agreement between two parties, hereafter known respectively as the MASTER and the slave.

PURPOSE

This contract has three principal aims:

  • to teach the slave how to properly serve and please the MASTER
  • to prepare the slave for a life of total servitude to the MASTER
  • to provide for the MASTER’s pleasure and enjoyment

EMENDATION

This contract can only be amended with the full consent of both parties.

TERMINATION

This contract can only be terminated by the MASTER. The slave has no rights whatsoever to terminate this contract and must comply fully with its terms unless released from this contract by the MASTER. However, if either the MASTER or the slave contravene the terms of this agreement in any way then the contract will be abrogated.

CONTEXT

The terms of this contract are based upon understanding of the following facts:

  • that the slave is a submissive male who yearns to be controlled by a  more dominant male and used for HIS pleasure
  • that training will be designed to provide solely for the happiness, pleasure and satisfaction of the MASTER
  • that the happiness, pleasure and satisfaction of the MASTER must be the main focus of the slave at all times, whether the slave is in the MASTER’s presence or not
  • that the slave must always show absolute gratitude to the MASTER for HIS training of and control over the slave
  • that the MASTER may demand and enforce changes in the behaviour, attitude, and appearance of the slave, using any means permitted within the terms of this contract
  • that the MASTER will never harm or endanger the slave in any way, physically or psychologically
  • that the slave has absolutely no right to demand changes in the behaviour, attitude, or appearance of the MASTER, unless HIS behaviour and attitude contravenes the terms of this contract

SLAVE IDENTITY

THE slave accepts that it has no name or identity other than that given to it by the MASTER. The slave will show the MASTER profound gratitude for any name or identity given to it.

STANDING ORDERS

The following orders must be obeyed by the slave at all times.

LANGUAGE

  1. The slave will never speak unless it is explicitly granted permission.
  2. The slave is expressly forbidden from using any first person pronouns (‘I’, ‘me’, ‘mine’, ‘myself’). The slave is not a person but a thing and a piece of property and so will always use the third persons pronouns ‘it’ ‘its’ ‘itself’ in accordance with its status.
  3. The slave may also refer to itself as ‘this slave’, ‘this pig’ or ‘this gimp’.
  4. In speech to the MASTER the slave will start every sentence with the word ‘MASTER’ and finish every sentence with the phrase ‘Thank YOU MASTER’.
  5. If it is given permission to speak the slave will speak in a humble and subservient fashion.
  6. IN speech to the MASTER the slave will speak in an especially humble and subservient fashion, thanking the MASTER for its training and acknowledging its status as chattel under HIS total control.
  7. The slave will never question, contradict or disagree with the MASTER.
  8. In written language the slave will capitalise all proper nouns and pronouns referring to the MASTER.
  9. In written language the slave will never use capital letters when referring to itself.
  10.       10.The MASTER may at HIS whim punish the slave for anything that it says or writes.

CONDUCT & BEHAVIOUR

  1. The slave will never look at the MASTER or any other superior male without receiving explicit permission to do so. In the presence of the MASTER and other superior males the slave will keep its eyes focussed upon the feet of the MASTER unless ordered otherwise.
  2. The slave will never use any item of furniture.
  3. The slave will never sit or lay in the MASTER’s presence. it will kneel in submission as an obedient slave should.
  4. The slave will wear only those items of clothing permitted by the MASTER. These shall be exclusively items of rubber bondage gear.
  5. The slave will never touch its slavecock, which is the sole property of the MASTER. The slave has no rights to the slavecock whatsoever.
  6. The slave will never touch its slaveballs, which are the sole property of the MASTER. The slave has no rights to the slaveballs whatsoever.
  7. The slave will never touch any part of its body, which is the sole property of the MASTER, without express permission. The slave has no rights to its body whatsoever.
  8. The slave will never cum. If it does cum it will be considered to have betrayed the MASTER and its training will immediately come to an end.
  9. The slave will obey every order given to it by the MASTER without question or hesitation.
  10. The slave will at all times show its acceptance that it is a subhuman urinal pig object, with no rights, which must serve the MASTER in any way HE requires.
  11. The slave will at all times show its acceptance that it will receive no guarantees about its treatment and use other than those already stipulated in this contract. The slave exists to serve and obey the MASTER. That is all it needs to know.
  12. The slave will at all times show its acceptance that the MASTER controls the slave fully.
  13. The slave will at all times show its acceptance that any action not explicitly permitted by the MASTER is forbidden to it now. it has no will of its own and has no right to make its own decisions.
  14. The slave will at all times thank the MASTER for any and all attention that HE pays to it. The slave is a subhuman object and any attention paid to it and any use made of it by the MASTER is a great honour and privilege.
  15. The slave will at all times remain bowed physically and mentally before the MASTER.

