Slave in Training by Danny Tyran

Author:Danny Tyran [Tyran, Danny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: submissive and dominant, teacher and pupil, alpha male, edge play, slave training, slave and master, hardcore bdsm, dominant black, interracial bdsm, bdsm absolute power exchange, mind and body control, orgasm control, total power exchange, orgasm denial, danny tyran, submission and domination, male bisexual, Gay, charisma, surrender, love and loss
ISBN: 9782924400135
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

The day we mutinied, our master ended up locking Gabrielle in his dungeon, a long chain linking her to one of the walls. He provided her with a plentiful supply of dehydrated food packs, the sort used in the army. The cell had a sink with cold water and a toilet bowl. We had no reason to go in there: she had everything necessary for her survival except our attention and affection. Our master forbade me to approach that part of the basement on my own, and said I must not attempt to communicate with her in any way or even glance in her direction if she tried to attract my attention while I did the laundry.

During the days that followed, I understood that when our master beat me for her mistakes, Gaby must have felt an intense desire to help me and a terrible sense of powerlessness. However, I still obeyed our master. But sometimes, when I heard Gaby weep bitterly in her cell, I wanted to go and hug her, comfort her as I had done before. My little sister’s love had become so precious to me; I was afraid of losing her affection. Master had created this fondness, had encouraged it, and now he was forcing me to ignore it.

I also had my share of trials during this period. On some occasions, my master took me into the basement to test me. He wanted me to completely lose my phobia of caterpillars and centipedes. Those visits were not the same now that Gaby was there too. It was impossible to feel sorry for myself while she was suffering from isolation in the next room.

I think our master understood that Gaby’s trials had that effect on me. That’s why he made the most of the situation. As for Gaby, perhaps she too learned to divert her mind from her own suffering. In any case, I never heard her crying while our master tested me there. For my part, I was worried whether she was coping okay. Was she unconscious? If anything bad happened to her, would we know soon enough to be able to help her?

One day, when we went to the basement, my master began to mark my flesh in his own way. It was not a tattoo, even if it started out the same way: reproducing on my skin a pattern depicted on a tracing paper already prepared for this occasion. Then, he cut into my flesh with a ripper and spread colored powder into the slit. Having done that, he selected one of those horrid creatures--caterpillars or centipedes. Trapping the animal alive in the wound before closing around it with a suture. He continued, cutting my skin, sprinkling in dyes and hideous beasts, wrapping my flesh around them, until he finished his work. It hurt, but I gritted my teeth to prevent my moans.

I wondered what these tiny prisoners would feed on before dying in their flesh coffin. I felt them move under my skin and imagined the bugs digging tunnels toward my guts, even into my heart.

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