Phillip's Story Chapter 5: "Phillip is taken to the Vet"
This is a work of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over the age of eighteen years
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Written by Jean-Christophe (Chris): July, 2012 Read my stories at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Jean-Christophe_Stories
"The characters and ideas contained in this story are the writer's and shouldn't be reproduced without his permission. Please respect the integrity of the story and don't do any rewrites, make alterations or add pictures."
Writer's Note: This is a fictionalized account of actual, recent events that happened to my slave friend, Phillip. Of course, it contains some embellishments to make it more interesting to readers but it is essentially as he experienced those events.
I'm grateful to Phillip's Master for his trust in allowing me to write about his slave's life.
Chapter 5: Phillip is taken to the Vet
All day in my office, the impending visit to the Vet is uppermost on my mind. My current work load is very heavy and requires all my concentration and yet, always at the back of my mind is this evening's visit to the Vet for my annual check-up.
This morning, Master and I had left home together and driven just the one car to the railroad station where we caught the train and travelled into the city. Master's appointment with the Vet was for 6.00 PM and I had to leave work an hour earlier than normal and meet Master at Penn Station. We then caught the train back to our local railroad station where we picked up the car and drove to the Vet's consulting rooms.
As I chauffeured Master to keep his appointment, I thought back over the reasons for why Master is taking me to see the Vet.
Master is most fastidious about my welfare. My health and wellbeing are important to him and paramount to my good service to him as his slave. My Master typifies all Black Superiors who, from my experience, value their white slaves' health. After all, what Black Superior wants to worry over a sickly or unfit white slave? And of course, our inferior white status and our inherent physical weaknesses do give our Black Masters just cause for concern. They must be ever vigilant in their watch over us.
As with any other white slave, my real worth to my Master is in my ability to serve him faithfully and well and to work hard to make his life as enjoyable as I possibly can. This is my reason for being. It is my true life's calling and my 'raison d'etre'. I exist for one reason only and that is to serve my Master with all the love and devotion that resides within me.
I have willingly given my life to my Master and it is his to do with whatever he chooses!
Master lives on a secluded six acre plot made even more private by the large number of trees that screen us from prying eyes. We are fortunate that we have no neighbours to worry us and of course this allows me to work naked fulltime both indoors and outdoors. And this is as it should be; nudity after all is the natural condition for all white slaves who serve Black Superiors.
Master's is a large, two storied house which requires much upkeep and it keeps me busy of an evening and at weekends. Master is a stickler for good housekeeping and I am kept busy with the usual household chores like cooking and serving meals, cleaning, polishing, laundry and the myriad of other things that go to make life pleasant for my Master.
Master, takes a special interest in my work and always inspects what I have done. Sometimes Master will lead me by my cock on a tour of inspection of my works. At other times, I crawl on all fours at Master's heels as he moves around the house. If my efforts meet Master's high standards, then nothing is said. A slave doesn't need praise for doing his chores properly, does he? But if my work falls short of Master's requirements, then, quite rightly, I am castigated and justifiably punished.
As with all aspects of my life, Master has worked out a program and a timetable for me. For example, every Friday night, Master calls me to him and presents me with a menu for the next week and a food and grocery list. Each Saturday morning, I rise early - well I wake early every morning - and I shop while Master is still in bed.
When I return from my shopping, I serve Master his breakfast and I wait in the modified slave position as he gives me instructions for the day.
The six acres of grounds include a swimming-pool, a cabana and a barbecue area that have to be maintained as well as the garden beds and shrubberies. And of course, mowing of the grounds is a major part of my duties. Naturally, all of these require my constant attention under Master's supervision.
Master loves to entertain and it's not uncommon for him to invite his Black Superior friends to swim in the pool on a hot day and to enjoy a BBQ meal served by myself and the visiting Superiors' slaves. It's always gratifying to me - and to my slave brothers - to serve our Masters and to watch them frolicking in the pool on a hot day. What greater joy is there for a white slave than to see his Black Master spontaneously enjoying himself?
As we slaves stand at poolside ready to hurry forward to dry our Masters of to serve them refreshments, we sometimes envy them their freedom to swim and enjoy a cool drink. But we never lose sight of our primary reason for being there. We are there to serve our Masters and our needs are of no consequence.
