Towser Dog Slave Part 2

"What's that?" shouted Dennis. "I never -Ouch!" he yelped as the dog quirt lashed across his levi'd ass.
"Shut up!" roared the second leatherman and struck Dennis again. He screamed but said no more, going absolutely rigid, staring at a framed motto hanging on the wall, a motto he just saw. In large letters it read:
"An East Indian mother's poem to her child:
'I would that life should hurt you,
and you be unafraid of pain.' "
Dennis's stomach lurched as he read it from his position on the floor.
The first leatherman went on, ignoring the discipline two feet away. "Inside the envelope is the total sum of money required: the training is paid in full."
The voice said: "We shall send a receipt to this dog's Master. Paul bring the money and the envelope here. Jerry can handle this animal alone. Now dog listen to me and listen carefully - you laying there on the floor with an aching ass, I am talking to you. Answer me!"
"Yeah," muttered Dennis sullenly.
Instantly the whip descended on the helpless ass.
" 'Yes Sir' is what you reply. 'Yes Sir.' You call everybody here 'Sir' unless instructed otherwise. Understand, dog?"
The whip struck again.
"Yes Sir," shouted Dennis. "Please don't hit me again."
The whip slashed again.
"You say nothing except what you are asked. Understand?"
"Yes Sir, yes Sir!"
The voice spoke. "First, we have to see what we have to work with. You will stand up and strip off all your clothes; if you are not totally naked in sixty seconds from the time I say go you will whipped until naked. "Go."
It took a few seconds for Dennis to realize what the voice meant, and then he scrambled to avoid the whip. His Levi's tangled with his sneakers, and he lost time in getting them off, so he was still wearing his socks, shirt, and jockey shorts when the voice said, "Time." Jerry instantly lashed at the bare legs, leaving bright red streaks where the leather contacted with naked flesh. Crying for Jerry to stop, Dennis struggled with his clothes until he stood naked, his clothes in disarray on the floor around him. Jerry lowered the whip.
The voice said: "Empty your pockets. Fold your clothes and put them in the bag."
Dennis followed orders. His keys and small change clattered on the hard floor, partially muffled by a few dollar bills and cards. He knelt, swiftly packing the bag, moving even faster when Jerry caressed his back with the braided leather quirt.
Jerry took the bag and left the room, leaving the new dog alone with the voice.
When you are dismissed from this school, dog, all your things will be returned to you. You will have no use for them until then. You will be naked while you are here: dogs have no use for clothes, and you are a dog. All your wants will be supplied, providing you earn and deserve them. Now stand and stretch."
The new dog obeyed the command of the voice: he stretched toward the ceiling, standing on his toes, his muscles straining. The voice spoke; he twisted left to right, bending forward and back; he presented himself to the four walls and the hidden camera. Those watching in the control room saw a man of 25 with a petulant face crowned by long brown hair, slender but well developed, pecs covered with fine curly hair that stopped abruptly where the pecs met the firm belly. A fine column of hair trailed down the valley between his pecs, circled the indented belly button, and continued on to meet the wiry growth of curly hair that grew thickly around the base of the swinging cock and covered the egg-sized balls nestled in their dangling pouch. His legs were covered with the same fine hair that grew on the chest, hiding the red nipples there. His eyes were brown fringed with thick lashes. Always narcissistic, Dennis strangely enjoyed showing himself off for the concealed tormentors, knowing that his body was well formed, a turn-on, even though he was bewildered and frightened by the position in which he found himself. What was Jack doing to him? Why was he here, posturing lewdly for invisible eyes, parts of his body red with lash marks? His cock, thick uncut ivory inches, thickening with gathering blood, bounced from thigh to thigh as Dennis posed and posed again in response to the voice's commands. At last, after what seemed to be hours, the voice ordered and obediently Dennis spread his legs and bent over, his hands parting his cheeks so his tiny brown pucker was exposed. Still holding his buns apart, he fell to his knees and leaned forward until his forehead and shoulders rested on the floor. The voice fell silent. He thought: what the fuck am I doing here? Do I like this? Why is my dick getting hard? In this position of abject subservience he remained until the door open and bootsteps thudded across the floor to stop in front of him. He sensed the newcomer's closeness from the smell of the leather, and abruptly a hand reached out and grabbed his hair and pulled up his head. Dennis moved his hands to keep his balance and was slapped across the face for not keeping his asshole exposed; his hands went back into place as his trainer spoke. A wide leather collar was held in front of his eyes - a dog collar! - was held to his lips while he obediently kissed it, was roughly fastened around his neck and a metal leash was attached to - a dog leash! What the fuck was happening?
