The Lengthy Denial Section 2

The entire dynamic of the connection between you and James has vastly modified since that night time. For starters James stored the chastity cage on you repeatedly and he began dressed in the important thing, your key, on his necklace like a way accent or a mark of dominance in your lifestyles. With that key now in his ownership he began to stay extending the duration between every liberate to a virtually maddening period of time.

To start with it was once only a 5 day paintings week, with a complete liberate on Friday nights and recaging on Sundays. Then one Friday some a non-public match got here up with you and also you requested, pleaded, to reschedule for Saturday. Which James was once glad to house.The next week, despite the fact that you have been loose for Friday night time, James held you on your now customary Saturday releases.

A couple of weeks later, James was once out of the town for a Friday/Saturday shuttle and your scheduled liberate day changed into Sunday afternoons, simply earlier than you have been recaged for the beginning of the brand new week. Then there have been some weeks the place James would ghost you for all of the Sunday, most effective to answer you that Monday morning.

You, for higher or worse, have began to bodily and mentally adapt to the brand new adjustments along with your lifestyles. Along with your frame slowly forestall getting sore from the consistent pull from the load of the cage and your thoughts for probably the most phase, simply accepting that that is how it’s now. You even stuck your self a couple of instances even forgetting that you simply had your cock and balls helplessly locked away in an unforgiving steel cage.

You had additionally slowly were given keep an eye on of your urges they usually didn’t transform that a lot of a distraction with paintings and your productiveness however all that psychological fortitude is going out the window when James is round. Simply listening to his voice pushes you into overdrive, and doesn’t lend a hand that he has repeatedly began upping this dominance over you by way of swing by way of paintings to discuss with you, flirting with you round your paintings buddies and ever so casually flashing your key on his necklace.

The worst phase was once when James would begin to invite himself on your position after his shift and spend the night time there looking at TV, enjoying in your recreation methods and snacking in your meals, all the time unannounced. Whilst he was once there he would all the time habits himself so playfully and painfully unaware of your rising agony and anticipation, even going so daring as to whip out his personal dick and get started rubbing in proper subsequent to you in your settee. He was once all the time be offering when you sought after to suck if, “when you truly sought after.” he would all the time tag on on the finish with mock sincerity.

Some nights when you went down on him James would liberate you and can help you excitement your self to crowning glory as a ‘particular deal with’. Different nights he would end deep at the back of your mouth, then zip up his pants and proceed the night time striking out in your settee, like not anything ever took place.

This Thursday was once a type of nights and shortly he began to stand up and make his approach against the door with hardly ever a point out or a thank you. You have got discovered to check out to stay your self sane throughout the ones nights you have been locked away on my own at your house, however you have been nonetheless seeking to regulate your self for the disgruntlement of a fruitless night time after he ‘gives’ you to suck him off. It’s been this 3rd week locked in, with the previous two Sunday’s James purposefully ghosting you. With all that mounting force and frustration of being denied an opportunity to climax another time you after all snap, “When are you going to let me fucking Cum!?” you shout at him as he’s about to open the door.

Large mistake.

James stopped mid step in his stride, along with his again to you, you might be undecided if he was once surprised, shocked or indignant at your out of line remark. After a terrifying second of silence from James, he became round and addressed you in an icy chilly remark, “If you wish to cum such a lot. Then you definately’ll get precisely that, day after today”

Nervousness accompanied you for the next paintings day. ‘What did he imply by way of that remark?’ ‘does he have one thing deliberate?’ ‘is he truly going to let me out and cum, simply because i stood as much as him?’ All the ones ideas and extra stored floating on your head as you attempted your very best to concentrate on the day-to-day paintings duties of your activity.

Pondering, borderline hoping that James would now not apply thru along with his promise remaining night time. However because the clock caught remaining time, at the dot, you won a textual content message from James. All it stated was once “Head over. It’s time to unencumber you for the night time.”

You catch your self that specialize in the remaining a part of the message, unlocked for the night time? You haven’t been unlocked for that lengthy in months. Normally James relocks you once you end cleansing up in your Sunday night time releases. Your center begins to race with pleasure, praying that it’s now not a trick.

You hurriedly get into your automobile and race at once to James area however as you stepped from your automobile all that enthusiasm and pleasure was once drowned out by way of dread and hesitation of what’s precisely goes to occur at the different aspect of the entrance door. Weighing your choices of this example of going thru with this or simply ditching his direct invitation, With a pressure out of your cage you recognize that leaving now would reason far more bother for you later. He may even break your key when you stood him up.

You’re taking a deep breath, pass to ring the doorbell

James opened the door right away with a grin and your key in hand. Prior to may just even say a phrase, he grabbed by way of the collar of your paintings blouse and dragged you in the course of the doorway. You get the impact that he was once status at the different aspect of the door, ready as you have been caught in considered your scenario.

He forcefully pulls you in and brings you instantly into the lounge and throws you at the sofa. With James looming over you, staring you down, he after all shall we out the phrases, “So that you don’t love it going see you later with out cumming, isn’t that proper?” You sheepishly attempt to express regret and backpedal earlier than he cuts you off, “No we each heard your little outburst the day gone by. I assume 3 weeks is slightly too lengthy for you,” you blush in embarrassment and solid your eyes downward.

“That’s why I determined this weekend, I’m going to devote all of my time and effort making you cum again and again” You perk up in disbelief, you virtually didn’t consider your eyes as you noticed James knelt on his knees down directly to the ground under you as he began unzipping your pants and peeling off your pants and underpants to show your chastity cage. With the silver key in hand he is going in to unencumber it and you’re feeling absolute reduction as you revel in that jail get got rid of out of your frame and listen to the steel clattering sound of the cage touchdown at the flooring. Your cock rushes to face erect with it’s new discovered freedom as you’re feeling the comfortable contact of Jame’s palms get started massaging your balls with knowledgeable care.

You set free an extended moan as your frame realizes that it’s in fact loose and begins pumping increasingly more blood down against your cock for an extended wanted erection. James therapeutic massage slowly remodeled right into a complete on handjob, and he skillfully runs his palms up and down your whole shaft, as he coos candy phrases of care as he attends to you.

It didn’t take lengthy to your balls to start out pumping out top rate precum, that began swelling up at the tip of your cock and began cascading downwards over James’s repeatedly shifting palms. “Oh you’re truly pent up, aren’t you? I haven’t observed this a lot from you in ages, and that is just the beginning of all of it.” You sigh with settlement as you shut your eyes and throw your head again at the settee, taking in each superb second of this revel in.

It didn’t take lengthy earlier than it was once time so that you can cum. Your muscular tissues begin to twitch whilst you catch James asking the query, “You’re getting shut, aren’t you?” You moan in settlement and also you heard probably the most wonderful reaction “that’s alright, simply let all of it out.” You didn’t wish to be ordered to take action however your frame starts the method of your lengthy awaited climax, you’re feeling the sluggish force that was once construction inside you begins to extend at a fast tempo you shut your eyes close, soak up a deep breath and get ready for the discharge.

Simply because the cum begins to make its approach up and from your cock, you’re feeling one thing icy chilly is pressed proper on the most sensible of your dick, and every other frozen one thing pressed at the candy spot in your taint. You set free a began yelp as your frame instinctively clenches, which led to a complete shutdown of your cumshot. Your eyes spring open as you snap your neck down to look what in fact is going on.

Along with your blurred imaginative and prescient you spot James having a look again up at you, with a smirk on his face and an ice dice in every hand, urgent down arduous in your taint and cock head. You glance in regret as you spot your treasured cumshot get started unfortunately dribbling down your shaft.

In surprise and horror you take a look at James useless within the eyes. All he does is snigger, “You in truth idea you have been going to get a climax, scot-free, after you talked to me like that? Suppose once more” As he will get up, wiping his rainy hand in your pant legs

“Now pay attention,” he says as he plops proper down at the settee, throwing one in all his arm over you. “I’ve each purpose to devote my complete time and effort this weekend making you cum non forestall, That was once true. However I by no means stated that you simply have been going to benefit from the revel in.”

True to his phrase, he was once in your cock from that Friday night time to Sunday night time. Continuously bringing as much as complete mast earlier than discovering a method to destroy your climax. He was once smartly ready too, but even so ice, he has warmth packs, scrubby sponges and thick coarse leather-based gloves to accompany his hand jobs.

Later within the weekend he would handcuff you to the mattress and rotate all the ones strategies whilst you have been blindfolded, you to stay you at nighttime of what would come subsequent. He additionally broke out his personal vibrators to toy with you, to get your cock to face again up however he would both crank the vibration environment to max simply as you started to cum or would abruptly take away all of them on the remaining second, simply whilst you wanted it probably the most. You couldn’t make a decision which one was once the worst revel in

Quickly Sunday night time after all got here, after you probably did extra instances than that you must rely. Drained and spent all you’ll do is simply zone out at the sofa as James was once off making ready, what you hope wasn’t every other try to destroy every other one in all your orgasms.

When he returned he was once retaining your cage. With what it constitute you set free a sigh of reduction realizing that this was once all going to return to an finish, you wordlessly swing your legs open, letting him simple get entry to on your cock and balls.

As you heard the clicking of confinement James delivers you a robust phrase of caution, “Now don’t ever question me when you’ll climax once more, you understand I’m excellent for it. In case you ever snap at me once more, in poor health remember to fuck you so right kind that you simply get your orgasm, whilst nonetheless locked away on your cage. Do i make myself transparent?”

“Sure sir” you answer with renewed servitude

A Cute Boy Learns Total Surrender

Slave Being Teased By Master

The room is about 12 feet on a side and 10 feet high, the walls faced with roughly dressed light-gray stone. The floor is covered with thick black rubber and slopes gently toward a drain in one corner. On the ceiling there’s gray acoustical tile.

Light is provided by glowing tubes all around the top of the walls, just below the ceiling, that are controlled from outside the room. They dim for part of each day to allow sleep and are on full the rest of the time. There are ventilation grilles low on two walls and in the ceiling, and the temperature is kept at a constant mid-70s. At least, it never seems too cold or too warm despite my always being naked.

There are no windows. The door is a steel slab with a small spy hole set into it. It has no handle on the inside; this, too, is controlled from without. There’s a video camera in each corner, up near the ceiling, as well as several microphones. I never know if anyone is watching or listening, or which camera is live, but I have to assume that anything I do or say can be seen or heard.

Toward one side but still away from the wall is a slab of dense foam as wide as a twin-size bed. It’s covered in black canvas, with a zipper at the end to remove the cover for cleaning. The only furniture besides my exercise equipment is an antique-style wooden armchair, intricately carved, against the wall next to the door. Its seat cushion is covered in a rich, red velvet, the only spot of color in the whole chamber, and the wood is stained dark brown. It looks like it came from the Doge’s palace in 15th-century Venice.

The chair is not for me, of course. The chain padlocked to my leg irons and bolted into the opposite wall isn’t long enough for me to sit there if I wanted to, reaching only far enough for me to kneel in front of the chair and service the Master when he sits there, licking his boots or sucking his cock.

Thick, 2-inch-wide metal cuffs are fastened onto my ankles and wrists, and a collar in the same style is around my neck. The edges of the steel bands are smoothly rounded, and the welded connecting chains are long enough for me to wash myself or exercise, but they can be shortened with clips or locks whenever the Master wishes. Every move I make is accompanied by the loud jangle of chains, almost the only sound in this place. At first it was exciting, and then I thought it would drive me mad, but by now I hardly notice it.

Near the floor drain is a seatless metal toilet, and a pipe set into the wall next to it has a long hose connected. The hose is usually terminated in a nonadjustable shower head, but that can be replaced by a douche tube if required. There are no faucets inside the cell to control the water temperature or flow, nor is there a flush handle for the toilet. All that is regulated outside. But the Master is not cruel, or thoughtless, and he has the toilet flushed several times a day so that there is sufficient clean water for me to drink.

All of the hair on my head and everywhere else is clipped as short as possible once a week, and then my head, pubes, and ass crack are shaved smooth. The Master seems to enjoy doing it himself rather than having me do it. I enjoy his doing it, too. He also seems to enjoy seeing the growing fuzz on my face and body between clippings, knowing that it always makes me itch. There is no mirror in the cell, so I can’t see how I look, only feel the smoothness or fuzz.

A padlock joins the thick PA in my circumcised dick with a guiche ring further back. I can manipulate my cock to some extent, but I learned early on that it wasn’t worth it. I can’t come without being erect, and if I start to get erect the pain soon deflates me. I can’t even have a wet dream, because the pain wakes me up. The Master has hinted that he will allow me to come eventually, but I have no idea when, nor if there is anything I can do to hasten the release. The horniness tormented me at first, but after nearly two months, I don’t think about it much one way or another — not more than 20 or 30 times a day.

Of course, I also don’t know exactly how long I’ve been here. At first the Master deliberately manipulated the light and his own comings and goings to confuse me and destroy my grasp on mundane time. Even now that he has settled me into a routine, I have no way of being certain if it’s daytime outside when it’s light in the cell, or nighttime when it’s dim in here. As the Master works out of his home and thus can visit me whenever he pleases and spend as much time with me as he wants, I also have no way of telling weekdays from weekends. But I do keep track of my sleeps, and as near as I can tell it’s been between 50 and 60 days. Otherwise, the only way I can gauge the passage of time is by my own pulse, which is slow and steady except when I’m exercising.

i don’t know how long I’ll be here, either. The Master certainly has the resources to keep me here for the rest of his life, if not mine, but somehow I don’t think the experiment will last quite that long. Probably less than a year, though that’s just a feeling. The arrangement is open-ended.

The routine I currently follow is quite simple in its outlines. In the “morning,” or what I assume is morning, the light tubes brighten, and I rise from my pallet. I take a drink from the toilet, release my piss, and go through an extensive exercise routine, first stretching, then calisthenics, free weights, and finally a half hour on the treadmill. The black-finished steel and rubber treadmill is the largest object in the cell. It’s programmed by the Master to tell me when to speed up, slow down, and stop. The time readout has no hour indicator, just elapsed minutes and seconds, and it goes back to zero whenever I step off.

After exercise I kneel by the shower pipe. Eventually the water will start pouring through, and I will cleanse myself. There is no towel or washcloth, just a squeeze bottle of liquid soap. I wash quickly so as not to be soapy when the water stops. The moisture level of the air is low enough that I tend to dry quickly.

When I’m clean I kneel in front of the Master’s chair and wait for him to come in. During this time I am required to repeat aloud, again and again, a short “slave’s creed”:

 

I am a slave. I live to serve and obey the Master. I own nothing. I have a right to nothing. I control nothing. Everything comes from the Master and by his will. What makes me happy is to obey. What fulfills me is to be used for his and other men’s pleasure.

 

These are the only words I am permitted to speak when I am alone in the cell. I do not rebel against this or the other rules, nor provoke punishment to enforce them. This is the life I asked for, and I do my best to follow the program.

Generally the Master makes me wait a while, but eventually he will enter and set a dog bowl with my food down beside the chair. It is always the same, a dry formulation that he will moisten with his piss so I don’t chip my teeth on the hard pellets, which also serve in lieu of a toothbrush. He has assured me it contains all the nutrients I need.

In the “mornings” I am not allowed to eat immediately, however, even though by then I am always very hungry. First I must recite my creed once more, this time addressed directly to the Master, and when that is done I am allowed to lick his boots. If he is in the mood, he may also allow me to service his cock and balls, or to lick his ass. This is no hardship: the Master keeps himself fit, and he is still an attractive man. Besides, he’s well hung. I also have no worry about catching any disease from him — no one is more scrupulously careful, and I know that he would never put me at risk. But at 64 his libido isn’t what it was, and some days he doesn’t bother to use me.