Master insists that most of our vegetables are home grown and he has established a very productive vegetable patch that I must maintain - again under his supervision. This involves digging over the garden beds, fertilising them and planting out the seedlings followed by my nurturing of them as they grow to maturity.
In winter there are open fireplaces to maintain; wood to chop and store and on occasions, I must clear the snow from the driveway and pathways.
And throughout the year there are cars to be cleaned and maintained in the immaculate condition that Master expects and demands of me.
I mention these things only to show why it is important to Master that I stay healthy. Master needs me to be fit to attend to the many chores that are a necessary part of my lot as his slave. My primary role - indeed my only one - is to spare my Master all unnecessary domestic activity and to allow him to relax in comfort and without undue worry.
Accordingly, once a year, Master takes me to the Vet for a complete medical examination and usually I'm given my flu shots during those visits. If at other times, my health gives Master cause for concern, then he'll also take me to the Vet for treatment and a few months ago, Master was indeed concerned for the healthy state of my balls.
Over the previous weekend, Master and some other Superiors had played a polo match where the slaves were used as the polo ponies. The game was a lot of fun and was played with great enthusiasm by the Superiors. The ponies were ridden hard and whipped even harder to get the very best out of them. Master, in an effort to encourage me to greater speed, used his crop on my low hanging balls. It has to be said nothing spurs a pony or a slave to greater effort that a sharp rap to the scrotum with a crop. I can vouch for that!
Unfortunately, my balls had red welts afterwards and were very sore. Master kept a wary eye on them and eventually decided to take me to the vet for an inspection for any possible damage.
Of course, I appeared naked before the vet and his female Black nurse. This is standard procedure and I'm sure the nurse is well-accustomed to seeing naked, white, male slaves. I'm sure she sees us as just another form of livestock and doesn't turn a hair at handling our bodies.
The vet examined my balls and found they'd not been damaged. However, he did give Master a salve to use on them and over the next day or so Master applied it most fastidiously. My testicles mean a lot to Master.
The vet asked Master how I came by my sore balls and Master explained that it had happened at a polo game. This interested both the Vet and his nurse and they asked Master more about the game. Both said they'd like to witness such a polo match where white slaves are ridden by their Black Owners and they showed much interest and asked to be informed if another game was ever organised.
I think the nurse's interest was very genuine. I sincerely believe she'd like to watch Black Superiors using their white slaves as polo ponies. I have since learned that she and the Vet have been invited to watch a polo match scheduled for August.
All that day, the thought of my return visit to the Vet played on my mind. Nervously, I kept looking at my watch and dreading the time when I must leave the office to meet Master at Penn Station.
I do dislike going to the Vet. I guess for me it's the humiliation that I feel as I am presented for the Vet's inspection by my Master. I always feel there is little to distinguish me from a well-loved dog or other household pet.
But inevitably, the time does arrive for me to leave my office and I meet Master. When we arrive, the clinic is closed for the day and Master, as arranged, uses his cell phone to call the Vet's receptionist and advise her of his arrival.
The door is unlocked and I follow Master inside.
There is a set procedure that a slave must adhere to before he is taken into the Vet's consulting room. Once through the door, Master waits as I shuck off my business suit until I am completely naked. Then, very carefully, I hang my clothes in a closet set aside for that purpose. As I do so, I see that there are other clothes hanging in the closet which indicates that I'm not the only slave present.
I follow Master into the reception area and over to a desk where a Black Mistress - I estimate her age as being in her twenties - is working. Master approaches her and I assume the full display position with my feet apart and my hands behind my head. I stand silently and listen as Master and the receptionist discuss me. They talk about me but not to me. I am a slave and of no consequence. As Master's property, all details are left to him to finalise.
The receptionist eyes rake over my naked body as she visually appraises me. Her gaze wanders from my head down over my nudity to my feet. Then she asks Master.
"What is your animal's name?"
"He's called 'Phillip'."
"And why is your animal here? What's the purpose of this evening's visit?"
"I've brought him here for his annual check-up."
"Has the animal's insurance changed since its last check-up?"
"No!"
"Is the animal up-to-date with all its current shots?"
"Yes!"
"In that case the animal's co-payment is $10.00."
Master pays the $10.00 and is handed a receipt.
"As you can see there is another Superior ahead of you." The receptionist tells Master. "If you'd like to take a seat and would you have your animal kneel at your side with its legs spread wide, please?"
