Dan was on his mid-morning break. When Mary left for work, he would get the basic morning chores out of the way; tidying up the breakfast things, making her bed, cleaning her bathroom and so on. He had been vacuuming since then. Now that he is at home permanently, Dan has morphed into the fulltime homemaker. The 1950’s house Wife. At least Mary doesn’t dress him in a dirndl dress and pinafore, just a plain grey tracksuit. He keeps the house clean, does the laundry and cooking for Mary. To Mary’s mind, that is all her husband is good for now, as well, of course, as giving her a bit of good time when she feels like it. As she would put it herself; Dan wanted to be a slave and now he is. What else are slaves supposed to do?

Their new house is a lot bigger than their old one and needs a lot more upkeep. Well, to be legally correct, it not ‘their’ house, it is Mary’s house, and Mary’s alone. Dan’s name doesn’t appear on the title deeds of the new house. It got dropped between the selling of their old house and the buying of her new one.

Even if Dan would have preferred his name on the deeds, Dan was in no position to object to the new arrangement. Not since Mary obtained formal legal custody over Dan. She would continue to be, effectively, his legal owner and guardian for the next three years at least. During that time if Dan pissed Mary off enough, she would just have to go before a local magistrate and state on oath that Dan has breached the terms of the order that granted her custody. The magistrate would promptly commit Dan to the State penitentiary for the remainder of his term of three to five years.

That sentence hangs over Dan’s head every day. Like it did the day Mary explained how it made more sense to have just her name on the title deeds. She had asked Dan if he agreed, her eyebrows arched in that ‘or else we’ll have to send you to the State penitentiary for the next three to five years’ yet smiling way. Dan said of course he agreed. Dan has no intention of complaining about anything that Mary did, or will do to him for the next three to five years.

It is no longer a pretend BDSM slave contract between Dan and Mary. A ‘contract’ that Dan could walk away from if he really wanted to. No. Mary is now Dan’s real-life jailor. She keeps him more or less a prisoner in her own home, but does let Dan outside in very controlled circumstances. He gets to do some garden maintenance and occasional chores for the other residents of the exclusive gated community where they now live. They all know Dan’s situation. Mary made sure of that. At the first meeting of the residents association, Mary had Dan stand at the front of the room while she explained that he was effectively a State prisoner in her custody, and that physical labour was considered part of his sentence. She invited all the residents to make use of Dan for gardening and maintenance chores. They just had to contact her and she would manage Dan’s work calendar.

About once a week Dan gets to do the grocery shop. Mary issues Dan with an official looking chit that states where he is going and what time he is supposed to be back inside the gated ‘village,’ where they live now. He needs to show the chit to get past the security guy who controls the gate of ‘Manor Homes Village’ to give it its full title. The other residents have their own remotes that open the gates for them, but not Dan. Dan has to show his chit and ask to get in and out, just like the various ancillary staff, cleaners, gardeners, delivery drivers and so on.

Unlike them, Dan is regularly obliged to suck the security guy’s dick; the price of being allowed out the pedestrian gate. After he’s done, Dan is permitted to go about his business, his mouth still filled with the sour, stinging taste of another man’s cum. He trundles his wheelie shopping trolley away towards the town centre, wiping his mouth a few times with the back of his hand. It’s an instinctive gesture. Makes no difference. His throat is still throbbing and feels a bit raw from the rough reaming out it has received. He can’t wipe away what happened.

And this is what happens. Dan kneels down inside the little security hut, opens the man’s flies, takes his cock in his hands, and easing back the foreskin, works it carefully into life. Flicking his tongue around the underside of the crown, first one side then the other. Gently stroking the soft shaft at the same time until he feels it stiffen, harden and fill into his mouth. In this most subservient service, Dan prepares the weapon that is to be used on him. And in that ultimate submission, once his mouth is filled with the other man’s penis, Dan allows himself to be used for the other’s pleasure. Allows his head to be held on this other’s erect cock by two strong hands that covers his ears and dig their fingers into his hair in a vice like grip.

Those hands then pump Dan’s head in and out, using him as the fuck toy that he has become. His head bobs at a rhythm of the other’s making, at the speed of the other’s making, with the force and depth of the other’s making, until Hot jets of the other’s cum slam into the back of Dan’s throat, leaving him spluttering and gagging, but taking it, surrendering to it, helpless and hapless, like the total slave that he has become, until his head is released and pushed away contemptuously.

