Day Two of The One-Way Voyage
DAY TWO
I attempt to flee in my thoughts.
I lay awake most of that night, brain whirring with ideas of how I could escape. I fluctuated between thoughts of what would happen if I managed to get away and what would happen if I got caught.
Regrettably, my creativity went into overdrive.
My sole means of measuring time was the slowly increasing pressure in my bladder. At a certain point, one of two things would happen: he would either come to take me to the bathroom, or I would end up peeing in my bed. I considered causing this to happen on purpose, but my active imagination put a stop to that idea. If I were to pee the bed, it would be due to an inability to hold it in.
Thankfully, he arrived before my plan came to fruition. I heard him open the door, walk in, pause, and sniff the air. "This place reeks," he declared. "It's time to shower the slave."
He dragged me to my feet and led me to the bathroom. The blindfold still obstructed my vision, but I knew which room I was in when he set me down on the toilet.
"Spread your legs apart," he ordered. He took hold of my penis and guided it towards the floor. "Urinate," he commanded. I complied. "Do you need to poop?"
"I'm uncertain."
"Well, do so then. I don't have forever."
Think about pooping while sitting on the toilet while blindfolded, naked, and having someone plug your genitals. I strained a little, but my bowels were empty.
"Nervous?" he inquired. To my astonishment, his voice held sympathy. He moved his hand from my penis to my stomach and stroked it. It was calming, and moments later, a little came out. "Fine," he proclaimed. "Remain still." I recoiled as I felt something cold hit my bottom. A spray of warm water slipped in and out of my anus. "Stand up," he instructed, once done.
He attached a leash to my collar and led me down the hallway, and into another room, then into another room. I hobbled along on my shackled legs, unable to tell where I was. He fastened my collar to a chain hanging from the ceiling, removed the leash, and then detached first one, then the other of my wrists from my belt and clipped them to the chain over my head.
I readied myself for another whipping, but instead, I found myself in a shower. It wasn't a common shower. It was more like a small tiled room, big enough for four people to wash themselves simultaneously. A bench protruded from one wall.
Master left for a while and re-entered wearing nothing but a towel. He turned on the water and used a hose to bathe us both. He used shampoo to wash his hair, then kneeled behind me and washed mine. His fingertips gently massaged my scalp. He seemed to enjoy playing with my long locks. I found pleasure in it, I must confess.
He filled a washcloth with body wash and used it to clean his face and mine, his arms and mine, and so on. His hand placed body wash on his palm and gave my butt special attention. My cheeks still stung from yesterday's spankings, but his fingers discovered the gap between and cleaned it thoroughly. A finger lingered on my anus, teasing the entrance, while his other hand massaged my dick.
Once more, my defiant penis reacted inappropriately. Master's eyebrows shot up. "Wow. You're already hard as a rock." He gazed into my eyes, one finger still near my anus, and said, "You like it, don't you?"
I didn't respond.
He dried us both with a white towel and left to dress. He locked my wrists back to my sides. I was blindfolded, off the chain, on the leash, and on the road. He pulled me upward, fastening the blindfold, and then connected me to a chain once more.
He removed the blindfold, and I could see I was back in the black room. In his hand was his whip. He held it up for me to see and said, "Remember the rule I taught you yesterday."
I prepared for the case. I recited the rule flawlessly.
He nodded. "Impressive. In the future, remember to preface each rule with its number. Understand?" Now...
The lash bit into my back. I cried out in pain. "Ouch! But I said it correctly!"
You were reminded of the rule but you didn't truly grasp it. 'The Master can do whatever he pleases with his belongings.' This implies that I can slap you whenever I wish, for any purpose or none at all. 'Equality' has no part in this. Another strike on my back. 'And that's for speaking before being spoken to. Slaves don't converse unless they're addressed first. Do you comprehend?'
"Yes, Master."
"Good. Given that you had a hard day yesterday, I'll be more lenient today. Let's put you back on the fuck bench."
A short time later, I was back on that bench, arms and knees confined, ankles dangling freely, in the absurd posture, my ass sticking out. Master smeared both his hands and started massaging my penis with one, while the fingers of the other burrowed into my anus. I uttered. I objected.
