On her way to the office Mistress had stopped for coffee and a pastry at her favorite shop. Slave Ron - which she wrote as slaveron - was left outside, his apadravya ring fastened to a fence with a padlock, the chain hanging down. Having no choice, he stood quietly waiting, staring at the wall.

"Is that really your penis in there?" a girl's voice asked.

He couldn't see up, or even at normal eye level, but his view downward was unobstructed and he could see a hand pointing to the flexible stainless steel tube that enclosed his member, with its gleaming cap pierced by a D-ring, his apadravya ring. He couldn't turn his body very far - and his head not at all - but shuffling around as far as he could he was able to see a teenage girl connected to the hand, with two more girls behind her. Just their bodies, he couldn't look up far enough to see their faces. The neck corset with its struts prevented him from nodding or shaking his head and his permanent tracheostomy and the tube in his throat left him unable even to grunt, but he could bow from the waist.

"Awesome," she said, grasping the tube. He shivered as he felt the warmth of her hand through the tube, and came instantly erect.

"Does that ring go through his...?" one of the others asked.

The first girl tugged on the ring that passed through his shaft apadravya, sending a wave of erotic charge through his loins. "Does it?" she said? "Right through your dick?"

Again he bowed.

"Awesome!" she said. "He's chained by his dick!"

"Did you see when his mistress was leading him how she yanked on the chain?" the third girl said. "She was yanking him by his penis!"

"Eww!" exclaimed the second girl.

"Can you fuck with it?" asked the first girl. "Do you stick it in her?"

"How could he with that thing?" asked the third girl, pointing at the urine tube running to the pouch on the left leg of his heavy neoprene shorts.

"She takes out," girl number one said. "But what about the ring? Does that come out too?"

The second girl said, "Look how it's shaped. When the chain is unlocked it folds back along the...."

"But the real question," the third girl said, looking at him, "is how he gets it off when his penis is locked up inside that tube."

Slaveron shuddered. It was the most hellish part of slavery. He'd been a slave for six months and had fucked Mistress and other women and men hundreds of times with his dildo-dick and tongue but had never had an orgasm. The idea that he might never cum for a another 4½ years, or perhaps even 14½ years, filled him with despair.

"Can you imagine how totally awesome it would be, really awesome, to have him inside you, fucking you, and him not able to feel a fucking thing?" the first girl said, in an excited tone. "Because he's a slave and has to, no choice? I'm practically having an orgasm just thinking about it!"

"You sound as if you're cut out to be a mistress yourself." Slaveron recognized it as Mistress' voice, speaking in an amused tone. He shuffled back to face the fence.

"Oh, sorry," said the third girl.

But girl number one said, "I just thought you really wouldn't mind, since you locked him out here."

"I'm glad you liked playing with it," Mistress said. "As a mistress-in-training the first thing you need to know is that a slave isn't he or she, a slave is an 'it'."

"And does h- does it really fuck you with this?" The girl shook his encased cock, sending more waves of desperate, hopeless need surging though slaveron.

"What's your name and how old are you?"

"I'm Candy, and I'm 18."

"Come by at 8:30 tonight, Candy, and you can find out all about it, first hand, so to speak. The address is on the card. Bring your ID, and be ready for action. Your friends can come too, if you think they're ready."

While Candy poured forth her excited thanks, Mistress unlocked his cock from the fence and gave the chain a sharp jerk, setting slaveron trotting after her.

He had no real idea where she was leading him. The eye slits in the upper-half face mask he wore were too narrow and low-set to permit him to see street signs or most store signs, let alone the shapes of major buildings, and the neck corset didn't allow him to look up or to turn to see down the block at street crossings. He was somewhere downtown and he was following a chain attached to a ring through his cock; that was all he could be sure of.

Mistress was tall and walked fast. When he'd first been enslaved, slaveron had found it difficult to keep up with her, wearing high-heeled boots with his arms crossed behind his back in the latex binder bag. He had grown used to it, by necessity, and now could walk as fast as she without losing his balance.

"Oh, hi!" he heard Mistress exclaim. She veered toward a woman whose legs and lower torso he could see.

"Slaveron squat!" she ordered.

He immediately squatted on the sidewalk. With his torso tilted forward and the corset tilting his neck further down he could see nothing beyond a small circle of pavement around his feet. The position made him especially aware of the discomforts of his bowels and the butt plug.

He had worn the plug 24/7 for six months, except for his monthly checks, and had grown comparatively used to it - comparatively. Shortly after she had first forced it in, his sphincter had rebelled and begun cramping violently. It was indescribably awful. He felt as if he would die if he could not expel the plug and had writhed so violently that Mistress had strapped him down. The agony had continued for more than 12 hours, off and on, before finally settling down to mere acute discomfort, with occasional bursts of agony. The cramping had gone almost entirely now, and the discomfort had faded, but the plug still felt very much as if it didn't belong.