My humiliation washes over me and my nakedness burns red with my shame. But why should I be humiliated? I know that what the receptionist just said to Master is true. I am just a slave animal and an inferior white one at that.
Master moves to a seat and sits down. I kneel at his side with my legs splayed as wide as possible so that my cock and balls are on full display and lower my head.
As I do so, I catch a glimpse of another Superior and his slave.
Like my Master this Superior is Black and he is aged about twenty, His slave is considerably older - I estimate his age as forty-five or there about.
The slave is like me. Naked and kneeling at his Master's side with his legs spread wide and his head bowed. Like me his cock and balls are prominently displayed.
Master looks at the young Superior and smiles his greeting.
"Hi! How are you?"
"I'm well thank you." The young Superior smiles at Master and tells him. "The vet has just taken a female slave in for an examination so I guess we have a little while to wait."
"That's a fine looking slave you have there." Master compliments the young Superior.
"Thank you! Yes he is a fine slave. He's just new to slavery and still undergoing training.
"Tell me about your boy." Master invites "He's a fine property. How did you come by him?"
"He fell into my lap so to speak. I'm at College and he is my college professor. On my very first day he hit on me; I played my cards right and it went from there. I soon had him eating out of my hand and before long he was my slave."
The young Master slaps his slave's face to gain his attention and asks.
"Isn't that right boy?"
"Yes Master!" The slave answers respectfully.
"So the slave is your professor during the day is that correct? And you are the Master at home?"
"Yes that correct! Technically speaking he is in charge at College but in name only. Always in his mind, he must acknowledge me as his Master. If, during the day, he offends me by his speech of attitude towards me, he is punished at home that same night. As you can see from his back and ass, he's offended me a lot lately."
"How long have you owned him?"
"For only a few weeks. Isn't that so, slave?"
Another slap to the side of the face prompts the slave to answer.
"Yes Master, That's correct Master."
"So he's still very much undergoing his basic, introductory training?"
"Indeed he is. And it's proving very painful for him. But I never tire of working with him to make him the slave I expect him to be. What about your boy? Have you owned him for long?"
"I have owned my boy for eleven years. Although we were apart for the past twelve months while I worked out of state. But that's behind us now and we are together again. I have to say he disappointed me when I returned. During my absence, he regressed so much and he had slipped back into his old ways and bad habits. As you can see I've had to cane his ass a lot."
"Does he have a name?"
"Yes, I named him Phillip."
"You've owned him for eleven years! Wow, that's a long time. I wonder if my slave, Timtam and I will still be together eleven years from now."
"I don't see why not. Treat him with a firm hand and train him hard and he'll serve you faithfully and devotedly. That's the great thing about owning a white slave. Once he accepts that his true status is that of a slave to the Black Race and that his only purpose is to serve a Black Owner he'll be forever grateful and reward you with doglike loyalty. But be firm with him. White slaves expect their Masters to treat them with an iron fist. In fact, white slaves thrive under harsh Black Rule discipline."
"Thank you for your advice! I'll certainly remember what you have said."
"You've named your slave Timtam? That's unusual?"
"Well, in College he's known and looked up to as Professor Timothy D'Isle Carstairs. That's too flash a name for a slave. So to keep him absolutely focused on being a slave I gave him the more derogatory name of Timtam."
"I love it." Master laughs. "Of course I don't call my boy by his given name. He's known simply as slave Phillip. But tell me why is Timtam here? Is he ill?"
"No, he's in good health! As you can see he's a bit out of condition but we're working on that aren't we boy?"
"Yes Master!"
"Well don't be shy, boy. Tell the Sir what we're doing to correct things."
"Sir, Mast...... "
"Speak up Timtam. We can't hear you!" The slave's young Master delivers a stinging slap to the slave's face. Crestfallen, he obeys and speaks louder.
"Sir, my Master has placed me on a strict no fat diet and I have to exercise daily to improve my fitness."
"Good for him! Boy, I hope you're grateful to your Master for his concern for your well-being?"
"Yes Sir, I'm very grateful to my Master. And thank you Sir for your interest in me."
Both Masters ignore the slave's words and the young Master continues with his reasons for bringing his slave to the surgery.
