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

The Recycler Boy – Part 29

“Yes Sir” I replied, and immediately started following his instruction, stripping off my clothes and putting them into a neat pile on the floor. I placed my bag on the floor beside my clothes, and assumed what I considered a good position for a boy on his knees, which my head bowed and my hands behind my back.

“Not bad piss boy – I’m glad to see you followed my instructions. I’ve got lots more in store for you this weekend. But first, we have a few things to get ready for.”

With that, he reached in to my diaper and pulled out the end of the catheter. I hadn’t noticed the small towel covering some things on the table beside the door, but he removed the towel and pulled out a rather large syringe that was filled with something. He pushed the tip of the syringe into the drainage tube of the catheter and started pushing on the plunger.

“I told you I might drain you or fill you or do all kinds of things to you boy. For now, I’m going to fill your bladder with saline, and then clamp it off so we can start preparing you to be a true recycling slut.”

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I was attempting to figure out how long a bondage session should last, and I just couldn’t decide on a time.   No matter what number I thought of, it seemed either too short or too long. It was then I got the idea to let FATE decide.     While this...

Urinal Boy 4: Cutting Class

Silently, I followed Randy as we snuck out of the school and into the" little wooded area behind the parking lot. I couldn't believe my luck," meeting Randy the way I did. I never in a million years would have" suspected that Randy Marshall and I would soon be out in the woods," drinking each other's piss. Randy was a fairly decent-looking kid, not" really sexy like my brother, but not ugly, either. I just never really" noticed him that much. I certainly never would have suspected that he liked" to do the same things I had been servicing my dad and Adam for almost as long as I could" remember, but I always knew it was something I couldn't tell people" about. I first discovered how much I liked piss after Adam's attempt to" humiliate me by making me serve as a urinal when Dad's friends came over. I" knew that drinking piss was even more perverted than sucking my Dad's and" brother's dicks, so I didn't dare tell anyone. Now finally I had found" someone who would understand. As we entered the woods, Randy reached for my hand and smiled at me. "I" know a place we can go. We follow that path down a ways, then we get to the" old railroad tracks. Follow the tracks for a while, and then we get to that" swampy area behind the mills. There's lots of wood and nobody ever goes" down there." "Sounds good to me." It felt nice to be holding Randy's warm, sweaty hand" as we walked through the woods together. I started to realize that my" newfound feelings for Randy were a lot different than my love for Adam or" Dad. "Oh, shit, somebody's coming!" Randy yelped and let go of my hand. "Hey," it's Danny and Tony!" "Aren't they in tenth grade?" I asked. "I think so. They're total potheads. All they ever do is get high." Danny and Tony looked us over. They were both carrying CVS Pharmacy bags," which I thought was kind of strange. "Hey, don't I know you?" Danny asked. "You two go to Wildcat too, don't" you?" "Uh, yeah," Randy responded nervously. "Shouldn't you guys be in class?" Tony asked. "Shouldn't you?" Randy asked. "Well, it was such a nice day, we though it would be a big waste to stay" inside," Danny explained. "So we figured it would be a perfect day to drink" cough syrup and get our dicks sucked by this hot little seventh grader we" know," he bragged. Randy and I looked at each other. I could tell he was just as skeptical as" I was. "What hot little seventh grader?" I asked. "Who is she?" "It's a secret," Tony said, grinning. "But if you want, she'll suck you," too. She's a total slut." "But you have to wear a blindfold. We're protecting her identity. That way" you'll never know, and you'll never be able to reveal the secret. You guys" in?" Randy and I looked at each other again. I could tell by the look in his" eyes that he wanted me to say no. I didn't want any girl near my dick, and" neither did Randy. "Thanks, but we'll pass," I said. "I'd rather know who I'm having sex" with!" "Suit yourself! But you guys don't know what you're missing!" Danny" shouted. Then he took a swig of cough syrup and they both went off on the" opposite trail. "I'm glad we got out of that," Randy said. "They were totally trying to" play a trick on us. They just wanted to get us blindfolded for some sort of" rotten practical joke. There's no girl sucking their dicks, that's for" sure!" "I wouldn't let a girl even touch me!" I added. "But you know what, Randy?" "What?" "If it were true, imagine how fun it would be to be that