He has another slave, Stephen, who’s been with him for five years or so, as well as several part-time slaves he trains off and on, so perhaps he saves himself for them. Stephen is certainly young and handsome enough to be worth focusing on. The intimacies the Master grants me are more a reward, or encouragement, than a service to him, I suspect.

The Master says little to me at these times, indicating by a nod or a gesture, or a single word, what he requires. And, of course, after my creed is repeated, I have no call to speak to him nor to look at him — my eyes stay fixed on the floor between his legs unless I am servicing some part of his body. His morning attire is usually casual, just slacks or jeans and a shirt, maybe a vest — plus boots, of course. He favors lace-up logger boots or cowboy boots for the daytime, motorcop or engineer’s boots at night. Even before my confinement, I’d never seen him without boots on. I suppose he takes them off for sleep, but the only times I ever slept in the same room with him, I was hooded or blindfolded.

 

After I worship his boots, and then render any sexual service he requires, the Master flogs me. A selection of flogging implements, a muzzle and gag, a hood, and other pieces of gear he likes to use on me are stored in a small, locked case set against the wall behind his chair. Usually he makes me stand against the wall and clips my wrist and ankle cuffs to rings set there for that purpose, my arms above my head and my feet stretched as far apart as the leg chain permits. Sometimes he has me lie down on my belly on the sleeping pallet and clips my arms and legs to the rings set in the floor at either end, or he’ll restrain me to the bench I use for weightlifting. It seems to make no difference in the severity of the flogging how I am restrained, just a whim of the Master, though I imagine the vertical position is easier for him than bending over me.

In either case, he always straps the muzzle over my face and inserts the thick leather plug gag inside my mouth. I am allowed to scream as much as I need to during the flogging, but it does not please him to have his ears assaulted by my noise, and it makes no difference anyway in how many strokes I must take. The number varies according to some formula known only to him. It’s always at least 50 and usually much more. I’m grateful to be gagged and not required to count them out. I can sink into the rhythm of the ever-changing now and stop thinking. My back is heavily calloused, of course, yet I still feel the impact of his blows. They’re about as painful as a deep-tissue massage, which can be very painful.

After my flogging, the Master will release me from the wall or floor, take off the muzzle and gag, and allow me once again to bathe his boots in my saliva and tears. I always thank him profusely for the discipline, which he has made very clear has nothing to do with punishment. It’s not even because he enjoys flogging me, though he clearly does most of the time. Even if I’ve sucked him off before the flogging, he’ll usually be erect again by the time he stops. Sometimes he even fucks my ass before releasing me from the wall or bench. No, these daily floggings are a matter of basic discipline.

“A slave needs to be flogged regularly,” he’ll say in his brusque, no-nonsense voice, “and that’s all there is to it. It’s like taking a dog out for a walk or rubbing down a horse after a run, something an owner simply has to do.” Before leaving, he wets down my breakfast, pats my head, and gives me my journal pages. I am free to eat once the door shuts behind him.

It is when the Master comes back late in the “evening” with my second and last meal of the day that he talks to me and listens to anything I wish to tell him. He usually wears either a police uniform or full leather, but once or twice a month he appears in a tailored suit or even tuxedo and black tie, with black dress boots, having come back from a formal dinner or cultural outing. He allows my eyes and tongue much freer reign at these times, seeming to enjoy my admiring glances, my nuzzling, and my compliments on his appearance. He lets me curl up between his legs and rub my face against the cloth or lick the leather covering his thighs. It’s not exactly passion between us, but comfort with each other and with our respective roles.

After I eat, we talk. The conversations we have as I sit at his feet are wide-ranging — we are both well-educated men with many interests. The Master will tell me what he wishes me to know about the state of the world outside, which is generally little, as he has gone to considerable expense and effort to allow me to focus inward, on my own body, mind, and spirit.

That is why I am here. It was my idea, actually, but it was his gift to enable me to realize my obsessive fantasy of nonstop bondage, solitary confinement, and total control. It’s designed as a test of whether such a narrowly circumscribed life, free of the usual distractions of earning a living or interacting with the non-Master/slave world, can move me further along my destined path. I know that I was born to serve and obey a Master, but all too often, out in the world, I lost sight of that clear goal and became caught up in other commitments or concerns.

We’ve been friends for a long time, the Master and I, much long–er than I’ve been a slave, let alone his slave. It often goes the other way: two men come together first as Master and slave, and over time their growing intimacy and affection make the roles too awkward to continue. The Master is too experienced for that trap. He won’t even allow a boy to call him “Sir” until they’ve known each other for a couple of months, sexually and otherwise, and he’s never taken a live-in slave after less than a year’s probation.

As for me . . . I’ve experienced enough to know what I want, what I need. After several Master/slave relationships that ended sooner than I wanted, I have few illusions left, about slavery or about myself. But I do have resistances, self-doubts, and, above all, habits of self-regard that make it hard for me to go deeper. Thus this experiment in deprivation and regimentation. For the Master to move me into his house as a servant would prove nothing — been there, done that (though not with him). Call this experience boot camp for the soul.

The truth is that I chose all of it, every detail. The Master and I discussed the arrangements exhaustively for more than a year. After all, orchestrating a long-term confinement as rigorous as mine is not a matter for negotiation over drinks in a bar or a few online chats. Everything had to be planned, all the contingencies allowed for, the appointed space constructed and equipped. I had to quit my job, vacate my apartment, dispose of or store my possessions, and notify my friends. One half of my savings went to the Master to defray the expenses of my upkeep, and the other half was safely invested. I had to be absolutely sure that once I entered this cell, I wouldn’t need to leave it again until the Master decided I was ready. And I had to be sure that he wouldn’t soften if I lost my nerve, or exceed his mandate, or allow the experiment to end prematurely because of the cost of keeping me here, submissive but idle.

The daily floggings, and any other torments I suffer, are intended to purify my submission and to wean me from my ego. For the same reason, though the Master permits me to use the first person in my journal and when I talk with him, he never uses my old name, or any name. I am just “slave” to him and anyone else I come in contact with, even his other slave. But he tempered my initial enthusiasm for a much harsher regimen, with far less space to move around in. i’d had in mind something like an oubliette, a small underground hole where he’d throw food down to me, piss on me, periodically hose me off, and otherwise leave me alone.

“And what would I get out of that?” he asked, laughing. “I wouldn’t even have your warm mouth to piss in, or your conversation to while away the evenings. What a supremely selfish idea! If you expect me to give you room, board, and bondage for an extended period, you’re going to have to be available for my use — and that of selected friends, too. You’ll spend plenty of time alone, don’t worry, but you’ll also earn your keep, sexually and otherwise.”

The logic was inescapable, of course, even more so than this cell I inhabit. The Master convinced me that the kind of confinement I’d fantasized about wouldn’t prove anything more or achieve any quicker results, just bore him and ruin my health and mental balance, reducing my value as a slave.

As time passes, it is obvious that he was right. A greater harshness would have activated my defenses, delaying my acceptance of his control, or else pushed me into that apathetic passivity many mistakenly equate with submission. The way I live now is certainly harsh enough, restrictive enough, and barren enough compared with my former professional-class lifestyle, and yet it clearly suits me. In terms of health and fitness, I’m in better shape than I’ve been in years, and my mood is farther from depression or despair than when I had the whole world to move around in.

Within these gray walls, I have no worries or fears. I am well taken care of. I fall asleep easily, sleep soundly, and wake without regret. Naturally, I miss music and art, and daylight and colors and trees and animals, but I have a well-stocked memory of these things. I miss books — oh, what I would give for a single box of those I put in storage! — but I don’t miss TV or newspapers or most people. An hour of the Master’s company is worth days of useless chatter with others.

All in all, I’m more content here than I ever was outside. Oh, that’s not to say I’m never bored or never chafe at my restrictions. Of course I do, who wouldn’t? But such feelings pass quickly, more quickly than when I had a whole city’s worth of amusements to choose from. If all else fails, I kneel in front of the Master’s chair, at the limit of my chain, and repeat my slave’s creed. The peace that descends as I repeat the familiar words assures me of their truth, and I gratefully embrace the strict conditions of my confinement once again.

The fact is, I would miss my daily flogging if I didn’t receive it, and I’d probably gag on a conventional meal if offered one. I never liked wearing clothes, and my collar and chains are as much a comfort to me as a constraint. They make me feel wanted, valued, secure. If I were suddenly placed in a crowd of people, I would run to the nearest small room and lock myself in.

Servicing the Master day after day, with no release for myself, I’ve come to displace my sexual response onto him, so that when he cries out in orgasmic joy, my own body spasms and relaxes. I still remember my name, I’m pretty sure I do, but would I even respond if someone called me by it? If he held open the door to this cell, and I weren’t chained, would I make a move toward it?

 

For most of each day I am usually left alone, to pass the time however I can. At first it seemed to stretch endlessly ahead of me, and I wondered how I could make it to the Master’s next visit without screaming and smashing my head against the wall. But I soon learned that my sense of duration is very flexible, and I can control it by my attitude. Once I stopped always looking forward to “what’s next,” anticipating, and learned to live in each moment, five hours came to seem much the same as five minutes. I have all the time I need, all the time there is, no more nor less. I suspect all long-term solitary prisoners learn this — at least those who survive.

Much of the day, of course, I spend in meditation — classic Zen sitting or walking (once I became able to tune out the rattle of chain), and I also think things through in more conventional fashion, patiently testing and rehearsing my ideas in my head before writing anything down. I receive five blank sheets of paper a day, no more, and each evening the Master takes with him whatever pages I’ve filled as well as any left blank. The next morning, along with my breakfast, he returns to me Xeroxes, on bright yellow paper, of the finished pages, keeping the originals. So I have my completed work for reference, if I need it, but there is no way I can alter my words retroactively.

The Master gave me a wooden lap desk to write on and a good ballpoint pen, a far cry from the elaborate computer setup I used to write with but sufficient to my needs. Because I cannot erase anything, and I am reluctant to disfigure my manuscripts with cross outs, I think much more than I write, and I write very slowly, pausing before almost every word to be sure it is the right one to express my meaning. While my physical world has been pared down close to a minimum, my mental world is unlimited. I find that my memory is much better than it used to be, strengthened by hard use and the absence of electronic crutches, and my powers of concentration are greater.

What do I write? Musings, recollections, how I am feeling, debates with myself or the Master, little essays about slavery and its discontents — or its joys. The writing has no goal, no overall structure. It’s a snapshot of my mind at a given time. And yet I always come back to one point: the persistence of choice in even the most inescapable captivity. No matter how much is taken away from me, I always have choices to make, if only where to direct my eyes or focus my hearing. Even naked and chained in a solitary cell, I am learning just how much I still have left to surrender.

The Master jokes that in its disconnected way my journal amounts to a “critique of pure submission,” like Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason. He says that when it is done — when I am done with this confinement, when he decides that I have no more to learn from it — I should edit it down and publish it. “Tell them all the truth for once,” he says. “There’s too much nonsense about slavery going around, with folks trying to re-enact the Old South or Ancient Rome or some such silliness. They miss the point and waste everyone’s time.”

 

For the first month or so of my captivity, I never saw anyone but the Master, and then usually just twice a day. From time to time, though, he’d look in on me unexpectedly, and he might demand my service, if only as a urinal, or amuse himself by putting me into some more stringent bondage, installing a butt plug or catheter, or placing clamps and clips on my body. Anything to reinforce that I am not in control of my bodily functions or sensations, only how I react to them. Now that my routine is well established, he sometimes sends his house slave instead to check on me and carry out whatever he’s planned but doesn’t care to do himself — I assume he watches on the video to be sure all is done to his standards.

Sometimes he sends in visiting friends of his, other Masters or Topmen, to amuse themselves with my body or to make use of my holes. He insists they use condoms with me, even for oral sex, and a latex barrier for rimming. There’s a container of rubbers and oral shields next to the cell door, kept full by the house slave. There are probably also some other limits he’s set to keep me safe, but it’s out of my hands — I have no safeword, no way to draw a line. The Master’s good will and good sense are my only protection.

It is absolutely forbidden me to speak to these visiting Tops, or to the house slave, not one word, and this is enforced if necessary by gagging me. The only choice I have is to cooperate and endure whatever they wish to do with me, or to resist and have to endure it anyway in the end. Because of my love and respect for the Master, I would never resist his use of me, however painful, but I’ll still balk at times if someone else interrupts my meditation or writing for a fuck or a piss stop. It never does any good, of course. The chains put me at their mercy.

The rule of silence was very hard on me at first. Some are men I would have been drawn to in any case (others, alas, not), and I yearned to communicate with them, to convey my respect and my appreciation for their blows, their piss, their hard cocks filling my holes. But at the first word, even “Sir, thank you, Sir,” they stick in the big plug gag, filling my mouth, and tightly strap it around my head, or else the ring gag that stretches my jaws wide to receive their offerings. Only my eyes remain able to express my feelings, except when these, too, are covered.

Some men — a surprising number — find it unnerving to look into the eyes of a bound slave they are using and need the depersonalization afforded by a mask or hood, or at least a blindfold, while others look back at me with a fierce joy and a clear conscience, sure of their right to dominate. For me, the feelings are ambivalent. While it is good to be hooded and used as a nameless slave, just a body with convenient holes and parts available for torture, it is also thrilling to be in the hands of a man who really seems to want me — me in particular — and to take pleasure in my helplessness to resist him.

 

Although I had become used to occasional visits from Stephen, the Master’s trusted house slave, either to check on me while I was in stringent bondage or to release me from it, I almost balked the first time he came in to initiate a session of immobility. Oh, shit, not now, I said silently to myself as he entered the cell carrying several large hanks of rope. I was in the middle of writing a very closely argued paragraph and didn’t want to stop.

But as he came toward me — the thick, man-size cock bouncing between his lean, muscled legs, an eager grin on his boyish face — I lost all desire to resist. It would be, I think, like smacking a puppy for being friendly. So I smiled back at him, put my writing materials aside, and got onto my knees, resting my manacled hands on my thighs.

Although I had been introduced to Stephen before my confinement, and he knew my name, once I was locked up here his demeanor changed. Instead of a fellow slave’s sympathy, what I sense from him now is a Topman’s relish for my vulnerability. Despite his nudity and the padlocked chain around his neck, he carries himself less like a slave than like a young Master. Maybe it seems that way because the Master leaves his chest, pubes, arms, and legs unshaved.

In his late 20s, more years younger than me than I like to admit, and a few inches taller, Stephen has a dark complexion, short black hair, a small goatee, and bright black eyes. At the front his hair is longer and trained in a stylish upward flare. Like me, he has thick silver rings in both his nipples and the head of his cock, which is uncut, but on him they seem decorative, not marks of possession. Since his earliest visits he hasn’t been completely nude but now wears heavy black lineman’s boots laced to his knees. And on this occasion he’d added studded leather armbands and tight black leather gloves.

While my chains prevent some rope-bondage positions, such as a classic hogtie, Stephen worked with them and methodically immobilized me. He roped my upper arms and elbows tightly behind my back, pulling my manacled wrists to my sides and pushing out my chest, which he crisscrossed with more rope until my whole torso was rigid. My cock tried in vain to become erect as his gloved hands moved over me with rough efficiency. I said nothing, of course, just looked at him as he bound my legs at the thighs, knees, and ankles, and then roped my feet back up to my arms. His usual eager expression had changed into a fierce concentration. I felt like a wild hare transfixed by a snake or bird of prey.

When he set me back upright on my knees, tightly bound from shoulders to feet, I could barely hold my balance without his hands on my shoulders. I stared into his sparkling eyes.

“Fuckface” he whispered to me, as soft as a lover’s sigh. “Such a good fuckface.” And then he clamped my head between his hands and did just that, fuck my face with his dick.