"This is my slave's first 'getting to know to know the Vet' visit. The Vet wants to examine him and give him all of his tests before placing him in his list of patients. I booked him in within a few days of enslaving him but because of the time it takes to enter a new slave into the system, today was the earliest the doctor could see him. And I understand that the doctor wants to give him his flu and tetanus shots today."
"Those are very necessary for a slave's wellbeing. After he's examined, Phillip will be given his shots too."
The two Superiors continue to talk as I and the other slave stay silent and of course, as expected by our Masters, we remain perfectly still. This is one of the cardinal rules of slave behaviour - a slave NEVER fidgets or makes any movements that cause embarrassment to his owner. In my case, this isn't a problem. Master has trained me well and I am able to maintain complete stillness for indefinite periods of time. But it wasn't always this way.
Master had to work hard to teach me that unnecessary movement on my part was unacceptable behaviour. Initially, I was punished but with Master's perseverance - if not his patience - I did acquire the ability to stand or kneel immobile for lengthy periods of time.
No Master wants to be distracted by a 'fidgety' slave. A slave needs to be always on hand ready to step forward to serve his Master but at all other times he must stand silently and motionless in the background.
I now have this ability whether it is serving Master and his guests in the dining-room or at a poolside barbecue. I stand unobtrusively with my hands clasped behind my back and resting on my ass. Apart from my breathing, the only movements I make are with my eyes which are firmly fixed on my Master and his needs. I am ever vigilant and ready to step forward immediately to serve him without his prompting.
There is one other movement I make that I was unaware of until Master pointed it out to me. One Christmas, I was driving Master to visit his parents and we were talking about a recent story I'd read where the principal slave character was described as having a cock that twitched involuntarily. Master told me that my cock also twitches. This surprised me, but I am now well aware that it does. Sometimes this is commented on my Master's guests.
So while I have the ability to kneel motionless, the other slave doesn't. He is very new to his slavery and I recall back to my early days and how hard it was for me to stay still. I sympathise with the slave as I imagine his cramped muscles and the stress placed on his lower back and his splayed knees. Suddenly, he is slapped by his Master and ordered to.
"Stop fidgeting! Stay still and kneel quietly!"
The slap reverberates loudly around the room and causes the receptionist to look up from her desk. Approvingly, she notes that the Master has his slave under his control and she returns to her work.
At that moment, an inner door opens as a Black Mistress leaves the Vet's consulting room. She is followed by the Vet and a naked, white female slave. Mostly, my exposure to other slaves is with males. But some Superiors in Master's circle of friends do own female slaves and I do come into contact with them. White, female slaves aren't all that uncommon and within my Master's family there are several female slaves.
Master's parents own two white slaves - one male and one female. Indeed Master grew up in a household where white slavery has flourished for many years. As boys, both Master and his brother, Sir Lachlan were exposed to slaves of both sexes. And I know within Master's extended family there are other female slaves. Master's uncle has a slave couple who were mated and produced a male progeny who also serves with them.
Essentially my sexuality is 'gay'. But I should hasten to say that my sexual orientation is unimportant. As a slave it is whatever my Master wishes it to be. Should my Master decide to couple me with another male slave then that is his right? But should he wish to breed me to a female that too is his choice and any reluctance or anti-female bias on my part is absolutely of no consequence and wouldn't be tolerated by Master.
A slave's sexuality - as with his body - belongs to his Master! All choices belong to the Master and none to the slave who has only one option open to him; instant compliance with his Master's commands. A slave's role is to obey immediately and without comment.
The Vet farewells the Mistress and as she and her slave leave, he calls for the young Superior to follow him into the examination room. As the slave stands and follows his Master through the door, I see that his ass and back are horribly marked by the whip and the cane. The tell-tale stripes and the blue-black bruising tell me that the slave has suffered much at his Master's hands. It also tells me that the slave has a strict Master which augers well for the slave and his training. He will learn quickly or suffer the painful consequences for his lack of diligence and inattention to detail.
As an inferior, white slave, I know we can only learn through constant, harsh training and firm chastisement. In this, we are fortunate for there are no better teachers than our Black Masters.
The silence in the room feeds my nervousness. From previous visits, I know I have approximately fifteen to twenty minutes before the Vet calls for Master when it will be my turn to be examined.
Suddenly, we are joined by another Superior and his white slave. Both Master and slave are in their mid-twenties and as the Superior talks to the receptionist, the slave stands as I did in the display position.