girl. Like," imagine if there were a whole bunch of guys with blindfolds who thought" they were getting sucked by some chick, but it was really you and me" sucking them, and they had no idea!" "God, that would be fun!" Randy agreed. I can think of a lot of guys at" school I would like to do that way!" Randy and I were walking hand-in-hand together again. He knew the area" well. We got to the railroad tracks, followed them a bit, and then Randy" took me down another path back into the woods again. Then he stopped. "On your knees, Jaden. I've got some lemonade for you." "Thanks," I said. It didn't take me long to get Randy's cock out of his" pants and aimed towards my mouth. I opened my mouth and let him piss into" it, swallowing whenever my mouth filled up. "Jaden, I think we're gonna be best friends!" Randy laughed. I responded by putting his dick in my mouth and beginning to tease it with" my tongue. "Ooh, you're good!" Randy moaned. "Keep it up!" I felt Randy quickly getting hard in my mouth. I wished it was as big as my" Dad's. Still, I wasn't complaining. I sucked and licked Randy's adorable" pink shaft. Hearing him moan with pleasure got me more excited. My own cock" was making a tent in my jeans. Randy noticed this as he was watching me on my knees as I worshipped his" cock. "Jaden, take it out. I want to see it." Dad and Adam never let me play with myself when I was servicing them. I" always had to wait until I was back in my bed at my mom's house on Sunday" nights before I could jack off wildly to the memories of all the nasty" things my father and brother had made me do. So I was more than happy to" unbuckle my belt, unzip my fly and pull my pecker out and start working on" it as I gave Randy head. "Stand up, Jaden." I stood up. Randy grabbed my cock and I grabbed his. We began a serious," deep, messy tongue kiss while we jerked each other off. I was thrilled to" know that Randy was tasting his own piss on my tongue, as well as whatever" was left of the piss we had been drinking out of the urinals" earlier. Randy's dick was sliding around nicely in my fist, lubricated by" my saliva. Randy got down on his knees and started working on my cock. It was very" strange for me. This was the first time anyone had ever bothered to return" the favor. I was so used to my role as sex slave for Dad and Adam that I" had trouble relaxing and enjoying Randy's blowjob. Still, it was a" wonderful sensation. Then I realized that in all my excitement, I hadn't noticed how full my" bladder had become. I had drunk a lot of piss, and now I needed to relieve" myself. Could I piss with a hardon? I knew Adam could, because he would" often treat me to a slow, jerky trickle of warm piss when I was sucking him" off. "Get up, Randy. I want to try something," I instructed. Randy stood up. "What you got in mind?" "Bend over and touch your toes." "This is going to be a first for me!" Randy exclaimed. "First for me, too." I spat in my hand and lubricated my dick, mixing it" with Randy's saliva. Then I got on my knees and began licking Randy's sweet" little ass. He squealed a little like a girl when I poked my tongue into" his asshole. His sphincter twitched tightly around my tongue. The taste was" heavenly. Randy was fairly clean and his ass tasted mild and slightly" sweet, not all raunchy and shitty like Adam's funky hole. I slid my dick in very very slowly. Randy grunted. "I'm not hurting you, am I?" "I can take it!" "Don't worry, I'll let you fuck me, if you like." "Okay." I didn't actually intend on fucking Randy for long. I had another" idea. Once I had my dick all the way in Randy's ass, I let him stand" up. The two of us were bound together, in the woods, with our pants around" our knees. I put my arms around his waist. I rested my chin on his" shoulder. He looked back at me and smiled. That's when I began to push out, and slowly I felt a small stream of piss" trickle out of my dick and deep into Randy's gut. Randy looked a little panicked. "Did you just cum?" he asked. "Then what…" Randy began to realize what I was doing as he felt my bladder" empty into him. "Oh wow!" he exclaimed. "That's fuckin' amazing!" Then he" kissed me. I carefully pulled out of Randy's asshole. Randy looked a little" worried. "I don't think I can hold it all in there much longer," he said. "I don't want you to. I'm going to drink it out of your hole." Randy was very pleased with the idea. Randy touched his toes again and I" was back on my knees with my face in his ass. It was harder for Randy to" control his piss enema. He would struggle and his hole would pucker up with" no release, and then he would struggle more and I would get sprayed in the" face. Not that I really minded, but we were starting to get messy. I" lovingly licked the piss that trickled out of Randy's hole and down his" leg. I was hard as hell and having the time of my life. That's when I heard the rustling in the bushes.

