My Master's Garden

[culus]

The Garden

When I first realized that I was a born slave I began to search for a master. My search took almost two years but finally brought me to Damian and I am fortunate to have him as my master. When I had signed my slave contract and handed over my clothing and few possessions, Damian led me out to his country garden and made me kneel before a large cross constructed of cedar wood, situated at the far end of a beautiful spot amidst the flowers and shrubs. It was there that he shaved my head smooth for the first time and then locked a heavy steel collar on my neck. He instructed me to remain kneeling and to contemplate my new station, all the while keeping my eyes focused on the cross. It was then that he gave me my slave name, culus.

As I knelt there, naked and trembling, the remnants of my once long reddish blonde hair having fallen on my chest and shoulders and on the ground, I gazed at the cross, as ordered, and studied it carefully. It was constructed of two very large pieces of wood, the stipe a good 12” x 12” and the cross beam of similar size, standing, from what I could tell, about 8 or 9 feet in height. About midway up the front of the stipe were three holes, drilled through, from front to back and looking to be about 3” in diameter. The cross was bolted into a concrete hole in the ground, through iron plates on two sides. The wood was rough, with splinters and weathered, probably from years of exposure to the elements.

Kneeling there, on the soft ground, with the warm sun on my naked body, I came to memorize every feature of the cross and stamped them into my memory. Damian returned and instructed me to stand on my feet and follow him, as he led me on a tour of his garden. He told me the names of all the plants and trees and shrubs and which ones attracted butterflies and bees and which ones would need pruning and cultivating. Among my many slave duties would be to learn all about the garden and tend it daily, working to keep it beautiful and therefor, pleasing my master. I dared not ask then about the cross and its purpose, but would learn well enough in time.

 

[Erick Stratton]

The Garden

When I first realized that I was a born slave I began to search for a master. My search took almost two years but finally brought me to Damian and I am fortunate to have him as my master. When I had signed my slave contract and handed over my clothing and few possessions, Damian led me out to his country garden and made me kneel before a large cross constructed of cedar wood, situated at the far end of a beautiful spot amidst the flowers and shrubs. It was there that he shaved my head smooth for the first time and then locked a heavy steel collar on my neck. He instructed me to remain kneeling and to contemplate my new station, all the while keeping my eyes focused on the cross. It was then that he gave me my slave name, culus.

As I knelt there, naked and trembling, the remnants of my once long reddish blonde hair having fallen on my chest and shoulders and on the ground, I gazed at the cross, as ordered, and studied it carefully. It was constructed of two very large pieces of wood, the stipe a good 12” x 12” and the cross beam of similar size, standing, from what I could tell, about 8 or 9 feet in height. About midway up the front of the stipe were three holes, drilled through, from front to back and looking to be about 3” in diameter. The cross was bolted into a concrete hole in the ground, through iron plates on two sides. The wood was rough, with splinters and weathered, probably from years of exposure to the elements.

Kneeling there, on the soft ground, with the warm sun on my naked body, I came to memorize every feature of the cross and stamped them into my memory. Damian returned and instructed me to stand on my feet and follow him, as he led me on a tour of his garden. He told me the names of all the plants and trees and shrubs and which ones attracted butterflies and bees and which ones would need pruning and cultivating. Among my many slave duties would be to learn all about the garden and tend it daily, working to keep it beautiful and therefor, pleasing my master. I dared not ask then about the cross and its purpose, but would learn well enough in time.

Please write more! Your imagery is amazing, particularly on this cold, wintry day!

 

[Eulalia]

Yes, I like the feel of this, a sinister blend of beauty and threat...

 

[culus]

Yes, I like the feel of this, a sinister blend of beauty and threat...

Thank you My Lady! I will post the next installment soon!