I hear the receptionist as she repeats the questions she'd asked Master.
"What is your animal's name?"
"And why is your animal here? What's the purpose of this evening's visit?"
"Has the animal's insurance changed since its last visit?'
And.
"Is the animal current on all its shots?"
These questions are routinely asked of every Black Superior who presents his white slave for a medical check-up. And you'd think I would be used to them. But each time I hear them repeated, I am reminded of what I really am - a naked, white, slave animal in service to the superior Black Race.
The Superior takes a seat facing Master and his slave kneels by his side. Obediently, the slave spreads his knees and places his cock and balls on show then submissively lowers his head. I have a chance to fleetingly look at the slave and there are several things that I notice. The first it that the slave - despite his youth - is completely hairless and the second is the pallor of his skin.
Without any hair it is hard to say what colour that hair would be. But judging from his brilliant blue eyes, I would guess he is a natural blond.
As I look at him I can't help but contrast his almost ghostly white colour to that of his Black Master. His colour is cold while his Master has a rich, warm appearance. I wonder if the Master deliberately keeps this slave so pale to act as a counterfoil to his own complexion.
I think about this and I'm stuck by the slave's insipid appearance. I believe he epitomises the vast gulf that separates the Black Race from the inferior white one.
To me Black Superiors always look so alive, so vibrant and so vital. We whites on the other hand appear weak and puny by comparison. And this slave emphasises these points most eloquently.
As I look at the slave I see the inherent weaknesses of the white race. I see that we are genetically inferior to all Blacks and we lack their vigour and vitality. By comparison we are but mere shadows of their inherent greatness.
This slave demonstrates my own inherited weaknesses to me. Through him, I recognise that I am in all ways my Master's inferior. And I am overwhelmed with gratitude that Master has given me an opportunity to redeem myself in his eyes and the chance to serve him and through him to honour, serve and obey the wider Black community. I have much to be thankful for.
I wish I could break my silence and to kiss my Master's feet in homage and tell him of my feelings. But I am an obedient slave and maintain my position and my silence. Perhaps later tonight, at home, I will be able to kneel at my Master's feet and to kiss them and express my feelings of gratitude to him.
The minutes tick slowly by as Master awaits his consultation with the Vet. I guess some fifteen minutes later, the young Superior returns with his slave to the waiting room. He approaches the desk and his slave assumes the full display position and stands silently as his Master makes another appointment with the receptionist. I wonder why the slave is to return to the Vet.
Then, they return to the closet where the Master orders his slave to dress before leaving the clinic.
Still we wait! Then finally, the receptionist calls out Master's name and invites him to.
"The Vet is ready for you and your property! Could you please take your animal through for its examination?"
As Master walks towards the consulting-room, I scramble to my feet and hurry after him.
It is now my turn to be examined and despite knowing what is to happen, I am overcome with nervousness.
I have been in this room many times before. After all, I have been a slave for eleven years and these annual check-ups are more or less routine. And yet, they still make me nervous. I know I shouldn't be and that I must trust my Master's good judgment and wise decisions.
In his infinite wisdom, Master has decided these yearly examinations are for my own good and therefore I should be grateful to him for his thoughtfulness. And I should recognize them as an indication of how highly Master values me as his property.
I know my Master is fastidious in all things. He maintains his home and its surrounds in immaculate condition and ensures all is kept in excellent working order. His cars are serviced regularly and I am charged with seeing that they are kept clean and polished at all times.
Given that Master values his possessions so highly, why then wouldn't he apply those same standards to his slave and his upkeep. I am just another of Master's possessions - and perhaps it's bigheaded of me - but I like to think that he prizes me as highly as any other of his worldly goods.
I should recognize Master's benevolence in bringing me before the Vet for my examination. He has gone to considerable effort to bring me here this evening. Indirectly, I have disrupted his work schedule and he has altered his plans to accommodate me.
I walk to the center of the room and stand at the full display position as Master greets the Vet and his nurse. All three are known to each other and their conversation is friendly. I am ignored; my presence in the room is probably noted but beyond that it is as though I don't exist.
The Vet questions Master about his long absence working out of state and how he is resettling back into his old position. Their conversation continues for several minutes during which time my nervousness intensifies. Then the Vet begins his examination of my body.