Dan had told Mary about this previously. Not complained, mind. Just mentioned it as a ‘something you might like to know, Mary.’ Then he told her in a matter of fact sort of way. In a ‘funny thing happened on the way to the shops’ sort of way. Dan’s telling of his tale of woe didn’t cut any ice with Mary. She not only told him to get over it, she practically encouraged him to enjoy it.

‘You never know, once you’ve served your sentence, I might sell you on to a guy someday who wants his cock sucked morning, noon and night. This could be good practice. In fact, I’ll ask that security guy how he rates you as a cocksucker. You might need some training up.’ No more was said by Dan on that subject.

Mary, being Dan’s Wife, owner and prison officer, allowed him a mid-morning break. She believed in the old adage; all work and no play makes Dan a dull slave. Ten minutes for a cup of coffee. On this particular morning, Dan was half way through his cup of coffee when the distant sound of a police car siren intruded on his daydreaming. Just the sound of a police siren is enough to bring Dan back to that terrible Friday morning when his career as a science teacher ended abruptly and ignominiously. A clear case of post-traumatic stress that will, no doubt, ease with time but never completely go away. Dan once again felt himself being shoved into the back seat of the patrol car, a bunch of students surrounding the car and laughing at him. He was naked save for his back-to-front knickers and his trainer bra. Unable to get a grip on the shiny plastic coated seat, his hands cuffed behind him, his piss wet panties allowed him to slide over and back ignominiously as the car swung out the school gate and headed for the police station, the siren blaring unnecessarily in the best ‘where’s the fire’ fashion. Every time he hears that siren Dan is back in that patrol car and on his way to jail.

The police car pulled into the yard at the back of the police station and Dan was hauled out, pushed in through a back door, uncuffed and stood before the desk sergeant. He was briskly processed, still wearing only his bra and wet knickers. The desk sergeant had made him take off his collar and cuffs, put them in a plastic bag, and had Dan sign for his ‘possessions.’ Dan asked about getting his shirt and trousers back, but was told these were being held as evidence awaiting forensic examination. A female police office took a firm grip of his arm and led Dan briskly towards the cells.

On his way to the holding cell, Dan remembered all the TV cop shows he’d watched and decided he should request his statutory phone call. It was a thing everybody did on TV and it was the only thing he could think of doing now. To his surprise it seemed to be a real thing, as the officer told him he’d get to make it once he was inside the cell. He was given the handset of an old style wall phone that was mounted on the wall outside the cell. Dan called Mary, and to his relief she picked up immediately. As soon as he said his name, Mary interrupted him to say she knew all about it. She said she was busy in a meeting, and that she would come along in the morning to bail him out. In the meantime he was to be quiet and cause no further trouble. She told him that Alice, Dan’s boss and Mary’s friend, had told her what happened and it sounded like he’d made a total disgrace of himself. Then, by way of a parting shot, she added; ‘And in case you don’t know it, you have resigned as a teacher with immediate effect. Your resignation letter was signed and delivered to Alice’s desk by the time you got to the police station. And you will readily swear to that. Won’t you?

‘Yes, Madam,’ said Dan meekly, hearing the line go dead as Mary abruptly ended the call without waiting for his reply. He suddenly felt very sorry for himself. A night in the cells was not something he ever contemplated, except as a sexy bondage fantasy. But that wasn’t working for him just then. That his career had gone up in smoke seemed a trivial detail. What mattered now was that he was locked in a cell downtown wearing only a panties and bra, and his Wife and owner didn’t care. So what, she seemed to say. Dan felt very abandoned and alone. After handing back the phone through the bars to the officer waiting in the corridor outside, he forlornly watched her disappear around a corner. The busy noise of the main office was silenced as the door from the cell block swung closed and was locked shut with a noisily jangling of keys. Silence.

The cell was like your average large holding cell in the movies. Dan was standing at the front which was a wall of bars, including a door of bars in the middle, in which there was a slot. For passing food trays through, maybe, thought Dan. He hadn’t had any lunch, but he supposed that was the least of his worries. Dan glanced around at the cell which was dimly lit by the light coming from the cell block corridor. The back wall was blank, no window. Mary wasn’t going to come to his rescue, then, riding on a horse, lassoing the bars and pulling them away so that they would ride off together into the sunset and begin a new life as outlaws in the Wild West. No. Not going to happen. In one corner was a stainless steel toilet and wash hand basin combined in one solid block. The other corner contained a bunk bed/seat that attached to the side wall.