Other Parts of the Urinal Boy Series: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Originally posted on https://statdig.com

Urinal Boy 5: In The Bushes

Bryan Marshall was only on his fourth beer, but Chip and Ronnie were pretty much wasted at that point. They were all sitting on the hood of a beat-up, abandoned Gremlin by the side of the railroad tracks, smoking, drinking and having a good time for themselves. Ronnie was leaning over on Bryan's shoulder, and kept drunkenly repeating the same question over and over. "Yeah, Marshall, but what did she smell like?" "What the fuck do you think she smelled like? She smelled like pussy! Aint you ever smelled a pussy?" Bryan was starting to get a little irritated at his inebriated friend. "Course, I smelled lotsa pussy, but what I wanna know is what this particular pussy smelled like!" "Smelled like a fuckin' pussy, you retard! I bet you never smelled one. Hell, Ronnie, I bet you never even SEEN one!" "Now I really gotta take a leak!" Chip exclaimed, jumping off the hood of the car. He landed wrong and twisted his ankle. "Oh fuck!" he moaned. "Have another beer and you won't feel a thing!" Bryan laughed. "Yeah, I'll have another fuckin', uh, whatever the hell this godawful piss beer is!" Chip limped off into the bushes to take a leak. They all had been pissing in pretty much the same spot in the bushes the whole time, and all the leaves on those bushes were wet with piss. Chip drunkenly aimed a heavy spray at some mountain laurel bushes and then staggered back to the railroad tracks where Bryan and Ronnie were still arguing about what a pussy smelled like. What Chip was too drunk to notice was how close he came to spraying the excited faces of two young boys who were hiding in that same mountain laurel bush. *** Nervously, we ducked into one of the mountain laurel bushes to avoid being seen. Who was there? Did they see us? Randy and I clung to each other, breathless, our hearts beating in sync. The fear, our warm bodies meshed together, the desire to protect each other. I think I fell in love with him then. We didn't realize until it was too late what a stupid idea it was to hide in that bush. An older boy, about my brother's age, came crashing through the bushes. When he came to our bush he stopped. Randy and I were terrified. Had he seen what we had just been doing a few minutes ago? Then I realized that the guy was drunk, so drunk he didn't even see us hiding in the bush two feet in front of him. Then he started to unzip his fly. Things were really starting to get interesting for me and Randy. Our tongues were out and ready. He sprayed the leaves and it spattered all over our faces. We both tried to angle our faces to take turns getting as close to the piss stream as we could. It didn't really matter, we could lick the piss off each other's faces once the boy left. Then the boy stopped pissing. Shit, I thought. He saw us! How were we going to explain this one? Randy looked up in horror at the older boy. The older boy staggered a bit and then tried to focus his eyes on Randy. It was obvious to me that the two of them knew each other. Then the older boy looked over his shoulder to the abandoned car near the train tracks where his friends were drinking. "Hey Marshall, guess what?" "What? You pissed your brains out?" "No dude. This is like so random! I just pissed all over your little brother!" "What? What the fuck are you talking about? Randy's in school. Shut your pie hole. You're fuckin' drunk." "No, I'm serious, Marshall. I just pissed on your brother! I was taking a leak in the bush and pissed all over him. He was hiding. And he's got a little friend in here, too. Come over here and see!" Then we heard someone else come crashing through the brush. It was Randy's brother. He looked at Randy. He looked at me. He looked at his friend. "Hi Bryan." Randy said nervously. "I guess you're right, Chip," Bryan shrugged. "You did piss on my brother. Knowing him, he probably enjoyed it. He's weird like that." Chip was perplexed. "Whaddya mean, `he's weird like that'?" "I dunno. He's just always tryin' to suck my dick, but I won't let him. I caught him sniffin' my dirty underwear once. He always does that kinda weird shit. We're all pretty sure he's gonna turn into a fag, if he hasn't already." "Wait a second, Marsh," Chip said. "I'm pretty wasted right now, so maybe I really have no idea what the fuck is going on. Please explain this to me. Do you mean to tell me that you sleep in the