A Night Out (Conclusion)

NONE ENTERED BY AUTHOR

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By now, Sam's tongue was beginning to throb, and he could hardly 
hold back the tears, again. He returned to the library and, on his 
way, explored just how he was hobbled. It was all too evident. The 
attachments were heavy and they were thick. Sam's tongue had to 
remain tight to his front teeth, and the appliance was bulky enough 
to nearly fill his mouth. With his mouth closed, Sam couldn't move 
his tongue at all. With his mouth open, he could extend his tongue, 
and retract it, but not nearly enough to make intelligible sounds, 
nor to assist in eating. He tried to swallow, imagining a mouthful 
of food, and he realized how difficult it is without an active 
tongue. Sam fell into depression.  Until Avery decided otherwise, 
Sam was, effectively, a mute who might have to go on a liquid diet 
for the duration. 
Arriving at the library, he knocked and entered, saw Avery still 
engrossed, apparently, in his reading, so Sam closed the door and 
took his station next to it, eyes downcast, as expected.
After a period, Avery looked up and sighed. "I'm sorry that this had 
to be done so quickly, Sam, but I have no tolerance for slaves who 
do not perform as they are told. Because silence is so much valued 
to me, talking among slaves is absolutely forbidden. Punishment is 
essential to maintain the rule, inasmuch as it is so easily broken. 
Another such indiscretion will be dealt with even more harshly. 
There is still something to be done but Charles will take care of it 
at mealtime." Avery resumed his reading.
"Yes, Master," replied Sam, almost plaintively. It came out, 
however, as "Yeth, Math'r," and he was ashamed and embarrassed.
The day was soon over, and Sam left the library and went to his 
quarters for dinner. Charles was waiting for him, with a large 
bottle of liquid and a bag. "Please lie down on the bed, Sam," he 
directed. "With the tongue hobble, it is virtually impossible to 
take anything by mouth, and it will remain in place for a week." 
Sam's knees became suddenly weak as he gingerly sat on the bed and 
lay back. "Therefore," Charles continued, we have to provide an 
alternative way of feeding you. It is the Master's wish that it be 
such that the staff are even more impressed by the punishment of 
slaves who do not perform as they are directed, so..." here,  he 
reached into the bag and brought out a length of transparent, 
flexible tube , "...a gastric feeding tube."
"Oh, no! Please, Charles!" he pleaded.
"Silence, Sam," enjoined Charles. "Remember the rule? No talking to 
me unless my words require, I emphasize REQUIRE, an answer. I shall 
have to report to the Master that you violated the rule, and he will 
decide on additional punishment."
At this, Sam relaxed utterly, and he felt the need to relieve 
himself in the worst way, but he dared not let go his sphincter, and 
it was too early for his nightly movement which, he felt sure, would 
be properly attended to by Charles at the usual hour.
"Breathe this in, please, Sam," said Charles as he held an atomizer 
next to his nostrils and plunged vigorously.
Sam inhaled deeply and shortly felt nothing when Charles felt his 
nose lining. Charles quickly took the tube and thrust it into Sam's 
left nostril, driving it deeply into Sam's stomach. He left a tail 
of about ten inches and cut the rest away.  He reached into the bag 
and brought out a valve with a shut-off  and a female connector that 
he forced over the free end. Sam noticed now that the bottle of 
liquid had a male connector. Charles brought the ends together, 
connected them and opened the valve, tipped and squeezed the bottle
and quickly emptied the contents into Sam's stomach.	Sam suddenly 
felt  full, but without the sensation of having eaten, which was a 
peculiar feeling. Charles closed the valve and disconnected the 
bottle, producing a clip that, he informed Sam, should be used to 
clip the end of the tube to his tunic when he was in service. Under 
no circumstances was he to remove the tube, Charles cautioned, and 
said he would be back at 9:30, on schedule, for Sam's movement. All 
Sam could do was acknowledge weakly by nodding his head. When 
Charles left the room, he struggled to his feet and made his way to 
the commode, where he sat on the seat and peed, not having the 
confidence, in his condition, to stand over the bowl and trust his 
judgment from a distance.
