Slither awoke in darkness and lay quietly, waiting. His bladder was full, but he'd hold it until he was released and permission was given. He lay, wondering where she was and felt his pleasure mounting. The anal device had finished cleansing him hours earlier, but remained in place, as was the normal routine. The gentle pressure against his prostate was a treat he knew she approved of. Each time he squirmed, it sent a twinge of pleasure coursing through his insides. The soft sleeves that held his extremities had become a cocoon of sorts, which he doubted he'd be able to sleep without.

He'd learned to enjoy this time alone, held as he was in his chamber, in his cocoon, listening to his blood flow through his veins--the gentle tapping of his erection against his belly and the churning of unspent seed as it boiled inside his large round balls. He smiled and tested his confines, the smile broadened. He was content; there was no escape.

Christine and he had designed the cocoon and had it constructed shortly after they'd moved into the house. A long tray-like bed, wide enough for him to lie on comfortably was the first step. They'd wanted it easily concealed, for when family or friends visited. So, after a great deal of thought, they'd decided to use one of the smaller rooms and built it inside an interior wall. The design was simple, much like the bed you might see in a morgue. Balanced, and at a height to make it easy for Christine to move with him on it, as well as the special equipment they'd added. Inside the wall, the chamber was seven feet long and almost three wide. High enough for him to sit, if he'd been free to do so. He never felt claustrophobic. Feeding containers, formulas, nutrients and enema apparatus were installed, along with monitors for Christine to keep an eye on his vitals while he was encapsulated. The restraints, hooks, padding and fine-tuning had taken weeks, months to perfect. But finally, it was complete and he reaped the benefit of all their hard work almost every night.

He swallowed around his mouthpiece, taking in more of the sweetened liquid nourishment that was his main source of nutrition. The hormones ensured his masculine vitality, the rest kept him extremely healthy. His thoughts returned to the present, to time and how little it mattered to him. Christine would come when she wished and that was as it should be. He lived for her pleasure and she cared deeply for his commitment to her.

He squirmed against the growing ache in his full bladder, he knew he could remain for some time, before he needed to void. His erection would make urination difficult, but he enjoyed the discomfort. He tried turning a bit too far and the short chain pulled painfully on his testicles quickly reminded him to be still. The harness held his balls snug and went unnoticed, unless he became careless. Attached to the chamber beneath him, it gave him only enough slack for minimal movement.

The scraping of the door's handle turning brought his attention back to where it should be. The soft rushing sound of outside air entering his compartment when the small hatch swung open, warned him to close his eyes against the bright fluorescent light as it flooded into his chamber. His heart beat faster in anticipation of Christine's first words.

"Good morning, my sweet," she said, just loud enough for him to hear above the pounding of his blood. "I'm so glad it's Sunday. It's been a crazy week and I've been looking forward to your training session." She unsnapped his ankle restraints and waited while he levered his long legs together enough to place his feet in front of his bottom. He blinked and felt his eyes water as they adjusted to the light.

The fan motor whirred above him, washing the heat of his cocoon past him and into the small marble-tiled room beyond his feet. Christine gripped the handle at the foot of his chamber and pulled. On silent rollers, he emerged into the brightly lit room, flat on his back, at her waist height. The soft, brown leather encasing his limbs from fingertips to shoulder and toe to upper thigh contrasted sharply with his flesh. His sheathed arms were still above him, the ring at the fingertips secured them just inches from the top of his head.

When his vision cleared, he gazed up at the long, dark hair framing the fragile features he loved.

She'd complained her hair was too curly to be long, but he loved it and often begged for permission to brush it. The fringe around her face set off her brown, almond-shaped eyes and wispy, long lashes. Her nose was wide. Full lips always seemed to pout, no matter if she was administering discipline, or was happy with him. He loved her small round breasts, and the gentle curve of her belly. Unfashionable, perhaps, but beautifully soft to lay his head on when he was allowed. Her lovely round bottom was her best asset in his opinion, and one he paid homage to at every opportunity.

