Page 15 of The Toymaker
“I want this too. I could sleep now since I think Kit sucked out my soul too.”
Trig chuckled and patted Riju’s bottom. “Come on. We need to get up. Kit needs a little time in the violin after he washes up.”
It turned out that the violin was a wooden torture device idea stolen from humans on Earth. Or at least that's what Trig saidhe heard once. The hinged piece had a hole for Kit’s neck, and it fit fine even with the lirek collar. It had two more holes for his wrists spaced in front of him. It wasn’t painful, and Kit wouldn't be left in it long enough to do serious damage.
With it, he was completely helpless and dependent on his Masters for everything since he couldn’t use his hands. To his humiliation, it wasn’t taken off when he had to piss again, so Trig held his dick for him.
Kit never thought he’d be reliant on someone to hold his penis to do a normal bodily function. He thought he’d be made to sit and piss, and even that wasn’t nearly as degrading. The treatment must have been a reminder that they could do anything to him for the next year, and even his ability to eat or relieve himself could be taken away for a while if he misbehaved.
For breakfast, he had to kneel by Riju. The other two had a proper meal, and between bites, Riju fed Kit little pieces of toasted bread.
“It’s not punishment, but you won’t be eating much today,” said Trig. “Don’t ask for more food.”
“Why, Master?”
“It’s only to see your temperament. Demonstrations can run a bit long, and I don’t need a slave who gets pissy when they’re hungry. Some people are like that even if they don’t realize it. Riju, don’t give me that look.”
Riju turned his head away, so Kit didn’t see what the look was. He had never been the type to get pissy when he was hungry. He didn’t say so since it wasn’t his choice what was done to him, and not eating much for one day wouldn’t harm him.
Trig and Riju cleaned up after breakfast since Kit was rather helpless. He had to kneel on the floor by the counter in the shop, and his face warmed when the first customer of the day walked in.
“You’ve got a slave now?” the customer asked.
Trig nodded. “Yeah, he’s new. We’re breaking him in.”
A couple of other customers who came in later used him to test toys. A pair of nipple clamps were placed on, and the customer listened to his squeals to see how tight they could be made. Trig had a case full of glass phalluses, and once Kit was bent over, his hole was oiled so another customer could test a couple of phalluses. Trig cleaned them afterward. Kit liked the feeling of a ridged one, and the customer bought that one.
Someone else wanted to test varying lengths of leads, so the violin was removed. Kit had to crawl around after the person while he was leashed like a dog. Once the customer selected one, the violin went back on, and Kit had to go sit in the corner. He wondered if the device would be left on all day. What was “too long?” Riju, who had been doing something downstairs, came out to sit behind the counter and work on a thick book. Kit assumed it was the ledger.
He was hungry by lunch, but instead of more food, Trig removed the wooden violin. Kit’s arms were rather sore by then, and it was a relief to straighten them. A metal bar was placed across his shoulders, his wrists were cuffed to the ends, and he was made to sit on a small stool outside. Trig warned him to behave or he’d be kneeling on the hard stone.
The sign around Kit’s neck said his mouth was free, and if he misbehaved, they were supposed to tell his Masters so he could be punished. Along with being half-starved today, it seemed Trig was going to run him ragged and see if he still behaved.
There were plenty of takers eager for his free mouth. Some weren’t keen on getting their cock sucked in the street even though they were in The Edge, but they were happy to watch. Someone called him a whore because his caged dick leaked, and that he must have been a naughty slave since he had whip marks. The humiliation only made it better. Trig checked on him acouple of times, and he could probably see perfectly fine through the store window too.
Loads of cum didn’t count as food and weren’t very filling. He couldn’t even say no when he had to suck off a man who smelled. Kit was laboring away over his cock and wishing he could stop when Trig came out again to watch. As much as Kit despised this one, he kept his expression pleasant, pretended he loved it, and did a good job.
The man took forever to cum, and Kit was left with a sour taste in his mouth afterward.
“How many loads have you swallowed?” asked Trig.
“Ten, Master.”
“Is your jaw sore?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Your ass can have a turn.”
For the next two or three hours, all Kit saw was the upside-down street and the legs of whoever was fucking his well-oiled and stretched ass. Trig had bent him over a wooden horse he’d dragged outside. With a thick bit gag in his mouth to keep him quiet, and his wrists and ankles tied to the bottom corners, he had no choice but to take the half dozen men who used his free hole. Besides showing him his place, it also demonstrated the quality of the horse. Even when a man who was three times Kit’s size pounded him, the horse didn’t creak, squeak, or wobble. Trig certainly didn’t slack off on his work.
When Kit was finally taken in, his arse was sore, his jaw still hurt since it had been held open with the bit gag, he was hungry, and cum leaked from his hole. He wanted to lay down, but Trig made him wipe down the horse and hurried him along with a few swipes of a crop.
“You still have to cook dinner after you clean up. Get a move on.”
Dinner took a while because Trig wanted chicken and corn pie. He had to teach Kit how to make it and help him since he wasn’t any good at making crusts. While it cooked, and there wasn’t much else to do, he sat by Riju’s leg on the floor and had his hair stroked. His Master was reading a book, and Kit wanted to know what it was. He was quite tired and happy to sit by him in silence too.
Kit served them their plates and waited in the corner while they ate. His stomach grumbled and hurt, and he wondered if he’d be made to go to bed hungry. The smell of food was a torment.