 

[culus]

Labors in My Master’s Garden

During my first few weeks with Master Damian I worked most of each day in his lovely country garden. It was late spring when I entered into slavery and the sun shone brightly, there was a gentle breeze blowing and every plant, flower and tree was vibrant and in bloom. According to my station, I worked naked, except for my collar, and the chastity cage locked on my privates. The latter had become a necessity since Damian had observed my sometimes erect penis as I completed my garden tasks and wanted to ensure that I would not pleasure myself against his orders.

As I pruned and weeded, aerated the soil, added mulch and watered, I was constantly aware of the large cross standing at the end of the garden, looming over all the vegetation, it’s meaning still escaping me. Each day, at noon, Master Damian instructed me to kneel on the ground in front of the cross and fix my gaze on it, usually for around 15 minutes or so.

At the beginning of my third week of servitude I had finished my first round of garden chores and went to put the hose away, when Damian appeared quite suddenly and fastened a long leash to my collar. He then led me to the area in front of the cross and told me to get down on my elbows and knees, with my ass raised in the air, but to keep my head up and my gaze continuously on the cross. This I did and he wasted no time in mounting me and fucking me hard, taking my breath away and causing me to cry out in pain. When I momentarily dropped my head he grabbed me by the collar and raised it back up telling me that I must always look to the cross or suffer a painful punishment. I kept my eyes fixed on the huge wooden monster as he continued to plant his seed deep inside of me. My penis stiffened inside it’s cage and I found myself confused and not quite sure of myself. He finished, withdrew and had me kneel once again and remain there, meditating as I looked upon the cross. This was how Damian took possession of me the first time as his slave. The pain and pleasure of my rape were now mixed with the iconography of the large, roughhewd wooden cross, indelibly melded in my mind.

After a few minutes Damian instructed me to stand up and continue my gardening, which I did with more than a little bewilderment, glancing every so often at the large cross, now drenched in sunlight and radiating heat, still not sure of what it might portend.

 

[Erick Stratton]

Labors in My Master’s Garden

During my first few weeks with Master Damian I worked most of each day in his lovely country garden. It was late spring when I entered into slavery and the sun shone brightly, there was a gentle breeze blowing and every plant, flower and tree was vibrant and in bloom. According to my station, I worked naked, except for my collar, and the chastity cage locked on my privates. The latter had become a necessity since Damian had observed my sometimes erect penis as I completed my garden tasks and wanted to ensure that I would not pleasure myself against his orders.

As I pruned and weeded, aerated the soil, added mulch and watered, I was constantly aware of the large cross standing at the end of the garden, looming over all the vegetation, it’s meaning still escaping me. Each day, at noon, Master Damian instructed me to kneel on the ground in front of the cross and fix my gaze on it, usually for around 15 minutes or so.

At the beginning of my third week of servitude I had finished my first round of garden chores and went to put the hose away, when Damian appeared quite suddenly and fastened a long leash to my collar. He then led me to the area in front of the cross and told me to get down on my elbows and knees, with my ass raised in the air, but to keep my head up and my gaze continuously on the cross. This I did and he wasted no time in mounting me and fucking me hard, taking my breath away and causing me to cry out in pain. When I momentarily dropped my head he grabbed me by the collar and raised it back up telling me that I must always look to the cross or suffer a painful punishment. I kept my eyes fixed on the huge wooden monster as he continued to plant his seed deep inside of me. My penis stiffened inside it’s cage and I found myself confused and not quite sure of myself. He finished, withdrew and had me kneel once again and remain there, meditating as I looked upon the cross. This was how Damian took possession of me the first time as his slave. The pain and pleasure of my rape were now mixed with the iconography of the large, roughhewd wooden cross, indelibly melded in my mind.

After a few minutes Damian instructed me to stand up and continue my gardening, which I did with more than a little bewilderment, glancing every so often at the large cross, now drenched in sunlight and radiating heat, still not sure of what it might portend.

Culus, I can picture you in the garden. I am hard now just from reading this. Don't stop writing, please . . .

