*Here’s the next instalment of my latest story set on the lost continent of Lemuria*
**Day Three**
They tell me there are four houses of instruction in Follywell, but as far as I know, the Abbey is the only one that specialises in training lads and lasses to be household lap dollies. I know I chose this vocation, but I’m only now beginning to see what it actually means – amongst other things, it means surrendering everything I own and everything I’ve ever been. All the clothes and possessions I had with me when I first came to this town have now been given away – I have nothing now – I don’t even own myself any more. By entering the Abbey I’ve forgone all civic rights enjoyed by regular citizens, and instead, I’ve become communally owned property – and after three days of training that’s how I feel. I know that’s not a long time, but I’m certainly not the same lass I was when I arrived.
Having the other lads and lasses around makes it easier to accept my lot, though. They are all locals so they have a better idea of what to expect. They tell me we’re no longer officially proper humans – legally, they say, we are classed now as only semi-human animals. Not only do our guards and instructrixes remind us of this by having us stay down on all fours, but they also call us ponies, doggies and bitches as we crawl about. On occasions when they tell us to stand up, they praise us like we’re dumb animals performing tricks. Yes, as far as this town is concerned, I’m now a four-footed beast.
So far, there’s only been two reasons to stand. The first is for our morning exercise. The second is whenever we’re led to another part of the Abbey. During the latter occasions, we walk in single file with our hands on the hips of the lad or lass in front.
Today was spent mostly with our other instructrix, Mistress Elsa. In the morning she led us in the same routine as Mistress Lydia had done the day before – after kissing her arsehole, we exercised in the yard, then had our enemas, then our breakfast. This time we had two heaped spoonfuls of the sweet red mush they call pap. Along with being a little intoxicating, it left my throat somewhat numb.
Mistress Elsa usually turns her buttocks to us when she speaks to us lap dollies, and we have to keep our eyes on them as much as possible whenever she’s with us. This means we are often following her around the lawn like ducklings. But her lovely bottom is so lush, so adorable, it’s not difficult to keep staring at it. I think I’m bewitched by it, and I’m sure the others must be too.
For much of the day, Mistress Elsa instructed us in our fornications. We dollies were careful to follow her bidding – even though a lot of the time she was not watching us, there was always one or two burly guards who were. We began with us lasses posed on our hands and knees, while the lads knelt before us and fed their cocks into our mouths. Mistress, however, forbid them to ejaculate – if they believed they might be in danger of doing so, they had to remove their cocks at once. We exchange partners until each of us lasses had a turn suckling each lad. The lads were then instructed to suck each other, and while we lasses watched them doing this, Mistress Elsa gave us her first little lecture of the day.
This is the gist of what she said: “A true lap boy never shows a preference for either sex. He also likes to take cock as much as he likes to give cock, perhaps even more so. He also has no preference whether cock goes in his mouth or in his anus. In time you will find this to be true and you’ll understand your primary purpose is to fuck and be fucked. The same is true for you lap girls. Yes, my darlings, as the weeks go by you’ll find yourselves desiring cock like never before – whenever you see cock, you’ll only want to have it inside you, and you won’t care how it goes in – being penetrated in your mouth hole, cunny hole or arsehole will be all the same to you. This may sound inconceivable now, but it’s true my darlings – once you’ve dedicated yourself to being lap dollies, there’s no going back. Even if you escape this place, and I know some of you have already thought about it, then the changes will still take place within you. However, without our guidance, your transformation will be slower and more difficult, and you’ll probably end up sleeping in ditches as homeless gutter sluts. Yes, there’s no going back now – you either do this my way or the even harder way!”
I’m sure Mistress Elsa loves teasing us – I’m never really certain when she’s being serious or just fooling us. Her manner is also forthright, bold and commanding – when she bids you to do something you find yourself doing it at once. I admit I’m afraid of her, as I’m also afraid of Mistress Lydia and our guards – this is curious because not long ago I believed I wasn’t afraid of anything. Even during my journey here, when I walked alone all the way from Gant to Follywell, I wasn’t once daunted by all the dubious individuals I met.
The sight of one of the lads taking another lad’s cock all the way into his throat enthralled me. The lad in question is the one called Oleron – the blond fellow who sleeps in the cage next to mine. Encouraged by Mistress Elsa, the other lad was holding Oleron’s head in both hands and fucking it with total abandon. Though Oleron spluttered and gasped from time to time, he didn’t flinch or pull back or move at all from his position on his hands and knees. I can’t remember ever seeing a lad being used this way before, and I admit I was excited by it. I wanted to touch myself, but I knew I also had to keep all four of my own limbs firmly planted on the ground. It was hard not to wriggle my rear end, though, and I only stopped when a guard shouted at me and gave me a sharp kick in the thigh. I’ve been kicked several times like this now, but thank the gods, they haven’t used their paddles or whips on me. Much of the time, though, I’m quite terrified I’ll do something deserving even worse punishments.
In the afternoon I was sucking again on the cock belonging to the red-headed lad. His body is pale, freckled and rather soft like a lass’s, though he still uses his cock like any gallant lad. Even now he was being a little rough with me – not only did he pull my hair, but he took his cock out every now and again, wiped it and his balls on my face, then gave me a couple little slaps across my cheeks before putting it back in. By now all the lads knew this kind of behaviour got them Mistress Elsa’s approval. After a while, the red-headed lad was pushing deeper into my mouth making me worry I would gag. Mistress Elsa was now kneeling down beside me and stroking my sides and back – each stroke ending with a small sharp smack on my buttocks. Then reaching down under me, she squeezed my breasts, then pinched and twisted my nipples, hurting them enough to cause me to flinch and give out muffled cries.