I know the routine he will follow and I stand still as he explores my body. He works dispassionately as his expert hands run over my arms and legs pausing to squeeze them in a test for my muscle tone. He gauges my chest and pulls at my nipples to check my reflexes. His hands roam down over my belly pinching it for any flabbiness and a finger is inserted into my navel; a visual check shows that it's as it should be - deeply indented with no protuberance.
Next, the Vet turns me so that my back is to him. He gauges the width of my shoulders and examines my spinal column. He takes an ass cheek in either hand and squeezes hard before parting my buttocks and running his finger up my ass-crack. As his finger makes contact with my anus, a slight shudder runs through me. He reaches between my legs and grabs my scrotum. Then, releasing it, I am turned so that I face him once more. He takes my balls into a cupped hand and jiggles them up and down as though weighing them.
The Vet takes hold of my cock and stretching it out from my groin, he squeezes my piss-slit causing me to flinch. He approach is dispassionate and he ignores my discomfort. It is as though I am of no more importance than a family pet. Several times, he pulls my cock away from my body and allows it to 'slap' back into its resting position.
This first part of my examination is over and the Vet now questions Master.
"How has the slave's general health been?"
"I don't know of any problems." Master answers. "I did keep a check on him when I was working out of state and he wasn't sick at all."
What about his bladder? He's urinating ok?"
"Yes he pees ok and there no problems there!"
"Good! And what about his bowel movements - are they regular? Have you noticed any problems with him excreting?"
"No, none at all!"
"That's excellent! I'll check out his cardiovascular fitness."
Over the next few minutes, the Vet checks my breathing and heart-beat, he takes my blood-pressure and he is pleased with the results. He tells Master.
"Your slave's in good shape. His heart and lungs are sound and his blood-pressure is as I would expect it to be."
The Vet's interest in me now moves to my head. As he minutely examines my ears, he tilts my head from one side to another and inserts an Otoscope to check my outer and middle ears. He is pleased and tells Master that both ears are free of infection or any build-up of wax.
My eyes are the next to be inspected. He shines a thin needlepoint light into my eyes and pulls down on my bottom lid as he comments to Master.
"His eyes are sound. The pupils aren't dilated and there's no yellowing of the whites."
Now my head is pushed back as the Vet examines my nose. He shines his torch up each nostril and declares them to be clear and free of polyps.
Now for the first time, he speaks to me and tells me to open my mouth wide and to poke out my tongue.
I obey and the Vet orders me to raise and lower my tongue as he examines both it and my teeth. Again, I pass inspection and this is conveyed to Master.
To date my inspection is going well.
The Vet is finished with me temporarily and the nurse now takes charge of me. She orders me to step onto a set of surgery scales to be weighed. Nervously, I look to see if I have gained weight. I'm sure Master would be most displeased with me if I had. Master carefully controls my diet and limits my food and liquid intakes to ensure that I retain my trim figure.
I am gratified to see that I haven't gained any weight since my last examination. I weighed 173 lbs. then and that is my current weight. Next the nurse takes my body measurements and places special emphasis on my waistline. Again I am fortunate; my waist measurement is the same 34 inches it was at my last inspection.
While I am being measured and weighed, Master and the Vet talk about me. The Vet asks Master very general questions about my health and fitness. Master outlines to the Vet that during his absence working out of state, I had become slack in my attitudes and that he is now working very hard to bring me back "into line".
The Vet suggests to Master that he needs to take a firm hand with me just as he does with his two slaves. I shudder at his reference to a "firm hand". I know the Vet owns two, white slaves and that he is a very stern Master. He favours the whip over the cane and the strap and I know his slaves are regularly whipped.
Now comes the part of my examination that I truly hate - the examination of my cock and balls and a digital inspection of my ass. Firstly, the Vet minutely examines each of my balls for any abnormalities by rolling them between his fingers and gently squeezing them.
I know that this last test is common for men who present themselves to a doctor for a routine examination. But as free men they have this choice. However, I'm not a free man. I am a slave and I didn't come here of my own volition. My Master brought me here and I had no choice in the matter.
Once more The Vet takes hold of my balls and orders me to cough. I do so and he orders me to cough again. He repeats his order several times and I respond by coughing louder and harder.
