Meat Locker In Brianna's

By the time that a booted kick to my bare ass jolted me from my numbness, I had been locked in the cold of my dark prison for at least an hour. My unforgiving training during recent months, more than my keeper's sharp-toed boot as she drilled it into my ass, quickly awakened me from my brief and uncomfortable slumber. Now more instinctively than thoughtfully, I immediately prepared to render the service of a mere slave, which had slowly replaced the man of my former life.
As such, I groveled blindly to kneel at the girl's feet, simultaneously spreading my legs spread wide as trained to expose my privates to her inspection or whimsical abuse. After several months under my Mistress's unforgiving whip, my reduced station in this new life had been sufficiently beaten into me; consequently, I was careful to keep my head lowered at all times in supplication and humility before the unseen superior towering above me.
Despite being hooded, I quickly bowed fully to the cold floor, struggling in my blindness to find the cruel boots that had roughly called me to service. I dumbly groped in the darkness for several seconds -- a pathetic process that surely amused the girl staring down at me -- before mercifully finding the girl's feet. Thankful finally to end my humiliating search, I servilely kissed the toe and rise of her boot several times through my hood before turning to pay equal homage to the other. As trained, I then slowly removed my lips from my keeper's worshiped feet to simply kneel -- bowed, humble and exposed -- before the girl who, for all purposes, owned me. Her dutiful slave, I then silently awaited instruction or punishment as my superior saw fit.
My holding cell, composed of a concrete floor and unadorned plaster walls, felt as frigid as any meat locker. In fact, the barren and darkened confines were so bitterly cold that my near nakedness -- my enslaved body fully exposed to the frozen air save the black hood chained tightly around my neck and the short shackles binding my wrists behind me -- was now almost irrelevant; even if clothed and at liberty to move, I would be balled into a shivering and miserable mass. Confined as I was, I huddled meekly in a corner that I had groped for in darkness, my hands helplessly chained behind my back and my naked ass and balls painfully but necessarily fixed to a floor that felt like both ice and fire next to my bare and shaved skin.

"I can just picture us now. I'm really into realism, so I'd have your arms chained helplessly to the buggy rails beside you as your sweating muscles strained under my whip -- just like a real horse! Of course, you'd wear little more than fitting dressage of bridle and bit, reins, blinders, a tight body harness befitting a little work horse, and probably a nice tight horsey plug and tail up your ass to 'keep your mind right.' I'd dressed for for the part, too, of course -- decked out in my shiny riding boots and pants, sexy little blouse, and a riding crop that would reach perfectly to my pony's harnessed little ass as it danced and strained in front of me. Don't worry, slave, I wouldn't whip you too hard -- provided that you pulled hard enough to please me -- and I'd take your bit out every once in a while, at least to drink! I might even put a harness over your horsey cock and balls so they didn't bounce too much when you run for me, but we'll have to see."