	Sam was napping when Charles entered after a quick couple of 
knocks on the door. Naturally, the only privacy was the closed door, 
which had no lock, so Charles was able to let himself in. Sam rose 
and removed his tunic without a word. Charles produced a 
strange-looking key and released the metal codpiece from Sam's 
loins. Sam moved slowly to the commode, pausing briefly at a 
full-length mirror and staring at himself. What he saw was what he 
never believed possible just a few short weeks ago, when he was a 
happy-go-lucky waiter with a host of great friends. In the mirror 
stood a muscular male, bald, with a totally hairless groin, without 
scrotum or balls, with four bolts protruding from his pelvic area, 
with a tube in his nose and a device on his tongue that so fills his 
mouth that it is all he can do to keep it there. And, he thought,  
shuddering, there is more to come for the violation of this evening!
	"Get started, Sam," urged Charles. "I have other duties."
 	Sam sat on the commode and luxuriated in the act, even 
though the door was open and Charles in attendance. He peed again, 
almost as if he were trying to avoid it for the next period of 
wearing the codpiece. Finished and flushed, he then stepped into the 
shower and began. He still hadn't gotten the knack of washing his 
crotch without catching the washcloth on the bolts, but he was 
getting more adept at it, and this was shortly finished, too. He 
stepped out, toweled off, dusted himself with talcum to prevent 
chafing, and presented himself to Charles who had, in the meantime, 
washed the codpiece. Sam stood before Charles and thrust his legs 
slightly apart and bent at the knees, extending his groin and 
Charles quickly snapped the device into place. Luckily, Sam was well 
endowed, and his penis was never shorter than 5 inches, so it 
readily slid into its cradle-like tube. Charles left immediately, 
pulling the door closed behind him. Sam moved to the bed, pulled 
back the covers and lay down on the clean sheets, absentmindedly 
reaching down to scratch an itchy groin he couldn't touch, where he 
soon fell asleep. 
	 During the following week, Sam almost got used to the tube 
in his nose, and was better able to take the feeding. He apparently 
pleased Avery, because he was treated very congenially, although 
there was never a doubt that he was the slave and Avery the Master. 
He learned to stand quietly for hours on end in whatever room Avery 
happened to be, and he was somewhat gratified that he was never 
expected to do any of the work-a-day chores of the other slaves, 
such as housecleaning, cooking, or taking out the trash. On the 
other hand, even though the yard was high-walled and secure, he was 
allowed outside only once, and that was with Avery. He enjoyed 
getting out in the air and wished for more opportunity, but he knew 
the terms of his indenture, and let it go at that. He was 
resourceful, and anticipatory, which also pleased Avery, and he 
never had to be told twice what to do or how to do it. Finally, 
however, the day that Sam dreaded came. He was standing at the door 
of the dining room, where Avery was finishing lunch, and idly 
playing with the tongue hobble, clicking it against his teeth and 
wondering how it would feel to suddenly be without this load in his 
mouth.
	"Time to visit Morgan, Sam," said Avery, rising from the 
table. He turned and left the room, Sam following behind and to his 
right, and they quickly arrived at the mods room, where Morgan was 
found poring over something or other at the table. Sam couldn't help 
but wonder what Morgan did all day at that table, but he knew no one 
would tell him and he could not, dared not, ask!
	"You know what to do, Morgan, as we discussed it yesterday?" 
said Avery causing Morgan to look up. He  nodded as Avery continued 
speaking, this time directing it at Sam. "You MUST remember, Sam 
(emphasizing 'must'), that every one of my orders is to be obeyed 
strictly. There are no exceptions and it is not left to you to make 
judgments. I believed that at our first interview, you bragged that 
you were a quick study. You are trying very hard to make a liar of 
yourself. It cannot be overlooked, but first things first." He 
nodded to Morgan, who motioned Sam to the table, who lay down on it. 
 Morgan  reached into Sam's mouth and grabbed his tongue, deftly 
applying a tool that released the hobble. He then pulled out the two 
posts that anchored the device.