Mistress Elsa then slipped her hand under my throat and placed her other hand on the back of my head. “Go on, darling boy, slide it in all the way,” she told the lad. He leaned into me and to my surprise his cock slid down my gullet with ease. Taking one that far down would normally make me gag – but now there was only a little discomfort as my throat expanded to accommodate him – I now know it was the throat numbing pap I had at breakfast that made the difference. The lad leaned forward until his balls were pushed up to my chin, and now with the full length of his shaft inside me, he ground himself gently against my face.
“Don’t stop now!” Mistress Elsa said. “Fuck her face properly! It’s what she’s here for.” The lad began thrusting his hips making his cock move in and out of my throat, so letting me take little breaths. Now my head was clasped between his hands, Mistress Elsa let go. Still not satisfied with his performance, she encouraged him to go faster. “Don’t worry about the poor bint, she won’t break,” she added. Doing as he was told, he pumped his cock like a demon. Being used this way was new to me – and it excited me to the point I was trembling uncontrollably. My cunny ached and I so much wanted to touch it, but with my mouth stuffed with the lad’s cock, I could hardly ask permission – all I could do was wriggle my rear end. Mercifully, Mistress Elsa slipped her hand down my back, over my buttocks and onto my cunny. Jolts of pleasure shot through me as she played with my clit. Then something, probably her thumb, was inserted into my anus. She moved it in and out of my bottom, matching the lad’s thrusts into my mouth.
After a while, he moved the head of his cock back up to the front of my mouth so it was resting on my tongue. Mistress gave him permission to ejaculate, though I could tell he was going to anyway. With her looking over us, I had no choice but to swallow every drop of his cum. He removed his cock and wiped it on my face, then slapped my cheeks with it a few times. This earned him praise from our mistress. “Yes, you may only be a lap dolly like her, but you must still treat her as anyone else would,” she added. “And the bitch, of course, still must thank the one who has used her,” she then reminded me.
I leaned forward to kiss the still dripping glans, and in a small, timid voice, I said “Thank you, sir, for using me.” I confess I feel stupid and self-conscious whenever I say these words, but I understand as a dedicated lap dolly, I have no choice in the matter. Yes, I know I’ve become the most pathetic of creatures, existing only for the pleasure and amusement of others, and I understand I will have to keep on whining and whimpering and surrendering myself to anyone who wants to use me.
Later, our instructrix gave us permission to rest ourselves on the lawn before she quit the yard for a while. Our guards also disappeared into their guardhouse, and for the first time since waking up, we were left alone. We lay together in pairs while we rested – I reclined next to one of the blond, busty lasses and we spoke softly to each other. She told me to call her Polly. She already knew my name – it turned out she met me when I first arrived in Follywell. As that was only a few weeks ago, I felt silly not remembering who she was – but there again, I’ve met countless folks while staying at Master Halyard’s house, so I suppose it’s not really that big a deal. I asked her about herself, but she gave very little away – she even said she was trying to forget the life she had before entering service. Instead, she told me how pretty I was and how much she liked my big dark eyes and my up-turned nose and my lush lips. For a moment it seemed she was going to kiss me, and I was glad when she didn’t – after being made to fornicate for hours it was good to just lie still for a while, and I’m sure she must have felt the same. I asked her if she thought she would enjoy serving as a lap dolly. “Unlike some folks, I didn’t choose this,” she said, taking a more serious tone. “It’s my punishment, my penance – and I will only leave service when it’s decided I’ve redeemed myself. If I take any enjoyment from it at all then I will count myself lucky, because it’s certainly more than I deserve.”
She now looked sad and I wondered if I should change the subject. It was then when I noticed something strange in the yard. I had already noticed when I first arrived the three-foot-high wooden posts positioned evenly around our yard’s perimeter. But now perched on one of these posts was something looking like a huge barn owl. Its big piercing round eyes were staring coldly into mine – staring into my soul, even. “Look behind you, Polly,” I said. “That’s got to be the biggest bird I’ve ever seen!”
Polly turned her head. “Oh, that’s only one of our guards – have you only just noticed them?”
“If owls are our guards, then who are those fellows in the red suits?”
“That’s just them in their human form – when they’re in their proper feathered form they sit on the posts and stare at us – you must have seen them before, darling.”
Since arriving in Follywell, I noticed the townsfolk like to pull my leg. I suppose because I’m a Gantshire lass they take me for a gullible yokel.
Mistress Elsa then returned and presented her beguiling backside so we could renew our Kisses of Obedience. I was overjoyed, and I think the others must have been too. Now, as I am writing this, it seems absurd to be so completely besotted by another lass’s backside, and I’m sure once I would’ve even thought it shameful. But I’m a lap dolly now, so I reckon I better get used to such things.
When it was my turn to make my kiss, I buried my face between Mistress Elsa’s lush buttocks and sealed my lips over her little puckered arsehole and I bathed it with my saliva then sucked it dry then bathed it again – and then I pressed my tongue into it and was thrilled to feel its tightness yield a little. I was heartbroken when Mistress Elsa told me to stop. Reluctantly, I made way for the red-haired lad to have his go. I confess I was a little jealous of him. I understand jealousy is a sin not befitting for a lap dolly – Mistress Elsa and Mistress Lydia have both told us this several times now – but unfortunately, I’ve always been rather susceptible to it. I’m sure our instructrixes read these journals during the day, so if they come across my confession, I hope that rather than punish me, they find a fit way to help me to overcome this affliction so I can be a better lap lass.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/m2wjqa/taras_training_diary_day_three_by_kay_callovan