Date: Wed, 22 Jun 2005 14:07:41 -0700 (PDT) From: fetishguy Subject: My Night Out With Jeff 4: My Retraining Week This story is generalized fiction with elements of real scenes included. Contains strong references to incest, ws, authoritarian behavior. DO NOT READ if you are not permitted to read such material. Constructive comments appreciated. FLAMES will be IGNORED. My Retraining Week So Chad had take possession of Fuckwad (formerly Jeff, formerly Dad) and submitted him to a rigorous retraining to become my dog slave for life. It was supposed to last up to two months at Chad's dungeon in the country...but now Chad was saying it could take longer. "I want you to have the right dog for all your needs. Listen, I usually train pups in their teens. He's in his mid-40's and it's just human nature to take longer. You can teach old dogs new tricks...just takes longer." I understood what my scientist buddy was telling me. But behind those glasses and that labcoat, I knew there was a raging sex master and I trusted him completely. So what he offered next, though surprising, made sense. "Why don't you come up for some retraining yourself? We both have some vacation coming. Take a few weeks to learn what it's like to live like a dog so that when you get Fuckwad, you'll know him better. You know it takes being a good bottom to make a good top--we've both gone that way." Yes, Chad made perfect sense. We quickly made plans for my two-week stay at his place. One condition: I'd never see Fuckwad. I might hear his screams from his daily whippings and beatings, and maybe I'd be given one or two visual updates on his new look, but that would be it. THE TRIP Chad arranged to pick me up at my place and I looked forward to a relaxing trip to his place, about 2 ½ hours north. It was a beautiful summer afternoon and we stopped for some lunch before hitting the highway. We bs'd about work, friends, the like, when about an hour north of the city he suddenly turned left onto a secluded road. "Let's take a look at this pretty lake. I like to stop here when I can. Nobody uses it but punk kids after school. I've got to take a wicked leak and we can stretch out." With that, Chad spread out a blanket on the sand next to a small patch of beach. He took off his shirt. We did some joints and downed some beers. Chad really mellowed out and stripped down, exposing his gorgeous cock and ass. I was so tempted to ask if I could eat him out as I love rimming, but this was his show and I was in his hands. As I looked around at the nice view, Chad had gone back to the van for something. I suddenly felt cold metal at my neck. "Well, fucker," he laughed." "You've been had. Yes, this is a gun and the party is now over." I was speechless. "Don't say a word and make me do something I don't want to do," said Chad. I was so stunned, I stood motionless. Quickly Chad cuffed my hands behind me and brought out a spreader bar for my legs, inserting each ankle into the cuffs. He was naked; but to show his power, put on a half-executioner's hood. As frightened as I was, I was getting a major boner. Chad was oblivious. Chad then reached for a large, sharp-edged knife. He held that, too, to my neck. "Feel this mother fucker? Do what I say and we won't have any trouble, right? We're going to use this to get rid of these fucking ugly clothes, right now." At that he systematically shredded my shirt and after going through my pockets, my shorts. He kept the wallet and dumped everything else in a pile. In the pile went my sneakers, socks, and finally my bikini briefs. "Bikini briefs are really for faggots, you know?" With that, Chad tortured me by getting painfully close to the skin, then to my balls. He left them shredded on me, laughing and laughing until he finally just cut the loose mess completely away. Then it happened. "On you stomach, you worthless scumbag; you're about to get fucking raped and you're going to say nothing and you're going to enjoy it." Even though I knew and trusted Chad, this was a side of him I never saw and I was truly frightened. Did I really know him? Was I really in danger? He was putting a hood on my face to cut off my senses. He was carrying out a rape scene. I was being raped by force. With just a little spit for lube, he plowed his enormous cock into me, splitting my buttcheeks, plunging deeper into my hole with every thrust. He was merciless. I began to cry, despite feeling a little pleasure from the pounding on my prostate. He exploded finally with cum and as he withdrew, gave me slap on the ass. Chad turned me over, opened up the eye slits on the leather hood and let me watch as he poured lighter fluid on my shredded clothes. He then went into me travel bag and dumped all of its contents onto the pile. "You're mine for two weeks: I'll give you everything." A little more lighter fluid, a match, and then a bonfire of my belongings. Cuffed, hooded, raped, I watched my possessions being destroyed in front of me. "Lie down with your mouth open," said Chad. "I need to take a wicked piss." With that he let fly all over me, drenching me with his flow. When he kicked me I made sure to open my mouth and drink down his piss. "You'll be wearing and drinking piss morning, noon, night. Get used to it, dog boy." Then Chad brought out bondage bag, and his gun. He undid the cuffs and ankle spreader and forced me by myself to get into the heavy spandex bag. Once in, he tightened the restraints, leaving my cock exposed. Not that he was going to give me any pleasure--just deny me some pleasure. He led me, blind with the hood, by gunpoint over to the minivan. And just as suddenly as this trip had taken an unexpected turn, Chad then punched me in the gut, first from the right then from the left. I howled in pain. He then squeezed my balls, saying "This is a dog's life; suck it up and get used to it." At that point he picked me up and threw me into the back of the van. Chad went back for the piss-soaked blanket and threw it over me, mostly to hide any evidence from prying eyes. And then as I could tell we were ready to leave, I smelled the overpowering scent of ether. I was stone cold out. The next I remember, I was encased in a full-rubber body-suit, strapped to a St. Thomas' Cross. A catheter was feeding my piss back to my mouth. My nipples and cockhead were sore. Chad was standing before me, still a vision in my painful haze because he stood with a studded leather codpiece, boots, and his half-executioner's hood. "Don't worry buddy, you're at my dungeon. Been a long day for you. But we got some good work done. You've been waxed, tattooed on your butt, had your nipples pierced, and finally had a PA put in your dick about two hours ago. You look beautiful. You can't talk because of the piss gag, but I'll let you say something in a few days. It's all part of becoming a real master. Fuck yeah, Fuck yeah, baby. Learn what the dog does and wants.