I was shocked — what would the Master think? — but Stephen seemed to have no compunctions about using me for his pleasure. “Trust me” was all he said when my eyes widened in alarm at his failure to put on a condom, and, confident that the Master would not own an untrustworthy slave, I did.

He came quickly, gushing out his cum after only a few strokes once his fat, uncut cock was lodged in my throat. Then he pulled back a little and smiled as he filled my mouth with his piss. After I’d swallowed his whole bladder load, he astonished me again by kneeling and kissing me deeply, passionately, and for a long time. He could probably still taste his urine on my tongue — I certainly could! Finally, he stroked my eyes closed and wound more rope around my head to form a blindfold and gag. He laid me down on my side, rubbed my shaved head between the ropes, and left the cell.

At least, I think he left — for all I knew, he could have stayed and watched me for the hour or two I lay in bondage. But there wasn’t the slightest indication I wasn’t alone. The only sound was my own breathing, an occasional slight clink from my chains as I shifted position, or tried to, and a periodic whoosh from the ventilation ducts. I think I’d have lain there for a long time even if I hadn’t been bound so tightly, overcome by what had just happened to me. More than merely being used by this young man, I’d been possessed by him.

The bondage eventually became painful, of course, and then I went mostly numb and stopped feeling it. All I could think about was Stephen’s taste in my mouth. His cum, piss, and spit, I’d had them all in one go. The only things left to taste were his sweat, tears, blood, and shit. I felt that I’d as soon pass on the last two, but I fantasized giving him a tonguebath after he’d worked up a good sweat flogging me. As for tears, I couldn’t imagine what might cause him to cry in my presence, and I didn’t want to find out, either.

When he returned (assuming he’d left) and released me from the ropes, rubbing my arms and legs with his gloved hands to restore full circulation, I just kept looking at him, marveling at his youth, his confidence, his deftness in handling me. The deference I accorded the Master did not seem to apply to him, a fellow slave, and yet his use of me had placed him far above me. Even without my rule of silence, what could I say to him? My feelings were still too new, too confused to articulate.

Stephen was in no such confusion. He held my head and kissed me again, then smiled and pressed my face down onto his boots.

“All right, slave. Show me how you lick boot leather.”

It was as if he’d thrown a switch, releasing me to show the feelings I couldn’t speak. I slobbered all over his tall boots, covering them with my spit and happy tears, rattling my chains until he finally put a stop to it, saying, “That’s enough, bootdog, enough for now. You’ll have plenty more chances to worship my boots. I’m nowhere near through with you.”

That was a turning point between us, especially after I reported the incident to the Master in my journal and he made no comment. Stephen was clearly acting within his limits, so in serving Stephen I was also serving the Master. That’s all I needed to quiet any misgivings about being a slave’s slave.

Stephen visits me now almost every day, and he always uses me before he leaves. It isn’t always oral service, either. A few weeks ago, after gleefully tormenting my nipples for an hour or more, he turned me over and fucked my ass for even longer, again with no condom, just like the Master.

He’s also training me to take larger and larger toys up my chute, and now when he leaves he usually installs a butt plug, which I wear until after my evening session with the Master. I am allowed to remove it when the light dims for me to sleep. After I take a last drink from the toilet, I wash the plug there, along with my hands. Stephen (at least I assume it is him) always flushes the toilet again before my morning drink.

He isn’t always affectionate, though; sometimes he seems cold and almost brutal. I hate those times, and when he leaves I vow to stop responding so eagerly to him, to make him work harder for my submission. But then the next day he’ll saunter in, smiling devilishly, and kiss or stroke me before he starts, and I’ll melt all over again.

 

I think Stephen is following his own inspirations in binding or torturing me, not just carrying out the Master’s orders. He brings whatever he needs with him, sometimes more than he needs. He’ll lay out a whole repertoire of implements on the floor before choosing what to use. But there is none of the tentativeness in his handling of me that novice Tops often show, because they can’t quite believe they can actually do such things to another person.

Stephen knows he can do whatever he wants with me, though of course he’d be answerable to the Master if he injured his charge. Perhaps the Master is training him as a Top — he already has an amazing degree of skill for someone his age, as well as the inner fire. I like to think that Stephen is inspired by my increasingly deep submission, my total vulnerability. Unlike that first time, I go to my knees immediately when he enters now, bowing my head in respect as I do for the Master. He seems to expect no less.

More and more often Stephen comes in with the Master in the morning, and it is his piss that moistens my breakfast and his hand that gives me my regular flogging while the Master watches — or even leaves to go about his business. Also, it’s usually Stephen who clips and shaves me once a week now, rather than the Master. He never sits in the Master’s chair, however, always remaining standing or crouching, unless he lies down with me. He is obedient and deferential to the Master but does not kneel to him in my presence.

Stephen does make mistakes at times and has to back up a move or two, particularly when he’s trying out a new technique, but he usually works on me with a sureness almost equal to the Master’s, as if everything he does had been practiced to perfection in advance. But on whom? Himself?

The only hesitation I’ve noted, on occasions when he’s left my eyes uncovered, is that when he has me stretched out, tied into a bundle, or strung up to the wall, he’ll step back and just look at me for a while. His eyes sparkle and a half grin plays on his lips, as if he’s wondering which torment would be the most fun to inflict. Will it be needles this time? Or electricity? Things that pinch, or things that sting?

Why do I stand for this? Why don’t I complain to the Master? I’m no pain pig, and our experiment never envisioned regular torture, just a simple daily flogging. Is it his eyes? His smile? Surely it’s not simply lust for his cock! I’m not really a dick pig either, just a man who needs to obey and serve.

That must be the key: I am serving Stephen in his coming out as a Top. Thanks to me, and to the situation created by my need that makes me so available to him, he’ll gain as much experience in a few weeks or months as most new Tops acquire in years of cruising and tricking. Are his kisses and gentle strokes anything more than gestures of appreciation for my service to him? Why is that important to me? Does it still matter so much whom I serve, as long as I serve well?

Except for screams and involuntary cries, I honor the Master’s rule not to speak to Stephen, but he talks freely, vocalizing a running commentary on his use of me. Early on, I almost laughed, because his name-calling was so reminiscent of bad porn. Since then I’ve grown accustomed to his growling, muttering, boyish sex talk.

He calls me “dickhead,” “fuckwad,” and “pissdump,” or worse, but there’s no edge of malice in it, no contempt, more a kind of roughhewn affection. It’s as if I’m his pet and he’s encouraging me with words I can’t really understand. Perhaps he just needs to underscore the difference in our status, since he, too, wears a slave collar. For how much longer, though?

Much of the tenderness he shows me could be chalked up to a Top’s empathy, not the deeper affection of a lover or owner. He may gently stroke my face before he starts slapping me, or lightly kiss my ass cheeks before laying into them with a belt or paddle. But there are hints of something more.

Recently, for instance, after he kissed me on the mouth — hungrily, demandingly — he allowed me to lick his face before pushing my mouth into his armpits, and thence to his crotch. And though my tongue has been inside his ass crack and hole more often than in the Master’s (he especially likes to have me lick along the taint between his balls and asshole), his has been in mine almost as often, gently opening me up to be fucked. I often daydream about his taste and smell, so sweet and rank at the same time, and wonder if he thinks about mine.

I find it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything else but his visits. One day my journal pages contained nothing but the words “Stephen’s slave” repeated over and over again. Five pages of it. The Master couldn’t help noticing what I’d done when I wordlessly handed the papers to him as he was leaving that night, though he usually leaves reading my journal for morning. He scanned the pages, his eyebrows dancing, and then sat down again.

“Is there something you need to tell me, slave? Or ask me?”

“Master,” I said, on my knees before him, “are you planning to give me to Stephen?”

“Maybe. How would you feel about it if I did?”

“Master, I’m not sure. He can wrap me around his finger, Sir . . . ,” I said and stopped, confused.

“And? What’s troubling you, slave?”

“Master, is it any more than sex? Would I trust him, Sir, if he weren’t your slave, Sir?”

“I’d say that’s a pretty good reason to trust him.”

“Yes, Sir, of course, but I don’t really know him, Sir, not the way a slave should know the Master he gives himself to — not the way I know you, for instance, Sir. But if you think it would be good for me, Sir, to serve him, I will follow your lead, Sir.”

“That’s a hopeful sign, slave, your trusting me in that. Maybe this experiment you cooked up is working!”

“Sir, thank you, Sir.”

“Nevertheless, I won’t make that decision for you. When the time comes, it must be your own free choice.” He sighed heavily before continuing.

“I never planned what’s been happening between you and Stephen, slave, and it’s damned inconvenient for me! It’s an accident that our experiment coincided with his blossoming as a Top. Or maybe not — maybe you’re bringing it out in him.”

“Sir, it’s nothing I’ve done intentionally, Sir.”

“I know that, slave. I’ve known for more than two years that Stephen would turn Top eventually — before he knew it himself. It’s just that I thought the process would be slower, giving me plenty of time to replace him as my house slave and business assistant.”

He stopped and sighed again, shifting in his seat.

“Stephen certainly didn’t show any eagerness to switch before. I let him watch me train other slaves, or do scenes with experienced bottoms, and I explained a lot of the techniques I used. He would assist me in the dungeon whenever I needed him, but he hung back from doing anything solo, even when I offered him opportunities.

“Then you came, and he begged me to let him help take care of you. Now he’s spending most of his free time in here with you, or planning what he’ll do to you next. He’s driving me crazy with his questions!”

He paused in thought, then continued.

“By now he’s gone through every piece of gear I own, asking how to use it, what dangers he should be aware of, how heavy it’s safe to get with it. I’ve looked at the tapes from his sessions with you, and it’s remarkable how good he is already. But you should be able to tell if he has real feelings for you or is just using you like a practice dummy.”

“Master, most of the time he acts like he cares for me, but then occasionally he’ll be cold and distant. So I don’t know what he really feels, Sir.”

“Well, you’re a captive slave, not really anyone’s property, and he’s a Top in training feeling his oats. I’m not surprised if he enjoys keeping you guessing. But I think he does care for you. He’s never seemed happier than since he started having regular sessions with you. He glows with the energy you feed him.”

“Master, thank you for telling me that. Sir, Stephen makes me happy, too, even when he gives me terrible pain. Sir, I endure it for his sake, because he wants it so much.”

“That’s good, because he was a heavy masochist as a bottom, and he’s turning into an extremely sadistic Top. But also a good one, a careful one — one you can trust, slave.

“And more than just a Top: he’s aiming at Mastery. I can tell by the questions he’s asked about you. He wanted to be sure your food was really adequate and healthy, for instance, and he’s the one who makes sure your toilet gets flushed without fail half a dozen times a day. He’s made suggestions to me about your exercise regimen, and he wanted to know all about the terms of our agreement.

“No, he’s not just a Top interested in unconnected scenes. He’s learned that owning is better than renting — if you can handle the upkeep.”

“Master, do you think he can? Sir, how much could he know of life from being your slave?”

“Don’t sell him short, slave!” he said almost angrily. “Somehow you talked me into setting up this experiment in long-term confinement, but my other slaves do real work — they’re not just toys to play with. Stephen has had as much experience dealing with the real world as most men his age, if not more.”

“Yes, Master. Begging your pardon, Sir.”

“That’s okay,” he said, looking kindly at me again. “Why do you think I can afford to stay home so much of the time? It’s because I send him out to represent me, sparing me the trouble. And his experience being a slave can only be an asset for a Master. It’s more than I had, more than most Masters have. He’ll make mistakes, sure, but he won’t have to guess what it feels like on the other end of the leash, or the whip. He’ll know, and you won’t be able to put anything over on him. He’s bright and he’s sensible, and with the right slave he’ll learn from his mistakes rather than becoming spoiled or giving up in despair. Can you handle being his slave?”

“Master, I don’t know. But if he wants me, and if we have your blessing and counsel, I’ll do my best, Sir.”

“We’ll see, slave.”

 

Part 6

 

If I expected anything dramatic to come of my talk with the Master, I was disappointed. Weeks have turned into months, and things are still much the same as before. Little changes happen, though, such as when Stephen — it’s always him in the morning now, not the Master — shows me a new exercise or resets the treadmill program to push me harder. One day he brought a tape measure and took a complete set of measurements of my body, with no explanation. He’s also taken urine and blood samples and sent them off for analysis.

“You’re healthy as a horse,” he told me after the results came back. “A strong draft horse. It’ll be a lot of years before you’re ready for a rest home.”

Within the framework of my relatively fixed, but slowly evolving, routine at the beginning and end of each day, the middle varies at Stephen’s whim, or perhaps according to changes in what the Master needs from him. Some days he might come in for no more than a quick blow job or piss break, followed by a kiss or a pat on the head. Other days he’ll spend hours with me, orchestrating elaborate bondage or torture scenes, culminating with a long fuck and then cuddling until I come down from whatever cloud he’s put me on.

More often now he’ll simply lie on my pallet and talk while I massage him or tonguebathe him, or sit on the bench while I lick his boots or nurse at his cock. He pours out his dreams and hopes — the kind of house he wants, the kind of work he wants to do, the additional education he needs for it, what he wants to accomplish in five years or ten. He says little about becoming a Master, just occasional references to “my slave and I” and the life he expects they’ll build together. His self-confidence is breathtaking, and very seductive.

Under my vow of silence, I make a good listener, and he usually keeps my mouth busy anyway. Even lying down, his hands are always in motion as he talks, and they’re never out of contact with me for long, always stroking or teasing or pinching some piece of my flesh. He doesn’t say, “I love you” or “I want you,” but he makes me feel it many times a day.

It’s been a long time since I gave up the idea of coming, and my body has found a way to give me wet dreams without erections. The dreams are always about Stephen. In real life, he has the oddest look on his face when he fondles my locked-down genitals, and I shiver, wondering what he plans for them. He has no guiche piercing, so apparently the Master never harnessed his sex the way he did mine.

 

Part 7

 

Today Stephen arrives full of even more energy than usual.

“Hello, slaveshit,” he says. “I call you that because today I’m going to beat the shit out of you, and since you’re a slave, you’re going to take it and thank me afterwards. Isn’t that right?”

Staring at him, open-mouthed, I automatically nod assent. I’m way past being able to deny him anything.

He uses no additional bondage for this session, just the chains I already wear and his gloved hands moving me into position and holding me there. He begins, in fact, by sitting on my pallet and laying me across his knees. Using his hands, a paddle, and a folded belt, he turns my flesh flaming red from my neck to the soles of my feet. When my backside is “done,” he turns me over and does the front the same way. I am whimpering long before he finishes, but he is unmoved.

Finally he dumps me onto the floor and stands up. I have a brief hope that he’s finished, but no: now that I’m “tenderized,” as he puts it, he starts in on me all over again using his boots. He kicks me, stomps on me, rolls me this way and that. The excruciating pain is eased only slightly by the knowledge that I am being pulverized by the same boots I’ve worshipped so often.

When he’s done all he can with his boots short of causing me internal injuries, he lowers the rarely used hoist from the ceiling, hooks my manacles onto it, and pulls me up to my feet. Then he starts using me as a punching bag!

Ungagged, I scream bloody murder, but Stephen never wavers, not even after I break my discipline and start sobbing out clear pleas to stop.

“Please, Sir, no more! Please stop, Sir! Please, Sir!”

Instead, he grabs my skull and starts slapping my face, hard.

“You don’t really mean that, fuckface! You don’t want me to stop before I’m damned well good and ready, do you, shithead slave? Do you? Answer me, asshole!”

“Sir, it hurts so much! Please, Sir!”

He slaps me some more before answering.

“It’s supposed to hurt, slaveboy. I enjoy hurting you. Haven’t you got that through your thick skull yet?”

“Sir, yes, Sir. As you please, Sir,” I force past my bruised lips.

“Damned right, dickhead. As I please, not you.”

