The Puppy Ranch Commune part 3 -- servicing the special client

Author: spartan
Title: The Puppy Ranch Commune, part 3 -- servicing the "special" client
Date: 02 August 2011

Once again I was back in the clothing room, this time being fitted for one of those leather uniforms. I’d wanted to wear one ever since I saw one in the parade, and here I was being fitted for one. The D.I. was over on the side, and I overheard him tell the tailor that I was the one to service their “special” client, so I’d need to have zippers at the tits and crotch and I’d better be measured with my neck sticking up as far as it would go with the collar part being extra thick and tight and sticking as far under my chin as it would go. I didn’t understand what this meant, but obeyed the tailor’s instructions.

When the leather uniform was ready, I was eager to try it on. My first reaction was that it was extremely stiff. My second reaction was that it was extremely tight. I had to have help getting it on, lying down to get the pants on. The tunic collar was quite high, so that I had to stick my neck up as far as I could to get it closed, and even then it was difficult. With it on I couldn’t bend my head forward because the collar part was so thick. This uniform was obviously going to take some getting used to. The tailor checked the zippers at both the tits and crotch to make sure they worked, but it was difficult to get them zipped back up due to the tightness of the uniform. But it sure felt great! When I looked at myself in the mirror I would have immediately gotten a hard-on if the chastity device had allowed it.

I asked the tailor what he did to make the uniform so stiff. He said that it is soaked in tannin, the same process used to make shoes stiff. When I got back out of it I immediately started the spit-shine process to give it that high gloss.

Now that our uniforms were ready, it was time for our graduation ceremony to join the others. At this ceremony we all wore our leather uniforms. Us three were standing at the dais, hooded and gagged, our hands in darby cuffs behind us, with our D.I. and the person that lead the marching guys in the parade. I figured he had to be the head of the facility. He arose to speak, and said that us three, 112, 113 and 114, had finished our basic training and were joining the commune as regulars to serve our intense bondage clients. There was a round of applause. Then he asked me, 114, to step forward, saying that I was trained to serve our “special” client. That announcement brought a thunderous round of applause. I started getting a bad feeling about what this “special” client’s needs were going to be.

The head of the commune went on that it had been difficult to find someone to satisfy this client, and that it was paramount that they do so because doing so would produce more money in one visit than everyone else spends in a month. So they all will be owing a debt of gratitude to me if I’m able to satisfy this client. Again, another thunderous ovation. Then the speaker told me to step back. During the rest of the ceremony my mind was on what this “special” client’s needs could be that made me so special if I satisfied them.

As the ceremony was finishing the speaker went to each of us and removed our hoods, gags and cuffs to signify our joining the group. He thanked each of us, leaving me to last. As he did so, I asked him what the “special” client’s needs were, but he told me that it would spoil the surprise if he told me now. He was fidgeting when he said that. That made me more apprehensive, so I asked our D.I. when I had a chance. That guy just said that his needs were special, that none of the other guys had proved to be able to handle them, but that I proved that I should be able to. I didn’t understand what that meant, either. I had trouble sleeping that night.

We still slept in our rubber cat suits with gag, but the iron collar and cuff combination was no longer part of our sleep wear. Instead, we were issued rubber sleep sacks with internal sleeves, a tight rubber hood with nose holes only for breathing which had to be stretched to get on, and a hard rubber posture collar over everything else. More rubber to clean in the morning. But at least my arms were now stretched out alongside me instead of in the small of my back. The posture collar, like the metal one, was locked onto the board, and a metal collar was put over the ankle part of our sleep sack and locked to the board, so that hadn’t changed either. There were also a few leather straps pulled tight over our knees and stomach after we were in the sleep sack. But altogether, an arrangement better suited to sleep. And sweat.

