To say that Lara was a tease would be an understatement. She had given Eric every sign of availability right from the beginning and he had responded with his usual speed and vigor, but she had danced away. It had all been repeated several times over the past two years as he became more and more deeply attracted to her.

He had been away for more than a month, with no explanation, and now he had come to work in a very unusual outfit. It started with a heavy, highly-polished steel collar, closely contoured to his neck and extending nearly its full length, closed with a padlock and inscribed in large letters, "Slaveric," and, "Property of Mistress Demona." And on his sleeveless, form-fitting black shirt large silver letters invited, "Ask me about slavery." He could not have removed the shirt, if he had been tempted, because its turtleneck ran up under the locked collar. His outfit was completed by black leather shorts whose belt was padlocked and heavy black boots whose buckles were secured by small padlocks. It was something he would never, ever have worn if he had a choice, but of course that was the point.

Unless he could somehow break free from Demona his days of choosing for himself were over.

To top it off a large, heavy stainless steel ring hung down over his upper lip, suspended from the septum of his nose.

On Wednesday, Lara invited him to take her for coffee. Rationally he knew this was crazy, that he could do nothing with her now and that to try was only to invite pain and frustration. But the most powerful part of his mind by far was still between his legs.

She led him to a dark corner of the shop and they sat with their backs to the rest of place. As soon as they had ordered she leaned over suddenly, drawing him to her, and kissed him deeply, full on the mouth.

"Oh, Eric," she told him, "I want you to fuck me! You'll do that, won't you?"

Eric could only stammer as he squirmed in the discomfort radiating from his member. He gasped in pain as he felt her hand on his bare thigh below the bottom of his shorts and his cock tried to break free of its prison, regardless of the studs that dug into its head.

He reached down to push her hand away but before he could she had reached up under the shorts to grasp the cage. Lara laughed with girlish delight.

"You're just hard as steel, Slaveric, but not nearly as big as I'd been told!"

"Bitch!" he exclaimed, in low but very angry tones, as he shoved her away.

She pulled away out of reach around the little table, but smiled in her warmly radiant way. "Don't be angry with Lara, please. I just want to have fun. Tell me about slavery, like you promise."

"You know, don't you. How?"

"Oh, I saw 'Property of Mistress Demona,' so I asked around and called her up. We got together for coffee yesterday afternoon, right here. She was very nice and filled me in. She invited me to a party on Sunday, and says she wants to be friends."

"I'd be careful of her, if I were you," Eric spat, teeth clenched.

Lara just smiled.

"The answer is that slavery is hell," he went on, a little less forcefully.

"She said you had chosen it?"

"There could be worse hells," Eric admitted.

"She has something on you?" Lara asked, making it clear that she knew that must be so.

"Yeah. Something." If she gave what she had to the state they would lock him up and stomp on him until they had crushed his body and spirit. He'd get out as a broken old man, if ever. All over something totally stupid.

"She told you about the thing she's got locked on me? That's hell, it really is. There are points that dig into my cock head. You can't imagine." He shook in agitation.

"She showed me a picture. They're really just bumps, scarcely any point at all."

"That sure as shit is not the way they feel!" Eric growled.

"Anyway," she assured him, brightly, "she said I'd get to fuck you soon, so she can't be planning to keep you locked up, can she?"

"Fuck me?" he said, eyes widening. "If you wanted to fuck me, why have you played so fucking hard to get?"

Lara shrugged and smiled brightly. "It wasn't time yet. I just wanted to have fun."

Eric squirmed. He had become obsessed with her, felt the current of lust in his loins even as he fought not to push against the points of agony. It wasn't just her beauty, beautiful as she was. He needed her and couldn't have her. "I can't believe she's really going to let us make love."

"She didn't have to say it at all. She brought it up."

"There's some trick, something cruel."

"I think she meant it," Lara said with a shrug. "I don't think she's really all that much into men. When she said she wanted to be friends she meant she wanted to be lovers. I could tell."

"Sure," he scoffed.

"I mean it. Has she fucked you much?"

"No, not at all."

"You see what I mean?" she said. "She goes to a lot of trouble and expense to have a slave and doesn't even use him for fucking. And you're not the first, she's had others."