ADDENDUM: In the event of the MASTER’s demise, the slave’s fate will be determined by the MASTER’s will like the rest of his property. The slave shall have no say whatsoever about its fate and will accept whatever becomes of it as the last order of its MASTER and OWNER.

I, ____________________________, known herein as the MASTER, accept the conditions of this contract.

Signature ____________________________________  Date ___________________

I, ____________________________, known herein as the slave, accept the conditions of this contract.

Signature ____________________________________  Date ___________________


…..’The slave shall have no say whatsoever about its fate’, I read out loud, ‘and will accept whatever becomes of it as the last order of its MASTER and OWNER.’ A shiver ran through me as I finished reciting the slave contract I held in my hands. Trying to stay calm, I carefully placed the sheets of paper back down on the black rubber surface of the floor in front of me, took a deep breath, and fixed my eyes on the pair of tall, shining boots in front of me. The boots shifted slightly, and the MAN wearing them spoke. HIS voice was like muted thunder rumbling down from a high mountain, far above my position kneeling on the floor.

‘Are you ready to sign the contract?’ he said.

‘Ye… Yes SIR.’ My voice stumbled over the words, a pathetic squeak rather than the firm, assertive tone I’d wanted to use. But at least I had said them now. The MAN bent down to pick up the contract, although I kept my eyes on HIS boots and felt rather than saw his action.There was then the whisper of pen on paper and the contract was placed back in front of me, the MAN’s signature an elegant flourish in fountain pen that agreed to the MASTER’s part of the contract. Next a cheap but new Bic biro was placed on the paper.

‘Do it now’, the MAN’s voice commanded.

I felt like I was on the top of a very high building, about to jump off. Some part of me was still insisting that there was no way I could do this. It didn’t make sense. It’s madness! Your life will be over! Then was a dizzying, inexplicable moment when I threw myself off. I didn’t even feel myself making the decision. I just made it. I picked up the biro, signed and dated the contract that agreed to the slave’s part of the contract, and put the pen down again. And that was it. A life-changing instant that a few short months ago I could never have imagined. I stared at my signature on the page.

I didn’t know it then, but that was the last time I was ever to use the name I had been born with.

Chapter 2

I stared at my signature on the page in front of me. A clock ticked, unseen, on the wall, counting out the passing seconds. A bird sang somewhere in the trees on the other side of the window. Time passed and the world carried on as it had always done. But here, in this room, things had changed forever.

The MAN who was now my MASTER leant down to pick up the newly-signed contract. Again, apart from his heavy black leather gloves I felt rather than saw his movements, keeping my eyes on the floor and trying to control my nerves. I could not make sense of what I had just done or how I had managed to do it. It felt as if I had made an instinctive, split-second decision and that I was now falling, falling. Only the featureless rubber in front of me provided any sense of stability.

I heard my MASTER cross the room. There was a barely audible shuffling of papers and then two slight but distinct clicks, which might have been the opening and shutting of a folder of some kind. Then I heard his footsteps come back towards me and the next thing I knew a large gloved hand was placed firmly on the top of my head.