Every morning he connected a hose to the plug and turned the valve to fill his bowels with two liters of a strong hot laxative solution. After disconnecting it he did his first workout of the day as his bowels cramped with rapidly increasing intensity. When he had met his training goals - and not before - he was permitted to connect another hose and open the valve that allowed his bowels to expel their contents into the drain. It always left him with an aching empty feeling that was slow to fade.

As he shifted his weight very carefully in an effort to relieve the discomfort, his cock became fully erect within its stainless steel prison. He thought about Candy and felt an especially strong surge of need. What did her face look like, he wondered. He wanted so deeply to fuck her, really fuck her - not just stimulate her with his cock dildo.

A jerk on his cock brought him springing to his feet, following Mistress to wherever they were going. After two more blocks she turned abruptly to enter a building lobby. She didn't hold the door for him but he was able to shoulder it aside as it closed. He knew the building - it was where he had come to work every day for 31 months, up to 6 months ago. They were going to the agency that Mistress owned, the agency he had stolen from.

They got off at the sixth floor and went through the double doors into the office suite.

"The staff is ready in the meeting room, ma'am," he heard the receptionist say.

"Thank you. You come too, please," Mistress said in her usual tone of command.

In the meeting room, she led him to the front. "Good morning," she said to the crowd. "I've called you here to introduce the new accountant. Most of you recall that until nine months ago Ron Martello was the comptroller. He was removed abruptly when I found that he had been embezzling funds from the company. Betty Sung moved up to replace him and we brought in a temp to do the accounting under Betty's supervision. The temp is now gone and this slave, slaveron, will take over as accountant.

"Slaveron used to be Ron Martello." There was a murmur throughout the room. "Martello agreed to become my slave for fifteen years rather than face the state's penalties for embezzlement. It has all been done strictly in accordance with law. Slaveron has been in training for the past six months and while it is by no means fully trained, it's ready to go to work.

"While slaveron used to be a man named Ron Martello, do not think of it or refer to it as a man or as Ron Martello; it's male salve, not a man or human, and it's designated slaveron.

"As a slave, slaveron is supposed to be bound at all times when not in its quarters, and I'm scrupulous about this. Its hands are kept out of mischief, and it's leashed."

She whipped the chain from side to side and slaveron moaned silently to himself.

"You won't be seeing much of slaveron around the office, because it will literally be chained to its desk, or rather its chair. And you won't be hearing from it, either. You'll notice this opening at the base of its throat. That's how it breathes, now, and it means it can't speak. So we won't have to listen to any more of its lies."

Another murmur.

"Some of you may have noticed that a special seat has been installed in front of the desk that's been put in the corner. So you may understand why it looks so odd, and why slaveron never sits down anywhere else, I'm going to show you some of slaveron's special features. You've noticed I'm sure that it's leashed by a heavy D-ring through its penis tube. It actually goes through the penis itself, which assures that it will be very responsive to the leash. When seated in its chair, the ring will be locked to the seat.

"Now slaveron, turn around, lean forward from your hips, and spread your legs wide."

He did as he was told promptly.

She grasped the protruding base of his butt plug and yanked it up and down, sending more waves of hopeless excitement through his body.

"This is the connection to slaveron's anal appliance. It's permanent and it's used to flush our slaveron's bowels in a positive and neat way, without its control. Because of it, slaveron cannot sit on any sort of conventional seat.

"Slaveron, turn around and squat."

He stood up, turned about, and squatted.

"Now kneel."

He quickly knelt. It had been awkward and difficult for him at first but he had mastered both postures. They were uncomfortable but he could take them and hold them, as he often had to.

"Slaveron always squats or kneels when not standing, but of course this is not very satisfactory for working at a desk. So the chair has a recess for the plug as well as a lock for the penis ring. Slaveron will be fixed in place and not able to turn in its chair. And since the neck collar doesn't allow its neck to turn at all, it will be unable to look around.

"The neck collar will be adjusted so that its eyes are looking at the computer and nowhere else. With it adjusted as it is now, the eyes can only look downward and cannot really see you.

"When you have need to communicate with the accountant, do so by e-mail. Do not attempt any verbal communication. Remember that slaveron is not Ron Martello and is not a person, so do not attempt any personal communications.

"When slaveron's at its computer the armbinder will be removed and it will be wearing nothing above its waist. You may touch its skin if you like, or kiss its mouth. It's up to you and the question of what slaveron wants or doesn't is not an issue at all. Slaveron's training is not complete but it's being broken of all habits of desire or self-will. This takes time but it's not a violent or cruel process as you might imagine.

"Within the shorts, penis tube, and anal appliance, electrodes are located at various strategic places."

Everyone laughed, as Mistress had clearly intended.