 

[Erick Stratton]

Would like to hear more. What does "culus" mean. is it Latin or Roman? It has a nice ring to it. I am still searching for the perfect avatar. . .

 

[culus]

Thank you, Erick. "Culus" has several meanings, but Damian says it is Latin for "anus", a male slave's primary orifice.

 

[culus]

Reflection of the Cross

When I had been a slave to Master Damian for two months time, it was July, mid-summer, and I was proud of my work in the garden. It had become a haven for all kinds of song birds, dragonflies, butterflies and moths, not to mention honey and bumble bees. Often times, when I was working in the soil a butterfly would light on my naked shoulder or my back and flap it's wings gently. All the while I would remain perfectly still, relishing the magic of the moment, at one and in harmony with nature.

Master Damian desured a small pond constructed in the center of the garden and drew up plans for its construction. While he took care of the engineering aspects of this water feature, I was responsible for hauling the stone and gravel from a pile outside the garden and building the walls of the pond so that it looked as natural as possible. Building took about two weeks and finally, Master Damian had realized his dream of a lovely pond as a focal point of his garden.

Not long after the pond was completed, on a very hot and still day, with temperatures approaching 100, Master Damian interrupted me in my labors and instructed me, in his calm, but authoritative voice, to kneel at the edge of the pond with my eyes closed until he told me to open them. I dutifully obeyed my Master and when he said, "Open your eyes, culus" and look deeply into the water. I blinked for a few seconds in the noon day sun, then looked at the water in the pond. It was perfectly still, like shimmering glass, and there, captured on the surface like an impressionist painting, was the reflection of that enormous cross, every rugged detail revealed.

But as I knelt, transfixed by that reflection, something caught my eye and I found myself leaning forward to see what it was, forgetting, for a moment, that what I was seeing was a reflection and all I need do was turn slightly to my left and look at the cross itself. This I did and what had caught my eye was both startling and, inexplicately exhilarating. For now the cross seemed to have grown a limb or branch that broke its vertical symmetry and changed it's appearance dramatically. Jutting midway from the front of the stipe was a large, beautifully and artfully carved erect wooden penis, weathered by time but articulated with large, sinuous veins, a bulbous, mushroom-shaped head with open piss slit, which looked to be the size of a medium-sized lemon. This penis looked to me, at that distance, to be about eight inches long and about two inches wide. To my unknowing eyes it seemed completely out of place, like a hood ornament affixed to the Venus de Milo. My concentration was broken suddenly when a small bird flew from a nearby tree and lighted on the tip of the thrust-out phallus, perched there for a moment before taking wing again.

That night I would dream strange dreams, nightmares, really, where I found myself hopelessly lost and abandoned in an overgrown garden. Just when it seemed that I would never find my way out I spotted a tree, covered in thick, strong vines, which climbed up to heaven and what seemed a hole in the bright sky. I began to climb this massive tree and when i had climbed about five feet up, using the vines for steps, felt something heavy and dark brush my penis, knocking against my naked balls and pushing its way between my legs. I awoke in a cold sweat, my mattress soaking wet and straining against the cuffs on my ankles and wrists that kept me chained on the floor of my small cell. There was a dark intruder in my Master's garden and its presence filled me with an uneasiness and uncertainly, but strangely enough, no real fear.

 

[messaline]

Curious but pleasant ... Will it be a continuation ?

 

[Eulalia]

Curious but pleasant ... Will it be a continuation ?

oh yes, that's chapter 3 I think - a very engaging story, a bit different from our usual menu,
none the worse for that, it's already building up a nicely uncanny feel, I'm looking forward to more...

 

[culus]

Curious but pleasant ... Will it be a continuation ?

Yes, indeed!