It didn't make a difference. He massaged my penis with that mesmerizing touch, while the digits of his other hand secured their entry into my anus. My yelping and protests were nullified by the delight of dual stimulation, causing me to release some time later, my backside wincing painfully against his fingers. I yelped once again as he pulled them out.
Then he thrust his penis into me. "My turn," he stated. His penis stretched me significantly, but it felt more comfortable than his fingers. He lay upon me, fucking relentlessly, as I took deep breaths and strived to loosen up. We were both perspiring.
When he neared orgasm, he stood, grasped my belt using both hands, and started pounding with all his might, yanking my buttocks towards his penis, groaning as climax approached. My tortured, hypersensitive backside pleaded for him to desist. I struggled to turn around enough to bite my own arm, which offered some relief.
Master reached orgasm, uttering, "Oh fuck! Oh, fuck!" as he released within me. Afterward, he remained on top of me for an extended period. Subsequently, the butt plug was again in me. He patted my lower back and proclaimed, "You comprehend why I insert the plug? Because when I masturbate you, part of your essence exits your body. When I have sex with you, part of mine enters it. I fit the plug in so it won't seep out." He faced me. I gazed into his eyes and he stroked my cheek using the back of his hand. "Your body will eventually be 100% mine. What do you contemplate about that?"
I thought that was unstable, but I kept my viewpoint to myself.
He took the paddle and smacked my behind. "I posed you a question, slave. What do you contemplate concerning that?"
"Uh, I don't know, um, Master."
"Reflective, aren't you?" He chuckled. "It's time for you to acquire the second rule. This should be simple for you to memorize. Here it is: 'Rule 2: The servant must always adhere to the Master.' Repeat it."
I stated it flawlessly. Bang! Bang! He swatted me on my already abused behind anyhow. It was beyond my toleration. I began to cry.
Master observed. "I feel I've made my opinion apparent. You'll recall that tomorrow, I believe. Presently, dinner."
Mystery was another container of milky liquid, served up once more in a dildo I had to ingest with my mouth. I sucked ardently. It was superior to nothing, but only just.
Once done, Master discharged me from the bench. He unlocked my left wrist and linked it to the belt, followed by my right. Then he released my left leg, after attaching the chain to the strap on my left ankle. Nonetheless, as he released my right leg, the alarming, constant beeping of some sort of alarm resonated in the background.
Master gravitated toward the door, scratching the back of his head. "What's happening now?"
I was deliberating. The only thing on my mind was how, for this transient moment, Master was diverted and partially unbound. I pondered whether this was the moment of opportunity. My foot took the decision for its own. To put it mildly, my right foot swung out and collided with him solidly on the back of his knee, forcing him to fall.
I was free of the bench swiftly. My hands were tied to my sides, my left foot had a chain dangling, and I possessed a plug inside me, but I had mobility. Master attempted to rise. I put my foot in the small of his vertebrae and drove him down again. Then I was moving, ascending the stairs. Seconds after, my free feet hammered the steps, chain trailing behind.
Curious if this was a wise decision, but there was no turning back now.
I have poor eyesight. Not severely, but occasionally, I require glasses. I'm not allowed to drive without them, for example. Yet, I didn't enjoy the appearance of them, so I'd put them in a case in my pocket instead when taking photos or hanging out at a gay bar in search of a wealthy guy to pick me up.
Essentially, my glasses were wherever Master had left them, along with my wallet. Without them, I could barely make out the stair in front of me and the bright light above.
My conclusion: brighter light indicated a route to freedom. Whether it was daylight or not, it meant I was closer to the outdoors than I dared hope.
The staircase's top opened to a cosy room, featuring a well-cushioned brown leather sofa aligned against a wooden-clad wall and a chest serving as a coffee table.
Incredibly, every other wall in this room was glass, and I could see blue sky and sunshine through it. A glass door was positioned right ahead.
I could hear Master shouting at me from beneath. There was no time to delay as I was on the verge of exiting. I successfully pulled back on my hips, seized the handle, released the lock, and flung the door open. I escaped outside.