What had Jack gotten him into? Why was his dick throbbing? He didn't understand he was now a slave.
"Come, dog." Jerry started toward the door, jerking on the leash.
Dennis started to his feet but was swiftly slapped down. On his hands and knees he crawled after the leather clad trainer.
They went down a hall, passing several closed doors. Near the end of the hall a door stood open and Dennis glanced in; what he saw made him halt his crawling progress for a few seconds until Jerry jerked the leash and made the slave gasp for breath and resume his slow march, the image impressed on his mind of two fine women, each in leather bra and high-heeled boots, sitting with legs widespread, and between those legs kneeling and crouching two slaves, each eating the exposed pussy. One slave was female, the other male - and the male, wearing chains, was being whipped by his Mistress with a supple riding crop. A leather Master and another male slave were in the back of the room, but Dennis did not see them distinctly.
Jerry opened the next door and guided the animal in. His brain still reeling from the sight through the open door, Dennis did not at first notice that Jerry had dropped his leash and left the room, leaving Dennis alone with another man, a bruiser whose bulging muscles threatened to burst out of the leather covering him. Like Jerry, he was wearing boots and leather pants with a cod-piece, and a leather vest that did little to cover the pectoral slabs and thick pelt of chest and belly hair. he was not wearing a hood, unlike Jerry. "Come here, animal," growled the man, and Dennis crawled closer, his leash trailing.
"Head down and legs apart."
His head on the floor, Dennis could only see the boots as the man walked around him, inspecting the animal before him. The man knelt and ran his hands over the crouching figure, fingering the nipples and pulling firmly on the balls until Dennis whimpered. He cupped the trust up end and pressed against the tinny pucker, incongruously quoting Yeats: "Consider beauty a sufficient end." The animal, a grad student in comparative lit, was startled when he recognized the phrase and raised his head; this disobedience was rewarded by a sharp slap on the upraised end; the Master pushed his head sharply against the floor, flattening his nose.
The man leaned against the edge of the table, legs spread, the dog between them. "Now you listen to me an you listen good; if I have to repeat any of this, you'll wish I hadn't. Now look at me, dog. Just raise your fuckin' head; keep your paws on the floor." His right hand cupped his groin. "You are the dog Towser." he spoke with an English accent, his cold bass voice sending shivers up the spine of the crouching Towser. Their eyes locked and never wavered until the Master ordered the animal to look elsewhere. "Remember that: you are the dog Towser. Towser is your name. Your Master Jack has brought you here for discipline and training. If you reject the training, he will reject you. But you are not yet prepared to make that choice. You may be wondering why he brought you here; perhaps he will tell you one day. This is an obedience school; we train four-legged animals; in this place we train two-legged animals, like yourself. You are going to be trained to be a dog slave for your Master Jack. You will learn obedience, Towser, learn to obey instantly the moment you receive a command; you will learn to serve and to service. You will learn you are a worthless piece of dog shit, Towser, but we are going to make you into a dog slave. 'To enter in these bonds is to be free,' " he quoted Donne, and the slave's eyes widened as he recognized the poet. "If you disobey you will be punished, instantly, ruthlessly, painfully. Do you understand? Answer me!"
"Yes , Sir," whispered the new dog slave, "but I -"
The big hand concealed by the leather gauntlet swung and struck the slave's cheek, the noise cracking, and the Master's voice thundered: "You are a dog. A dog!. And dogs to not talk. Dogs bark! You will reply by barking, barking like a fuckin' dog because that is what you are now, a goddam fuckin' dog. One bark for yes, two bark for no, though you will not have occasion to bark no. Now, do you understand? Answer me!"
The slave barked once. Jack, help me, he cried silently.
"You call that a bark of a dog? You sound like a stranded goldfish. Again!"
The slave barked louder'