At least he moves away from my face after that, and in my agony I realize that his heavier blows are all aimed at well-padded spots on my body. Although I hurt everywhere on the surface, and down into the large muscles, inside I’m okay, just shaken up and pumping out adrenaline and, finally, enough endorphins to turn the pain into ecstasy. I cross over into a masochist’s nirvana on a wave of natural opiates, my brain’s response to the stress of the beating.

Finally, when I’m too blissed out to care, he lets me down and half drags, half carries me over to my pallet, where he lays me out and fucks me royally. There is no more pain — I’m flying.

Before he comes inside my bruised ass, he bends over and says right into my ear, “I want you, slave. I never knew it could be this good. I want to own you and keep you for myself. I don’t want to share you anymore. And I want you to want me, too. I’d let you come now if I could, but the Master hasn’t allowed me the key to that lock. He will, though. He will.”

After he comes with a triumphant shout, he lies on top of me, his dick still inside my ass. We both doze for a while, but when I swim back to consciousness, he’s talking again.

“You want me, too, I know you do. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me. You know who you belong with. You know it’s time you started serving for real instead of in this zoo. I’ll take care of you all right, but you’ll cook for me, and clean my home, and wash my clothes and oil my leathers. You think I don’t have any of those things, and it’s true, I don’t have much — not yet, just the things I’m wearing now, the boots and armbands and gloves. I bought these for you, so you’d respect me even though I still wear a collar. “

He caresses me gently and kisses the back of my neck before continuing.

“It’s been years since I’ve had any clothes of my own, anything besides what the Master gives me so I can run errands and do business for him. And the only home I know is this one, the only space of my own the one room he lets me use. But I have plenty of money — he’s been saving it for me since I’ve been in his service, and he showed me the total — and I have marketable skills.

“All I need to make it worthwhile is a slave to come home to. I’ll be able to support you, dickhead, don’t worry about that, and maybe you can even earn a little on the side. The Master said he would free me if I mastered you, and when he sees you tonight, covered with bruises I gave you, and you kneel at my feet and kiss my boots in front of him, he’ll know that I have.”

He licks my ears and the back of my fuzzy head. I’m sure I look like road kill, yet in my heart I feel at ease. What needed to be said has finally been said. I don’t have to speculate anymore about Stephen’s intentions — or my future.

Relaxed and obviously feeling good about his conquest, Stephen lies half on me, half on the floor, and lightly strokes my shoulders and arms. It tickles and I shiver. He thinks something’s wrong and immediately reassures me.

“It’s okay, boy, you’ll be all right. It’s over now, and you did fine.”

Turning my head, I flash him a grin. He laughs.

“Guess you are okay, asshole!”

He lays his head on my shoulder again and rests for a while, but he can’t keep quiet for long — there’s so much he wants to say to me.

“I’ll bet you think he made it too easy for me, pissface, because here you are, all chained up and available, with no way to resist me. But I know you, slave. I’ve read your journals, too. You could have resisted me in your head if you’d wanted to. I could have been no more to you than some jerk who interrupted your precious meditation. But no, you bent your neck to me the first time I reached out my hand. You knew I would take you, and you wanted me to.”

He’s right, of course. He reads me perfectly.

“And you egged me on by the way you responded,” he continues. “I don’t think you even realized what you were doing. You could have laughed at my inexperience, or my presumption. But you loved it, dickwipe, you loved my using you, fucking you, beating you. You love it now, don’t you? You’re aching in every limb, and you wish I’d never take my cock out of your ass, don’t you?”

If he never took it out of my ass, he couldn’t put it in my mouth. I grunt ambiguously, and he laughs again.

“Yeah, I know you can’t talk to me, can’t tell me you agree — or that you don’t! That’s okay, cocksucker: you’ve talked too much in your life anyway. Now I’ll talk for both of us, and you can listen. Your body language is telling me all I need to know.

“I own you already, asswipe. I just have to make sure that the Master accepts it and lets us both go. I know you’re older than me, and better educated. That’s good; you can help me avoid mistakes. But I don’t think you’re smarter than me, not about anything real, and I’ll always have the balls to keep you in line when I have to. I don’t think I’ll have to punish you much, though. You’re well trained, give the Master credit for that, and you’ll obey me because you know it’s what makes you happy.

“Get your head around it, slave. I’m going to leave here soon, and you’re coming with me.”

The pain in my cock as it tries, and fails, to become erect is all the testimony I need from that quarter. Despite all the pain Stephen gives me, he wants me, he wants me badly, and that’s always been my chief aphrodisiac. The Master clearly doesn’t want me the way Stephen does, or need me. Confining me was a gift from him, because the experiment intrigued him and he enjoys our talks. But it was my obsession, not his, and he’ll probably be relieved to end it. This cell will get plenty of use from his tricks and other trainees.

Stephen pulls out finally, his cock still half hard, and goes to his gear bag for the ointment he applies to my welts. Lying there as he gently rubs the cooling salve into every inch of my bruised skin, I find my mind drifting. It feels so good just to let him take care of me. His spate of talk seems to have run out, and he is as silent as me. We communicate only by looks and touch, the eternal languages of love.

Nonetheless, sometimes I shiver when Stephen strokes me gently, almost preferring his slaps and kicks to the confused emotions his tenderness arouses. His rough but confident handling feels so right. Why should I have any doubts? I do want to please him. I can easily see myself cooking and cleaning for him, helping him off with his boots, polishing them, running his bath, turning down his bed, sleeping on the floor at his feet. I’m a slave, after all — more of a slave now than ever before — and serving a dominant man is what I need to do.

And he’s right that I need to serve him in real life, not in this arti-ficial environment the Master created for me. This isn’t the essence of slavery at all, but a parody of it! I can see it clearly now: my fantasy of open-ended confinement, of being nothing but a sextoy and urinal, is actually extremely selfish. Here I am, serving both my Masters sexually, taking their piss, absorbing their blows, but unable to work for them. I’m not carrying any of their burdens. Time to be real again!

Stephen fucks me once more, very gently, before he leaves, and then lets me clean him with my mouth until he empties his bladder down my throat. He says not another word, just kisses me deeply and rubs my scalp fuzz. After the door closes behind him, I lie back on my pallet and — exhausted, happy, hurting, confused, hopeful — soon fall asleep.

 

Part 8

 

When the Master comes to me that evening, I’m not surprised to see Stephen with him. It’s Stephen who carries my food bowl and crouches over it to moisten the gritty meal with his piss so I can eat it. The Master sighs and watches, saying nothing until I finish. When I thank him, still on my knees, he tells me to stand up and slowly turn around. I do so, barely suppressing a groan — I ache everywhere! The Master checks the bruises left by Stephen’s beating.

“Down, slave,” he says at last. “You may speak freely. Stephen did this to you?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Did you want him to?”

“No, Master. It was all his idea, Sir.”

“But you enjoyed it?”

“No, Master, not exactly. But he enjoyed it, and that made it okay.”

“I see. Do you feel that he went too far, exceeded your limits?”

“No, Master . . . .”

“Go on, slave.”

“Thank you, Master. It was the worst beating anyone’s ever given me, Sir. But as you can see, Sir, I survived in one piece.”

“I see. What did Stephen say to you, exactly, about why he did this?”

“Master, he said that you told him that he’d be freed if he mastered me.”

“And do you feel that he has? A beating alone is not Mastery.”

Now my eyes move over to Stephen standing beside the Master’s chair. His bare arms are crossed behind his back, his booted legs spread, his cock half erect, to all appearances a perfect slave. He raises his bowed head just enough to hold my eyes and pull them down to his boots. I know exactly what he wants from me, needs from me. His fate is now in my hands. I could say one word, “No,” and he’d remain a slave, and probably be barred from my cell so I would have nothing to fear from him. He’d be just another slaveboy who got above himself and was slapped down again.

No way can I do that to him. I might not be totally sure yet that he’s the right Master for me, but what do I have to lose by trying? A few more months of solitude in my cell? I’m suddenly eager to move on and try real slavery again.

A second or two was enough for these thoughts. The Master sees only the barest hesitation as I shuffle on my knees toward his slaveboy and bend my head to kiss his boots. As soon as I do so, Stephen reaches down and hooks a finger through one of the rings on my collar, pulling me upright between his legs. I kiss his cock, too, now proudly erect.

“Let it be so,” the Master says, and I swear he sounds pleased. “Stephen, come here.”

Quickly, my new Master releases my collar and steps around me to stand in front of his Master.

“Kneel, boy, for the last time.” The Master pulls out his key ring and unlocks Stephen’s collar chain, then rises from his chair and they embrace, hugging each other with every evidence of considerable affection. I see all this over my shoulder, as I don’t dare move without permission.

The Master kisses Stephen and holds him at arm’s length, looking him up and down as if for the first time before speaking again.

“You’ve grown so much in the past year. I never intended this outcome when I agreed to this slave’s proposal. I’m going to miss your smooth running of this house and all your help in my business. But it feels right. I think it’s what you both need.

“This slave’s greater age and experience will help you mature and develop into a fine Master, as long as you never lose his respect. You may not stay together long, or you might be a match for the ages — there’s no telling yet. But right now I think you’ll do very well together.”

“Sir,” Stephen replies, still giving the Master the respect he deserves, “unless you wish us to leave immediately, I’d be happy to continue here for another month or so, while I make other arrangements. My slave can do my chores, under my direction, and I can help you find and train a new assistant for the business.”

“Stay as long as you like,” the Master says. “But won’t you find your room too cramped now?”

“It’ll be good for the slave to get used to it, Sir,” my new Master says, grinning as he steps over to me and turns me around with a touch on my shoulder. “You’ve been too easy on him, Sir, letting him have all this space to himself. At least he won’t need any of my closet — I’m going to be filling it with my new clothes.”

“Very good. Take this key and unlock his leg chain from the wall. Do you want to take off his collar and cuffs, too?”

“Thank you, Sir, but I’d like to keep them on, with your leave, for as long as we stay in your house. I’ll give him a new collar when we move to my own home. Meanwhile, your chains suit him well, I think. Don’t they, fuckface?”

So ingrained was the rule against speaking to anyone but the Master that I hesitate to reply.

“You can answer me, slave,” Stephen says. “I am your Master now.”

“Sir, yes, Sir, thank you, Sir!” I say in a rush, and bend to kiss his boots again.

“Silly slaveboy!” he says, grinning down at me. “It’s going to be fun training you all over again.”

He squats down to disconnect me from the wall chain, then pulls me to my feet and into his arms. I wince as he hugs me, because of my bruises, but there’s nowhere else I want to be.

“Looks like our experiment is finished,” the Master says, “but given such a wild card as Stephen here proved to be, I’d have to call the results inconclusive. What do you think, slave?”

Glancing at my new Master for permission, I answer firmly,

“Sir, it was a wonderful experience, and I am deeply grateful to you for it, but it’s time I faced my responsibilities. Sir, I’m ready to be a slave in the real world again, Sir.”

“Good boy!” the Master says.

“Woof!” Stephen says, and kisses me hard. “C’mon, dickface,” he says at last, grinning widely, “and I’ll show you where the real slaves around here live.”

“Yes, Master.”

 

