Doctor Jacob’s Island 2:

The Morning Routine

      After the houseboys were up and going about their chores I ensured that the cook had the morning coffee ready for Master.  The current cook was a good slave.  He was different from the other slaves in that he had entered slavery voluntarily.  Master had brought him here, removed his cock and balls, and then sent him to a prestigious cooking school in the United States where he had learned the art of fine cooking.  His nullification was his only modification other than Master’s brand on his buttocks.  He had his teeth because he needed to be able to taste Master’s food to make sure it was prepared properly.  He was able to talk—unlike most of the slaves—because he needed to be able to communicate with Master about the menu and such.  He even had hair atop his head, as Master occasionally sent him to culinary conferences around the world to gain new skills and ideas.  He didn’t even wear a collar around his neck.  The cook had entered slavery in order to put himself through culinary school.  Master paid for the school, and in exchange he took the cook’s genitals and required 5 years of service from him.

      I entered the kitchen to find the silver coffee service tray sitting on the counter ready to go.  It contained a silver pot of coffee and all the accompanying accessories for coffee drinking, a small selection of pastries, and a selection of the world’s major newspapers, that were unfortunately a day or two behind the times by the time they reached the island.  I picked up the tray, thanked the cook, and left the kitchen.  I went up the back service elevator to Master’s personal quarters, which occupied the entire third floor of the house.  I entered Master’s chambers and quietly set the coffee service in his private sitting room.  I then went through another door into Master’s sleeping chamber.  I saw that the designated boy was already there ready to let Master’s alarm clock out to wake Master up.  As was custom, the designated boy for this job always waited for my arrival before waking Master to ensure that Master’s coffee was always immediately ready for him once he was awake. 

      I simply nodded at the boy once I was in the room.  The boy went over to the simple cage that was in a corner a few feet from Master’s bed.  He opened the cage and reached inside to arouse Master’s alarm clock.

      Master’s alarm clock was a slave whose sole purpose in life was to wake Master each morning by providing Master with oral service.  Master had come up with the idea a few years ago and procured a young slave just for the purpose.  I had heard that the young man had been kidnapped from a bar near the college he attended when he had still been a person.  Once brought here, the slave had been modified accordingly.  He was both blind and deaf.  Master had plucked out his eyes and removed vital portions of his inner ears to render him so.  His head was permanently encased in a rubber hood that had only a round hole for his mouth in it.  Naturally, the slave’s teeth had been removed, since Master preferred slaves with smooth gums to service him.  He had also had his voice box removed, since he had no need to speak.  In his neck where his voice box had been was a hole through which he breathed called a stoma.  This was one of Master’s favorite modifications.  With the larynx removed a slave would never speak again, which had advantages, plus breathing through a hole in his neck allowed him to service his master orally better.  He could take Master’s entire cock into his mouth without worrying about gagging or taking a break to breathe.  Since the slave’s trachea wasn’t connected to his mouth it was also impossible for him to accidentally choke on Master’s morning load of semen that he was required to swallow.

      In addition to these modifications, the slave had also had its hands and feet removed, since Master felt it shouldn’t be able to walk or do much of anything other than wake him up in the morning.  Naturally, its genitals had also been removed since he would certainly never need them.  His only attire other than his hood was a rubber slave harness around his body much like I wore.

      The boy’s nudge quickly awoke the alarm clock.  It was well-trained and didn’t need to be told what to do, which was good considering told could neither be told nor shown what to do.  As soon as he was awake, the alarm clock crawled out of its cage and over to Master’s bed.  He had been doing this long enough that he knew exactly how far and which way to crawl to get there.  Using the stumps of his arms to feel his way up onto the bed he gently removed the covers from Master’s bed revealing Master’s perfect, naked body.  The alarm clock sat up on its knees and carefully leaned over and found Master’s large cock by feel.  Master’s cock was large and already engorged with a morning erection.  It was by far the most beautiful specimen I had ever seen, and it indeed was the center of existence for the majority of the slaves on the island.  Master possessed one of the few full sets of genitals on the islands, and I was certain that the others who had them wished they didn’t.

      The alarm clock performed its only reason for existence and had its daily privilege of being the first of the day to take Master’s great member into its mouth.  Its tongue darted out of the mouth hole in the hood lapping away at the tip of Master’s cock.  After a few moments of that it took the entire length of master’s cock into its mouth and went to work in earnest.

      At that, Master began to stir and it was evident that he was beginning to awake.  I didn’t see anything further as I looked down.  No slave was allowed to look directly at Master without expressed permission, not even I, his closest and most loyal slave.  If he were to catch any slave staring at him the punishment would be swift and brutal.  I looked over at the houseboy who remained standing quietly by the alarm clock’s cage.  He was one of the younger boys. I believe he was now nine, if my memory served.  He was looking downward, but I noticed him quickly steal glances at Master and the alarm clock every few seconds.  He was obviously fascinated by the activity taking place on Master’s bed.  I would have to talk to the boy later in private about such conduct.