same room with a cock sucking little faggot? The one I just pissed on?" "Watch it, Chip! He may be a cock sucking faggot, but he's still my little brother, and I love him! Don't you ever say anything bad about Randy again!" "No, no, I'm sorry, Marshall. I guess that came out wrong. What I meant to say was, like, um, dude, you had this cocksucker in your bedroom every night, and you like never once let him go down on you? Hot damn! If I had a little brother who was queer for my cock, I'd be bustin' a nut in his mouth every chance I got! Course, a little sister would be better, but beggars can't be choosers. I can't believe I'm saying this, but holy fuck! Dude, if he wants to blow you so bad, why don't you just let him have it?" Randy and I were still squatting in the bushes, covered in Chip's piss. We had no idea what was about to happen. Actually, that's not true. We had a pretty good idea of exactly what was going to happen next. Bryan Marshall looked at the two of us still crouched in the bushes. "Why don't you two guys come out of there? Yeah, it's okay. Randy, who's your friend?" "Uh, this is my friend Jaden. From gym class." "Hi," I said shyly. "Hey kid. So you two cut class and decided to get freaky with each other in the woods, is that right?" Randy and I nodded. "So are you guys like, all done?" Randy was confused. "Whaddya mean, all done?" "You know. Did you guys finish what you started?" "Uh, no," Randy admitted. "We kinda got interrupted," I explained. "Dude, this is awesome!" Chip exclaimed. "Marshall, we got two cocksuckers for the price of one. And three cocks that gotta be sucked. See what I'm sayin'?" Then he looked at us. "You two will go down on us, won't you?" Randy looked nervously at his brother. "Uh, Bryan? Please? Can we?" "Sure, Randy, what the hell? I'll let ya do it just this once. I know you've been wanting it so bad. Now I don't need to get you nothin' for your birthday," he said as he began rubbing his crotch, "cuz I got your present right here." Randy approached his brother and gingerly reached for his crotch. "No, Randy, I'm taking you guys back to the tracks where we were hanging out. Gonna let Ronnie the virgin use you first. He ain't never had anyone play with his dick, so it's gonna be a real treat for him." We marched over to the railroad tracks where the abandoned car was. Ronnie was passed out in the back seat, his legs hanging out of the passenger side, which was missing a door. "Wake up, Ron," Chip said, trying to rouse his friend out of his stupor. "We got some nice pussy for you. You're gonna get your dick sucked now." "I know what pussy smells like, I smell it all the time," Ronnie moaned drunkenly. "That's right, Ronnie. Stay where you are. Just relax and enjoy your blowjob." "I can smell that pussy right now." "You sure gotta nose for pussy, Ronnie. Okay, now this chick's gonna take you someplace you never been before. She's gonna give you the best blowjob of your life!" Chip sort of grabbed Randy by the scruff of his neck and pushed him down towards Ronnie's crotch. "I'm sure you know what to do, kid." Randy got on his knees on the hard gravel that lined the train tracks and began to unzip Ronnie's fly. Chip, Bryan and I watched curiously as Randy obediently took Ronnie's soft cock out of his jeans and began to gently lick it to erection. I was getting horny again, and I know everyone else was, too. Ronnie's cock had an interesting shape. Since I had sucked plenty of my dad's friends' cocks, I had pretty much seen every kind of cock there was. The kind Ronnie had was one I rarely encountered but especially loved. It was short and really fat, with a very tiny, uncircumcised head. The shape was almost conical. I was sure Randy wouldn't mind if I tried to get in a few licks. It was as if Randy could read my mind. "Jaden, come here!" he motioned eagerly. I knelt down beside him. He pulled down the foreskin of that thick, fat cock to show me. "Look at that!" he grinned. There was quite a large accumulation of cock cheese under that head. "Have some," he urged me. I bent my head down into Ronnie's crotch and licked a big gob of cheese off of the head. Instantly, my mouth filled with the wonderful taste of pure, unwashed boy. Randy began licking the cheese off of the other side, and then our tongues met in the middle. It was a very special moment. Just then, I felt one of the guys pulling me away. "Hey! Ronnie can't have all the fun!" Chip yelled. "Sorry," I apologized. Chip was leaning