"You're sure?" he demanded.

"I know someone who knows her. There have been at least two others."

"What happened to them?" Maybe it was a ray of hope, hope that he might someday be released.

Lara shrugged. "They just were gone, that's all she knew. Maybe she'll get tired of you pretty soon and let you go."

"It's already been two months. 'Breaking in.' She keeps me chained up like an animal."

"You're dangerous, she says. I think she likes the challenge."

It was true enough - there were times when he would have killed her if he had been free. "It's a nightmare, a fucking nightmare. I wish.... Shit!"

"Well," Lara said, matter-of-factly, "we need to get back."

A very fine, light rain had started to fall as they walked back toward the office, although the sky remained clear to the west, bathing the streets in a soft glow. She looked incredible, her natural blonde hair gleaming, her intensely blue eyes glowing. Vermeer had never painted any woman with such mysterious, innocent sexuality. Eric cursed the day he had fallen into Demona's trap.

He walked uneasily in the gathering darkness. His stride was hobbled by the chain connecting the tops of his boots; he had trouble maintaining his balance without the use of his arms; the narrow, low-set eyeslits limited his vision. The noises of the street crowded in on him - his inability to tell what direction they were coming from made them seem threatening. The distractions of feeling his hugely engorged cock straining futilely to keep his cock from swelling and of having his jaw jammed fully open added to the difficulty.

Demona was leading him by a light chain locked to his nose ring. He had to hobble as fast as he could to keep up with her due to his short stride. He could glimpse people he was sure must be staring at him, hooded and chained with a latex kilt, chest bare, and leather-encased arms strapped tightly behind his back.

She was scarcely less of a sight, with her gleaming black hair and eye against a creamy skin. She was not young, but she had been very careful of her body and had a striking figure. But it was her outfit that really drew attention. Her form-fitted black leather trousers merged seamlessly into very high-heeled boots. Above the waist she wore only a very cut-away black leather vest. Her left eye, blind since childhood, was covered by a black leather patch. She held the chain in her left hand, a black riding crop in her right.

She stopped, turning toward a set of steep stone steps leading up to a fine old house. "Up here, Slave," she commanded.

It was a struggle. The chain was only just long enough to let him get his foot up to the next step and he had to be careful to maintain his balance. She gripped his right elbow firmly through the leather to steady him, and he needed it. It was a long flight up and he felt drained by the time they reached the top.

She pulled him forward through the door and down a hall into a large, high-ceilinged room. There were a number of people standing in it, perhaps two dozen. They eye-slits were too low and narrow for him to be able to see their faces.

Demona stopped. "It's wonderful to see you all! Thank you for coming to Slaveric's coming out party! We're both thrilled.

"Most of you already know Slaveric, whom you have known in his pre-slave identity as Eric. Many of you have worked with him for the past few years and see him every day at the office."

Eric stiffened and fought for breath. He had known of course that she had planned something cruel, but the reality of his humiliation was different.

"Of course you may not recognize his weekend lounging outfit. As you can see, he has a lovely heavy latex hood, custom molded to fit his features. The eye slits have been left open to come here tonight, but they are usually closed for a more relaxed weekend. There's a little tool I use, like this."

The left slit went dark and then the right, leaving him completely blind.

"The mouth slit usually also is kept closed except for meals, but tonight is special. You'll see later.

"I'm particularly pleased with this reverse straitjacket, which keeps his arms securely in a comfortable pouch behind him, out of the way. The weight of the arms is distributed so there is no strain all weekend, and there is no chance of any random activity. It also was made especially for him, and you can see how beautifully it fits. This is his first weekend for both it and the hood, but there will be many more, and there are more special things yet to come."

"Although you know Slaveric," Demona went on, "is the chance for you and he to become much more intimately acquainted. I hope you all brought your libidos, as I asked."

Eric could hear laughter through the earphones in the hood.

"Wonderful," she said. "Slaveric will be so pleased."

He could feel his kilt being removed, leaving him completely naked except for the reverse straitjacket, boots, and hood. His penis strained against the cage, sending waves of agony through his groin.