Satisfied that all is well and I haven't any hernias, he instructs me to lean over the examination table with my elbows resting on its top. Then, I am ordered into a slightly squatting position and I'm aware that my ass is stretched open for his gloved finger. But before that, the Vet examines my anus and perineum for haemorrhoids or rashes. Establishing that all is well, I feel the cold stickiness as a lubricant is smeared around my anus.
Experience over the years tells me that I should just relax to make entry into my rectum easier. But defensively, my sphincter closes and tightens itself as protection against The Vet's invading finger.
The lubricant helps and the finger slips easily through my asshole and into my rectum where it palpates my insides. As always there is that pleasurable feeling as my prostate is found, examined and stimulated.
My examination now reaches its climax as the Vet orders me up onto the examination table and to assume the 'all fours' position. He asks the nurse to take my temperature and to 'milk' me. I wait with my head bowed as the nurse uses a rectal thermometer to take my temperature. I feel its intrusion as the nurse allows time for my temperature to register and when she withdraws it, I experience the emptiness that one always feels after his ass has been penetrated and the intruding object has been withdrawn.
The nurse places a surgical dish beneath my cock and begins to 'milk' me. It takes five minutes of masturbation before I ejaculate into the dish. During those five minutes, I feel the utter humiliation of my condition. This is just one more example of my lowly status and it re-enforces the superiority of the Black Race over whites. This Black Mistress 'milks' me with no regard to my manhood. Indeed, she wouldn't even consider that I am a man. And who can blame her. In her eyes how can a white slave ever be considered as a man? Dispassionately, she treats me as the animal that I am.
The nurse hands the dish holding my semen to the Vet for assessment. Obviously, it pleases him and he comments favourably to Master about its quantity and quality. Then he hands the dish to Master to inspect his slave's cum.
All that remains now is for the nurse to take some blood and urine samples. After drawing several vials of blood, the nurse hands me a container and orders me to "pee". Even here, I'm not afforded any privacy or allowed any dignity. I must piss in front of my Black Superiors.
One would think I should be used to this. At home when I use the bathroom - and I must ask Master's permission to do so - I am forbidden to ever close the door. So my bodily functions are done in the knowledge that nothing I do is ever hidden from Master's sight.
Even when I am working outdoors, I can't waste time by retiring to a bathroom. I just piss as I work.
As the nurse takes my urine sample from me, she compliments Master and tells him that it's a pleasure to work on such an obedient, well-trained and docile slave.
My heart is full of gratitude to her for her comments. By my good behaviour, I have brought credit and honor to my Master. I am proud that Master's training of me reflects well on him. A slave can hope for no greater compliment than to hear his Master praised for his slave's good behaviour. I am overwhelmed.
My annual check-up is finished and the Vet tells Master that I am in fine shape and good health. He tells Master that he will be in touch when he receives the results of my blood tests.
He accompanies Master out to the reception desk and they stand and talk for a few more minutes. I assume the display position and wait on my Master. As I wait, I'm acutely aware that I am under the scrutiny of the young Black Mistress who works as the Vet's receptionist. I lower my eyes respectfully to the floor under her steady gaze.
The Vet takes his leave of Master and as I follow Master into the closet, I hear him call for the young Master and his pale, complexioned slave.
Master orders me to dress quickly and we leave the clinic for the drive back to Master's home.
In the car, Master tells me of his plans for projects around his home and grounds that I'm to work on over summer. From what Master tells me, my summer promises to be very busy.
Master also tells he is pleased with the results of my examination. He tells me his is pleased that I have not gained weight and that my waistline is still a trim thirty-four inches. He is also pleased with my copious ejaculation. He tells me how pleasing it is to see that my cum isn't thin and watery but thick and sweet-smelling.
I revel in my Master's praise of me!
Then he tells me how proud he is of his nephew, Sir Jon and of his new found acceptance of Black Rule. He tells me that he has high hopes for Sir Jon now that he is at College.
I listen intently to all that Master has to say about his much loved nephew. I think back to Sir Jon's eighteenth birthday when he was told of my true status as a white slave to his uncle. Since then I too have watched with pride as Sir Jon accepts his birth right as a member of the superior Black Race. He is in every sense a Black Superior and, in recent times, I have had reason to fear him.
Recently, his father, Sir Lachlan acquired his own white slave who he has named Jem. And I am sure that Sir Jon's long summer break from College will allow him to hone his Master's skills on Jem.
End.