“That’s not…right,” he said lamely. “You make it look like I’m gay or something.” He remembered the old line from “Seinfeld”. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I just don’t, er, do that.”
Gloria cupped his chin in her soft hand and tipped his face up to hers. “By the time I’m finished with you, sweetheart, you won’t care one way or another. You’ll do what you’re told.”
Carl got a sinking feeling. “You can’t possibly plan to keep me here!”
“Oh, yes. And while you’re here, your old girlfriend is being trained to accept whatever Turk—or any owner—wants, not that that will take much doing.” She paused then laughed, a deep throaty contralto. “Maybe when we’re both done, you two can provide an evening’s entertainment for the Masters and Mistresses.” Carl thrashed in his bonds, hearing the laughter echoing in his head.
Chapter Sixteen
Carl could tell that Gloria was experienced at training men, but he suspected they might be inclined in that direction already. He knew there were men who liked to be dominated—abused, even. But he couldn’t imagine that she could take a strong-willed man and break him down until he acted like the silent Swede. Sven must have wanted to be a mindless drone, otherwise, he could’ve stopped Gloria anytime.
He wondered if he might establish some sort of rapport with him. If Sven would just give him an opening, he could escape. But that would ruin Sven’s carefully constructed world, wouldn’t it? No, he’d better not count on him.
They had left him, shivering on the cot, chained the way he had been before. He expected the bleak environment and the chains were necessary to make him feel alone and helpless. Later, Gloria would begin the reward and punishment phase. Somewhere along in there, he might have to fake submission, so he could get her to trust him. Once she freed him from his chains, well, then, look out, bitch.
For now, he’d have to play along. He’d never paid much attention to this seamy underworld. He knew there were clubs for slaves and masters, yet he’d never been interested in them—until he’d meet DeeDee. Hell, he might’ve been drawn into it because of her. She made him feel, well, masterful. Like he could do no wrong.
Even when he had shaken himself out of it and tried to treat DeeDee like a normal girl, he felt, in the back of his mind, that he might want to return to the lifestyle sometimes. Perhaps just as a lark to spice up their relationship. She never seemed so sexy as when she was calling him master and obeying his every whim.
Still, it was a lot of power to give someone. Sure, Carl reasoned, he was at least decent enough not to take full advantage of her proclivities. He was a mere dabbler compared to someone like Turk. Or Evers. Carl couldn’t understand why Evers would “bequeath” DeeDee to a man like Turk. He believed, from what she had told him, that Evers dabbled in the lifestyle. But Turk lived the life daily. He was the dark side to the master/slave game. Evers should have known that turning DeeDee over to Turk would’ve ruined her for a normal life. Why would he do that?
Carl could only imagine what she must be going through right now. Any independent thoughts would be flushed out until she was just a vessel for Turk’s dark visions. The DeeDee he knew would be gone forever—if he couldn’t get to her soon. Very soon.
He wondered how he’d got himself into this mess. He considered himself an ordinary guy, working a normal job and dating normal women. When he’d first met DeeDee, he thought she was beautiful, but never expected what lay behind her façade. When he did, he had felt blessed. Heck, he thought, who wouldn’t?
Now he felt cursed by it.
“DeeDee, I wish you’d just put on the damn underwear in high school!” he said aloud, then immediately bit his lip, fearing Gloria was listening and watching somehow. Wasn’t that the way it worked? The “masters” spied on their slaves so they could better control them?
Carl looked around, trying to spot cameras but found none. “Probably hidden,” he muttered under his breath.
*****
“You don’t really expect to break him, do you?” Mistress Abigail asked Gloria as they sat on the couch in the spacious living room upstairs. “I mean, he doesn’t seem trainable, if you ask me.” Abigail was dressed in a simple tank top and red leather skirt, her legs splayed wide apart to give the man’s head between them more room.
Gloria took a sip of her wine and nodded to her friend. She had known Abigail for eight years now, ever since they met at a BDSM nightclub, male slaves in tow on leashes. They had taken one look at each other and burst out laughing; they’d been friends ever since.
“No, probably not. He has the look of a hunter, don’t you think?” she responded, pointing to the large TV screen that showed Carl in his cell, tied to the cot. “But I just couldn’t resist the effort, you know?”
“Oh, I know, trust me,” Abigail agreed, adjusting her legs. “Oooh, Brian, that’s nice.” Brian, of course, made no comment. His tongue was too busy for speech.
“He’s rather new, isn’t he?” Gloria asked, waving her wineglass at the energetic slave serving his mistress. Like Sven, he was dressed solely in a loincloth.
“Yes, I’ve had him about six months now. Got him from Jen in San Francisco. She grew tired of him and wanted to find a nice home for him.”
“Looks like he found it,” Gloria grinned. “I’ll bet he spends a lot of time there.”
“Ohh!” Abigail nearly lifted out of her seat. “Goodness! Yes, he’s one of the best I’ve had. And his cock is pretty good, too.”
“Can I see?” Gloria hoped it was hard. She loved holding a man’s hard cock in her hand.
“Of course. Brian,” Abigail tapped him on the head. “Take a break and go show Mistress Gloria your cock.” She sat up a little straighter.
Immediately, Brian rose, the juices from Abigail’s pussy on his face and came over to Gloria. She took in his muscular chest and six-pack abs before dropping her gaze. She could see he was excited—his loincloth couldn’t hide his bulging member. He flipped it up for her as he stood, just outside her knees, and waited for instructions.
Gloria leaned over and gripped it gently, mentally comparing it to Sven’s. It was a healthy seven inches, about the same as her slave’s. However, that gave her an idea.
“Sven, come over here.” The Swede dutifully approached. His loincloth, however, sagged limply. “Get yourself hard, I want to compare you two.”
Sven stood next to Brian, reached under his loincloth and began stroking his cock. This seemed to have an unfortunate effect on Brian—his hard cock began to wither. Gloria immediately began stroking it, causing it to return to its full glory.
Now Abigail got into the act. She slid over on the couch and pressed her face next to Gloria’s shoulder, taking in the action. Her face was rapt, her mouth slightly open. “There’s just nothing like a man’s hard cock, is there?” she said dreamily.
“No, although you know I like my girls.”
That was certainly true. While Abigail preferred to train male slaves exclusively, Gloria reveled in her bi-sexuality. Besides Carl, she had another wing of her “dungeon” that contained two female slaves she was currently training. One for herself and another for a friend.
Sven’s cock was nearly fully extended now. Gloria made the men stand hip to hip and compared them. They were about the same length and thickness. The most obvious difference: Brian’s cock was circumcised, while Sven still had his thick foreskin. It hadn’t bothered Gloria before, but now she wasn’t so sure.
“What do you think of his foreskin?” she asked Abigail.
“Well, you know me. I like ‘em undressed. Otherwise, sometimes it’s like making love to a man in a turtleneck.”
Gloria laughed, but it got her to thinking. Perhaps she could have the offending skin removed. “The operation’s not all that difficult for an adult, is it?”