My silent confinement had given me ample opportunity to reflect on the events -- some recent and others shrouded in time -- that brought me here tonight. Only an hour before, the nondescript metal door leading to my distant cage was the last image I saw before my keeper for the evening enclosed my head in the dark hood, immediately blackening the world around me. To secure its presence, the girl, a confident auburn-haired and slender stranger in her early twenties, had simply but effectively threaded my hood with what appeared to be a common steel chain that locked it tightly in place over my head. Taking her place behind me, my captor then summarily padlocked the chain at the back of my bare neck, jointly rendering the hood secure and me her blind and now collared slave. The young mistress -- who looked more like a college co-ed than a sadist -- completed my captivity as she bound my hands tightly behind my back in heavy locked steel that prevented any meaningful movement. The girl, far smaller and weaker than I, thus had me completely at her mercy and under her absolute control.
Once convinced that I was secure, I heard the muffled but distinctive high clicks of the girl's boots on the concrete floor of the long and vacant hallway. I heard her slowly circled me once before stopping in front of me. In my shackles, I was completely powerless to conceal my naked and vulnerable body -- shaved daily and variously pierced as demanded by my Mistress -- from the cold inspection commenced by the girl. In short, she objectively examined me like a piece of meat displayed for sale at the butcher's counter. The girl first brazenly ran her hands up and down my bare chest, stopping only to circle my nipples or fondle the metal rings that had been driven into my chest and stomach months earlier. Slowly working her hands down my body, she then grazed the top of my rapidly growing and denied organ before cupping my naked balls in her soft and feminine grip. Intermittently, she squeezed, pressed and prodded various parts of my exposed and offered flesh, punctuating the examination of her human chattle with occasional utterances that signaled neither approval nor distain. She then circled behind me and matter-of-factly positioned each of her hands on my exposed ass, marking the beginning of the more "interactive" stage of my inspection.
Addressing me with the confidence and marginal distain reserved by all beautiful girls for the solicitous and eager males they possess, she whispered into my hooded ear, "Boy, can you hear me?"
Well-trained in the slave's art of responding simply to the question posed and no more, I instinctively bowed a little lower and meekly answered, "Yes, Ma'am."
"Then let's get started. Do as you're told and you may be okay.
"Squeeze your ass cheeks together for me. Harder, boy. Tighter -- really squeeze them in, slave. I want to see you work it; don't make me pull out the whip.
As I strained to obey her humiliating commands, the girl continued to instruct me. "Now release them. Good. Now flex them again. Good. Keep that up until I order you to stop. That's it, boy, good. Trust me, you want to keep feeling my hands and not my whip on your ass."
Ever the obedient slave, I struggled blindly to make my bare ass dance for my inspector as she fondled me from behind, presumably testing the strength and firmness of my ass muscles. After several minutes of this humiliation, the girl abruptly stopped and roughly grabbed the back of my head, forcefully shoving it to the floor. She then jointly forced my upper body down and forward while also kicking my legs open to shoulder width, wholly exposing my naked ass to any assaults or violations she thought to impose. Without warning, my tormentor then gripped each side of my ass and pulled my cheeks wide open, exposing me like never before.
Bent over and with my legs spread wide, I then felt the girl press and prod a hard unknown object against my open ass as she inspected what seemed the very core of my being. Finally, she removed the violator from my tender hole and firmly slapped me once on the ass as she stepped away from me for further inspection. For my part, I remained where she left me, my head pressed against the floor and my savaged ass high in the air.
"You have a nice, strong ass and legs, slave. Very athletic -- I like that. If Brianna is willing to loan you out for a weekend, I may have to take you to a friend's farm in the country and make you my pony slave for a few days. Would you like to have a bit in your mouth and be harnessed up like my draft horse to pull me and a friend or two around the countryside in a buggy?

While I pondered the very real possibility that the nameless girl would, in fact, soon transform me into her laboring and abused farm animal, she returned to stand in front of me. Once there, she abruptly ordered me to "standing present" position -- a command that, for the first time, permitted me to stand before the girl. As ordered, I immediately rose to my feet -- with some difficulty in my bonds -- and spread my legs to shoulder width on the cold floor. I then bowed my head to the ground and arched my back as trained by my Mistress.
Once in place, the girl again gently cupped my balls in one of her soft and delicate hands. After almost massaging them for a long and pleasurable moment, the girl abruptly squeezed my sac in a vice grip and yanked my exposed balls toward the ground. Gasping for air into my hood, I immediately sank to msery at her feet, the girl finally released my balls from her iron grip with a parting squeeze that almost brought me to tears.
Roughly prodding my flaccid cock with the pointed toe of her boot, the girl immediately continued my torment -- a mere slave casually toyed with and enjoyed by his superior. "On your feet, boy, that's enough fun for now. We need to get moving." I painfully but instantly rose to my feet, racked with pain but fearful of even perceived disobedience or idleness.y knees before her as she forced me to the floor in speechless agony. After several long seconds of groveling in mi
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