Her hands roamed over his body, inspecting for rashes or sores where flesh met leather and rubbed at shoulder and upper thigh. He lay as quietly as he could while the inspection continued, but when her fingers probed and stroked his privates, he trembled. Sucking greedily on his feeding tube, Slither emptied the last of his nightly ration. He knew he'd have to finish his nights' meal before she released him from the enforced silence.

Christine pulled the tube from his mouth and leaned down to kiss his sweet-tasting lips. "Good boy. You're very horny this morning, I see," she quipped, running a finger over the bloated head of his erection. It leaped at her touch and he would have loved her to continue, but that wasn't in the plan. "Need to pee, my sweet?"

"Yes, please," he replied, keeping his voice low and even. If he gave away how desperate he was, he was sure she'd make him wait. Using the lightest of touches, she took his erection and moved the skin slowly up and down the shaft, teasing him. His inner thighs gave him away, tensing as he neared climax and she released him. Pre-come oozed onto his belly. He felt it forming a small sticky puddle as she unfastened the sleeves that held his legs.

"Don't move, or I'll smack," she reminded him. The leg bindings fell away and she moved to those confining his arms above his head. She deftly unbuckled those as well. He remained still as instructed, reveling in the cool air moving against his skin as it was exposed.

The removal of the anal device was the only thing left to end his night's routine. Instead of simply pulling it out of his rectum, he felt her toying with it. Holding its large base, she inched it in and out of him, maneuvering it against his prostate.

Slither willed himself to remain still as blood raged through his body, the heat of a flush creeping over his face and chest. Unable to keep silent, he moaned, "Please, Christine. Please."

"Please what?" she asked. Her smile broadened at his plea. He knew how much she enjoyed teasing him; her own excitement would be taking hold. Thrusting the cleaning tube more vigorously into him and watching him squirm had always thrilled her.

"Please, I'm going to burst. I really need to pee. Please," he admitted finally, not sure how much longer he could hold it.

"Ah yes, you have to go." She pressed the tube into his bottom one last time before slowly withdrawing it, leaving him excruciatingly empty. His anus clenched, trying to grasp it back. "Come on then, get up," she demanded, snapping his leash onto the ball harness then releasing him from the night chain.

"Yes, Ma'am." He rolled out of the comfortably molded bed where he'd spent the last nine hours. For a moment, he stood over her, tall, strong, muscles bulging under lightly tanned skin. He stretched, luxuriating in the feel of muscles straining, before dropping to his knees beside her.

She handed him the kneepads he'd wear for the day and waited while he slipped them up his legs. With the leash in her hand, she turned and gave it a tug as she headed toward the door. Crawling after her, his erection tapped against his belly each time he dropped a knee to the floor. The journey was a short one. His bedchamber had been designed where it was, to provide quick and easy access to the training yard. Down a very short hallway and through the kitchen they came to the door.

Christine attached his leash to the chain bolted to the doorframe and said, "Five minutes. I'll be watching, so don't touch." She turned and headed for her perch in the kitchen. She'd drink her morning coffee while watching him struggle to urinate.

"Yes, Ma'am. I won't touch," Slither replied, and crawled through the animal door at the bottom of the larger one. Dragging his leash and the attached chain, he swiftly made for the bed of cedar shavings and lifted his right leg. Concentrating helped, but the erection he woke up with made urinating difficult. Glancing at the window, he watched her raise the cup to her lips and sipped her coffee.

Questions raced through his mind. Five minutes? Why not the usual ten? At least, I'd have a chance then. He wondered and squirmed as his bladder slowly emptied. Tightened his hands into fists, he fought the urge to grab hold and soothe his maddeningly itching prick. When the stream slowed to droplets, he heard the door open, but no matter how he tried to stem the flow, it continued.

"You've had your time. Done?" Christine called from the doorway, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it from him.

