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Beautiful Obedience

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“He’s very docile,” Nasir commented, and set his coffee down on the small table.

It was a true statement, but it had many meanings layered behind it. Fadil heard the compliment, and he heard the pleased pettiness. He took a sip of his own coffee and looked at the person in question.

A young man, with beautiful, intense blue eyes, and hair as black as the night, the curls softly framing his face. His cheeks were bare, as was the rest of his body – a body that was almost entirely visible, for he wore only jewelry and a sheer, almost see-through pair of loose pants. The golden necklaces and bracelets shone brightly against his deep, ochre skin.

Once, this man, this slave, had been a member of high society. He had boasted a large ego and a temper to match.

Now, he served Fadil, and he did so without open complaint. He waited in the corner of the room, kneeling on a floor only slightly cushioned by an elaborately patterned carpet. Surely his knees would be aching, yet Jinan spoke no word to voice his discomfort.

That Nasir commented at all meant he acknowledged the skill it took for Fadil to bring one so notoriously temperamental and rebellious to heel.

“He knows who he belongs to,” Fadil answered. “But, let us return to business. You say you have a new slave that needs training?”


The first day with Jinan had been as difficult as imagined.

“Fuck you!” Jinan shouted, and he screamed, and he tried to bite. His struggling did not prevent Fadil and the doctor from forcing Jinan to bend over the medical examination table and strapping him in place.

“I’ll get his mouth,” Fadil told the doctor, who looked extremely grateful for it.

When Jinan saw the ring gag, he clamped his mouth shut, but Fadil was used to reticent slaves. He pressed down hard into Jinan’s cheeks, until the pressure forced him to open up. There were incoherent sounds as Fadil forced the gag in, and then Jinan was glaring up at him with those expressing eyes of his and his mouth set in an ‘O.’ Drool slipped out of the corner of his mouth.

Jinan made an indignant noise.

The doctor’s office was set up to allow for a slave to be tied either face down or face up. Fadil hoped they wouldn’t need to wrestle Jinan into the other position, though he did enjoy a slave with their legs splayed wide. In this case, it was better to keep Jinan more off balance.

“Do you have blinders?” Fadil asked the doctor. “I don’t want him being able to see us.”

The doctor opened a drawer and handed Fadil a cowl. It was designed in such a way that it would prevent Jinan from seeing anything but what was directly ahead of him, which in this case was an informational poster about all the various body mods available. Jinan struggled against the cowl too, but in the end he hung his head in exhaustion.

Fadil stroked the back of Jinan’s neck.

“I’ll measure his ass and testicles now,” the doctor said.

With one latex-covered glove, he rolled Jinan’s testicles in his hand. Fadil itched to be the one touching instead, but it was important to have the first few stages done by a professional. Later, he’d get to touch to his heart’s content.

“A bit hairy,” the doctor commented. “Will be you be removing his body hair?”

“Of course. Only men have hairy bodies. Slaves do not.”

Jinan’s body started trembling under Fadil’s hand, and he made an incoherent sound.

“I’ll put it on the list,” the doctor said. He stroked around Jinan’s asshole and perineum, and tugged on the balls a bit. “His testicles seem healthy enough. Let me know if you want them enlarged or removed.”

And there was the first real hint of fear from Jinan, who tensed up and then began struggling in earnest. Fadil thought the defiance was quite a sign to get Jinan castrated after all, but he enjoyed playing with a slave’s balls and wouldn’t deny himself the pleasure simply to terrify a slave.

“Not for now. I think I could make a pretty penny studding him out.” Fadil watched as the words registered with Jinan and he slowed his writhing. If he kept getting upset about every little thing, he would soon run out of energy.

The doctor grabbed a large tube with a pointed end from the counter. Medical grade lube, which he squirted into Jinan without any warning. Jinan yelped loudly at the sudden cold liquid being dripped into him.

It would become a familiar sensation, if he behaved himself. Perhaps not so much if he resisted. Fadil had trained many slaves, and they all preferred cold lube over none at all. He walked around the end to get a better look at the glistening hole.