	Sam felt better already and was enjoying the freedom of an 
empty mouth when he felt the tube being quickly stripped from his 
nose. It was like liberation and he wanted to cry out with joy. By 
now, however, he knew better, and lay quietly. Avery continued. "You 
like to talk, Sam, and that is simply not available to you without 
specific permission, which I doubt will ever be granted. 
Therefore...." He motioned to Morgan, who quickly slapped Sam's 
wrists into the cuffs and his ankles into the stirrups. Sam also 
knew better than to struggle, so he compliantly stuck out his tongue 
when Morgan reached for it.  He produced the same clamp, applied it 
to the tongue and held it extended while he grabbed a hypodermic 
with the other hand and made several small injections into the 
tongue.
	Sam had no idea what to expect, except that Avery had said 
there would be no removal, so he was confident that his tongue 
wasn't being cut out. His tongue quickly lost its feeling and he 
felt that something was being done. Shortly, he smelled burning 
flesh, though he felt nothing at all. He then felt his mouth being 
held open with some kind of appliance while more pin pricks were 
felt around his upper and lower jaws. He hears noises and smelled 
smells much like in a dental office. After about an hour of intense 
work, the brace was removed and Sam was released from the table. 
"There is one thing yet to apply, Sam, and then you may have the 
rest of the day off.  Morgan?" Avery motioned to Sam and Morgan 
brought out a length of chrome chain with with a cuff on either end. 
"You are a bit too exuberant for a slave, Sam, so I have to restrain 
your gait." Morgan stepped forward and attached a cuff to Sam's leg, 
between knee and calf; the other was fastened similarly. Sam noticed 
that these, too, were not removable, and that the chain was about 14 
inches. "Please return to your quarters and remain there for the 
evening, Sam, "  Avery said with finality.
	"Yes, Master," replied Sam, and he left, practically flying 
to his room, as much as the hobble would allow, so interested was he 
in what had been done. His mouth was still numb, so he could feel 
nothing different.
	Sam stepped quickly to the mirror and opened his mouth. All 
of his teeth, upper and lower, other than molars, had been filed 
into distinct points, and his tongue had been deeply split. The 
smell of burning flesh had been Morgan cauterizing the cut surface 
so there wouldn't have to be a long period of recuperation. He still 
had no feeling in the tongue as he manipulated first one half, then 
the other, with his fingers, to see how much they could be spread 
apart, and looked closely at the cut surface. There wasn't a hint of 
blood. He tried to stick it out and move it around, and it 
cooperated, which was gratifying. He tried to speak and it was a bit 
muddled, which he laid to the anesthetic. He decided to wait until 
morning, when it wore off, to give it a real test. There were apples 
in a bowl, another of Avery's kindnesses to his personal slave, and 
Sam took a bite from one.  He was slightly amused, though not 
disturbed, that the bitten piece did not dislodge as easily before. 
Of course, he thought. My "new" teeth don't cut as closely but they 
penetrate deeply.  I will have to bite twice, shifting a bit the 
second time, in order to accomplish a clean cut, I hope. I sure 
could hang onto something, though, he thought, wryly, imagining a 
dog with a rag.  The molars acted as usual, however, and ground the 
morsel finely. Sam smiled into the mirror and was staggered by how 
much he liked the look. He examined the hobble more closely. There 
is certainly no chance of ever slipping these, he determined. His 
calves were too well-developed and the fit of the cuffs was too 
close. He noticed, too, that the cuffs were locked on, somehow, that 
didn't permit removal without some sort of tool. The chain was 
similar in appearance to a choke-chain---not particularly 
heavy-looking, but very strong. Each link was individually clad in 
soft plastic, so there was no clank when they contacted each other. 
 Because it was attached to his lower legs, there was no possibility 
of his running. In fact, he had to watch himself lest he take too 
large a stride, causing either one leg or the other to jerk 
violently in the direction of the stronger one. (What a difference, 
he thought, if it had been attached above my knees.)  It would 
compel a staid pace, which is clearly what Avery wanted around the 
house. He was not eager for excitement. His home was a retreat, and 
he wanted his slaves to pad around silently and slowly.  