      Soon enough the alarm clock had served it’s purpose and Master had deposited his first load of cum for the day in its mouth.  Master lightly tapped the alarm clock on the head, which was all the signal it needed.  It quickly hopped off of the bed and crawled over toward its cage.  The boy silently stopped the alarm clock with another tap on its head.  The boy attached a leash to a d-ring on top of the slave’s hood.  He led the alarm clock out of the room.

      The boy’s duties included taking the slave out to make sure he used the restroom.  Since it was always in a cage, and Master obviously did not wish to have a mess in his own chambers, the alarm clock had two screw rings surgically attached to its body.  A large one was in his anus that mated with a screw in butt plug to plug up his rectum, and a smaller one was at the opening of his urethra in his crotch.  It had a small screw on cap in it that prevented the slave from urinating until the cap was removed.  Since both plugs screwed into place the alarm clock couldn’t remove them on his own since he had no hands and the stumps of his arms were too short to even reach the plugs.  The boy would take the alarm clock down to a small broom closet downstairs, remove the plugs from its waste-producing orifices, and make sure the slave defecated and voided its bladder into a bucket (no slaves were allowed to use toilets, urinals, or any other human sanitary fixtures).  The boy would then hose the slave off, feed it, and return it to its cage.  The alarm clock would be led from his cage once more during the day to void its innards again before nightfall.

      Master slowly got up out of the bed after the alarm clock was gone—he was a slow riser—and came over to me.  I stood at the foot of the bed holding Master’s robe open for him.

      “Good morning, Master,” I said quietly as I stared at my feet and Master shrugged his robe on.

      “Morning Charles,” Master replied gruffly.

      I was the only slave he called by any name at all, and indeed the other slaves were not even allowed to have names.  If he wanted another slave he simply beckoned them with a wave of the hand or addressed them as “boy” or “slave.” I’m honestly don’t remember if that was my original name or not, but that’s what Master called me

      “See to the hole, Charles,” Master told me curtly as he headed for his sitting room to have his coffee.

      “At once, Master,” I replied.

      Master retired into his sitting room closing the door behind him.  I went over to the other side of the bed where Master’s favorite hole lay.  This “hole” had been a person once.  In reality he was a young man who no longer had any appendages whatsoever.  Master had removed the boy’s arms and legs at their very roots leaving him as nothing but a torso with a head.  His genitals were nullified, of course, and like, the alarm clock, his voice box had been removed and he breathed through a stoma in his neck so that he could provide better oral service to Master with his toothless mouth.  Master referred to his slaves who served in this capacity as “holes” because their sole reason for existence was to provide their mouths and asses for services to Master.  They received extensive training in oral service, and master methodically stretched their anal openings until almost any thing could be put into them so long as it would fit through their hips. 

Master had four holes, and this was the most recent addition to his stable.  He was the youngest hole, which was part of the reason for Masters affinity for him, but he was also the most extensively modified.  For many reason’s Hole #4 was also my favorite.  He had come to the island at the age of seven and served faithfully as one of Master’s houseboys.  While I try not to favor any of the houseboys I can’t help but have my favorites among them.  This boy had been one of my most favored boys.  He had been witty, and funny, and able to cheer anyone up while remaining obedient and subservient at all times.  He was indeed one of Master’s favorite houseboys as well.  But, as with all the houseboys, Master decided one day that the time had come for the boy to leave the island to fulfill his destiny as someone else’s slave.

      I had been heartbroken at this.  I had never been so attached to a houseboy and I did not wish to see him go.  I agonized over what to do about the situation for many nights.   Finally, one day I had approached Master, dropped to my knees, and begged him not to send the boy away.  I was taking my life into my own hands when I did so, as no slave was ever permitted to make a request of Master of any kind.  I fully expected to be killed for making such a presumptuous request, or worst, sold away to some other master, but I decided death was a better alternative to watching my cherished boy be sold away, never to be seen again.

      As I suspected, Master had been furious.  He had grabbed me by the collar and dragged me down four stories to one of the dungeons in his basement.  There he chained me to a St. Andrews cross against the wall and he proceeded to whip me wrathfully for what seemed like many hours.  When he was done he left me chained there for what I thought was many days in the pitch-black dungeon.  He had returned to unchain me and I was so weak from standing there for so long that I collapsed to the floor when I was free of my bonds.  I then wept, knowing that he was going to tell me that the boy was gone, sold into the service of another master.  I still expected to be sold away as well, though I no longer feared for my life.

      Master reached down as I knelt on my hands and knees at his feet.  He took me by the chin and pulled my head up so that my eyes met his.  It had been years since I had looked directly into his eyes.