THE

Everlasting Bondage

My Grasp is a stickler for main points. The lists and schedules that now outline my lifestyles improve this, and that he's in general keep watch over of me: thoughts, frame, and spirit. From our first stumble upon there was once undoubtedly who was once in price. All over preliminary discussions, he was once very cautious to permit me sufficient leeway to establish that I used to be dedicated to the selection I used to be about to make, however the contract that I might ultimately signal could be ironclad, actually, and there could be no returning to my earlier station as soon as the report was once signed. There have been 3 conferences deliberate. The primary was once in his lounge, our preliminary face-to-face stumble upon after weeks of verbal exchange by way of email. My first sight of him put me relaxed. Even ahead of he spoke, there was once knowledge and balance in his demeanor. He presented me water, not anything else. We sat reverse every different on a big, cushy settee. We have been each wary, however each similarly certain of speech. He had many questions relating to my present scenario and the way I might be correctly taking good care of what he referred to as free ends. He sought after to be sure that I didn’t owe any cash to any individual, or have any non-public or criminal ties that might intervene with shifting me into his maintaining. Slaves will also be allowed only a few expectancies – it's the nature of slavery. However he was once keen to guarantee me that I might be saved wholesome and blank. The main points of my servitude I might be told later, however there have been 3 components that have been nonnegotiable… 1. I might successfully “disappear” completely from my present lifestyles, 2. I might be saved in bare bondage all the time, and three. The association could be everlasting! There have been no pretenses, there was once no bodily touch; we talked handiest, and I used to be allowed to mention anything else and ask any questions. After a few hours of speaking, we set the date of the following stumble upon, and I left, letting myself out. The second one assembly could be in his dungeon. I might be allowed to look my long run quarters, to view the bondage and coaching apparatus, to check the contract I might be signing and, as soon as once more, to invite questions and transparent up any doubts I had. We lived in the similar the town. I had ridden the bus to the closest forestall, a couple of blocks from his area. I didn’t need to go away. I knew he was once the only and I used to be able to start out my slavery adventure, however there was once a lot paintings and introspection to be finished. I might be told extra as time handed of his thoroughness, his warning, and his dogged consideration to never-ending main points. His perspective towards my bondage was once easy – as soon as in, by no means out. We have been each thinking about this. For years I had fantasized perpetually about that click on of the lock that might completely “bind” me to my Grasp’s dungeon flooring or wall. I even fantasized the collar or cuffs being welded or riveted into position. The bondage we have been taking into consideration was once everlasting and we should each be very certain of our dedication. And so, all over our 2d stumble upon, even supposing I used to be required to strip ahead of getting into the dungeon, there was once no bodily touch between us. The dungeon was once in his basement. Easy wood stairs led down from his kitchen. I adopted him as directed. We reached the ground stair and stepped onto a concrete flooring. The basement was once conventional searching, lengthy and slender, a laundry space off to at least one facet, a lot of shelving devices containing family provides, gear, On the different finish of the long, oblong room there was once a big padlocked wood door. Grasp stood to at least one facet and had me stand and face the door. Thus far he had no longer spoken. “This facet of the dungeon door,” he spoke softly and slowly, “is one thing that you're going to handiest see two times!” I used to be engrossed within the massiveness of the door, the iron hinges, the solidity of it, and it took a second for his phrases to sign in. I might see the door once more for the remaining time on my 3rd consult with, at my incarceration.What lay in the back of the door would transform my international, my lifestyles. Beside the door was once a small desk the place I used to be steered to depart my garments. Grasp Rick stood patiently and watched as I got rid of my blouse, trousers, undies, sneakers and socks, and positioned them well at the desk. The ground was once chilly to my naked ft. My nakedness made the door appear larger. A easy material hood was once positioned over my head however left free round my neck. I heard him free up the door. He took my arm and led me in. I used to be steered to take five brief steps, then stand nonetheless. There was once faint gentle coming from someplace. Taking a look down, I may just simply slightly see my ft from underneath the hood. The air was once hotter throughout the dungeon, the similar concrete flooring no longer as chilly. I used to be then steered to take a seat at the flooring. I sat cross-legged, my palms in moderation put on my knees, listening. The door closed in the back of me and I didn’t know if Grasp was once within the room with me or no longer. I regarded down at my dimly lit cock, which were incessantly reaching erection since I had walked in the course of the wood door. I knew instinctively to not contact. Grasp had made it transparent in our first consultation that general keep watch over of my genitals, their ache, their excitement, and all their purposes, could be an integral part of my slavery! I wasn’t chilly, however I shivered gently anyway from the solemnity of the instant! I misplaced monitor of time as one does in such eventualities. I attempted to hook up with smells and sounds as those have been quickly my handiest inputs. As opposed to the faint odor of leather-based, the air smelled blank. I become mindful of a few form of air flow device gently and quietly circulating air – no different discernible smells – no different sounds – and just a very faint gentle lightly allotted round me. The door opened and Grasp reentered – he HAD left me by myself. He walked slowly towards me, preventing beside me. He got rid of the hood from my head and I noticed for the primary time my atmosphere. I started to show my head when Grasp stated curtly, “Glance instantly forward.” The again wall of the room was once actually coated with each and every form of enforce of bondage, restraint, and correction that one may just consider, all placing from in moderation positioned hooks and organized well. Cushy spot gentle aimed downward forged a steady however eerie gentle at the assortment. There have been the anticipated steel and leather-based restraint cuffs, handcuffs, leg-irons, steel and leather-based collars, spreader bars – a number of lengths – and person who regarded adjustable; there was once a shelf of dildos, a few of steel, a few of plastic, and an impressive person who appeared like a policeman’s night time stick, I thought product of picket. There have been leather-based harnesses and straps covered up well, wiped clean and polished to a superb shine. There have been a bunch of cabinets that held plastic garage bins, the contents of which I may just no longer discern. Grasp driven me gently towards them the simpler to look. They contained an incredible choice of small clamps, connectors, locks, bits of chain and different diversified bondage paraphernalia – some I known – others I may just handiest wager at their use. Grasp became me round as he touched a transfer at the wall. The remainder of the room become slowly flooded with delicate down gentle which got here from recessed fixtures across the circumference of the another way darkish ceiling. “I will be able to go away you for some time now,” he stated. “You could stroll round, chances are you'll glance, however you won't contact anything else,” he added, and briefly left, final and locking the door. I used to be sure that he could be staring at me on a far off observe and so I used to be uneasy as to what to do with my palms. I clasped them in the back of me and left them there as I walked across the room. Afterward I knew that bondage could be hired to limit my actions, together with with the ability to contact myself, however now I might restrain myself voluntarily to exhibit that I used to be earnest on this topic. Sure, I used to be seeking to galvanize him – we each nonetheless had the choice of taking flight of the deal. The purpose of no go back for BOTH people could be on the 3rd stumble upon. The main points of the transaction could be published to me afterward, however it were made transparent to me that once I stepped in the course of the door of this room once more, if I selected to take action, it will be for the remaining time. For now, then again, we have been each nonetheless suffering with that ultimate determination. He volunteered to me that he had by no means had a long-term slave. Like me, and maximum people I suppose, his encounters to this point were brief – overnights, weekends, and a couple of week lengthy encounters. As soon as he had a slave for a summer season. My longest consultation ever were four days…all in joyful bondage. However he, like me, in his very core had at all times fantasized about an enduring scenario, a full-time slave, true possession, and TOTAL keep watch over. He, additionally like me, was once eager about the speculation of “everlasting” bondage. I had spent many hours in self-bondage through the years, dressed in leg irons, ball cuffs and the like, and pretending that somebody else possessed the keys, attractive passionately in self-stimulation, and on the similar time wishing there was once somebody in keep watch over who would no longer permit it; a Grasp who would permit me to ejaculate handiest at his whim, and in line with his time table; to be alternately “milked” mercilessly, then denied even an erection for weeks on finish; or to be required to take care of consistent erection, however NOT allowed to alleviate it; to yield general keep watch over of my ache and delight to every other! Now the possibility of my fantasies coming true led to me to shiver. It wasn’t chilly within the room, I used to be shivering from pleasure. My cock endured to harden. The room was once about 20 ft deep from the door to that again wall coated with implements and gear. It was once wider by way of 1 or 2 ft, kind of sq., with a cultured concrete flooring painted flat black. The ceiling was once top, possibly 11 or 12 ft and fully black additionally. From its heart, and from 4 extra issues similarly spaced concerning the ceiling, there hung massive steel rings, suspended on heavy lengths of chain a few foot down from the ceiling. I stared for some time at those rings. They stuck the sunshine and stood out ominously towards the opaque ceiling. They appeared like they may dangle an elephant I mused to myself, and I’m certain they’ll be keeping me in the future, I allowed myself to fantasize. The ceiling held the one lights, a chain of recessed fixtures circumvented the room and forged their gentle eerily downward, flooding the partitions, and leaving the middle of the room unlit by way of comparability. There was once yet another fixture within the heart of the ceiling which appeared like a conventional flood lamp, however it was once no longer on. I fantasized that it might be hired to focus on the middle of the room when one thing fascinating was once going down there! The whole thing I noticed spurred rampant fantasies. My thoughts was once racing. Each inch of me was once tingling with pleasure and childlike satisfaction! The opposite 3 partitions have been principally naked excluding for a lot of heavy iron rings located as more than a few heights. I imagined myself chained to those rings, my legs stretched around the room and unfold vast aside, a steel collar chained to the ceiling, fingers stretched and chained to reverse partitions! Chain and steel has at all times performed heavy in my fantasies, and I may just see simply that Grasp shared those fantasies with me. I may just no longer have designed a extra easiest dungeon to suit my bondage wants! I became my consideration now to the 4 corners of the room. Every of the 2 again corners had massive items of dungeon furnishings. In a single nook there have been two pieces; a padded punishment horse, over which a slave might be stretched for whipping or ass-work, and, leaning towards the again wall what appeared to be a transportable paintings desk or stretcher. It was once principally a desk best with out legs, and it had holes across the out of doors edge, clearly for tying down a slave! I thought that both it had attachable legs, or that it might be suspended from the ceiling when in use. The opposite again nook housed a conventional, however very elaborate leather-based sling. It was once placing from a hook top at the wall, however may just clearly be moved to any place within the room as wanted. In a single nook alongside the door finish of the room there was once a business bathe and wash space, a three×three concrete basin with 1 foot facets, and with a big drain within the heart. Overhead hung a hose with more than a few attachments, one among which I used to be certain could be used to wash out my insides. There was once a small shelf at the wall which housed what appeared like enema apparatus, cleaning soap, and different cleansing answers. The nook partitions in the back of the bathe space had further rings to which a slave might be hooked up and saved immovable. I fantasized being washed, shaved, and normally saved blank at this little nook facility. There was once no conventional rest room, and I thought that this unmarried drain would serve all my waste removing wishes. Close to the bathe space, at about crotch peak, a unmarried steel bar protruded about 18 inches instantly into the room. It was once clearly adjustable in peak, however another way inflexible. At its finish was once a heavy, chrome ring. The hoop, upon nearer exam had two halves which might be opened, however it was once tightly screwed at the side of Allen screws – clearly a tool for containing a slave’s balls and maintaining him hooked up firmly to the wall on the similar time. It seems that the slave would straddle the bar together with his again to the wall, and his balls could be encased by way of the heavy steel ring. There was once however one nook left to discover. It by myself was once NOT smartly lit. Grasp had clearly sought after me to look it remaining. As I became my consideration towards its darkness and started to pressure my eyes to look, a focus magically got here to lifestyles and shined upon a steel cage. Grasp WAS staring at me and choreographing this complete scene remotely. The cage subsidized up towards the nook, and as I tested it extra intently, I may just see that its bars have been embedded within the concrete flooring and that its two again partitions have been the partitions of the room. It was once an enduring fixture. Access into the cage appeared to be on its best facet. The entire best appeared to be on hinges, and there was once an ominous hasp and lock at the facet reverse the hinges. It regarded awesomely solid and I longed to the touch it. However I dared no longer. Afterward I may project an occasional breaking of a rule with a view to illicit the punishment I lengthy for, however for now, I’d higher no longer take any probabilities. In the end, Grasp was once staring at. The cage was once roughly 4 ft sq.. The bars, every no less than two inches thick, have been about 5 inches aside. I may just simply position my palms or ft in the course of the bars. At the rear partitions of the cage have been a lot of further steel rings. I imagined me throughout the cage, secured to the rear wall and with my ft and palms cuffed out of doors the bars. I questioned how a lot of my long run time could be spend cramped inside of this cage…wouldn't it be for infrequent punishment handiest, or wouldn't it, in truth, be my new house? Up to now, as I've discussed, Grasp handiest has spoken in generalities. “Main points come later,” he at all times added secretively. After all, now as I took in a majority of these darkish and ominous atmosphere, the ones main points allured and tantalized me. My eyes reluctantly left the cage and adopted alongside the facet wall to a curious installment. Close to the cage, about three ft from it, a unmarried steel pole, about four ft in peak, rose from the ground some six to 8 inches clear of the wall. There was once an adjustable mechanism close to its heart, and a screw becoming at its best, clearly for attachments of a few type. It was once bolted firmly to the concrete. There have been two D rings welded on all sides of it close to the ground. I actually shook, and for the primary time, my palms got here right down to my facet. I briefly put them up in the back of my neck. This was once an impaler! I had noticed those in on-line catalogs, and the pictures were a supply of never-ending fantasizing. The slave’s ft could be hooked up to the rings close to the ground. A dildo could be attached to the screw becoming on best, then adjusted upward and into the slave’s ass, impaling him and securing him immovably to the spot. Pre-cum dripped from my erect cock. I used to be mesmerized by way of this software and the fantasies it dredged up inside me. the door opened – my viewing consultation was once over. I used to be steered to take a seat at the flooring once more within the heart of the room. I used to be passed an envelope with my title revealed on it and the phrases, SLAVE CONTRACT! An overly vivid overhead gentle got here to lifestyles and I used to be steered to learn the report, taking as a lot time as I wished, and to signify that I used to be completed by way of status. I might be allowed to invite questions afterwards, however for now I used to be left by myself once more, with the envelope. As soon as once more, the door was once closed and locked! I sat bare at the flooring and slowly opened the massive brown envelope. Liberating the steel clasp, I got rid of the 3 crisp pages of the report that might outline my long run lifestyles. Thumbing via them I famous that there have been a lot of blanks to be stuffed in, and a number of other puts for each mine and Grasp’s signatures. I might be allowed as a lot time as I required to check it, however I might no longer get a duplicate to take with me as I had secretly was hoping – and I dare no longer ask for this. I started to learn…
SLAVE CONTRACT To whom it's going to worry: The slave contract described herein is entered into in this ___ day of ___, within the 12 months ___, and is entered into willingly and freely by way of the 2 events concerned. Upon signing, this contract is actually binding, and won't, underneath any instances, nor for any causes, be both revised OR revoked. To this finish, the Grasp, _____, and the slave, _____ each, with their signatures, will attest that the weather of this contract are understood and authorised. There are 3 elements to this contract, every of which should be agreed to, and signed for all of the contract to be viable. POINT ONE: The slave, ___ consents to depart his former lifestyles, severing all ties, actual or imagined, and to grant complete possession of his being, frame and thoughts, to the Grasp, ___. Possession will be outlined as follows: The Grasp can have general keep watch over and path over the slave and shall personal him outright. The slave will not have any rights or privileges rather than the ones particularly granted by way of the Grasp. The slave is not going to make choices or have reviews. The slave is not going to have possessions. The slave’s lifestyles and lifestyles will likely be utterly underneath the path of the Grasp. The slave will likely be saved blank. The slave will likely be correctly exercised, nourished and watered. Differently, the slave will haven't any promises and can exist totally on the Grasp’s disposal, and be guided and directed by way of the Grasp’s whim. With reference to POINT ONE, I, slave ___, do settle for, and keen comply. slave’s signature and date: _____ With reference to POINT ONE, POINT TWO: The slave, ___ consents that he's going to be saved totally bare endlessly; that he's going to by no means once more be allowed to the touch any a part of his frame together with his palms or ft with out the Grasp’s categorical permission and path; that absolute keep watch over will likely be maintained over his genitals, frame orifices, and ALL frame purposes; and, that more than a few bondage implements, and restraints will likely be often hired to put in force those necessities. With reference to POINT TWO, I, slave ___, do settle for, and keen comply. slave’s signature and date: _____ With reference to POINT TWO, POINT THREE: The settlement described herein, and entered into between slave, ___, and Grasp, ___, will likely be PERMANENT. It is going to no longer, and can't, ever be revoked or revised for any explanation why save the loss of life of both of the events concerned. As a security measure, two witnesses, who're mates of the Grasp, will witness and signal this report. Either one of those witnesses can have complete get entry to to the Masters area and belongings, and will have to the Grasp die, fall gravely unwell, or for every other explanation why be not able to satisfy his portion of this contract, the witnesses shall suppose joint possession of the slave herein described, and so they shall come to a decision collectively as to his destiny. He is also moved to every other place of dwelling, offered, or disposed of in any approach the witnesses in finding mutually applicable. This settlement between the Grasp and the Witnesses is additional defined and attested to in a separate report, and is alluded to herein to allay any anxieties the slave may have in regards to the long run well being of his Grasp. With reference to POINT THREE, CONCLUSION: The concerned events, having totally learn and understood this complete contract, shall beneath affix their dated signatures, as ensure of similar, and that each one events absolutely settle for the phrases defined herein:
After studying all of the report a number of instances, I put it again into the envelope and laid it beside me. My ideas have been racing! Studying the contract was once this kind of activate. However I should ensure that. I should watch out. I ran over and over again in my thoughts, would I leave out this, would I leave out that? However my core slave self constantly took over. My complete lifestyles had led me to this second. I might cross house and suppose some extra ahead of the THIRD ENCOUNTER, however I used to be certain that I used to be certain! I retrieved the envelope and stood up, and waited a number of mins for his go back. The door opened and I used to be escorted out. I dressed on the small desk beside the door. We went upstairs. I used to be presented water and requested if I had any questions or feedback. I didn’t have questions, simply an intense longing that completely fed on me. I regarded him within the eye for a while. I wished desperately for him to the touch me, to man-handle me, however that might come, in line with his plan! He appeared to perceive my wish to seek his eyes…for that's the place the soul is. Most likely his soul would mesh with mine…it for sure felt so. Most likely I used to be making the appropriate selection. 90 per-cent of me was once certain. However I should ensure that to not let my cock lead me into one thing that I might feel sorry about. I might have two weeks to strive against with the opposite 10 per-cent. In a single week I might go back for the THIRD ENCOUNTER! I might strip, be certain, and transform the everlasting belongings of my new Grasp. There was once a lot to do, and far to suppose and fantasize about. I left his area and took the bus again to my rental for the remaining time. We met, the 4 people, in Grasp’s lounge. I eyed the 2 witnesses in moderation, realizing that they have been complete contributors in no matter long run Grasp had deliberate for me, together with inheriting me if Grasp died! After temporary, perfunctory introductions, we moved to the eating desk, Grasp indicating the place every one among us will have to take a seat. At my position there was once that envelope I had noticed at the remaining consult with. My center did the primary of a number of leaps it will make over the following whilst…and so did my cock! All of them sat the similar means as though it have been deliberate (possibly it was once)…their elbows informally laid at the desk, their palms clasped ahead of them, and looking at blankly, however significantly at me. I put my reasonably trembling palms at the desk on all sides of the envelope, attempting to not glance too comfortable, and awaited directions. After a couple of moments of silence, Grasp produced a pen and laid it at the desk beside him. Taking a look me proper within the eye, he requested, “Are you ready to signal the report?” “Sure…” I attempted to mention, however it caught in my windpipe and I handiest let loose a pitiful squeak. Briefly clearing my anxious throat, I endured, “Sure Sir.” “Open it,” he stated. I fumbled it open, laid the envelope apart and unfold the contract out at the desk ahead of me. “Learn it once more,” he steered. I did… As I learn via it in moderation, for the remaining time ahead of signing, pertinent phrases leapt off the web page and despatched pangs of each concern and pleasure via my complete being: saved blank, Grasp’s whim, totally bare endlessly, absolute keep watch over over genitals, bondage implements, restraints… I made my means slowly via Level One, Level Two, Level 3, The CONCLUSION. I used to be completed studying, however I hesitated for a couple of worrying seconds, exercising my remaining little little bit of keep watch over, however simply getting rid of the inevitable. I had already determined to signal. I swallowed deeply and slowly and, in any case, regarded up at Grasp indicating that I used to be via. He right away passed me the pen. I took it in trembling palms and signed all of the puts indicated. I driven the report over towards him. He in moderation inspected all of my signatures, signed it himself, and, in flip, handed it to the 2 witnesses. Their heretofore solemn faces now sported the slightest smiles. This had clearly been a worrying second for them too! Nevertheless it was once over. The contract was once signed and witnessed and I used to be his and, in truth, theirs. “Wait right here,” Grasp stated to me, then escorted his two pals to the door. They spoke in brief and softly. I didn’t even attempt to concentrate. I used to be engrossed in my very own briskly racing ideas. What had I finished? Used to be I certain? Too past due! I may just run. I used to be nonetheless dressed. I may just “get away” out the again. However I sat and waited as commanded. When he returned his demeanor was once other. He checked out me sitting on the desk. I assumed that I will have to possibly know what he anticipated, however I didn’t. “Rise up,” he commanded, no longer harshly, however firmly. He was once taking command. That is what I had longed for. “Practice me,” he added tersely. I did. We stopped on the door to the basement. He became to stand me. I used to be following him so intently that I nearly bumped into him. Stumbling reasonably, I regained my stance simply in time, even supposing my knees had became to butter! He put his palms on my shoulder to secure me. “Calm down,” he stated, “You’re doing the appropriate factor. Now, simply believe me. Earlier than we cross downstairs,” he endured, “let me come up with some directions. Concentrate very in moderation, you'll handiest pay attention this as soon as, and there will likely be no talking for reasonably a while