 

[culus]

Golden Honey in My Master's Garden

As the hot summer days moved lazily on, Master Damian would wake me just as the sun was rising and, unshackling me from my thin, hard mattress on the cell floor, lead me with a short chain on my collar out into the garden for my morning piss. As an obedient slave I stood in the place he had chosen for this daily ritual, while he stood behind me and, reaching around my body, held my penis in one hand, while gently tickling my scrotum and fingering my anus until I felt the urge to urinate, directing the stream so that it soaked into the ground. Wild deer had been eating the leaves of Master Damian's favorite pink rose bush and my urine scent would keep them away as it would signal a human presence. When my bladder was emptied and the last drops shaken from my half-erect penis, he broke off the stem of a magnificent fully opened rose and had me smell it's aroma. He then led me toward the large wooden cross and instructed me to bend and spread my legs while looking up at the cross and the carved wooden phallus that jutted out from the stipe. As I looked upward to survey the cross I was conscious of my spread buttocks and exposed anus, the short chain attached to my collar haven fallen between my cheeks. It seemed an eternity that I stayed in this humbling position, as the morning sunlight cast the shadow of the phallus across my back. My contemplation of the cross was interrupted when my Master quickly and with no warning, pushed the rose stem into my open hole, the thorns pricking my most intimate orifice, pushing it deeper until only the bloom itself was exposed, but now painted with small drops of blood on its petals. The pain was sharp and electric and I could not help but whimper, tears forming in my eyes and running in tiny rivulets down my cheeks and chin and then falling on the hard ground at the foot of the cross. I didn't think I could bare the pain, my gasps and moans now audible and inhuman. My Master then proceeded to slowly pluck each petal from the rose until only the thorny stem remained. When I thought I would faint he pulled the stem out carefully and told me to stand upright and turn around. I did as my Master commanded and, with a face still moist with tears, faced him in the morning light, the cross as my backdrop. He brushed the thorny stem across my chest, from nipple to nipple, then down across my navel and stopping just above the base of my penis, scratching the skin, but not drawing blood, and leaving my body marked with the sign of the cross. When Master Damian had so marked his slave he instructed me to kneel on the ground at the base of the huge weathered cross and meditate on it and my station in life. I did so, trying to free my mind of all disobedient thoughts and offering my slave's body and my soul to my Master.

My Master came to me after some time with a small jar of bee's honey, harvested from one of the hives in his apiary, and had me rise to my feet. Dipping his index finger in the golden honey he rubbed it on each nipple, massaging it into the hairs there and on my chest, before tracing a line of honey down my belly and just to the edge of my pubic hair. He stood there for a moment, pausing in his artistry, then dipped two fingers into the jar and turned me around, gently massaging the honey into my anus and up into my rectum. When he had finished with his painting he picked me up and laid me on my back, putting my legs up over his shoulders and began to lick the honey off of my body, taking time with his tongue, caressing my erect nipples, licking my chest and belly clean, tonguing my navel and grazing my pubes. Finally, relishing this carnal feast, he lifted me up and rimmed my anus with his tongue, eating the golden honey there, my penis now stiff and throbbing. But I would be denied any release, for he was finished with me for the morning. As I lay on the ground, the sun rising higher in the morning sky, my Master pulled my limbs until I was spread-eagle, in the shadow of the big cross, and proceeded to tie each wrist and ankle to stakes which he pounded into the hard ground. The ropes were tied well and pulled tight and my arms and legs stretched to the maximum degree. My erection did not ease, betraying a naked arousal, and my tormented anus ached and throbbed with pain. My scratched and soar nipples nevertheless were tight and hard as I lay, trussed in an obscene configuration, beneath the behemoth cross in my Master's garden.

 

[culus]

Reflection of the Cross

When I had been a slave to Master Damian for two months time, it was July, mid-summer, and I was proud of my work in the garden. It had become a haven for all kinds of song birds, dragonflies, butterflies and moths, not to mention honey and bumble bees. Often times, when I was working in the soil a butterfly would light on my naked shoulder or my back and flap it's wings gently. All the while I would remain perfectly still, relishing the magic of the moment, at one and in harmony with nature.