A deep voice came from that gloomy back corner of the cell. Dan jumped with surprise. There was a person sitting very still on the bunk with their back against the back wall. Somehow Dan had had presumed he would be alone in the cell.

‘Well now, just what has the cat dragged in? A pretty boy for me to play with?

Dan took in the large figure sitting on the bunk. Big and black. All Dan’s prison fantasies at once. The man sat with his head in shadow and his feet stretched out along the length of the bunk. Wearing the standard Guantanamo orange jumpsuit, he looked very much at home.

‘Cat got your tongue, pretty boy?’

‘Eh, what?’ stuttered Dan.

‘An’ you got all dressed up in your panties and bra for me. Pity you stink of piss. You better take off that pretty outfit, Boy, and wash it, and yourself, at the sink there. Then we can get to know ourselves better.’

‘And who are you, exactly?’ said Dan trying to re-establish a bit of authority, using his training as a teacher, well used to commanding a class of twenty five teenagers.

‘Plenty of time for getting to know each other later. Now take it off, or I’ll take it off for you.’

Dan quickly gave up trying the ‘I’m in charge here, sonny’ approach. Not going to impress this guy and, besides, Dan just hadn’t the energy. He felt weary. He looked towards the basin in the corner and hesitated again. Getting naked didn’t seem like a good idea, but then again he didn’t fancy spending the night in his piss soaked panties.

‘Don’t you worry about dropping any soap and having to bend over either. We’ll get to all that stuff later. Just get on with the washing, pretty boy.’

Dan stood with his back to the guy and slowly peeled his wet panties off. He wished this guy would stop calling him ‘pretty boy’

‘Just do it, before we have a falling out on the matter. You don’t want me to get cross with you, pretty boy.’

‘OK. I’m doing it. I’m doing it’

Dan, in fact needed the bit of direction. His brain was frozen. He felt like he was moving through treacle, or underwater, or in a dream that he was trying to wake up from but couldn’t. Besides he felt sticky and grotty. He rinsed off his wet panties and used them to wipe down his Ass and legs. Then he washed them again. He went to put the wet panties on again before turning around. Dan would prefer if his cell mate didn’t see his chained up dick. He felt bad enough about being stuck in a cell wearing only a bra and panties with a giant who insisted on calling him a pretty boy.

Deep down, Dan knew where this was going. It was going to be a long night in the cells. He decided there and then that the only thing to do was to go with it. Fuck it, he said to himself, let whatever happens, happen. He remembered his slave training and the night Bette spent ramming a massive dildo up his Ass. It couldn’t be worse than that.

‘First time in jail, pretty boy?’ asked the giant, swinging his feet down off the bunk and patting the mattress, inviting Dan to come and sit next to him.

‘Yes. First time.’

‘I can tell. Well, I’m an expert on life on the inside. Seen it all. Done it all. Hang your panties on that pipe along there and they’ll be dry in ten minutes.’

‘Okay.’ Dan noticed the cast iron pipe that ran low down along the length of the back wall of the. He felt it. It was reasonably warm. He guessed his wet panties would dry in less than ten minutes. Dan couldn’t wait to get them back on. He was acutely aware of his nakedness. The naked jailbird, clothed jailbird fantasy wasn’t one he was familiar with or at all comfortable with. A harsh order from the big guy brought Dan back to his from his reverie.

‘Don’t say, okay. Say, “okay, Boss.” In here, in this cell, I’m the boss. You better not forget it. First lesson of jail life; know who your boss is and always respect the boss, Got it?’

‘Okay, Boss. Sorry, Boss.’ Dan wasn’t going to put up a fight over this either. Not over one night in the cells. He decided to pretend he an extra in the old prison movie, Cool Hand Luke, where everybody was going ‘yes, Boss’ and ‘no, Boss’ all the time.

‘An I’ll call you “Hoss” ’cause I’m goin’ to be ridin’ your Ass all night. He, he, he. Ain’t that right pretty boy?’