      “You’re genuinely fond of that boy, aren’t you, slave?” he asked me.

      I knew he was still mad at me because he called me “slave”

      “Yes, Master,” I replied pitifully.

      “I should kill you for your insolence, Charles,” he then told me. “You, my most trusted slave, did something more insubordinate than any other slave has ever done to me.”

      “Yes, Master,” I replied again.

      “Unfortunately, I don’t wish to take the time to train a replacement for you, slave,” he said. “You’re very valuable to me, and I don’t wish to party with you.”

      He then pushed me back down to the floor, his disgust evident in his touch.

      “Instead, I’ve decided to keep both you and the boy,” he then told me.

      “Yes, Master,” I said, staring at the concrete floor. “Thank you, Master.”

      “You may not thank me later, when you see him,” Master replied. “I should make the boy a pony slave.”

      The pony slaves were the hardest working and most ill treated slaves on the island.  They generally didn’t live very long unless they were very strong, which was why Master only made the biggest, strongest of slaves into ponies.  The boy was young and small, and had never reached puberty so he was very skinny and lacked muscular definition.  I knew he would only survive a few months as a pony.

      “I should make him into an animal and them make you watch me beat him,” Master said.  “But…as you are fond of the boy…so am I fond of you.  The boy is to become a new hole for me.  I could always use another one.”

      “Yes, Master,” I replied, somewhat relieved.  The holes didn’t lead the best of lives, but at least they were generally well treated.  Master had then ordered me to return to my duties and abruptly left the room.

      So, my boy had become a hole.  He now lay in Master’s bed.  He was now nineteen and he was a well-trained hole by now.  He had been awake when I entered the room and had watched Master awake and leave the room.

      “Good morning, Benjamin,” I told him warmly as I reached down to stroke his bald head.

      As I said, none of the slaves have names, and indeed such familiar relations are forbidden among the slaves.  But, I felt so strongly for this young boy that, after he had become a hole, and I knew he would be on the island forever, I asked him if he remembered what his name was.  Of course, having been here since he was seven and never having been called anything other than “boy” he couldn’t remember his name.  I then asked him if I could name him, and he nodded happily.  I told him that I’d like to call him Benjamin and he approved.  Now, whenever the to two of us were alone, I called him by the name I had given him.

      As I greeted him he smiled at me.  Oh how I wished he could still speak.

      “How are you, my boy?” I asked him.

      He smiled again and nodded, indicating that he was fine.

      “Did you and Master have fun last night?” I asked him.

      He nodded yet again.  Even after losing all of his limbs and becoming nothing more than a sex object for Master to use, that gentle yet strong spark had remained in him, and he had learned to enjoy his new existence.  While Master used his holes hard, he rarely mistreated them, and so long as they embraced what Master did to them, they could learn to enjoy themselves with it.  I looked over at the nightstand next to Benjamin’s head and noticed a tub of heavy lubricant that Master only used for one thing.

      “It was fisting last night?” I asked Benjamin.

      He nodded again.

      “Did he put both hands in you at once, my boy?” I asked   

      Again, another nod.

      “Did it hurt?”

      He shook his head no and smiled.

      “Good boy,” I told him giving him a little pat on the head. “I’m very proud of you.”

      Benjamin grinned, beaming with pride.

      “Let’s get you cleaned up,” I told him.

      I reached down and picked up the urine bag that rested on the floor by the bed and set it on Benjamin’s abdomen.  Since had had no arms and legs he was helpless to do anything for himself including urinating, so he always had an indwelling catheter inserted into his piss hole and up into his bladder.  It was attached to a plastic tube running down to the drainage bag. 

      I then picked him up.  He probably weighed less than fifty pounds, and it was no great chore for me to lift him.  It was nice to feel his still smooth skin.  Though he was disfigured, he was still a beautiful boy.  Master was a gifted modifier, and it was hard to even find the scars where his arms and legs had been removed.  The only marks on his skin were Master’s brand on his left buttocks and another brand on his left breast labeling him as slave “H4.” The “H” stood for “hole” and he was the fourth slave to serve in such capacity.

      I carried him over to his chair.  Master had designed a chair specifically to move Benjamin around.  It was a cross between a stroller and a wheelchair.  It had a cradle that was perfectly molded and cushioned to hold the boy’s body in place.  To keep the boy from slipping out of the chair there were no seat belts or other straps.  Instead master had placed a large plug in the seat of the chair that would hold Benjamin in place when he was positioned with the plug up his rectum.  As the boy had become better trained, Master had increased the size of the plug.  Now it was over five inches in diameter and fully a foot long.  I started to place him in his chair, but then thought better of it.  I set him back on the bed and then used the tub of lubricant on the bed to lubricate the seat’s plug thoroughly.  I then picked the boy up again and carefully placed him in the chair.  He grunted slightly as the plug went up his rectum but otherwise made no complaint.  When he was in the chair he was sitting in a 45 degree recline.  He wiggled his body a little to get situated quietly and then rested his head in the headrest at the top of the chair and looked up at me and smiled.