Master Damian desured a small pond constructed in the center of the garden and drew up plans for its construction. While he took care of the engineering aspects of this water feature, I was responsible for hauling the stone and gravel from a pile outside the garden and building the walls of the pond so that it looked as natural as possible. Building took about two weeks and finally, Master Damian had realized his dream of a lovely pond as a focal point of his garden.

Not long after the pond was completed, on a very hot and still day, with temperatures approaching 100, Master Damian interrupted me in my labors and instructed me, in his calm, but authoritative voice, to kneel at the edge of the pond with my eyes closed until he told me to open them. I dutifully obeyed my Master and when he said, "Open your eyes, culus" and look deeply into the water. I blinked for a few seconds in the noon day sun, then looked at the water in the pond. It was perfectly still, like shimmering glass, and there, captured on the surface like an impressionist painting, was the reflection of that enormous cross, every rugged detail revealed.

But as I knelt, transfixed by that reflection, something caught my eye and I found myself leaning forward to see what it was, forgetting, for a moment, that what I was seeing was a reflection and all I need do was turn slightly to my left and look at the cross itself. This I did and what had caught my eye was both startling and, inexplicately exhilarating. For now the cross seemed to have grown a limb or branch that broke its vertical symmetry and changed it's appearance dramatically. Jutting midway from the front of the stipe was a large, beautifully and artfully carved erect wooden penis, weathered by time but articulated with large, sinuous veins, a bulbous, mushroom-shaped head with open piss slit, which looked to be the size of a medium-sized lemon. This penis looked to me, at that distance, to be about eight inches long and about two inches wide. To my unknowing eyes it seemed completely out of place, like a hood ornament affixed to the Venus de Milo. My concentration was broken suddenly when a small bird flew from a nearby tree and lighted on the tip of the thrust-out phallus, perched there for a moment before taking wing again.

That night I would dream strange dreams, nightmares, really, where I found myself hopelessly lost and abandoned in an overgrown garden. Just when it seemed that I would never find my way out I spotted a tree, covered in thick, strong vines, which climbed up to heaven and what seemed a hole in the bright sky. I began to climb this massive tree and when i had climbed about five feet up, using the vines for steps, felt something heavy and dark brush my penis, knocking against my naked balls and pushing its way between my legs. I awoke in a cold sweat, my mattress soaking wet and straining against the cuffs on my ankles and wrists that kept me chained on the floor of my small cell. There was a dark intruder in my Master's garden and its presence filled me with an uneasiness and uncertainly, but strangely enough, no real fear.

Thank you all. It pleases me that you like my story. There is much more to come!

 

[culus]

Yes, indeed!

I am highly honored to have you following me Messaline.

 

[messaline]

My Master then proceeded to slowly pluck each petal from the rose until only the thorny stem remained.

What an imagination !...... Hum, it could be "pleasant for a woman too, but into her vagina !

 

[culus]

What an imagination !...... Hum, it could be "pleasant for a woman too, but into her vagina !

Thank you and I promise to surprise you!

 

[messaline]

I am highly honored to have you following me Messaline.

Oh, I like to follow those who are inventive , those who are not only in the Roman'crucifixion way (That I can like too, but it's good to innovate )...
And I hope that you're !

 

[culus]

My Master's Garden: The Weed and the Whip

Master Damian found it necessary to travel for business during the first week of August and, in his infinite wisdom, entrusted me to the care of his good friend, Aurelia, a statuesque and well-formed woman with flaming red hair and enormous breasts. Aurelia owned a female slave who she had named Liliana, a girl of twenty three years old and nicely formed, with long, raven black hair and a pale complexion, kept naked as was I, collared and pierced with little silver rings in each of her nipples. I had little experience with the female body and her nudity intrigued me, especially the soft, pink folds of her shaved pussy and the strange tattoo of a crescent moon and star, framed between her vagina and tiny navel. Her breasts were not large, but quite full and her nipples resembled ripe, pink raisins, balanced upon her fully stretched areolas.