"Inside that cage he's ready and loaded. He's taken a top dose of Cialis and will be able to keep stiff all night. He will be coming out of his cage later, but a ring at the base of his prick will make sure he doesn't have any accidents. Slaves do not have orgasms."

Someone asked, "Never? He never gets to cum?"

"Well, possibly some time if I feel a whim. But that's very rare.

"Now let me assure you," Demona proclaimed, "that Slaveric is fully protected against sexually transmitted diseases. This has included a full course of the new HIV immunization. There is no way he can contract or transmit HIV or any of the other common STDs. Just to be extra safe we'll have a little disinfecting routine between each introduction, and of course condoms are available if you wish."

Eric listened with growing agitation. There were more men than women in the group - what was this going to involve? He was no fag! There was no way he was going to have sex with a man!

"With a slave," Demona insisted, "discipline is always important. He must be reminded that obedience is the only option. It's particularly important with a slave that's raw and not really well broken in, like Slaveric. It might be, for instance, that he is shy and retiring, and reluctant to get to know you so well."

There was a wave of laughter.

Eric felt something being fastened around his balls. He jerked back, but was brought up short by pressure.

"This is a come-along. You just hold this and Slaveic will stand where you want or go where you please."

He stepped forward in response to pressure on his balls. She led him first to the right and then the left.

"And if he needs a reminder about anything, a little twist will do it."

He gasped as his balls were suddenly squeezed.

"Don't hesitate or worry about being too rough," she said brightly. "He really must learn that obedience is central to his life as a slave, and that pain is always a part of the slave's life."

"If it's really needed, this crop has a cattle prod function. It can deliver a harmless but far from painless shock that's guaranteed to get his attention if applied in a sensitive place.

"Now it's time to get on with the fun!" She exclaimed. "To avoid distracting him from what he's supposed to be doing, I'm going to turn off Slaveric's hearing. The hood and collar have a voice cancellation system and when you see this little LED on the collar turn from red to green his world will go silent except for a little white noise background. I can speak into this microphone and he will hear what I say, but he needs no input apart from the come-along."

The voices of the crowd went silent in his ears: he was deaf and blind. After a moment pressure on his balls drew him down. He was guided to kneel on a low cushion, sitting back on his heels. It was not a very comfortable position but when he tried to straighten up he found that he couldn't - something was holding him.

The plug was pulled from his mouth, leaving it gaping. Something was fastened around the back of his head and neck, a harness.

A large warm sausage was thrust into his mouth, a man's cock. He tried wildly to twist away, but the harness bound him tightly to the crotch of his penetrator.

Thrust, thrust, thrust. His mind screamed NO! but he was helpless to do anything to reject the violation. He strained at his bonds until it seemed he would burst, but without result. The harness and whatever was holding him in a kneeling position were absolutely solid and he could not close his jaw by a millimeter, no matter how much pressure he put on his teeth.

The strokes came shorter and faster. His mouth and throat filled with slimy, repellant tasting fluid. After a few moments the cock was withdrawn. Eric tried to spit out the stuff, but a sharp twist on the come-along and a hand slapped across his mouth pushed him to swallow it.

His mouth was swabbed out with something that tasted foul. A few moments later another rider buckled up and thrust his cock into Eric's unclosing mouth.

Eric quickly lost track of how many times his mouth was raped. A dozen or more, probably. He sobbed with fury, frustration, and hurt, but no one paid attention to the tears of a slave.

He was pulled up to a standing position with the come-along, finding that his bounds apparently had been removed. Slaveric responded quickly despite his stiffness. He walked blindly a few steps, led by his balls.

Hands helped him to lie down on his back on a couch of some sort, a hard pillow behind his head. Lying on his restrained arms was not very comfortable, but it was better than sitting back on his heels. His cock and cage were squirted with lubricant and the cage was worked off.

He was mounted, someone astride his face, a woman, her scent strong. There was a painfully sharp tug on his balls and after a momentary hesitation he responded by thrusting his tongue out, encountering a warm, wet pussy. He had never done much cunnilingus, never cared much about the pleasure of his partners, but twisted balls provided effective encouragement.

The woman rose a little and moved down to his loins, and at the same time someone else perched astride his face. As his cock was enveloped he felt a surge of exultant joy, but a another tug on his balls reminded him that his tongue had duties to perform. It was frustrating to have to divide his energies and attention.