At the touch of that hand I began to go to pieces. This was the touch of my OWNER, of the MAN I had just given myself to completely. I had agreed to be his property. With the speed of thought parts of the contract I had just signed flashed through my head – ‘subhuman urinal pig object’, ‘no rights’, ‘no name or identity’, ‘the slave is not a person but a thing’. My bones and muscles turned to jelly and I would have slumped to the floor, my breath shuddering with fear. But MASTER’s other hand grasped my jaw with the speed of lightning, cradling my head and pushing it up against HIS hard leathered body.

My mind in free-fall, I threw my arms around my MASTER’s powerful legs and leant into HIM, my hands clutching at HIS muscular arse. HIS taut strength supported me. The rich smell of leather washed across me like a wave of calm. I remembered that I had wanted this. A series of meetings and intimate, honest conversations had led to this moment. Together W/we had taught each other what we needed. HE had made me realise that I would always be incomplete and unsatisfied without the opportunity to submit unconditionally to a MASTER, serving and worshipping HIM completely.

My anxiety began to subside. Deep down, I knew that there would be many more moments of doubt and even despair. The life I had chose for myself was not going to be an easy one, and to the outside world my choice would seem mad and misguided, maybe even twisted and sick. But as frightening as it was, it was the right choice for me. Only by giving up all control could I take control of my future. Only through total, absolute servitude could I escape the tyranny of a normality which would always exclude me. I owed this realisation to my MASTER.

Over the course of a few minutes my breathing steadied and a new vigour flowed into my limbs. I was still scared – who wouldn’t be? – but I was determined to embrace my new life and status as an owned slave. And I knew now that my MASTER was there to support me as well as to dominate and use me.

MASTER must have detected the change in my body and mind, because he gently released my head and took a slight step back. My arms slipped from around his legs to hang at my sides, and although I still felt weak I could kneel unaided. Taking deep breaths, I hung my head in emotional exhaustion but also in acceptance, and in quiet confidence that I was doing the right thing in surrendering to my new OWNER.

Then HE spoke. The words went through me like a swallow of good whisky, dark and dizzying and lighting a fire in my belly. I would come to live for the sound of that voice.

‘Look at me.’

My head jerked up almost of its own accord, obedient to the tone of command, and I drank in the sight of my MASTER. HIS skin was beautifully pale, HIS eyes pools of milky blue, arctic water.

This was the MAN who had accepted me as HIS slave, HIS property, the MAN who would exert total control over me and who would mould the aspiring submissive before HIM into HIS devoted, mindless, obedient gimp. This was the MAN who had known I was going to fall before I fell, the MAN who knew me better than I knew myself, the MAN who would not only care for me but remake me according to HIS pleasure and HIS needs. I looked up at HIM hoping that HE could see the devotion and worship and desire in my gaze. But HIS face was an expressionless mask.   

‘I want you to think very carefully about the contract you have just signed. Until I give you explicit permission you are not to speak a single word. For now I will excuse grunts, moans, cries and squeals, but if you try to say anything I will beat you senseless. Nod your head if you understand.’

The words had sent my world spinning but this was my reality now. Looking into his eyes I nodded once thinking, I love YOU MASTER, I love YOU MASTER.

‘Good. Now in a minute I am going to tell you to look down, and until I give you permission you are not to raise your eyes under any circumstances. you will look at the floor, or at MY boots if I am in front of you. Nod if you understand.’

This time my nod came immediately, automatically, instinctively, and despite my earlier panic I realised that my cock had become rock hard. MASTER was taking control and one of my greatest pleasures would be to obey HIM utterly.

‘Eyes down, boi.’

My chin snapped down instantaneously, directing my gaze to MASTER’s boots. I didn’t really have to think about it. I was HIS.

‘Well done, boi. This is just the start and I expect continuing obedience. Now, are you shaved and douched?’