      I pushed him out of the room and down to the elevator and took him downstairs.  I took him out of the house to a special room in the slave quarters where the holes were kept.  The holes had the most comfortable quarters of all the slaves, including me, and the four of them had one slave who’s job was to attend to their needs night and day.  I had trained this slave myself to provide the gentlest of care to the holes, as the master wished to keep them in pristine condition for his maximum pleasure.  I left Benjamin in his care and returned to my duties after promising the boy that I’d visit him later in the day.  As I returned to the house I checked to see that the other slaves were being dispatched to their duties for the day.

      I returned to the house and immediately returned to Master’s quarters.  I entered his sitting room and found him seated at the small table sipping his coffee and reading a newspaper.  I went up to him and dropped to my knees beside him.  No slave was ever allowed to address Master or remain in his presence while above the level of his head.  We always had to be below his level in a subservient position.

      “Does Master wish to have breakfast?” I asked him as I stared at the floor.

      “No,” he replied without removing his eyes from his paper.

      “Yes, Master,” I replied.

      “The boys are well this morning?” he asked.

      “Yes Master, very well,” I replied. “Boy #27 has a bruise on his leg this morning.  He must have gotten it playing in the yard yesterday.”

      “Yes, well, boys will be boys,” Master replied. “Keep a closer eye on them and see that they’re doing nothing foolish.”

      “Of course, Master,” I replied.

      “Any problems with the other slaves?” he asked.

      “No, Maser,” I responded. “Not that I’ve seen so far.  They’re all fed and off to work, now.”

      “Very well,” he said. “We’re receiving a supply boat today, Charles.”

      “Yes, Master,” I replied. “I remember.”

      “It supposed to contain four new specimens for us,” he told me.

      “Yes, Master.”

      “I think we need another dog around here,” he commented. “We haven’t had one of those in a while, have we?”

      “No, Master, we haven’t,” I replied.

      The last dog had gotten sick with a terrible infection a few years ago and died.  I remember Master crying when he had buried it.

      “One of the specimens has already been purchased by a friend of mine,” Master stated. “But the others I’m not sure of, yet.  We shall see.  Is the bath ready?”

      “Yes, Master,” I told him.  I had just checked on that before coming to Master.

      He laid the paper on the table and rose.  I scurried out of his way as he strode from the room and then I rose to follow him.  He went a short distance down the hall to the master bath.  The bathroom was a huge playroom of fine marble and granite.  In the center, sunken into the floor was a huge tub large enough for many people to bathe in.  Three of the houseboys stood obediently in a small rank by the tub heads bowed as Master entered the room.

      “Good morning, my children,” Master greeted the boys.

      He must have been in a good mood this morning to even acknowledge their existence.

      “Good morning, Master,” the boys said in chorus.

      Master removed his robe and handed it to the first boy in line.  I was looking at the floor, but I couldn’t help but steal a quick glance at him.  Master was the most gorgeous person I had ever seen in my life.  His bonze tanned body rippled with perfectly sculpted muscles.  Like all of the slaves his body was hairless except for a groomed patch above his perfect manhood and the beautifully flowing brown locks atop his head.  His facial features were also perfect and the skin on his face was completely unblemished.  I was unabashedly in love with my master, even though I knew the feeling was unrequited.  I sometimes long for the time when he used to use me for his pleasure.  I briefly imagined that if I still had genitals I would probably be growing erect at this moment.

      Master climbed into the tub and sat down.  The three boys scurried about going through the ritual process of bathing him.  Two of them gingerly entered the tub and began messaging Master’s body as they cleaned him with soft sponges.  The tub contained a mixture of soaps and scented oil that kept Master’s skin in perfect condition.  The third boy stood beside Master in the tub and carefully poured hot water over his head to wet him down. 

      As the boy began washing Master’s hair, Master reached up and gently fondled the boy’s little penis stub and otherwise bare groin area.  I don’t know if the boy enjoyed Master touching him, but he knew better than to try to withdraw from Master.  The boy was a slave, and his body was Master’s property like my body and the body of every other slave on the island.

      “Such beautiful boys,” Master commented absentmindedly.

      With that, I decided I should probably leave to continue with my duties.  I dropped to my knees by the tub and bowed deeply.

      “Does Master require anything further of this slave?” I asked him.

      “No,” he waved me away. “You’re dismissed, Charles.  Go about your business.”

      “Yes, Master,” I groveled. “Thank you, Master.”

      He simply grunted as I rose to leave.  I left the room already deciding what I should do next on my long list of tasks for the day.