"No, Ma'am, I'm not done yet," he replied, and struggled to force the last drops out of his still massively rigid prick. Filled with embarrassment, he balanced on one knee, fully displayed, dribbling.

"Looks like practice is going to be a bit rough then, doesn't it?"

"Yes, Ma'am." He cringed. The practices were normally rough so he wondered what she had in mind for him. With a final straining push, he finished and dropped his knee to the ground. Crawling onto the lawn, he completed his morning ritual. By lying flat on the grass and pulling himself along, slithering, he effectively cleaned the last vestiges of urine away. It also stimulated him unmercifully but that was expected--encouraged. Christine liked to see him excited and he loved the feeling of prolonged denial.

When he was done, he rose onto his knees and spread them wide, presenting himself to her. Placing his hands on his bottom, he pushed his hips forward as was required. Small bits of grass adhered to him, flecking his belly, thighs and groin, and itched unmercifully. The underside of his penis was red from the rough treatment, but remained hard and eager.

"My, but you're horny this morning. You'll have to work very hard today if you want me to take care of that." She nodded toward his middle and chuckled when he looked down.

"I'll work very hard, Ma'am. I feel like I'm going to explode."

"Good, over to the stables then and bring out the carriage. I expect you to win today, last weekend's race was a joke." She followed behind him, and he felt her eyes on his butt as he hurried to obey. The stable was no great distance and from past experience he knew the carriage was easily maneuvered into the open. When he'd dragged it out, he parked it and knelt, awaiting further instructions.

The carriage was another of their designs and looked like a cross between a sulky and a rickshaw. Two large, thin wheels with a small seat perched high and in the middle. The wooden shafts reached forward and had several harness straps hanging from them. There was a bar across the front of the shafts with two sheaths affixed for him to slide his hands into and buckles that Christine would fasten.

Christine carried out a duffel bag, bulging with equipment, and dropped it beside Slither. She faced him with a note of eagerness in her voice. "Up you get," then waited for him to rise before adding. "Do you want a drink before we begin?"

"Yes, please," he replied. She nodded and he quickly went to the trough. He took only enough to wet his mouth and throat, well aware of how difficult it would be for him if he vomited during the practice.

She was ready for him when he returned, the two leather straps for his knees in one hand. He positioned himself standing between the wheels and reached for the bar. Bent at the waist, his hands slid into the sheaths and she swiftly buckled him in. "Spread your legs," Christine prompted.

Feeling the usual awkwardness, he spread his feet the twenty-six inches necessary for her to confine his knees to the rig. Her hands on his thighs excited him tremendously, and spread as he was, there was no way to conceal it.

After checking the straps to make sure he was secured, she unhooked the leash from his ball harness and stuffed it in the equipment bag. The gentle touch of her fingers as they strayed along his shaft made him shudder. Arching his back, he pushed himself onto her hand as much as he could. She toyed with his inner thigh and upward, circling his testicles. His buttocks clenched, eager for their share of attention and he wasn't disappointed when she ran a fingernail along the furrow. His cock jumped when she pressed her finger into his puckered hole.

Stretching and loosening the outer sphincter muscles, she prepared him for the next step. Lubrication was pushed into him, cooling the growing heat he wanted more of. His anus clenched repeatedly, attempting to grasp and suck in whatever she chose to fill him with. Abandoning his backside, Christine moved around him, ignoring the moans he couldn't hold back.

"Patience, sweet, it's going to be a long day. Don't get in a hurry or you'll disappoint me, and you don't want that to happen, do you?" She ran a fingernail up his spine, from the crease of his bottom, all the way up to the back of his neck.

"No, Ma'am. I'll do my very best." He shuddered, and felt sweat break out all over.

"Yes, I know you will. I'll see to it," she replied sternly.

His bridle came next. The bit slid into his mouth and he clamped his teeth onto it. The cock shaped protrusion pressed his tongue flat. The straps were drawn around his head and buckled in place; the blinders flipped forward would ensure his attention remained where it should be.