The next morning, after being removed from everything and cleaning it and me, plus emptying, we had our normal morning exercises and feeding. But this time it was with the other regulars. There wasn’t any socializing. I was hoping to become part of the group, but it was obviously going to take some time. The others treated me like a baseball pitcher who was pitching a no-hitter -- no teammate wanted to talk to me lest they said the wrong thing and ruined the effort. I was still looking for that place where I belonged, and figured I was going to have to wait until after I had satisfied “special“.

I wondered what would occupy the rest of the day. There was no special set uniform for everyone, most just wore jeans and a t-shirt, with a few preferring the rubber cat suit. I found that there was no set schedule, that everyone sort of did what they wanted, as long as it furthered the goals of the commune. I thought I’d at least take the opportunity to wander around the commune and see what else there was that I hadn’t seen. And I decided to wear my leather uniform while I did this. I needed to get used to being in it. Besides, I needed something to keep me warm after spending a year in a rubber cat suit.

By now I was familiar with the various bondage rooms and the various gear in them. I tried to find some gear that I hadn’t already been in for training, but couldn’t find any. I got pleasant memories when I revisited the puppy room, seeing the dog’s hoods, the feeding and drinking bowls, remembering what a fun training session that had been. We had sniffed urine samples from a tree and a fire hydrant that we’d earlier left by lifting our legs, dog fashion. We learned it was possible to hump another person as dogs do when both of us are on our elbows and knees. Yes, that was a fun session. I envied those regular members who did this to satisfy their clients.

There were some other more comfortable looking rooms. I assumed these were for the normal cock-sucking clients. But there had to be more, so I kept up my tour. Soon I was in an area that I hadn’t been in before. There were rooms with doors which had bars on the windows. It sounded like there were people in there, so I looked in the first one. What I saw was a guy in a straight jacket looking straight ahead. When he sensed my presence, he came up to me on the other side of the door and said, loudly, “Hang me”. This was so surprising it caught me off guard and I didn’t know what to think. So he repeated his request to me. I just shook my head, so he walked dejectedly back to where he was sitting and started staring at the wall again.

After that disturbing incident, I wasn’t sure I wanted to explore any further, so I returned to our quarters. I found that others of my fellow men were using the library, and others the computer room. So I took advantage of the library to see what books were available. Many focused on male sex and bondage. Since my training was focused on serving clients while in bondage, I checked over the bondage books and selected one to start reading. I figured I may as well get a further education in this area, that this would help the commune. After reading several chapters, we got a call for lunch, so I put the book back and left for the eating room. With the uniform on, I had to stand while reading and eating.

The parade was coming up that weekend, so the drill team was going to be out practicing that afternoon. I decided to watch them after having lunch. It was instructive to learn how much goes into such a simple drill of marching down in a parade in formation to the instructions given. And obviously there was a lot of time and effort put into the training. But it got pretty repetitious after awhile, so I went back in to do my neck strengthening exercises, which the three of us were required to continue doing, and to the library to continue my reading. I made it through a couple of more chapters before the call for the evening meal. After dinner I returned to the library and resumed my reading until it was time to turn in. I wondered when the clients would be coming by.

I didn’t have to wait long. I was told at the next morning’s meal that the “special” client was coming that evening, and was looking forward to my servicing his special needs. I was told that he wanted me to be in the leather uniform with my wrists in the darby cuffs behind my back. To be prepared for the session I would have to forgo the evening meal. I figured I may as well get into the uniform that morning and get that part out of the way, so I did so after finishing the morning routine, and went back to the library to continue reading.

That guy in the straight jacket kept bothering me, so I decided to read up on hanging. Since there was such a variety of requests from clients visiting that commune, I figured that eventually one would want to do that to me, so I may as well find out what I could about the subject. There were several books in the library that dealt with hanging, so I picked one and started reading. During our training we’d each had a noose put around our neck and pulled tight while we were bound, and of the three of us, I was the one hung by the neck for a few seconds. I didn‘t like the after effects -- the sore neck, the bugged out, dried out eyes, the headache -- but I had found it arousing. The reading was interesting, yet somewhat disturbing. This was obviously a dangerous subject, not one to be approached lightly, and I would have to be very careful. Hopefully such clients would be.