	Sam quickly fell into the routine that was expected of him. 
All the while he practiced manipulating his "new" tongue and, before 
long, was able to control each tine of the fork independently. He 
had not thought it possible but he was soon sticking them out of the 
corners of his mouth. His speech was only slightly affected, giving 
it a more sibilant sound, though no less intelligible, which he had 
always thought sexy in others, so was happy with that, too. He 
nearly tripped a couple of times in his haste to perform his duties. 
That damned chain! He quickly acclimated himself to his three-toed 
feet and to walking barefoot around the house and grounds.  The 
nail-less toes healed cleanly, and looked as if there never were any 
nails. They were evenly tanned and the overall impression was of an 
exotic house pet. Many times, Sam would think about his friends, no 
longer available to him, and what they would think if they saw him 
now.  He was still in the community yet out of it totally. None of 
them would ever guess. 
	The teeth proved more of a problem. Because it was no longer 
possible for him to make a clean bite,  use of a knife while eating 
became a necessity. He could tear a sandwich by biting and pulling 
but could not extract a cleanly cut morsel. It was also much more 
painful if he should inadvertently catch his lip between his teeth 
while chewing, because the altered teeth concentrated their pressure 
on a much smaller point. Several times he cried out in pain while 
eating meals. This, too, shall pass, he thought, more than once 
during these times.
	Avery was so pleased with Sam's performance that he allowed 
him to use his private garden once a week. A section of the 
manicured grounds was separate from the rest and opened from Avery's 
suite. It was an Oriental meditation garden. From 11AM to 1PM on 
Wednesdays, Sam would be relieved of his duties while he took his 
ease in the garden. The only proviso: he was to be nude but for the 
chastity piece. He had been using the sun lamp regularly so his body 
was bronzed, and Avery had directed regular fitness exercises with 
free weights in a workout room. Sam looked like a tanned, bald 
Adonis strolling on the raked stones or sitting on a garden bench, 
against a background of statuary, small ponds and  specimen blooms. 
While outside, Sam would occasionally steal a glance at the house. 
More than once, he saw Avery standing just in from the library 
window and watching intently. He remembered, too, that his head was 
always to be downcast, and so it was, which also pleased Avery.   
Both the chain and the codpiece were of highly polished metal, and 
they glistened in the sunlight.  He glided in the garden like some 
flashing goldfish in an emperor's bowl, and it was in this 
environment that Sam flourished.
	One day, while Avery and Sam were in the library, Avery put 
down his book. "I think that I will need another slave. One of the 
house staff is very ill and I'm afraid that he'll not survive. What 
do you think?"
	"Me?" replied Sam. "Sam doesn't even know most of the staff 
duties, Master. Sam doesn't know if his can be assumed by someone 
already in Master's  service."
	"Well, I was thinking of another much like yourself, with 
limited duties except to me."
	"Is Master displeased with Sam?"
	"Not at all, Sam," replied Avery quickly. Your look and 
station were somewhat experimental with me, and I like it so much, 
and you worked out so well that perhaps I should have two of you, so 
you could work in shifts. I realize that it gets boring waiting for 
me to do something when it is very possible that I will do nothing 
at all."  Avery smiled. "What say you to that?"
	"Sam does not complain, Master, but that would be nice." Sam 
tried to show a smile without raising his head.
	"Do you have any suggestions, Sam?"
	"Yes, Master," replied Sam. "Sam does have someone in mind. 
 May Sam use the telephone?"
	"Yes, Sam," replied Avery, and he motioned to the phone on 
the desk.
	Sam walked easily, but with short steps, to the desk and 
picked up the receiver. He dialed a number that was clearly in his 
memory, waited a moment, and spoke. "Paulie, this is Sam. Do you 
remember our chat...?"   Sam paused and glanced toward Avery. Avery 
smiled and nodded.  "Yes," he continued. "1600 Mockingbird Circle, 
in Robison Park.  You know the area? Good!  We will expect you 
tomorrow at 4PM. We will talk more when you are here."
	 Sam quietly hung up the receiver, nodded to Avery and took 
up his station just inside the library door.