after this!” He paused. I regained my composure, checked out him longingly, and listened closely. I'm his slave now, I assumed. He owns me! It felt excellent already, even supposing I didn’t know absolutely as but what it intended. I might be told. “To begin with,” he defined, “your captivity will include a transition duration, with various schedules and routines. You'll lose monitor of time as you realize it now. After this you'll be settled into a normal, very detailed time table. Not anything will ever be defined to you, you'll by no means be made acutely aware of anything else rather than what to do and when to do it. You'll be told via punishment and praise simply what I really like and what I be expecting, and you probably have happy me! There are two regulations: 1. By no means talk except I let you know to!, and a pair of. Do what I say right away and with out hesitation. Do you know?” “Sure sir,” I stated, and my cock stiffened. He allowed me to proceed to gaze into his eyes. I knew in that second that he would sense all my wishes, that I might no longer wish to ask questions! I might paintings so onerous to thrill him, however I might additionally welcome punishment for no longer gratifying him. I shivered once more with satisfaction. He reduced his palms from my shoulders the place he’d saved them. He reached round me, pulled me to him and hugged me reassuringly. I cherished him. “Alright then,” he stated, “come, it's time. I adopted him down the basement stairs. On the backside of the steps there was once a five gallon plastic software bucket, unmarked and coated with a lid, and a small black satchel. Motioning to them, he stated, “Carry those alongside.” I picked them up, one in every hand, and we walked the duration of the cupboard space and as much as the massive wood door. The small desk the place I had positioned my garments were changed by way of a rubbish can with a plastic liner. At his instruction, I put down the bucket and the satchel and started to take away my garments. Getting bare was once at all times a hurry for me, particularly if somebody was once making me! This was once the remaining time I might strip. I did it slowly, savoring the frenzy, welcoming the nippiness towards my pores and skin, the chilly flooring towards my naked ft. Placing my garments and sneakers into the rubbish despatched me over the threshold. My cock was once utterly stiff now. Grasp checked out my cock, then regarded me within the eye and stated, “We’ll must get that underneath keep watch over, gained’t we?” I shivered once more. He swung open the massive door. I picked up the bucket and the satchel, and adopted him inside of. He closed the door and secured it with an enormous aggregate lock. There was once the solution to one among my questions; if I modified my thoughts and sought after to flee, even supposing I weren't another way certain, I do not have the mix to that huge lock. I used to be totally stuck now, bare and locked in his dungeon. My knees have been butter once more, I nearly fell from the load of my load. He directed me to place the bucket and the satchel down, took me underneath my fingers for give a boost to and led me over to the cleansing space. He directed me to step into the wash basin. I realized a unmarried chain placing down from over my head. He cuffed my palms with easy steel handcuffs. He then operated a mechanism at the wall beside us which reduced the ceiling chain. {The handcuffs} have been hooked up to the chain and pulled up simply over my head. “Kneel”, he stated, and, with some problem, I did. Pulling my head ahead, he rainy my hair with heat water. He sat down in entrance of me, took out a razor and started to shave my head. I used to be vulnerable with the enjoyment of it. He was once cleansing and shaving me, getting me able to be certain into his provider. It was once a scrumptious sensation to grasp that I do know longer needed to make plans or have any considerations in any respect, rather than to thrill him. I used to be now totally his! He shaved my head, after which endured down my frame, in moderation taking away all hair, right down to my ft. It was once an incredible sensation to have somebody else dealing with and touching EVERY inch of me. I were shaved ahead of in scenes, however not anything like this. He was once meticulous. The overhead chain was once attached via a mechanism which may be adjusted by way of pulling both of 2 chains placing towards the wall. Like Venetian blinds, he pulled me up or let me down, became me round, had me kneel, and altered me as important to house his cautious paintings. When he had completed shaving me all over the place, he stretched me up tall, status on my tiptoes, and stood again to recognize his paintings. I became round a number of instances, balancing on my ft. He was once viewing his handiwork, and surveying his new belongings. He reduced my palms to about chest peak and became me round, teaching me to lean towards the wall and to unfold my legs aside as vast as I may just. Sitting on a stool in the back of me, he inserted an enema nozzle into my ass. From an overhead bag he stuffed me up a number of instances, stretching my intestine find it irresistible had by no means been stretched, forcing me to carry it, then having me squat and liberate. This endured till I ran transparent. I had by no means been so blank inside of! Glad that I used to be blank, he stretched me upward once more. He then washed me all over the place with cleaning soap, rinsed me and left me placing there to dry whilst he busied himself at the back of the room. I couldn’t see what he was once doing, however the tinkling of chain and the rustling of leather-based and cord saved me onerous with anticipation. My palms drained briefly – my wrists have been hurting, however blood was once nonetheless flowing and I welcomed the slight discomfort as symbolic of my captivity. When I used to be dry he reduced my palms and launched them from the cuffs. I used to be bare and unbound in my Grasp’s dungeon, however no longer for lengthy. He re-cuffed my palms in the back of my again and, whilst I used to be nonetheless became round, he took what appeared like a caulking gun and, placing the end into my ass, stuffed me up with lubricant. It oozed out as he became me round to stand him, feeling squishy between my cheeks. He then retrieved a small leather-based software from his pocket, a harness, which have compatibility snugly round my balls, forcing them down into their sack, and isolating them with a decent leather-based strap. My cock was once left loose. It were onerous since I walked in the course of the door. Grasp made no effort to keep watch over it. I questioned what would occur to my cock. Would he tie it up too? Would he include it in an anti-erection software? Would he punish it for being onerous? It longed for liberate…to be touched, however he unnoticed it! He walked around the room and altered the lights in order that the center of the room was once flooded, the outer edge darkish. He directed me out of the wash basin and steered me to lie at the flooring with my head close to a small black heavy-looking, drum-shaped steel object. An enormous steel mallet lay close to it. He place me with the steel object in the back of me and with regards to my neck, and pulled the satchel over towards my face. I shivered uncontrollably as he got rid of a heavy iron slave collar slowly from the satchel. He put it down at the flooring at my nostril and stood again in brief, permitting me to savor the collar. “Take a look at it in moderation,” he steered. “You'll by no means see it once more!” As I stared at it and trembled reasonably, the sinisterness of what he had simply stated bore down closely upon me! I might no longer see it, however I might really feel it, ever-present, round my slave neck! The collar was once constructed from curved, forged steel bands, about two inches vast, and no less than 1 / 4 of an inch thick. It was once hinged, and met at the reverse facet with tabs that contained holes during which a lock might be positioned. At the hinged facet there was once a completely hooked up duration of heavy chain. The remainder of the chain remained throughout the satchel. Across the collar, similarly spaced, there have been 4 iron D-rings to which different chains, locks, ropes, and so forth. might be hooked up. It might be heavy, however I might undergo it. I might haven't any selection. It might additional bind me to him, a idea I relished. He lifted the collar and moved it against my neck, pulling extra of the hooked up chain from the satchel. I adopted his palms with my eyes. The chain jingled. The D-rings jingled. I lifted my head reasonably as he unceremoniously positioned the collar round my neck. It was once chilly, and right away very heavy. It clanked reasonably as he closed it and touched the tabs in combination in the back of me. He was once fumbling with one thing in the back of me that I thought was once an enormous lock. It was once no longer till he picked up the mallet and started to bang away on the small anvil in the back of me that I spotted it wouldn’t be a lock, however a steel rivet that might stay the collar in position. My balls strained of their leather-based bondage, my onerous dick bounced freely as I startled and shuddered from the loud noise. My palms pulled on the cuffs in the back of my again. He had stated “everlasting”, however little did I do know simply how everlasting he intended! He helped me to face, and as I stood up the gravity of my new PERMANENT collar hit me. It might take a lot being used to. I might by no means put out of your mind that I used to be dressed in it. It bore down on my shoulders, nonetheless chilly. It might ultimately heat as much as by way of frame temperature, however it will by no means transform lighter. The hooked up chain prolonged from the satchel as I rose, including to the load of the collar. Grasp directed me over to the wash basin, and adopted me sporting the satchel. He put the satchel down beside the plastic bucket and had me flip round. Sitting on a stool as ahead of and spreading my legs aside, he got rid of the leather-based bondage from my balls and changed it with a locking steel ball cuff hooked up to a small duration of chain. He then got rid of {the handcuffs} and directed me to take away the lid from the bucket. It was once about part full of a white powdery substance. Grasp sprayed some water into the bucket, gave me a stick and steered me to stir the mix. When the water was once totally integrated, he directed me to select up the bucket and the satchel. I adopted him to the middle of the room, striking them beside a small sq. of cardboard at the flooring. Grasp driven the card apart, revealing a spherical hollow reduce into the ground. Both the opening had no longer been there ahead of, or it were in moderation hid. In both match I had no longer spotted it. It was once about 8 inches in diameter and roughly twelve inches deep. My knees buckled underneath my load as I mentally pieced in combination his plan. Grasp took the chain hooked up to my collar and pulled it from the satchel. On the different finish of what appeared to be a few fifteen ft chain, there was once a small, iron anchor. The anchor was once kind of the scale of the opening. His intentions have been transparent. He positioned the anchor into the opening and steered me to pour the liquid cement in to hide it. I poured, shaking as I did. I stood and watched as he smoothed the cement, taking away the surplus with a trowel. He positioned a small steel body over the opening which might dangle the hooked up chain up off of the cement till it dried, and directed me to observe him. I did, swinging the quick chain from my balls, and dragging the lengthy duration of chain from my neck. We walked over to the nook which held the cage. I used to be clearly going to spend a while within the cage, a idea which despatched pulses via my throbbing dick. How a lot more adrenalized may just I transform??? We walked to the nook that held the cage. Grasp in moderation led me with the chain that was once hooked up to my collar, ensuring to not pull towards the nonetheless rainy cement. I realized once I stepped into it that the cage was once slightler greater than I had prior to now assessed it to be. There could be room for me to take a seat upright in it. The highest was once opened and quickly secured with a small hook towards the wall. Grasp became me going through the nook and had me bend over with my legs unfold aside. He squirted extra of the chilly lubricant up my ass, then informed me to take a seat within the nook with my again towards the wall. It was once then that I realized one thing that had no longer been there ahead of, a LARGE dildo, bolted into the ground, out from the nook about eight inches. It was once darkish in colour, possibly product of rubber or plastic – I couldn’t inform. Grasp was once affected person and I took my time. I knelt going through it in the beginning, getting a excellent shut have a look at it. It was once between 6 and eight inches in duration, pointed then tapered out towards the ground to a slender spot round which my asshold would tighten, necessarily attaching me to the ground by way of the ass! Now I knew why Grasp had put such a lot lubricant in me. I’m no virgin, however it took a while for me to get the object totally in me. Grasp gave me no directions excluding to “take a seat on it”, so I squatted, held onto the higher fringe of the cage and slowly reduced myself onto the dildo, step by step shifting my ft ahead as I took in increasingly more of it. I needed to carry up and take a look at once more a number of instances ahead of I may just get my asshole to chill out sufficiently. Ultimately my ass did chill out, sucked within the monster, and closed down gratefully across the slender segment close to the ground, successfully attaching me immovably to the ground. I reduced my palms and leaned again once more the nook wall. It was once very chilly to my again. I wiggled reasonably, feeling the fullness of the item inside me, and figuring out that I couldn’t transfer my torso in any path. I used to be held rapid to the ground. Earlier than I had a lot time to consider it, Grasp took my ft, unfold them aside, and positioned them into iron shares. The enforce consisted of 2 steel bands with curved sections at both finish that, when closed in combination, shaped ankle cuffs. The software screwed in combination at 3 puts, by way of every ankle, and within the heart. Every of the screws was once crowned with an eye fixed hook. Grasp then attached a brief duration of chain from every eye hook to the quick chain placing from my balls, pulling my ft again clear of the bars of the cage and forcing my knees into the air and aside! This compelled my again towards the nook. Grasp then pulled two straps from in the back of me and used them to connect my higher frame to the wall; at my waist, and at my chest. He then adjusted my collar in order that the hooked up chain was once in entrance, and the use of the D- rings on all sides of my collar, he hooked up the again of my neck to the wall. On the out of doors higher nook of the cage there was once a slender slot, simply sufficiently big to carry one hyperlink of the chain. He stretched the chain out from me till it was once instantly, then secured it into the slot. This may stay me from pulling at the chain and tense the nonetheless drying cement. Teaching me to stay my palms out of the way in which, he reached down between my legs and grabbed my cock…in any case, I assumed, he going to do one thing with my dick, however what? Protecting my dick in a single hand, he pulled a plastic sleeve onto it, securing it with a strap that went underneath my balls. He used scientific tape to tighten the software round my dick, particularly close to the pinnacle. I may just nonetheless get onerous, however no longer totally. At the finish there was once a small nipple to which Grasp hooked up an extended piece of tubing. The tubing was once lengthy sufficient to succeed in around the room and empty into the basin drain. I doubted that I might ever be cushy sufficient to piss, however in case I had to, I may just. Some other piece of tubing, reasonably greater, was once position close to my mouth and taped into position. It ended in a gallon jug of water simply out of doors the cage. I might be watered and may just piss all I had to. Grasp clearly meant for me to be right here some time! Handiest my palms had to be secured. “Carry them up and position them towards the wall,” he steered, appearing me the place to place them. He slowly reduced the highest of the cage and I may just see two reduce out spaces alongside the threshold, simply the scale of my wrists. The highest of the cage slightly grazed the highest of my head because it closed down into position, securely locking my palms towards the again partitions about eight inches clear of my neck on all sides. For one remaining contact, Grasp attached a sequence from the iron leg shares to the out of doors nook of the cage, pulling my ft ahead so far as they'd cross and reasonably stretching my balls. My knees have been loose – however no longer for lengthy – Grasp tied a bungee twine loosely round every knee and pulled them aside, securing them to the bars of the cage. I may just stretch my legs reasonably for slightly workout, however they have been at all times briefly pulled again by way of the bungee twine. He left the sunshine on within the heart of the room. I may just handiest take a seat nonetheless, impaled by way of the dildo, strapped helplessly to the interior of an iron cage, and look ahead to his go back. Grasp did one remaining test of all my bindings, checking for circulate. I might clearly be there for some time. He reached down and fiendlishly pulled at my knockers, mashing them between his palms and twirling them relentlessly. My cock strained in its plastic sheath bondage. My asshole tightened across the dildo. My balls pulled hopelessly at their iron bondage. My ft cramped, but if I wiggled them for reduction, the chains pulled at my balls. I may just handiest glance instantly forward and watch the cement dry – clearly Grasp’s plan for my following couple of hours. He left the dungeon, closed the heavy door in the back of him. I heard the huge lock click on, and faintly, his booted steps as he walked away. My ass longed to rid itself of the monster. My palms, placing helplessly started to pain. My balls have been stretched and sore. Any slight motion I made pulled at the chains attached to them. My ft and legs cramped from being held inflexible in a single place for goodbye. My complete frame went from uncomfortable, to sore, then to painful…ache that was once unendurable, and but I needed to undergo it! There have been no alternatives for me any more. Grasp would come to a decision how a lot ache I may just take, and simply what I may just and WOULD undergo! I misplaced conscientiousness a number of instances. Every time I roused from pain-induced stupor, I needed to be subconscious once more. I needed maximum of keen on Grasp to go back and to liberate me from this cage. I knew complete smartly that liberate from this present horror would handiest get replaced by way of every other horror. This was once what I had longed for all my lifestyles – general slavery – everlasting bondage. Whether or not or no longer I may just “take it” mattered no longer in the slightest degree. I might undergo it. I had signed the contract. I not had alternatives, and I needed to discover ways to hand over wishing and hoping. I might merely undergo. This was once my destiny. To even mentally query this was once futile. This monster up my butt was once there to show me about futility, about hopelessness. The iron encircling my ankles and my balls have been my new lecturers. The collar round my neck was once my guru, main me to acceptance of the truth that I used to be now the valuables of every other. My attachment to Grasp’s dungeon was once everlasting. I used to be now part of the dungeon, cemented to its flooring. I do not know how a lot time handed ahead of Grasp’s go back. The water jug was once empty. The cement was once lengthy dry. I had watched it flip colour, from darkish when rainy, to a powdery white when dry. The door opened. He paid me no consideration to start with and went to the middle of the room to test the cement, taking away the body which held the chain and pulling with all his weight towards the ground. He knew it was once dry and that the chain was once safe. This display was once for my get advantages. My dick sprang into motion and worked towards its bondage as I watched him. He walked slowly over towards me, searching at me with out emotion. After status and staring for a second, he unlocked the highest of the cage which launched my palms. I couldn’t transfer them in the beginning, then slowly, painfully, I reduced them to leisure on my knees. I dare no longer contact anything for concern of being punished – as though I weren't ALREADY in ache. He launched the iron from my ankles and disconnected the chains from the iron ball ring which he left in position. The chest and waist straps have been got rid of. “Stand up,” he stated, realizing that I may just no longer with out help. He positioned his fingers underneath mine and pulled me up off of the dildo. My ass stretched painfully because it got here previous the vast level of the monster. “Unscrew the dildo,” he added after I used to be absolutely status. I assumed I used to be rid of the monster, however it seems that anywhere I used to be going, it was once coming with me. I knelt on sore knees and unscrewed the object from the ground. I stood with Grasp’s lend a hand and stepped painfully out of the cage, questioning once I would consult with it once more. We walked over to the wash basin the place he made me stand nonetheless in order that he may just take away the penis sheath and the iron ball ring. I stood bare excluding for my collar. I leaned backward reasonably to counter the pull of the heavy chain. He motioned me into the basin, and directed me to wash the dildo, after which to put it apart on a shelf to dry. After a number of enemas, he washed me all over the place with cleaning soap and left me status to dry. I appreciated very a lot the sensation of being totally bare excluding for my collar. After I used to be most commonly dry, Grasp cuffed my palms in the back of me, then positioned the dildo in my palms. I used to be to stay it with me. I used to be then led me a small steel bowl at the flooring close to the door. I used to be it seems that going to be fed. I used to be hungry. I knelt down and ate the bland, cereal-like mush ravenously. It was once tough to stay my steadiness, suffering on sore knees and balancing the dildo in the back of me, however I controlled to consume all the mush. I then drank some water from every other bowl. Such was once breakfast, or lunch, or dinner or no matter it was once. I not had a way of time. We headed again over towards the cage. My center sank. I had had sufficient of the cage for some time. The neck chain pulled at me as I walked. Grasp lifted the chain to help me. We handed the cage and stopped on the impaler, a easy steel rod emerging from the ground. My thoughts raced with pleasure and concern! I attempted to not tremble as Grasp launched my cuffed palms. I introduced my palms and the dildo round to the entrance of me. Grasp steered me to mount the dildo onto the steel rod. There was once a screw becoming to house it! He then had me bend over and, sticking the squirt gun up my ass, stuffed me with the lubricant. I knew what was once coming. Turning me round, he subsidized me towards the wall till I used to be status over the dildo aimed toward my ass. He reached over into the cage, retrieved the iron ankle shares I had worn ahead of, and screwed them into position round my ankles. Spreading my legs aside introduced my ass downward. The dildo slightly grazed my asshole. Subsequent he put the locking ball ring again round my nonetheless aching balls. Must I bitch? Must I ask for mercy? I dared no longer talk – it will make issues worse! My task was once to conform willingly and to admire Grasp’s plan, no matter it will imply for me. After recuffing my palms in the back of me, he put the plastic pissing sheath again on my suffering dick. I loved his touching my dick and longed for extra, however Grasp had a plan for it I used to be certain! For now, I should be content material to endure bondage. He hung a gentle weight steel pail from my certain balls. There was once sufficient room between my spread-apart legs for the pail to swing back and forth. He then ran the piss tube into the bucket and taped it into position. My very own piss would fill the bucket and light-weight would flip to very heavy. He put ear plugs into my ears and onto my head he positioned a leather-based hood without a eye holes, handiest nose air flow and a hollow for the water tube to be taped into position in my mouth. The hood laced up the again of my head, and round my neck. It felt excellent. He ran his palms calmly over my fingers, checking for circulate, I assume. He cupped and fondled my balls and rechecked the penis tubing. Then there was once an extended pause. I may just no longer inform if he had walked away, or was once status close to me. After which I felt his palms on my shoulders. He gently driven me down onto the ready monster. I sat down, slowly eating its hugeness, pushing, stretching, till my asshole discovered the slender spot and I used to be caught. He then loosened the rod in order that it might be raised, and driven me up with it till I used to be slightly status on my heels. I used to be impaled, stretched upward by way of the ass. I may just handiest stand there helpless, and drink water, and piss, and fill the bucket. How lengthy would he go away me on this state? What distinction did it make? There would handiest be every other fiendish bondage scenario to observe, then every other, then every other…for the remainder of my lifestyles! Numerous days and nights went by way of. I used to be not acutely aware of time. My handiest focal point was once on my bondage which was once endless. When the piss bucket placing from my smooth balls was once complete and dripping onto the ground, splashing onto my legs, Grasp got here in, emptied it, and hung it there once more to be refilled. I don’t know the way time and again I stuffed the bucket – a number of. Then, all at once, it was once over. The bucket was once emptied and no longer changed. The impaler was once reduced and me with it. I used to be pulled up off of it, my legs, palms, head, and balls launched from their prisons, and led over to the nook wash basin. The slight stubble that had amassed all over the place me was once my handiest clue to time handed; round every week I judged. I don’t know what in me inspired me to check out to stay alongside of time. Why? There was once no time for me within the conventional sense. T his was once clearly his plan, to difficult to understand my sense of time. It was once operating. However in the meantime I might cling directly to this handiest clue – the stubble of hair. It was once a easy factor, however someway I wished the relationship with time fact. Differently I imagined that I might be insane. And possibly I already was once? In my former lifestyles I were a stickler for maintaining to the time table. I by no means neglected a closing date in my 12 years as a journalist. The time table was once, I started to appreciate now, my former Grasp. I had merely exchanged one for the opposite. The variation now was once that I had 0 enter. I might be making no choices. While ahead of I had fascinated with my ingenious output, I now was once compelled to focal point ONLY on my bondage. The chain that pulled repeatedly at my neck did that. Hoods, ball rings, manacles, leg irons, dildos, would all come and cross, however that collar and chain was once on me for excellent.  