I was on a hard white surface, illuminated by the sunshine. I shouted for assistance.
Before long, I stopped to determine my location. Overhead, there was bright daylight and blueness. Beneath my feet, it was a white deck.
And encircling it, all-embracing, was the ocean.
I investigated the surroundings. There was no questioning it: I was on a boat, a large one. What to do now?
My tormentor emerged through the same door I had just used. He was moving unhurriedly, casually, clutching the stick in one hand. Before knowing his plan, I didn't hesitate. I turned around to face him.
"So, you're aboard a boat," he said. "Allow me to clarify. We're a hundred miles from San Francisco. The closest other boat is seven miles away. Nobody else can witness you. Nobody else can hear you. There is nowhere to flee. Factually, you have only one choice this moment. You can place yourself back under your master's control kindly——"
"What are you going to do to me?"
"Whatever I feel like, given you're my property, and that's the system," he smirked. "Or, you can stay here and make me come to you. Firstly, I'll deliver an electric jolt lasting ten seconds directly into your balls, and then I'll do whatever else I desire. It's your call."
He counted to ten while I remained rooted at the deck's edge between the rails. Despite my mind advocating surrender, paralysis prevented me from moving.
Reaching ten, Master neared me. I shivered worse as he advanced. He grabbed my hair, yanked my head back, and touched the electrode to my genitals.
I yelled and collapsed onto the deck. He leaned over me and remarked, "That wasn't a ten-second jolt."
He flipped me on my back with his foot, then perched on my chest to keep me in place. He tormented me for ten seconds on my genitals.
When he stood up, I was a bawling mess. The pain was excruciating, but more agonizing was the revelation that I was at this lunatic's mercy for as long as our vessel could sail. It could remain at sea for an extensive period.
Master instigated raising me, turning me around, so that I faced the ocean. He chained my collar to the deck's edge where the rails met at the bow's tip. He joined that to my wrists, secured to the front rails on both sides of me, and my ankles, bound to the posts that held them up. The electrode treatment had left me overwhelmed, exhausted, and pitiful. I provided no resistance.
The moment he was done, I was in a position reminiscent of a young child playing "airplane." Bowed over, I extended my arms out to my sides. My head hung beyond, looking down at where the boat's brilliant bow sliced the sea. My backside displayed proudly behind my legs. Evidently, Master derived satisfaction from placing me in humiliating situations.
"This will be twenty-four whippings, for assaulting your Master and attempting to flee. We'll consider that later. I'm glad you made it out on deck, though. Now that you comprehend your predicament, you understand there is no avenue of escape. Do you require a trip to the restroom?"
"No."
His hand slapped my behind - a much more tormenting sensation compared to the paddle. "No, what?"
"No, Master."
"Alright, then. Stay in that position and appreciate the view. I have tasks to attend to." He patted my posterior and added, "I'll also be enjoying the view, too."
He left. Unable to turn my head far enough, I couldn't view the vessel or observe his exploits. The majority of the time, I gazed at the brilliant waters of the Pacific Ocean or peered across the sea towards the horizon.
The sun illuminated my exposed skin comfortably, but breezes from the ocean disrupted the serenity by causing me to shiver whenever they charged in. Naked and tethered, I struggled, dissimilar to him who was adorned in garments and actively tending to boating responsibilities.
The breezes left him unaffected, yet they caused me discomfort.
After a certain point, a cloud veiled the sun. The temperature dropped immediately, increasing the goose bumps that sprouted on my flesh. A few more moments, and I was shivering. I craned my head around, studied my limb, and noticed it was turning blue. It seemed it was a figurative expression.
How long could I sustain this situation? I pondered shouting for Master, yet doing so incurred punishment. Therefore, I remained quiet. I possibly dozed off or entered a trancelike state. When I awoke, I discovered Master spanking my posterior.
"Whoa," he stated. "You appear positively deathly." I questioned if it was part of the dream until I felt the anal plug being forcefully removed from my anus. A substantial moan may have escaped. Master unlocked my binds and assisted me in standing. "It seems I overlooked...let's return inside."