Finally the time arrived to finish getting ready, and the facility head himself put the darby cuffs on me. There is a greeting room for a client to meet his slave for the first time, and I was left in this room. A few minutes later the head of the facility walked in accompanied by a middle-aged man dressed in a business suit, and another guy dressed in an identical leather uniform to what we wore except that the pants had some wrinkles. I figured the guy in the business suit must be the “special” client, but I didn‘t know who the other guy was. The man in the business suit walked around me looking at me, and said to the head of the facility, “Get me the largest penis gag you’ve got, a step stool, and some duct tape”. The facility head took a minute to think, and finally said, “We just got in a leather one that is 7 inches long, 2 inches in diameter at the front and then tapered which straps on, flexible half-way back to fit down the throat, but no one has tried it yet.” “Special” replied, “That’s perfect. Go get it.”

While the facility head was gone, “special” told the other guy to start cleaning off the car, that he would be awhile. The guy replied, “Very good, sir”, and left. Then “special” asked me if I knew what was in store for me tonight. I said that I did not. He replied,. “Good. That will help the surprise. I like to surprise people with my requirements.” The thought of that gigantic penis gag strapped into my mouth was certainly an unwelcome surprise, but I was going to have to deal with it as best I could. I wondered what else he planned.

When the facility head returned with the penis gag, my eyes got wide at the sight of it. So I was going to have to spend the evening with that strapped on. Well, I’ve been through worse. Bring it on. “Special” took it from the facility head, walked over to me with it, put the step stool next to me and got up on it, and told me to open wide. When I did so, he forced it in as far as it could go and strapped it tightly behind my head. I couldn’t swallow with that monster in my throat. It took all my will to keep from gagging. “Special” was looking at me for my reaction the whole time, and finally said, “Good. He can take it.” Then he started wrapping the duct tape around my head over the gag and under my nose. He exerted real pressure to pull it tight. I was in no way able to make a sound or breathe through my mouth. After four wrappings with the duct tape, special said, “Go get me several leather straps and your thickest rubber hood with nose and eye holes only which is one size too small for his head, and let’s get started. Take me to the hanging room.”

Upon hearing that, my eyes got wide. “Special” noticed this, and chuckled. “I think I’m going to enjoy hanging this one.” Upon hearing that, my eyes got even wider, which elicited more chuckles from “special“.

When the head of the facility returned with the items requested, the three of us started our walk to the hanging room. “Special” was buoyantly striding along, the facility head was apprehensively walking, stealing looks at me periodically, and I was walking as if going to my execution. So this was what I was trained for. This was what so many others didn’t want to have to do, or tried and went crazy, now being in straight jackets, or possibly dead. I hoped I wouldn’t be joining them.

When we got to the room, I was hesitant to go inside. “Special” noticed this, and pulled me forward to under the hanging rope which already had a hang-man’s noose in place, and lots and lots of extra rope at the other end. He positioned me underneath, straddling a hook sticking out of the floor, and proceeded to tightly wrap leather straps around my ankles, my knees and chest and arms above the elbows. I thought this was a bit of overkill, but this was a client, and we were to grant their requests. I figured that now that he had me here he didn’t want me to get cold feet and suddenly run away.

Then he got up on a stool to place the hood on me. Since the rubber hood was one size too small, he had to stretch it and pull the rear zipper down a little, stretch it some more, and zip some more, until it was finally over my head. Then he pulled the strings tight around the head and around the neck portion. He was careful at least to be sure the nose and eye holes lined up. This hood was similar to what I’d been sleeping in, though tighter, but with the thought of what lay ahead I soon started to sweat in it.

This done, “special” lowered the hang-man’s rope. He widened the noose considerably, and started putting loop after loop of it around my neck, starting at the base. With each loop he would exert great force to make it as tight as possible over the leather collar of my tunic and the neck part of the rubber hood when he got to it. It was at this point that I was grateful to the D.I. and tailor for making this part of my uniform extra thick. This went on and on, loop after loop, each just above the previous, “special” having to stop at one point to widen the noose again. Finally he had gotten my neck completely covered in rope loops, and tightened the remaining part behind me.