Next, the doctor pulled out the medical wand, a hollow device that could expand and contract with the press of a few buttons and was able to read pressure and sensitivity in the nerves it touched. It was a wonderful device that Fadil employed at home as well.

It started slim, and though Jinan grunted against the intrusion, the wand slipped in easily. The doctor thrust the device in and out a bit. Fadil paid close attention to Jinan’s cock, but he didn’t see it stir.

“Hmm. Do you know if he’s had anal sex before?” the doctor asked. He kept his eyes on the readings screen.

“He claimed to be strictly heterosexual when I knew him,” Fadil answered. “Turned me down quite a few times based on that.”

If they had slept with each other as equals, Fadil might have been happy to be the one taking it. From the looks of the readings, anal penetration wasn’t very pleasurable to Jinan, and Fadil was nothing but considerate with his lovers.

They both ignored Jinan’s distressed sounds.

“Well. I’ll stretch him a bit.”

The doctor pressed a few buttons on the wand and it expanded, stretching Jinan’s hole wide. “Not very flexible,” the doctor commented.

“I’ll definitely train him up.” Fadil was already salivating at the idea. He walked around to get a closer look at Jinan’s face, and wasn’t surprised to see him red-faced and crying. “Yes. You’re going to love getting your ass stuffed.”

Jinan shook his head and gave another sloppy shout, after which more drool slipped out of his open mouth. Fadil pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the spit from Jinan’s face.

“Can you hand me a wand? I’ll check his mouth while you’re doing his ass.”

A new, clean wand was procured, and Fadil held it up to Jinan’s face. “You liked playing with these with your female slaves, remember?”

Jinan shook his head to try to avoid the wand, but Fadil grabbed his curls and forced him to stay in place. He slid the wand past the ring gag and started fucking Jinan’s mouth, while the doctor tested Jinan’s prostate and commented about the state of Jinan’s arousal.

The readings were a lot more optimistic for Jinan’s mouth and throat, at least. “You always did have an oral fixation,” Fadil said. “Smoking, chewing gum, biting on pens and fingers and tits… I’ll give you something substantial to suck on soon.”

It had been torture, at times, watching Jinan fucking a woman and sucking on her breasts or toes.

Jinan made a sudden noise and jerked forward.

“I’d say his prostate is in fine working order,” the doctor said, startling Fadil out of his memories. “You’ll be able to drain his testes easily. I can recommend a few alterations to make him more sensitive both there and his hole.”

“Yes.” Fadil withdrew the wand from Jinan’s mouth. “His mouth and throat are fine. I’ll train his gag reflex away the traditional way.” He stepped away from Jinan and went back to the doctor’s side. “Let’s do the branding, and then I’ll leave him to your care for the rest of it.”

At the word “branding,” Jinan began struggling again, twisting and writhing as much as his restraints allowed. He knew what was coming; he’d delighted in watching slaves get branded, had begged Fadil to take him to the slave processing facilities just to watch.

Fadil gave the doctor his mark, a stylized symbol making up the initials of Fadil’s name. This got attached to a rod, which used electricity to heat up to the right temperature. In a few moments, the mark was glowing hot.

“Not to worry, Jinan. It hurts only for a little bit.” Fadil placed his hand on the small of Jinan’s back to still him. “I would also recommend not struggling. The more you move, the more of your skin will burn.”

That was enough of a warning. Jinan stilled instantly, though he still sobbed loudly. When the doctor brought the brand down on the side of Jinan’s left buttock, Jinan howled loudly in pain.

The doctor held the brand in place for a few moments, long enough for the brand to burn through the entirety of the skin. It wasn’t all that long, though from Jinan’s cries it might as well have been an eternity.

Jinan had once commented that the slaves were so weak, to scream when they were branded, even when Fadil cautioned him that it was not so simple a thing to take.

When the doctor pulled the branding tool away, Jinan seemed to slump further into the medical bench. Fadil petted Jinan’s back while the doctor applied the salve and bandages to the wound.

“Now everybody will know that you belong to me,” Fadil declared, and the sound of Jinan’s crying filled him with satisfaction.


Fadil brought Nasir to his private office to finish the negotiations and draw up a standard contract.