‘Yes, Boss,’ said Dan, tensing up a little, as he turned towards the big guy, exposing his naked front for the first time. Bravely, he forced his hands to remain by his sides. Trying to cover his dick and balls would look like naive schoolgirl modesty. Dan’s asshole gave an involuntary twitch as he moved across to face ‘the boss.’ Like it knew it was in for a hard time.

‘What’s this? Is your dick chained to your Ass, pretty boy? Come ‘ere. Show me.’

‘Yes, Boss.’ Dan muttered coming to a halt in front of the big guy.

The big guy reached out and grasped the chain connecting Dan’s penis to his perineum. He tugged it, not too hard, pulling Dan closer.

‘Ouch.’

‘Well, well. A chained up dick’ he chuckled, holding the chain between thumb and forefinger while his other fingers reached under and stroked Dan’s shrivelled scrotum, feeling for, and finding, the perineum piercing.

Dan couldn’t help his dick twitching under the stimulation. More than the physical stimulation of the big guy’s stroking was the hard on he could feel coming on at the thought that he was standing like a slave at auction, a good as naked, while some random big black guy felt him up, played freely with his wares, had him by the balls literally. And Dan the slave just stood there and took it. Had to take it.

‘That ol’ chain says you ain’t up on a charge of rape, anyhow. You ain’t fucked anybody in a while, have you, Hoss? And it looks like you ain’t going to be fucking anybody anytime soon are you. Hoss? Not with that chain on your little dick anyway,’ he laughed, letting go of the chain.

‘No, Boss.’

‘Time to give you the facts of jail life, Hoss. You listenin’?

‘Yes, Boss, ‘ answered Dan respectfully, his dick semi-hard now and beginning to poke out in front of him.

‘There are two types of inmate in the prison system. There are those who fuck and there are those who get fucked. The fuckers and the fuckees. We both know which type you are, Hoss. Don’t we?’

‘Yes, Boss.’

‘Yes. You are going to get fucked. So sit own here beside me and I’ll tell you what sort of fucking you can expect when you go up to State prison. ‘

Dan sat on the bunk about two feet away from the big guy.

‘I said; up here beside me, Hoss,’ said big guy patting the space beside him on the bunk with his big meaty hand. Dan shuffled up on the bunk till he was right up next to the big guy, his naked thigh looked very small as it brushed against the rough cotton of the orange overalls that were stretched over the huge thigh of his cell mate. He wondered briefly how big the guy’s cock was, and regretted it instantly as his own cock stiffened further and twitched at the thought. Dan hoped the big guy wouldn’t notice. But his imagination wasn’t playing ball, as it went on to wonder first how heavy this guy would be lying on top of him tonight, and what if Dan would have to spread his legs grotesquely wide out either side to accommodate the big guy’s body if the big guy wanted him to adopt the missionary position as he pushed into Dan’s asshole.

‘Ooh, I can see you like sitting up all cosy beside your Boss. Got you ‘self a little hard-on there, Hoss.’

‘Yes, Boss,’ Dan mumbled, looking down at his dick. It insisted on sticking straight out in front, the chain pulling tight and keeping it from moving to the upright erect position.

‘Tell you what, Hoss. You go put your panties on. It don’t do anybody any good to see that pathetic display. It’s good to know that just sittin’ beside me is enough to give you a hard-on. Means you like me, Hoss. Means you’ lookin’ forward to a bit of action tonight.’

Dan dodged replying one way or the other by bending over to pick the panties off the pipe, very aware that he was presenting his naked Ass, stretched wide, to this total stranger. As Dan quickly pulled on his still slightly damp panties, back to front as usual, he wondered about the point of asking the big guy his name. After all this guy would probably rape him multiple times before the night was over. At the thought, a small dark stain appeared at the point of the sharp tent that stuck out in front of his panties. Dan sat back down a little further way from the big guy. Decided that keeping a little distance might cool things down a bit.

Made no difference. The big guy wrapped his large arm around Dan and pulled him in close, his brawny arm easily reaching around Dan’s back and across in front of his chest. His hand teased and twisted Dan’s nipple through the light cotton trainer bra. The stain of precum on Dan’s tightly stretched panties grew.

Dan tried to distract himself. He looked out through the bars of the cell to the gloomy corridor beyond. He guessed he could shout or make a scene and a duty officer or somebody would come running. But Mary wouldn’t want him making a scene, statements being taken. She told him to be quiet and wait. No point in antagonising his Wife and owner. He needed Mary to bail him out tomorrow morning.