"Just a very small shock is needed to stimulate these sensitive spots. These tiny shocks, not enough to cause pain, focus the slave's attention. By repeating them many, many times in a completely consistent way it's possible to condition the slave in order to change its patterns of behavior entirely, and even how it thinks and feels. You can already see some of the transformation. The man who emerges from the chrysalis of slaveron fifteen years from now will not be Ron Martello, nor anything like what he was."

It was true, slaveron recognized - he could already feel himself being robbed of his identity and feelings, obeying Mistress not only out of fear but out of deeper acceptance. It was something he tried to avoid thinking about, but hearing it from her lips sent a current of despair through him.

"As some here know, Ron Martello was a sexual taker and cheat, as well as a vicious criminal. Slaveron is giving back, entirely unselfishly, and we'll have an office party a week from Saturday, when you can experience that yourself, if you like.

"Now before slaveron begins work, is there anything else you'd like to know?"

A voice he thought was probably Paul Harris' said, "I thought slavery had to be completely voluntary, and for no more than five years."

"It's all been done in full accordance with the law, approved by our lawyers, the lawyers representing the former Ron Martello, and the district attorney's office, Paul." Her tone had turned cooler. "Slaveron will be released from slavery after five years, and will spend a week in freedom before it's eligible to agree to another term of five years. But it will agree. Not only does it face prison if it doesn't, but it will want to, and will fear freedom."

"But how does he make a free choice when he's threatened with prosecution?" Paul asked.

Mistress' tone was pleasantly steely. "Ron Martello pled guilty and has been sentenced to 30 to 50 years, Paul. This is an alternative to prison, and a much more humane one. It was entirely Martello's free choice to become slaveron, and as I say, there'll be an opportunity for him to reconsider at the five-year mark, and again at the ten-year point."

His free choice! His lawyer had made clear what lay in store for him in prison: rapes, beatings, and mutilations. He could expect gangs in the prison to castrate him, pull all his front teeth, and cut out his tongue. There was no chance whatever that he would live to finish out his sentence.

The rush of hot resentment and indignation moved him to try to stand, bringing a sharp tap of an aversion signal on his cock head. He gasped and quickly resumed the uncomfortable kneeling position.

"Did you see what happened?" Mistress asked. "That was training in action. For some reason, slaveron moved too far from the kneeling position and was automatically given a correction signal. There are a number of automatic training routines like this, and of course sometimes I need to activate training signals manually. It's been making great progress but of course it takes consistent training over a long period to make really profound changes.

"Now are there other questions? Marie."

"How does it eat?"

"Good question, dear. You'll get a chance to see at noon. With its arms in the binder it kneels and eats and drinks from shallow bowls set on a stool or chair in front of it. This is an area where further training is needed, but it's making progress.

A male voice asked, "At the end of the 15 years, will Ron Martello be able to speak and control his bowels?"

"Another good question, Charles. Who can know what state any of us will be in 15 years from now, after all? The tracheostomy and the anal appliance shouldn't do any permanent harm to the muscles. Some retraining is likely to be needed, but it should be possible for Martello to regain speech and bowel control if he has the motivation. Similarly with sexual function and sitting."

If he has the motivation.... His blood ran cold. He felt certain that she planned to break his will so thoroughly that he would live out his life incontinent and speechless, unable to bring himself to sit, let alone have a sex life. A miserable, pitiable creature.

"Other questions? No? Then let's get slaveron started on its new responsibilities, shall we?"

He felt a sharp tug on his tender cock and scrambled to his feet as rapidly as he could, trotting behind Mistress through the office to a corner that used to be for storing boxes. Now there was a desk, facing one wall, sandwiched between another wall and a pillar. In front of it a chair had been bolted to the floor.

"Betty," Mistress said, "will you get slaveron seated and ready to work?"

Betty had been his undoing. He'd been sleeping with her and with Mistress, and each thought she was the love of his life. When they'd learned of his duplicity it started the events leading to discovery of his crimes and then to his conviction and enslavement. She grabbed him above the hips and dug he nails cruelly into his sides as she maneuvered him into the seat. It felt good to sit, even under these circumstances. She locked his apadravya ring to the front of the seat and then ordered, "Lean forward, slave."

As he did so she removed the binder, freeing his arms. He had scarcely had a chance to stretch them before she commanded him to put his hands on the keyboard. She locked tethers to his permanent wrist cuffs, restricting his hands just to the keyboard area. She adjusted the neck corset so he was looking at the screen and gave him a quick refresher on the system before leaning down and giving him a long, wet kiss. His body shook as his cock struggled desperately against the confines of the cap over the glans.

Then she was gone, leaving him alone. After a few minutes he was able to focus again on something other than his urgent, unfillable need. Even twisting his torso as far as he possibly could to either side he could see nothing but dingy gray walls. When he tried to point his browser to a news site he got an "ACCESS BLOCKED" message, plus a sharp reminder to his cock.

In a busy office, in the middle of a crowded city, he was utterly isolated. Surrounded by women, many of whom had been glad to make love with him, he was totally deprived.