“I’ll have my lawyer look over this and then I’ll sign,” Nasir said. He didn’t move from the chair he was sitting on, and Fadil took that to mean that there were still a few things Nasir wanted to discuss.

He waited, and his patience was rewarded when Nasir asked, “How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Jinan. I would have thought that he was untrainable. His mother let him run wild, don’t deny it. The extravagance. The way he treated his peers. After that whole scandal with his mother went down, I was sure he would end up simply beaten and chained somewhere, and yet you turned him into something so…” Nasir paused, as if considering the words. “You turned him into something beautiful.”

Ah, yes. Protected by his mother’s station and money, Jinan had been unruly. Arrogant. Uncaring. Badly tempered. He had treated his peers like they were his slaves, and his slaves like they were animals.

Fadil smiled at Nasir. “It takes patience, but I am well-versed in the arts of training. Rest assured that your new slave will be just as obedient and docile as Jinan when I am through with her.”


On the seventh day, Jinan cried.

Not an uncommon sight, true, but up until then, Jinan had saved his tears until the day’s training was underway. Most mornings, Jinan was defiant and reckless, spouting hateful words and cursing Fadil and his ancestors.

Yet there he was, chained to a wall by his neck, naked, his arms tied to each other behind his back, tears flowing down his face. The small room was bare of all furniture or amenities, nothing but gray walls with gray tile underneath; Jinan was the sole bit of decoration. He had pulled his legs up to his chest and was trying to hide his face, but the small sniffling noises gave him away.

“Why are you crying?” Fadil asked.

Jinan shook his head, but the sniffling and labored breathing didn’t stop.

“Very well. I’ll guess.” It was not a hard guess either, because Fadil had seen it many times before. He stepped close and forced Jinan’s legs apart, and was not surprised at all to see Jinan’s cock curving upward in blatant arousal.

Another sob. “You did something to me,” Jinan accused. “This thing in my ass! It should not feel so—“

The new nerve endings were finally healing enough to be sending pleasurable signals, for one. For the other, Fadil was adding a dose of aphrodesiac drugs to every one of Jinan’s meals. He’d been increasing the dose over the days, so that Jinan would be unaware of it.

“The thing in your ass? The plug? It is necessary to stretch you out. Did you think the slaves you used were born the way they were? No. I trained them so they would please you.” Fadil pressed his bare foot against Jinan’s erection, which throbbed hard in response. A drop of pre-come dribbled out of the slit.

“I’m not like this!” Jinan insisted. “I’m not gay! I don’t—I don’t like men!”

“Your cock says otherwise.” Fadil remembered that Jinan thought any form of ass-play was “gay,” that he wouldn’t even let a woman touch him there. It was a silly notion – Fadil knew well enough that any stimulation could bring a body to arousal – but he would use it now. Use all of Jinan’s preconceptions and insecurities against him.

Fadil crouched down so he was at eye level with Jinan, and he took his smooth, hairless chin into his hands. A chin that would never grow hair again. “Do you want me to remove the plug?”

“Yes!” Jinan practically shouted, and oh, how beautiful his face was, tear-stained and defiant yet. Those crisp blue eyes maintained just a hint of their old haughtiness, and it was almost a shame that the light would dim.

“Very well.” Fadil let go and stood again. “Turn around and present your ass.”

The horror that splashed across Jinan’s face was priceless. The humiliation of presenting himself warred with the desire to have the plug removed, and Fadil could almost read Jinan’s thoughts.

“I won’t force it out,” Fadil added. “Either you comply, or it stays in.”

For five minutes, Fadil waited, watching Jinan’s trembling body. But one could not become a slave trainer without patience, so Fadil had no issue waiting. Waiting, until Jinan gave a loud sob from himself and began shuffling around awkwardly. He had no proper leverage, and the tile would be hard beneath his knees. The desire to have the plug removed was stronger than his fear of humiliation though.

Finally Jinan had turned completely, his ass in the air, his legs spread, and his forehead near the floor. It was a mockery of a prayer.

“Good boy.” Fadil bent low and stroked Jinan’s back. “You stay just like that until I’ve removed the plug. If you move at all, I’ll put it right back in.”