Christine adjusted the seat and locked it into place, two feet from the muscular curve of his ass. Just enough room remained for an accurate swing with the crop. The reins led from his mouthpiece, over his shoulders and along his back. She draped them over the seat, ready to be used in guiding him.

"Almost done, sweet." She stroked him, reassuring him with her firm caress. He heard her rummaging in her bag, then a soft swishing sound as she approached him from the rear. "Hold still. Take a deep breath, on the count of three: one, two, three."

The cool plastic entered him swiftly, not easily, but he'd grown accustomed to that minor discomfort long ago. The deep breath he'd taken helped and he knew that any pain he felt would soon be replaced by excruciating pleasure. The length of the horsehair strands swishing against the back of his thighs told him which tail he'd been equipped with and what to expect next. Mid-thigh meant the new one and he twitched momentarily, wishing he could refuse.

He shifted uneasily in his tack, but she ignored it. Wrapping her hand around his aching tool, she fed it into the sheath. The laces were pulled tight, then left to dangle over the crown, which was all that was left exposed. From memory, he pictured the rigid strip of leather extending from the base of the cock sheath, back toward his anus. He felt her fingers on him, feeding his testicles through the two holes in the leather strip that had been fashioned specifically for them. A moment later, he heard the snap as she fastened the strip just under the horsetail plug.

He'd only worn the device once before and Christine seemed to enjoy the torment it put him through. As he'd stumbled his way around the course, his erection had bobbed and swayed beneath him. Every step had brought new torment; each time he squirmed or cringed, his anus was reamed at a slightly different angle. Slither closed his eyes, remembering how much Christine had forced him to endure on that previous experience with the new tail. A sharp slap to his hip brought his attention back to her.

"One last thing, look what I have for you." She stood in front of him, in her tiny short-skirted dress and boots. She was close enough that he could smell her arousal, yet he dare not take the step forward to touch her. In the palm of one hand rested two round silver balls about the size of golf balls. Each had a small metal loop and he shivered, knowing their purpose. Chuckling, she remarked, "I see you've figured it out. Each weighs about a pound and you'll wear them throughout the practice. I'm dying to see how you get through this."

She squatted beside him, one hand resting on his thigh, steadying herself. He felt the tug of the laces at the tip of his penis as she fastened the balls to him, followed by the drag of the weight on his erection. One, then the other, and the probe in his anus moved.

Sweat ran off him in rivers. He bore down on the infuriating device inside him, but no amount of pushing or straining would dislodge it. Christine, giving one glistening ball a nudge, sent it hurtling into the other. He knew he'd be in agony before the morning was done, and she'd enjoy every second of the control she had over him.

"Two miles should warm you up," Christine said, as she climbed into the seat behind him. He tried valiantly to compensate for the jiggling of her ascent by moving with her, but with little success. His tail waved wildly behind him, indicating each jerk and shift of the anal toy. Already over-stimulated, his cock drooled pre-come in long rivulets.

Christine shifted position and placed her feet on the sidebars before he felt her grasp the reins. He heard her taking the crop from its sheath, and when she flicked it, felt the sharp sting as it touched his ass. Expecting it, he pushed forward, moving awkwardly at first, but steadying as he found his pace. The silver balls swung and tapped against each other, or his legs, as he progressed. His erection slapped his belly or thigh with each step.

They'd designed the course together and he'd built much of it under her supervision--a meandering trail of manicured beauty with dips and turns, even a bridge crossing a tiny stream. Skirting a secluded wooded area of their property and the stable, he had a full mile to run before he'd complete the circuit. It proved to be more than a slight challenge of his stamina.

After a couple of hundred yards, he was ready to call it quits, but knowing he'd disappoint her if he did, he continued. He concentrated on his footing on the damp lawn and cringed when he thought of slipping. His speed therefore suffered, which she allowed for only a few minutes.