He embraced me and guided me back into the sitting quarters at the deck house's front, where we sat together on the leather sofa. The glass walls protected us from the breeze and provided a breathtaking 180 degree perspective of the ocean, but I was gazing at it through tears. Master removed a comforter from the chest and wrapped it around us both. Underside, he embraced me and nestled me against him.
I shivered. The heat from Master's body provided consolation, but the rest of my body was chilly to the bone.
He and I sat there for some duration, secure amidst the embracement and company. Once I realized the warmth, I felt safe. This comfort exceeded my experiences in weeks, nearer to home. Since before leaving Iowa, for certain. I nestled closer to Master. If only it could remain thus forever, sailing on the ocean, myself in Master's embrace. No chains, no whips, simply the two of us.
My erection became noticeable, disrupting my thoughts. I longed for Master to touch my penis again, unfortunately this was not the case. Instead, he rubbed my stomach. "I've chosen the ideal slave. Your member informs me about this. You take pleasure in being a slave. You crave a master, although you may not yet be prepared to admit this about yourself. You won't be able to resist your true nature. Give in to it. Yield to that which lies ahead."
Nothing in his statement necessitated a response, so I responded not at all. I breathed deeply and anticipated his touch to my dick, however, no lucky response. Instead, I relaxed and indulged in the warmth and the cuddling. I was privy to a side of Master I had never previously encountered: compassion, concern, and remorse for the abuse he applied to me.
"Concerning the twenty-four whippings? I deem you've received sufficient punishment. Entreat yourself to be an exemplary slave the remainder of the day, and we'll abandon the whippings. Do you think you can behave as a good slave?"
Living a slave's life comprises two aspects: enjoyment and suffering. I found myself stranded on this boat for an unfathomable time. He had already proven he can be rough. Now he showed a benign side. If playing the role of an obedient slave led to more kindness and less agony, then I was prepared to take on that part.
"Yes, Master," I eagerly replied with the desired amount of enthusiasm. "I can be good."
We snuggled for around an hour more. My stomach rumbled, alerting him of my hunger. "Are you famished?" was his curiosity.
Was he joking? The last time I had solid food was roughly two days ago, according to the clock, but in reality, it had been years. The nutritional fluids he provided kept me alive, but couldn't quell my hunger. I would've scoffed at his question if I wasn't fearful of being spanked for it. Instead, I graciously said, "Yes, Master."
"Shall I show you the dining room?" Being prompted, he lifted me up and stood. A door in the rear of this sitting room led to a well-appointed dining room with a vast window viewing the ocean and a table fit to accommodate six, although only one chair. To the left of the chair, a cushion lay on the ground. He directed me to a buffet and opened a drawer. It contained a collection of neatly folded white diapers. "These are diapers," he informed me. "They're intended for my slave. Pick one."
I stuck out my hip, struggling to reach the top cloth. I managed to grasp hold of it.
"Excellent. Place it on the cushion and sit." I followed his orders. "There are diaper stashes all over the boat. Always use one before you sit. I don't want to be cleaning your but prints everywhere."
"Yes, Master."
"You claimed you could be good. Let's see. You remain stationary on this cushion without moving until I return. Do you comprehend?"
"Yes, Master."
He passed through the door next to us, probably entering a kitchen. The sounds he was producing revealed his actions. He retrieved a froze meal and heated it.
Moments later, he returned bearing a plate in one hand and a glass of iced tea in the other. He set them on the table, sat in the chair, and started eating, not paying any attention to me. Evidently, I was supposed to remain immobile, sitting cross-legged on this cushion, until he told me otherwise.
Desire coursed through me. The scent of his meal was intoxicating. It appeared to be Chinese food. My mouth watered. I ingested a pool of saliva. A fresh rumble in my tummy followed.
I caught his attention with these sounds. "Is your slave hungry?"
Remembering his earlier question, I said, "Yes, Master."
"Do slaves eat before their Master?"
"No, Master."
But he relented. "Maybe a small portion," he said. He picked up a morsel from his food with his chopsticks and held it above my lips. "Open up wide."
I hesitated for a moment before realizing he meant to open my mouth. I obeyed his instruction.