Originally posted on https://statdig.com

The difference between service and ownership

jeremiahandrews-deactivated2016 asked: I know the feeling you share. I hope you find the right one, there is a fine line between lifetime servitude and being owned by someone who will abuse you and ignore your pleas. Be very careful what you ask of another human being, and what you are willing to let go of to find it. remember this. Strangely enough, I was just thinking about this, and you’re exactly right. I don’t normally post my responses publicly, but I’m going to do so with this one… Some of the hows and the whys for how we feel are difficult to put into words, so feel free to ask if I haven’t made something clear. Why I Feel How I Do My entire life, I’ve been interested in bondage.  Interested to the point where I’ve been a little “too open” with friends from time to time, but my vocalness has led to quite a bit of fun too. At some point, several years ago, it became clear that I wanted to do this long term. I discussed it with a couple of friends, and surprisingly, they were quire supportive. I knew I had to “make sure” however that I would be making the right decision, and a few of my friends helped me experience increasingly longer periods of bondage and submission. At the same time, I reached out to people on the internet actually going through the same experiences that I was interested in. I learned a LOT in talking with them, and through those two things, taking with people actually doing it, and the experiences I shared with my friends, I ultimately decided that this was the right path for me. There was one big problem though…. Fear. Even though my heart knows that I will never be happy unless I am serving another as a lifetime slave, I have a constant battle with my head telling me no. I lead a good life, make plenty of money, have fulfilling relationships, and unlike some potential slaves, I’m not running away or escaping anything. The trouble comes because sometimes it feels like, if I make the choice to enter this life that I’d be throwing away my old one. A friend tells me I over-think everything, and he’s right.  In this case, I’m afraid that I wouldn’t be living the life everyone “expects” me to, but that’s pretty low on the list of my fears. My biggest fears really revolve around three things
  1. I’m afraid that, if I am ever offered the choice to be released from my commitment to serve my master, that I’ll chose to leave, not because I do not want to continue, but because my head will take over and I’ll leave for the wrong reasons.
  2. Most importantly, I’m afraid that, a few years down the road, after years of service to my master, that he will choose to end the relationship, and I’ll be sent back into the world unprepared for the future.
  3. I’m afraid that, after wanting this my whole life, that I’ll end up finding out that I made the wrong decision. I’ll expand on that thought below
I know those probably seem like odd reasons to be afraid, but the internet is full of stories of people with regrets, and I’d like to not be one of them. Especially with number 2 above, many potential masters I’ve talked to  request no contact with the outside world.  I’m fine with that, but there’s some pretty big things I’m giving up to make that happen, and in exchange, I think it’s fair to expect that those things are traded for a guarantee (or at least good faith effort) to ensuring that I don’t need to worry about being placed into a bad  situation in the future. Finally, on number 3 above: One of the stories on this site ends with the main character regretting his decision. In the end, however, there’s nothing he can do to change his circumstances, and, in a strange way, that’s part of the unexplainable intrigue that comes with allowing someone else to control your life. You know that there are times you’ll wish you weren’t in that situation, but you cannot change it. So yes, it’s perhaps a bit “wacky” to want these things, but sometimes you can never explain why or how you feel. What I Ultimately Am Looking For… When I make the decision to make this commitment, it will be with a master who understands that sometimes the words spoken on this site are too literal, and that the spirit of their meanings is what’s important.  Sometimes we THINK we know what we want, but once we get it, discover it’s not what we wanted at all. I’m hoping there’s a master out there who gets that, and can help me move beyond my fears, and push my boundaries. In exchange, they will be receiving a slave with utmost dedication and gratitude, who will do whatever it takes to make that master fulfilled. I hope that answers your question, I appreciate your taking the time to ask.

Originally posted on https://statdig.com

A Fantasy Realized… (Part 1)