Liliana was watched closely by her Mistress, a slim, gold collar fitted to her porcelain neck and a lace and jade ball gag fitted in her mouth. Our introduction was awkward, for she, like me, had no experience or understanding of the opposite sex, and my appearance must have startled her. Upon meeting me for the first time she stared rudely at my stark naked body without any pretense of manners, rendering me suddenly embarrassed and self-conscious for the first time in my memory. Under her wide-eyed gaze I felt like a small boy instead of a grown man with a man's penis and a man's hair covering my chest and belly. In contrast to Liliana I appeared as a hirsute beast, and a dumb beast at that. My own leather ball gag left me drooling, particularly when stressed, and I could feel the spittle running down my chin.

Mistress Aurelia led me straight-a-way out into the garden and, following Master Damian's written instructions, began to list my chores for the morning. She made it quite clear that I must have all tasks completed by noon and, failing to do so would result in punishment. Liliana stood quietly behind her, eyes downcast, with her small hands clasped behind her neck, her long black hair like a waterfall, concealing her pale white buttocks and rosebud anus.

I began my labors, unaided by any sense of time, save the movement of the sun in the morning sky, and worked feverishly to finish what was required of me by the deadline imposed. When the sun was almost at it's highest place I quickly surveyed the confines of my Master's garden and breathed easier, feeling assured that I had accomplished the goal set for me. Rivers of sweat matted the hair on my chest and belly and ran down my buttocks and between my legs, dripping from my balls and cock.

Liliana had disappeared from sight and Mistress Aurelia reappeared and, taking hold of my collar, attached a short chain and led me through the garden, studying Master Damian's list, checking off each item with a small gold pen. We had walked the full range of the garden and I could hear my heart beating in my chest. As we proceeded in the direction of the huge weathered cross her footsteps slowed somewhat and she paused, her eyes fixed upon something at the base of the cross, something I had overlooked - a small, but rangy weed, which had sprung up at the base of the stipe. In all of that pruned and lovingly maintained garden this was the one thing out of place and unsightly to the harmony and order of my Master's special sanctuary. I froze on the spot and studied Mistress Aurelia's back, alert to any sign of her mood. It was only a moment before she turned back and looked at me, speaking in a low but grave voice: "culus, this is not like you boi. I will have to inform Master Damian upon his return. You will be punished, slave." With those few words she led me out of the garden and back to my cell, passing Liliana, kneeling in quiet meditation beside the garden pond. Once inside she instructed me to lie on my thin mattress while she chained me, wrists and ankles to the four iron bolts fixed to the concrete floor. I knew then that I would have no dinner that evening and probably no breakfast the next morning. There was no window in my cell and I calculated by the last position of the sun in the sky that it was probably no later than one p.m. or so. I did not fall asleep until hours later and when I awoke, Mistress Aurelia was standing over me, a short whip or "cat" in her hand. "Wake up boi. You've soaked your bed it appears. Only a little pig pisses where he sleeps. The sun is coming up and the "cat" is hungry. Master Damian will no doubt find your newly earned stripes and welts most appealing."

 

[messaline]

Aurelia owned a female slave who she had named Liliana, a girl of twenty three years old and nicely formed, with long, raven black hair and a pale complexion, kept naked as was I, collared and pierced with little silver rings in each of her nipples. I had little experience with the female body and her nudity intrigued me, especially the soft, pink folds of her shaved pussy and the strange tattoo of a crescent moon and star, framed between her vagina and tiny navel. Her breasts were not large, but quite full and her nipples resembled ripe, pink raisins, balanced upon her fully stretched areolas.

Mmmmm ! "Charmante" ( charming) !
Could Mistress Aurelia loan her for a lesbian'session ?