“Special” stepped back and looked at me. He pulled the rope so that I was standing up on tiptoes. He tied off the rope against the wall, and walked around, looking at me. Finally he told the facility head, who was still there, to get him a winch so he could continue the process of hanging me. I was hoping that he wasn’t strong enough to finish the job, but this request dashed that hope. I was going to be hung. I started fidgeting, which elicited another chuckle from “special“. “Good. You’re not liking this. You’re in no position to stop this, and you finally realize it. This is the fun time.”

That gag in my mouth finally started choking me. I had a lot of protection from the rope with my thick leather collar, but that enormous gag was doing it. All the sounds and movements I was making just got “special” even more excited. I couldn’t use my hands at all. I was up on tip toes. I was in a stiff, tight leather suit and extra tight rubber hood that were now pressing in at all points as I was getting nervous. I already had trouble breathing and I wasn’t even lifted off the ground yet. I was fucked.

“Special” said, “What’s keeping that winch. I’m all excited about doing this. C’mon, guys.”

Just after he finished saying this, two guys came into the room. They set some equipment down at the end of the rope and started hooking it up. Damn it. Why did they have to find the winch. All I could do was wait and anticipate. There was nothing I could do to avoid this. I tried calming myself down.

Finally everything was hooked up. “Special” went to the controls, said, “Ready?” to me. Yeah, right. How could I ever be ready for what was about to happen? I hoped that the head of the facility would quickly intervene if something should go badly wrong.

Then “special” started rotating the winch crank and up I slowly went to about a foot off the ground. I was expecting to lose my ability to breathe, to start choking, but surprisingly, there was very little difference. I was up in the air, but the rope stayed around the thick leather part of my uniform, with the primary force being on the lowest loop, so I didn’t get any further affect other than a heavy strain on my neck. “Special” watched for awhile, and finally said, “Let’s see if the rope can slip past the neck part of that rubber hood.” So he started yanking on the rope.

This had no effect on me. The rope was truly set around my neck and wouldn’t budge to start choking me. I started feeling better about this.

Then “special” said, “Good. Let’s move on to the next part.” He tied the winched up part of the left over end of the rope to the wall and brought what was left over to the hook embedded in the floor, pulling it through. He brought it up to my boots, wrapping it around the ankle part of them several times and bringing the rope back to, and through, the hook in the floor. Then he pulled the end of the rope as hard as he could. I was stretched between my neck and my ankles about as far as I could be.

“Special” then tied off the rope on the hook and took the end and brought it over my darby cuffs. He brought it down to the hook and through it and again pulled the end of the rope as hard as he could. My arms were now stretched about as far as they could be. When “special” had gotten the rope to where it wouldn’t pull any more, he tied this part off on the hook, too, and stepped back to look.

I was stretched out to the max. If I didn’t have that chastity on, my cock would have sprung out hard immediately. There was very little of me that I could move.

After looking at me for a couple of minutes, “special” start ejaculating. He said, “This guy is perfect! Damn that’s a hot looking sight.” He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and start taking pictures with it, ignoring the wet stain quickly forming on the front of his pants. He continued, “as you know, Clarence, (the facility head’s name is Clarence?!), I’ve fantasized about doing this to someone for many years, but have never found the right guy to do it to. Now I’ll be having wet dreams all week until our next session, when I’ll be able to add a few “extras”. Thank you for finding and training this guy. This is going to be well worth the money I’m paying you. Just make sure that the gag is reserved just for me to put on this guy, and have all these implements ready for my next visit. Also bring a metal butt plug long enough to reach his prostate and your most severe tit clamps, all with wires attached to an electro device.”