Eric had not been allowed to come in months and he felt an overwhelming, driving need. He fought to overcome the ring, to burst it apart, but it was stronger than he was. The woman climaxed but he could do nothing. His cock ached. It went on and on in a sustained nightmare, one woman after another.

After a long time there was a pause and then he was rolled over. His hips were pulled up and when he was let down his cock was immersed in a container of ice and water, bitterly, painfully cold. Several times his hips were pulled up a little to allow more ice to be added. His penis became totally numb.

Eric was rolled back over and he dimly felt the cage being slipped back on and the lock being inserted in his Prince Albert. He was helped up off the couch and the plug was forced into his mouth again. He was led a few steps before being bent over what felt like a padded bench. His body was strapped down over the top and his legs were spread apart and tied or strapped in position. Grease or oil was spread on his anus and then pushed inside with someone's fingers. He tensed.

Something warm, blunt, and firm was pressed against his anus, but he resisted with unyielding fury. That was the ultimate line between being a real man and a pansy fag, someone's dick up your ass, and he would never allow it, no matter what they did to him. Even when his balls were twisted painfully he would not admit the violator. More jerks on his balls followed but he refused to yield despite the pain.

He felt a touch on his balls and then they seemed to explode, engulfing him in an agony far greater than any he had ever felt. He writhed futilely against his bonds.

After the overload of the shock passed a little he realized his anus was being pumped. He was on the receiving end of fag rape. He screamed and wept into his hood, but no one cared.

The rapist came and withdrew. Another took his place and again Slaveric resisted until he got a shock that left him shaking uncontrollably. The next time his resistance was token and soon he had no strength even for that. Again he lost track of how many times he was raped - a dozen or more.

There was a longer pause than usual between rapes and then he felt something different, cool and hard. It was bigger than a cock, but he lacked the strength to resist it. It went in with a pop.

His restraints were removed and he was pulled upright, barely tottering. A belt was fastened around his waist and then a strap was pulled tight under his crotch, holding the plug firmly in him. It apparently had a hole for his cock and balls.

A tug on the come-along set him in motion, even though he could scarcely stand. He was halted and turned, and then for the first time in hours he heard Demona's voice.

"I'm turning Slaveric's hearing back on for this.

"I hope you all had a good time."

A voice from the crowd called, "Did Slaveric have a good evening?" There was a burst of laughter.

"Probably not," Demona said. "But it's not about Slaveric having a good day or a bad day, but just having a day while he submits totally and completely to the will of his mistress. That's his destiny and I want to thank you all for helping me to lead him a step toward it. It will not come quickly or easily and I hope you will continue to help in the process. Eventually Slaveric will be stripped completely of all will, automatically accepting any command, no matter how painful or degrading. He will no longer have any awareness of questioning or resistance, only immediate and full submission.

"Tonight he has taken just a few early steps on this road. Small steps, but I think you can see that he resisted them, particularly the anal sex, and then was forced to pretty complete submission. There will be many more steps. He will endure repeated peaks of agony, disgust, and terror until finally his mind is so overloaded that it simply ceases to experience them. He will be entirely ready, if ordered, to jump off a cliff, walk into fire, or hold his head under water. He will have reached his destiny as a true slave."

Eric's hearing was turned off again and he was left to stand there in silence and darkness. His cock screamed in the pain of the spikes, his balls throbbed with an overwhelming ache, fire ate at his anus, his whole body ached.

After a time he felt the kilt being put on him again. The chain between his boots was reconnected. The mouth slit of the hood was closed but the right eye slit was opened partway, just enough to let him see the chain that led under the hem of the kilt to the come-along.

A jerk on the chain sent a fresh wave of agony through his body. His balls were so swollen and sensitive that it took only the slightest pressure to make him scream into the plug and hood. Eric scrambled to follow the chain, to keep it from growing taut. He had no idea where he was going, only that he had to keep the chain from pulling on his balls.

She meant to turn him into a nothing, to take his body but leave the essence of him in the dirt. It was not going to happen, he was determined.

But he found it hard to hold the thought while his attention was focused on the chain and keeping it slack.