He raised the tidbit and coaxed me—"Higher, higher"—until I was looking at the ceiling, my mouth wide open, accepting the food from just above it. He dropped it into my mouth.
I hastily swallowed it, unaware of the taste, so ravenous was I. It was sesame chicken, and at that moment, it was the tastiest food I'd ever enjoyed.
"Do you desire another one?"
"Yes, Master. Please."
"'Please?' Does our slave act so politely? We cannot allow our slave to get overweight. He might not be so attractive."
The notion of gaining weight on his meagre rations seemed amusing, but I kept silent and well-behaved. I craved that second piece of sesame chicken.
Master once more fed me, as before. He fed me another small morsel, then went back to his meal. I savored that second piece like it was a feast in one bite, anxiously savoring the flavor.
I sensed a variety of emotions. One part of me felt shame for stooping so low to receive a few morsels of food. Was I prepared to cast aside my self-respect for two bites of sesame chicken?
He then placed his left hand on my head, absentmindedly playing with my hair.
My anger flared, yearning to bite that hand like a dog, wanting free from his control. However, I wondered if he would deprav me of my meal if I acted out. So, I practiced patience, suspending my emotions and sitting quietly, assuming the role he desired.
Could you, please,
He stood up and cleared the table. "Now it's your turn." He left the room and returned shortly with more nutrient formula. This time, the dildo was blue. He sat in his chair, turned it to face me, and extended the dildo between his legs, positioning it as if it were his own penis. He instructed me to suck on it.
I did, since I was hungry, but it felt creepy. Once I finished, he placed the bottle aside. I noticed that he was erect, and my stomach ached. I hoped he wouldn't...
He did. He unzipped his pants, pulled out his penis, and commanded, "Now suck this."
"Don't you get it? I can't—"
I didn't finish my sentence before he grabbed me by the hair and jerked my head toward him, forcing his penis into my lips. I started writhing and making noises. Master smacked me on the back and scolded, "Behave yourself!"
I have an issue - I can perform oral sex very well on men, but not for anyone else. I wished I'd have been fucked in the ass instead of being made to perform oral sex. I couldn't utter these words out loud since his penis was in my mouth, and he was driving it deeper.
"Open wider. I don't want to feel your fucking teeth."
I gagged. I couldn't breathe. Master spotted my predicament and withdrew from me.
I remained in place and followed the order. However, I was terrified due to the prospect of what he could do when he returned.
Eventually, he did come back, bringing along a leash which he connected to my collar. He used this to lift me up to my feet and dragged me roughly back down the stairs to a room I now called the "training room." Despite my sobs, I tried to defend myself by claiming that I couldn't give head. Master either didn't listen or didn't care.
He chained my ankles to two opposite ends of a telescoping steel rod, then extended the rod to make me stand with legs wide apart. He also locked my wrists together with another rod, attaching its center to the winch chain and using the winch to lift me into a vertical position, standing on tiptoes.
He then fetched a whip. "Twenty-four lashes," he declared.
As he prepared to strike me with the whip, I mustered the courage to plead, "Master, I'll do whatever you say; just please don't make me suck a dick."
He paused and shook his head. "You're a slave, which means you must obey. You do not bargain with your master because I already own you!"
He yelled these words in anger as he lashed me across my shoulders. I cried out in pain.
"What do you say?" he asked.
"One," I replied, before sobbing.
"And?" he continued.
"Thank you, Master," I added between sobs, before receiving more lashes.
When the beating ceased, he released the chains and maneuvered me to a sitting position. He changed into clean clothes, presenting me with a diaper. "In case you need to urinate," he explained. "I have some things to attend to."
He left me in that position.
Hours passed. I did need the diaper. When he came back, he returned me to my bedroom, removed the diaper, blindfolded me, and left me alone for the night.
I never received dinner and my stomach rumbled in protest. Sleeping on my aching back was excruciating, so I curled up on my side and attempted to sleep.
Read also:
- Teammates Part 2: A New Adventure Awaits
- Incessant Dominance of the Anus
- The Elevator Saga
- Office Slipped Up Chapter 2
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