He set his hand just below Jinan's neck, then used the other one to trace circles around his hole, just where flesh meet silicone. Jinan made a strangled noise and tensed up.

“Remember, no moving.”

Fadil could see how much of a struggle it was for Jinan. He continued stroking, listening to Jinan’s labored breathing, occasionally dipping his thumb or forefinger in beside the plug.

He did this until Jinan was sobbing, little cries of “no, no, no.” Then he took hold of the base of the plug and slowly began pulling it out.

When Jinan's hole was stretched around the widest part of the plug, Fadil stopped to rotate the plug.

“No! You said you would take it out!” Jinan sobbed, and he started struggling a bit.

Fadil shoved the plug back in, and was satisfied by the moan Jinan let out. “I said no moving.”

“Fuck you!” Jinan shouted. He held still though, the promise of the plug’s removal more enticing than fighting.

Good. Fadil proceeded to fuck Jinan with the plug, drawing it in and out, taking care to press along the newly sensitive rim of Jinan’s hole. “You want it out, but your body tells me you’re enjoying this. Has your cock ever been this hard, Jinan? Have you ever needed to come this badly?”

Jinan shook his head, those curls of his brushing against Fadil’s hand. Below Jinan’s torso, a small puddle of precome was building.

Fadil kept toying with him, delighting in how Jinan’s breathing changed. With his hand on Jinan’s neck, he could feel the tension throughout his body.

He also felt the moment when Jinan had given up, had resigned himself to the pleasure of getting fucked. His body sank lower to the ground, and the tension in his muscles eased. The plug slipped in with more ease than before, and Jinan’s sobs morphed into moans.

Fadil pulled the plug out.


“This is what you wanted.” Fadil took the plug and stood. “You wanted to be empty and bereft. So this is how I’ll leave you.”

Jinan slumped sideways, landing on the puddle his cock had made. His erection stood out, dark and throbbing. Without hair around it, it looked larger than it actually was.

“I hate you.” Jinan tried to curl his knees up to hide himself from Fadil’s view.

“I know.”

Fadil left Jinan to suffer in his arousal.


“Nasir called you well behaved,” Fadil told Jinan.

Jinan made a sound, but he did not stop sucking on Fadil’s cock. At most, he raised his eyes to Fadil’s face, and a hint of a blush rose on his cheeks.

He really was beautiful. Fadil had thought he’d been a bit fanciful those first few days, especially when Jinan was so reticent to training. But six months later, and it all felt worth it. He tugged on Jinan’s beautiful curls – Jinan made a sound of protest at being pulled away from Fadil’s cock – and directed him to sit on Fadil’s lap. The seat creaked a bit at their combined weight, but it was a sturdy piece of furniture Fadil had bought for precisely this purpose.

“You have been very, very good.” Fadil nipped Jinan’s ears. “Do you know what good boys get?”

Oh, how Jinan’s smile brightened. “You’ll fuck me,” he said, his voice still hoarse from having his throat thrust into. “Thank you, master! Thank you so much!”

The loose pants Jinan wore had an open seam along the bottom, and Jinan was always lubed and loose these days. It was no effort at all to slip inside him, and Jinan was enthusiastic in his pleasure at receiving Fadil’s cock.

Jinan lifted himself up and down on Fadil’s cock, greedily squeezing his ass to make the entire experience as good for Fadil as possible. His arms he wrapped around Fadil’s shoulders, and when directed, he even leaned forward to kiss Fadil enthusiastically.

At no point did Jinan move to touch his own dick. He knew that orgasms were reserved for exceptional rewards. Fadil had drilled that into him well.

What a change from the first days. Fadil pressed his fingers into the flesh of Jinan’s ass, the scar starkly contrasting with the softness of the surrounding flesh. Pleasure mounted in him, and he gave no care to Jinan, only his own need. With a few more thrusts, he spilled deep into Jinan, who shouted as if he had orgasmed himself.

Fadil slumped back into the chair, and pulled Jinan, still seated on his cock, with him.

“Thank you so much, Master,” Jinan murmured. “I love you.”

To think, that Fadil had once thought to win Jinan’s favor with equal respect. Well. Having Jinan forced to love him was just as sweet.