With that, “special” pulled a check out of his pocket which he handed to the head of the facility and left the room. The facility head, after gazing at the check for a minute, put it into his pocket and undid the rope attaching me to the hook and the wall, and slowly lowered me down with the winch, taking off the straps, the duct tape and that awful monster gag which is now going to be my personal gag. After the gag was out and while the facility head was removing my cuffs, he asked me how I felt.

I told him my neck hurt and I was utterly exhausted, both mentally and physically. Then I asked him why no-one told me what to expect so I could have prepared. He said that they had told others in the past, and usually they adamantly would not take part. He wondered whether I would have gone ahead with it if I’d known. I’m not sure whether I would have. I then asked him who the guy was in the leather uniform that came in with “special”. The facility head replied that he used to be one of the men at the commune until “special” took a liking to him and bought his contract. When I asked, “contract?”, the facility head replied that they did things differently then.

After the facility head had gotten everything off me except the uniform, he asked if I had any special request to prepare for the next session. I told him I first needed to recuperate, and would like to spend at least the next morning in bed. He said he would arrange it. Second, I told him I knew of a way to modify the uniform to ensure that I didn’t choke. I told him that some varieties of posture collars have an extended lip at the top which extends under the chin, forcing it up, and that such a modification should be made to the uniform of anyone who is hung, making sure that this part is also of extra thickness, and possibly to all uniforms. He said that they knew about this, but if they showed “special”, he would realize that he would just use that on his servant, assuming the servant would consent to this as he had an innate fear of being hung, and the commune would lose their major source of income. I didn’t like this answer, but I understood the importance of “special” to the operation of the commune, so I’d have to accept it and live with it.

Third I suggested that now that they both know that I won’t run away at the start, they don’t need a winch but a stool for me to climb up on and tie everything properly as tight as possible before removing the stool. He said they used to start with this, but found that guys would get cold feet and run, so they needed the straps on the knees and ankles. But he said he would suggest it to “special” next time. Finally I told him that I felt an affinity to the others who had gone before and failed, such as the guy in the straight jacket. I said that I’d like to start helping them out, by first putting them through the training I had been put through to strengthen their neck muscles, and then to be fitted out with one of the modified leather uniforms that “special“ wasn‘t to find out about, and then to be hung as I was in order to help them overcome their phobias. He said he would think about this.

As I walked out of the room I started thinking about the next session. Outside of the room the D.I. was the first to greet us. The facility head told him that the training and modified uniform worked, that “special” was happy. The D.I. got a big smile on his face on hearing this. Further on were about half of the other commune guys to greet us and find out how the session went. They were told that “special” was very happy with me, and when they caught sight of the monster gag and found out that I had it on during the session, they were very impressed, almost in awe. I was suddenly the Big Man In the Commune, new as I was. One by one, each took his turn hugging and kissing me, with several wanting to get to know me better. At last I’d found that loving home I couldn’t find in San Fran, a place where I belonged. It gave me a good feeling after that harrowing session. Talk about your high risk, high reward sessions. As the guys continued to talk I was starting to feel better about this, and was starting to look forward to showing “special” and the other guys what I could take, as well as getting to know the other guys better, not to mention helping out the unfortunates who preceded me. Exhausted as I was, after cleaning up I went to bed on a high.

Before falling asleep I realized that this was my one year anniversary here. When I think back that it was only a year ago when I was homeless, not knowing what my future held, I’ve sure come a long way since then. But how could I have foreseen it?


Note -- Necks are extremely delicate and vulnerable. This is a purely fictitious account of one way in which hanging a person by the neck could theoretically be done successfully. Reality is a different matter. Hanging someone by the neck is a very, very risky business. Don’t even think about doing it! All my life I’ve wanted to be put in the position that the main character was put in by “special“, but I’ve dared not even try due to the risk, so I satisfied my craving by creating this story. Having done so, I have no future parts to this story planned.

I’ve much appreciated the kind, supporting comments you readers have given me with the first two parts. I hope this somewhat disturbing final part is not a disappointing ending for you, but writing it and posting it has helped my psyche a lot.