Once more I nodded, this time with my head bowed. Over the last few months MASTER had taken care to shave me HIMSELF while I was restrained in unforgiving bondage. He had also supervised my douching regimen to ensure I was clean. But in preparation for this day, when I would sign my contract, HE had insisted that I shave and douche myself. I realised that MASTER wanted to make sure that I prepared myself for my life of slavery; that with every scrape of the razor and with every flush of the enema, I was personally readying myself for a life of submission and servitude. Even before I had signed the contract, MASTER was shaping and controlling me.

‘Right. Stand up and strip. Throw your clothes and shoes behind you.’

Again this was new. In previous sessions, whether in hotel rooms or in the small flat that MASTER kept, I had been required to strip as soon as I had gone through the front door, folding my clothes into a neat pile and leaving my shoes carefully beside them. But on this first and final trip to MASTER’s big country house, he had ordered me to come straight to this upstairs room wearing my clothes and shoes.

I hadn’t understood why but now I thought that I did. MASTER wanted me to experience the transition from a clothed, normal person in jeans, T-shirt and trainers to a total slave, from a bottom who enjoyed bondage play with a Top but was still a free individual to enslaved property under the absolute domination of its OWNER.

With this new knowledge, as if in  a trance, I got to my feet and removed my clothes with a kind of silent ecstasy. My T-shirt went, my trousers and boxer shorts were dropped and I stepped out of them, I bent over to peel my socks off my feet and I straightened up with my toes curling with the joy of submission. All those garments, the things that normal people wore in their day-to-day lives, I threw away like trash. Remembering my MASTER’s orders, I kept my head down and my eyes on the floor. I couldn’t help but see my cock sticking out in front of me, hard and purple and spasming with arousal.

MASTER stood in front of me for a few moments, silent and considering, and then moved to stand behind me.

‘you’ve shaved yourself well, boi’, he said. ‘I’m pleased.’

The tip of my slavecock pulsed with the warm happiness of obedience. Then, from behind me and without warning, MASTER’s hand came to slap me hard across the cheek.

‘… But we need to check that you’ve cleaned your hole properly. Bend over and grab your ankles, bitch.’

This was a routine I had been through before. I folded over and took hold of my ankles, exposing my MASTER’s slave hole for HIS inspection. I was glad that I had taken care to clean myself thoroughly for this important day. As I had expected, I felt a probing finger and I thought worshipfully about MASTER’s strong, masculine hands.

MASTER’s finger withdrew and there was a pause.

‘It seems you can obey orders, boi’, HE said with a faint note of approval. ‘Stand up.’

I let go of my ankles and stood up straight, my eyes still firmly fixed on the floor. And MASTER spoke again.

‘boi, we’re about to go downstairs and your life as my property is about to begin in earnest. But before that happens you are going to pick up your clothes and shoes, the last remnants of your previous existence, and you’re going to throw them into the bin by the door. Can you see it?’

Afraid of looking where I was not supposed to, I glanced furtively towards the door of the room and saw a large waste-paper basket standing next to it. Remembering that I had not been given permission to speak, I nodded humbly.

‘Okay. Go, boi.’

The tone in MASTER’s voice was grave, and I knew that this was an important step in my enslavement. So I tried to make sure that my movements were full of care, doing justice to the solemnity of the moment and showing my commitment to slavery. I picked up my old top, trousers, underwear, shoes and socks and tossed them into the waste-paper basket. Then, because I wasn’t sure what to do next, I stood in front of the bin, swaying sightly on the balls of my feet.

‘Stand there boi’, my MASTER commanded. ‘And look at what you’ve just thrown away.’

I did as I was told. The Converse trainers I had bought on the rainy summer’s day, the T-shirt I had bought for a fiver in Topman, the vintage jeans which had fitted me so well, the silly stripy socks that a friend had bought for me last Christmas: all the belongings of an average guy, the things that told a story about who he was, his likes and his lifestyle, lay discarded in the bin like used tissue paper. Staring at this now meaningless rubbish, I knew that the young man who had worn these things was dead. I had killed him with my signature on a slave contract. In his place stood a new piece of naked boi property, a nameless thing and sexually submissive object ready to be taken, trained and transformed by its MASTER.

To be continued …

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