It had always been his fantasy to be used by Men, specifically Black Men. Matt was reasonably popular and well liked at the Prep School he attended. He played soccer and tennis for the school team. He was not outwardly effeminate, but neither did he have a steady girlfriend. Matt was still very much a virgin in so many things. Matt was also a typical boy. Now in his senior year and having turned 18 last month he was just a couple weeks away from graduation and acceptance at the University for the next term was a given. Matt was also a typical teenage raging hormone. Matt like to surf the local chat sites, but was always to afraid to approach anyone. But his ever growing urges were getting the best of him… so much so that his fantasy was turning to an obsession. Then he saw a post that really caught his attention!
FOUR BLACK MEN We are four black tops that are seeking a white bottom for once a month weekend play.  We all were in the joint together some time ago, and at that time had a white bottom in our cell that we immensely enjoyed.   We all have straight lives now, and discretion on your part is essential.   You must be white and into 100% service.  Younger the better, but will consider all.   Also, you need to have a high pain threshold, as we will play very very rough with you.   We may have several bitches that you will need to co-serve with.   Our cocks are:  2 – 9″,  1 – 10″, 1- 11″  All thick.   Be ready to rim, suck, be fisted and fucked.   Full toilet servitude may be a requirement (piss is for sure)  send your resume to me for review.  If you are a potential, we will provide you with instructions for service.  Must be able to travel for once a month play.   You should be OK with bruises and scars.  When you are used up, you will be discarded for another bitch.   Our call when we are done with your ass.
Matt was absolutely possessed by the personal ad from the moment he first read the words… and probably reread the message at least 30 times before he mustered the courage and sent a reply along with his picture. It was a few days since Matt had sent his message. He had heard nothing and thought it was probably just as well… not likely real anyway. He was already focused and studying for finals anyway, so that took most of his time. Matt was having trouble this time; study was never a difficult thing for him, but he was having trouble concentrating. Unable to shake the words of the ad from his mind, he struggled and read and reread passages from his books trying to grasp the knowledge he needed to pass his finals. Then suddenly Matt’s computer chimed with a new message. Matt didn’t think much of it… one of his friends, he thought, probably wants to play a game or go out somewhere and hang out. He needed a break anyway… he had his head in those books for hours already. But when Matt looked at the computer, he went limp, there it was, the message he had both wanted and dreaded. A message from the FOUR BLACK MEN and subject was simple and direct… “REPORT DATE” Matt opened the message and read. “Your petition has been reviewed and you have been selected to begin your service on Saturday 1 month from today. You are required to CLEAR YOUR SCHEDULE of ANY other commitments you have made previously and report freshly scrubbed and showered. You will wear only a sleeveless shirt, athletic pants and sneakers. NO OTHER CLOTHING IS PERMITTED – MAKE SURE YOU ADHERE TO THESE REQUIREMENTS.” “Your service is NOT optional. A background investigation has been done and we have noted your personal information, your parents background and places of employment, and of your future plans for University. Should you FAIL TO REPORT AS ORDERED then this information will be used and your parents will learn about you as well as their employers and friends. We are sure you can understand and agree that your COMPLIANCE TO THIS DIRECTIVE IS MANDATORY!” “GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR FINALS NEXT WEEK!” Matt was in absolute shock. He could no longer concentrate or focus on his studies. Matt was having a mild panic attack about the whole situation. Had he put his whole family in some danger? How did they get this information? Matt’s mind was racing… and he found himself pacing in his bedroom back and forth. Then he noticed his reflection in the mirrored closet door… he had noticeably stained the pants he was wearing… he was leaking pre-cum uncontrollably and then all of sudden Matt realized he was actually getting a massive hard on. Matt realized that he had actually found what he had always fantasized about. He quickly jumped on his bed and pushed off his pants and shorts and started to jack off in order to dispatch the erection before anyone else in the house noticed it. When he was done taking care of the immediate problem… Matt quickly took a shower and tried to get the stain out of his pants before his Mom would see it when she did the laundry. Matt thought about the email constantly… it was evident to him that he had gotten himself into this situation and he would have to take care of it himself as well… his parents could absolutely not ever know of his most intimate desire and fetish. Matt continued to struggle with his studies for the rest of the weekend. Monday was the start of Finals Week… it was make or break for him and college… he knew he had to do well. His grades were essential to going to school next term. Finals Week did NOT go well for Matt. Try as he might he struggled with the tests his teachers presented. Where did THIS come from? He thought he was thorough in his preparations… and yet, everything seemed about stuff he did not review. Matt also could not shake the words of the FOUR BLACK MEN “Your service is NOT optional…” These men had a plan for him… and then Matt would realize his cock would start getting hard again… OMG, this cannot be happening now Matt thought to himself. The following week Matt’s worst fears came true. His test scores were posted and Matt did poorly in every class. He could not believe what he saw… he was screwed… he would have to take Summer School just to graduate now… and college, forget the University… they would not take him now… not with these grades. Matt faced his parents with the news. Their faces were drawn and completely aghast at what their son was telling them. His dad was absolutely pissed. “How could you be so be absolutely fucking irresponsible?” And his mom was just beside herself, muttering how she would not be able to face the other women at the club when they found out… she walked toward the kitchen and started to pull stuff out of the cabinets to bake something… whenever Matt’s mom lost control over her emotions she would start cooking things and it could go on for days. Matt realized he had really screwed up bad. The next few days were bad for Matt. His father would not speak to him. The few comments he did make to Matt usually started off with “You’ll probably just fuck this up as well…” and then he cornered Matt one morning just before he got in his car to leave for work and said “You had better start making a plan for the future boy. I suggest you start looking for some kind of a job. Your mom and I are very disappointed in you and I am not going to continue to support a fuck up.” He turned and started to walk away from Matt… Matt was in shock at what his dad had just said to him. Then his dad stopped in his tracks all of sudden and turned back and looked directly at his son “Oh, and Matt, you are no longer welcome to live in this house. So pack up your shit and find somewhere else to live, you have 2 weeks!” Matt’s world suddenly collapsed in on itself. Everything he once thought he had was gone. He knew his dad was serious and his mom would never go against her husband once he had made a decision. Matt’s whole support system was destroyed. The weight of the announcement from his dad, the sudden realization of what had just happened, Matt just fell back against the wall and his knees went weak and could no longer support the weight of his body and he just slowly slid down the wall until his knees were at shoulder level and he put his head between his legs and just starting to bawl and cry uncontrollably for the next half hour. It has been 1 month since Matt’s perfect world was destroyed. In that time he has learned what happens to boys who don’t meet expectations. Abandoned by his own family when his own father cast him out of the only home he had ever known, Matt was completely devastated and lost. The first day he was packing up his belongings as he had been told to do when his father walked in and looked over what was going in the boxes. He reached into the box and pulled the laptop out and asked “What the hell boy? Fuck you, you are not taking this computer, the same is true for that fancy smartphone and tablet either! You can get your own now, the free ride you had is over. Make sure you clean your stuff out of those devices and just leave them here when you go.” Matt was stunned once again. He had never realized what an asshole his dad could be. Anger started to build in young Matt as he thought of all the things he could wreck and damage before he left his fathers fucked up little estate. But Matt didn’t have it in him… he wasn’t a fighter. He sat down to start cleaning up the computer and then came across the email from the FOUR BLACK MEN – REPORT DATE. “Your petition has been reviewed and you have been selected to begin your service on Saturday 1 month from today. You are required to CLEAR YOUR SCHEDULE of ANY other commitments you have made previously and report freshly scrubbed and showered.“ He read the message again a couple of times and printed it out and then deleted the email as part of the clean up. His report date was tomorrow. Matt thought to himself, Why Not? At least, his body was his own, he could do what he wanted now and he had no other commitments anymore. Again, Matt just then realized his cock was getting hard and he was leaking precum. Matt was more then a little nervous when he showed up at the appointed place at the assigned time. He went to the door but before he could even ring the bell the door suddenly swung open. “Yeh? Whadda want? We ain’t buying nothin!” Startled Matt stammered out “uh? No! I’m Matt” The tall lean black man at the door grinned and then stepped to one side and directed Matt inside and yelled back into the house. “Da bitch is here!“ Matt walked into the house, a modest 2 story house in the older part of town. Matt had never been in this neighborhood before as it was outside of his previously normal life. An older black gentlemen stood up when Matt walked into what was a large open living room, with a big screen television and requisite sporting event playing. The older gentlemen spoke and said “Hello Matt, I am glad you are here. Just stand there for now as we are going to have a short little chat first. Do you know why you are here?” Matt again had to force words out his mouth “Ye, Yea, Yes Sir! You want a white boy to play with.” The man replied “That is essentially right Matt, but it goes farther then that. ”… you are here to SERVE US. When you came through that door you became OURS to use as we see fit until you are no longer needed. Is that clear to you Matt?“ Matt was very nervous now, but he responded “Yes Sir.” “Good boy! Now Matt, you will follow my instructions to the letter from now on. Be a good boy and strip off those clothes and give me a good look at the body you have for me and my crew to use and enjoy.” Matt quickly obeyed and took off the clothes he had worn. There was not much to remove as the instructions had been equally clear a tank top shirt, gym trousers and his favorite tennis shoes. Matt stood there naked in front of the two black men in the room. Matt felt very inadequate in front of these men. They were both much larger and far more muscular than he was. The younger man that met Matt at the door had just stayed quiet and stood to side of this older man. The older man spoke again “Very nice, you will do quite nicely Matt, not bad for a stupid white boy.” Matt was surprised by the comment, it was suddenly out of character. Just then the man said to his friend “James, please explain it to the stupid white boy!” Suddenly and with astounding speed the young black man sprung into action with a karate like high kick that went straight to Matt’s face and sent his head back and then a moment later a second kick straight up between Matt’s naked legs and smashing his ball sack against Matt’s body. The reaction was instantaneous. Matt went crashing to the floor gasping for air  trying to scream in agony but not able for a lack of oxygen to even fill his lungs. Matts hands had instinctively gone to his crushed balls, but they were grabbed and dragged back behind his body and Matt heard the ratchets click behind him as hands and arms were cuffed behind his back. Matt just laid there. His bloodied face half smashed into the carpet, unable to move and also realizing that he was in serious trouble now. He then heard these words spoken to him by the older man “Yes, a very stupid white boy. Not only have you let your guard down to be used by a black man but you boy have done so with four black men who have all been in prison as well. Your little white ass belongs to us now boy!” With that the older black man undid the leather belt on his pants and pulled it off his waist and looped it around Matt’s neck like a noose. Matt heard the man tell the younger black man “Take this little faggot downstairs and start prepping him, the others will be here soon.” The young man was not at all gentle. He took the end of the leather belt from the other man and just start to drag Matt by the neck across the floor instantly choking him. Matt could not even try to stand because he was being hauled around by the leather belt with this hands cuffed behind him. The door to a stairway was open and Matt was simply dragged head first down the staircase being scraped and scratched all the way down. When Matt finally hit the floor of the empty basement the young sadist lifted him up by the leather belt to his face and hocked a huge load of spit directly into Matt’s face. Matt was then literally thrown down on a table smashing his wrist into the small of his back and cinching the cuffs even more around his wrists. Matt felt a chain then go around his neck and leather belt was stripped away violently causing a slight burn against his skin. Then his ankles were secured to the table as well by chains. Matt was now utterly and completely powerless to do anything about this situation. The young man completely shaved Matts head leaving only his eyebrows and eyelashes. He then wiped the blood from Matts face but a nasty bruise had already developed from the crushing blow to his nose. After about 40 minutes of this the young man was done. Matt heard some footsteps on the stairs coming down and then he heard the older man say to James. “Get him up” The young man undid the chains and the cuffs from Matt’s body and helped him off the table, but then pushed him down into a crouched position in front of a mirror. Then the older black man knelt down beside Matt and looked at Matt reflection in the mirror and pointed to him. He spoke calmly and softly to Matt. “Now listen to me boy as I am only going to tell you this one time.” “The life you had once upon a time is over. It ended the moment you stepped through that door upstairs. There is no going back to that life now. You are now just a faggot. You do not have any more choices to make in life. Over the next several months you are going to be USED. I will tell you now, that you will eventually be used up. In the meantime, you will SERVE me and my crew. When you are NOT doing that you will used by anyone else willing to pay us for you. We are going to make some serious coin with you boy. When you are not being used in some way then you will be left chained here alone until you are needed again. When you can no longer meet the demands this requires of you then you will be discarded for another bitch and sold. There is no escaping this boy… this is your life now.” Just then Matt heard the sounds of the other two black men arriving and coming down the stairs and Matt realized that the nightmare his life had become was about to begin. The older man acknowledged his buddies arrival with a quick wave which also meant to them ‘Shut the fuck up’. The new arrivals realized that the boss man was talking at the naked white boy on his knees and they instantly went quiet in order to hear what he was going to say to their new fuck toy. “Matt, this is going to get rough for you… VERY ROUGH. I already know that you flunked your finals, and that it pretty much screwed any chance you had to attend that university you were planning on. You were just supposed to be a once a month weekend boy, but now you have presented us an opportunity, because nobody is going to care much about what happened to some white boy who could not get out of high school. In short boy, you FUCKED UP… and now you are FUCKED!” “in a moment, I am going to leave you here again with James…” just then Matt began to panic, a look of terror in his eyes was plainly evident at the prospect of James being in complete control of him again. The older man did NOT appreciate Matt’s sudden mood change and just as suddenly reached around Matt’s ass and between his legs and grabbed his balls and with one quick pull both backward and up, he lifted Matt’s knees briefly off the concrete and took his other hand to the back Matt’s head and smashed his face hard into the concrete floor and then released Matt’s balls and let the rest of his body weight fall as well. He screamed at Matt “I DON’T CARE THAT YOU ARE SCARED! THIS IS GOING TO HAPPEN MATT AND THERE IS NOT A DAMN THING YOU CAN DO TO STOP IT!” With that the older man stood and then kicked Matt in hard in ribs again knocking the wind out of Matt and then turned and walked away from the beaten boy writhing in pain on the floor. The older man started back up the stairs with the new arrivals and then paused and said to James “Make sure that boy understands what life for him is all about now… I don’t care how you do it. Bust him up and break him James… I want it to be compliant and docile. So enjoy yourself and make sure that boy never forgets today.” He turned and took another step up the stairs and then stopped again “Oh, and James, this young white boy is probably still a virgin. So take that weapon you have between YOUR legs and RAPE HIS ASS for his first time, open that boy up and MAKE IT HURT James, let him realize that is now OWNED by FOUR BLACK MEN” He then ascended the stairs, chuckled to his friends “Stupid fuckin’ white boy…” James wasted no time in getting down to the tasks assigned him. He walked over to lump of flesh that was Matt a few moments ago and grabbed it by the ankle and dragged to another part of the basement. The basement was very well equipped. It had been prepared to used to break and train a captive. When Matt arrived at this new spot in the dungeon he again felt the cuffs go back on his wrists, again behind his back which was very uncomfortable for Matt, but he realized that no one cared about what he felt or thought anymore. Next came the ankle restraints and then this time a chain went around his neck and a padlock was used to secure it tightly around Matt’s neck. Just then Matt heard to click clack of a relay for the motor of an overhead hoist. Matt was still disoriented from his earlier beatings, but with the tugging of the chain around his neck and then sound of the motor overhead he snapped to the reality of what was happening and tried to scramble to his knees and then to his feet. Within 20 seconds of all this Matt was vertical with his heels lifted just off the floor so that Matt had to stand on the balls of his feet to keep from choking. “Oh boy, ya really pissed off da Boss Man, he don’t like that. Right now I don think he like you dat much” James said. “Dats why you gotta go thru this now boy. He wants ya broken, so that is what I gotta do to ya now. So you best just keep ya mouth shut and save your strength boy, cause this is gonna hurt a bunch” James went out of Matt’s sight and left him hanging there  by the neck for about 10 minutes. Matt struggled to stay on the balls of his feet but his legs could not handle the constant stress he was under so he had to relax. Matt found that he could actually be flat footed on the floor but his airway was constricted and he found it difficult, but not impossible to breathe. Matt now began to realize how desperate his situation was and he felt the tears begin to run over his bloodied face. When James returned he was carrying a four foot long bullwhip. He looked at Matt’s face and said “Tears ain’t gonna help you now boy and your momma don’t know where you are anymore. We are gonna do this HARD and FAST bitch…” Without any warm up James took a full force swing and landed the whips lash directly across Matt’s upper back and shoulders. Again, Matts reaction was instantaneous and he let loose a blood curdling scream of pain. The skin where the whip landed immediately went deep red and before Matt’s scream had even dissipated James swung the whip around for a second strike with equal force directly across Matt’s chest. Again Matt screamed as the pain was more then he has ever felt before in his life. The third, fourth and fifths strikes showed no mercy as they switched back and forth across the backside and frontside of Matt’s body with alternating strokes. James was ruthless in his punishment of the white boys naked flesh. The whipping continued in this manner for another 15 strokes. Towards the end of this part of his initial training Matt could no longer make a sound as his screaming had strained his voice to nothing most than a raspy wailing. The whole whipping has taken less than a minute, but James had been very efficient, as there was not a place on Matt’s body that did not feel like it was on fire. James put his nose directly up to Matt’s gnarled and purplish face and asked “Do you understand NOW?” Matt willing to agree to anything now just nodded as best he could and whimpered “yes sir” and then everything when numb and dark as Matt passed out. When Matt came to a moment or two later he found himself on the floor again. Thankful that he could breathe again not being hung up by his neck. Then his body let him know what has just happened as all of his nerves again started to fire. His body showed the evidence of what James had done to him. The first blows were now an angry deep purple with pronounced welts. Without any warning, Matt felt the sudden jolt of a cattle prod applied directly to his ass. “On yer knees bitch!” Matt reacted to the shock with “Ow! Fuck! Stop that!” As soon as Matt said that he realized he had made a huge mistake and just as quickly Matt again felt James foot crash into his balls. Matt was right back in hell again and motor overhead start up again and hoisted Matt by the neck off the floor to a kneeling position. “Wrong Answer, bitch!” and James applied the cattle prod directly to Matt’s cock head which caused Matt to suddenly stand and try to leap forward at James but the young agile black man was ready for the younger white captive and just punched Matt directly in the face and rag dolled him backward where Matt again lost his footing and began to fall backwards until the chain around his neck caught him mid fall and instantly choked him again where Matt’s body again went limp and he passed out for the second time. Matt woke up again much like the first time face down on the floor and again able to breathe. “On your knees, bitch!” This time Matt stayed silent and reacted slowly and with painful effort manage to get to his knees. James again put his face in Matt’s and asked “What have you learned, bitch?” Matt looked up at James with the look of a whipped puppy and replied “That you OWN me, Sir” “Never, Ever, forget that bitch” James snarled back at Matt. Matt now knew there was absolutely no hope. His dad kicked him out, His mom did nothing to stop it, No one knew he was even here… he had even deleted the email from the computer. He had come to this house to be used by the Four Black Men and now that had come true. The older man was right, no one was going to care about another white boy who could not graduate high school. He was a lost cause and now he was truly lost. Chained, beaten, his spirit now broken, his once pretty smooth body was now a mass of welts and angry bruises. Matt’s previous life was now part of his history and even Matt realized he would never be allowed to go back to that life again.  

Originally posted on https://statdig.com