against the side of the car, waiting for me to get on my knees and service him. I eagerly got into position, unzipping his jeans and taking out his medium-sized cock, which was already hard from all the excitement. I didn't even bother with any preliminary licking. I took it as far down my throat as I could and held it there for a minute. I reached my hands around and put them on his ass cheeks, loving the feel of the warm denim of his jeans in my hands. I gently pulled him towards me, hinting that I wanted him to fuck my face, and fuck it hard. Chip got the message. He shifted from the position of leaning against the car to a standing position, and began to start fucking my face. I hate to admit it, but I was a little bored. I guess after years of servicing my father and brother, drinking their piss and serving at their depraved little slut, an ordinary blowjob was boring to me. But who was I to complain? My job was to satisfy any man who wanted to use me. So I continued with the blowjob. Then something interesting happened. I could hear Chip clearing his throat, but I wasn't paying much attention. Then he tried to hock a big, thick loogie on the ground. Only he missed the ground, and I felt the slimy loogie sliding down my cheek. Instantly I got hard again. My brother always liked to spit on me, and it always really turned me on. "Oh shit! Sorry, kid. Didn't mean to do that." Chip reached into his pocket and tried to carefully pull out a handkerchief without letting his dick slip from my mouth. Instead, I did take his dick out of my mouth. Before he had a chance to wipe the loogie off my cheek, I wiped it onto my finger and put it in my mouth. I then smiled at him, said "More!", closed my eyes and opened my mouth. "You're fuckin' gross, kid! That's nasty!" "Please?" I begged. I still had my eyes closed and my mouth open. I didn't know whether he would do it to me or not. Soon, I felt a slimy gob of mucus on my tongue, sliding back towards my throat. I could taste the cigarettes he had been smoking mixed in with the taste of his mucus. I was pleased. "Thank you!" I said, and then happily went back to sucking him off. While I was sucking him, Chip called to Randy's brother. "Hey Marshall, check this out!" Bryan had been watching his brother suck off his passed-out friend. He came over to where I was working on Chip. "Watch this, Marshall. Hey kid, open up!" I stopped sucking Chip's cock and opened my mouth again. Chip hocked another loogie into my mouth. I swallowed and smiled. "Shit! He's even nastier than my brother!" I snaked my hand up to tease the bulge in Bryan's jeans. "I can handle two at once, you know." "Fuck, this is crazy!" Bryan said, shaking his head. "What the fuck am I going to think when I sober up?" Still, he made no effort to stop me from unzipping his fly and pulling out his massive cock. I now had one cock in each hand. Gently, I licked Bryan's cock. Already half hard, it sprung to attention at the touch of my tongue. I guided the two older guys closer so I could get both heads into my mouth at once. I stretched my mouth to accommodate both cocks, rubbing them against each other to increase the friction. Then I felt something land on my hair. Chip was spitting on me again. I revved up my sucking. "See, I told you he digs it. Go ahead, spit on him. It turns him on!" Then I felt a gob of spit from Bryan hit the side of my face. It felt so good to have those guys spitting on me. Every few minutes I would take their cocks out of my mouth so they could replenish my spit with theirs. Bryan spat on his cock right before it went back in my mouth. Randy came over to see what I was up to. "Hey, get back to work on Ronnie over there!" Bryan scolded him. Randy shrugged his shoulders. "That guy already came. I think he's unconscious now. Looks like all the action's over here!" Without saying a word, Bryan reached over and pinched Randy's nose, causing him to involuntarily open his mouth to breathe. Bryan bent over and hocked a loogie into his little brother's mouth. "Thanks, bro. How did you know I always wanted you to do that to me?" "Well, your little friend here seems to really dig it, so I figured you would, too." I let go of Bryan's dick and offered it to Randy. As Randy got on his knees to suck off his big brother, I knew that his lifelong dream had come true. I've never seen a boy so happy as Randy at that moment. Many gobs of spit later, Randy was treated to his first taste of his brother's cum and I was treated to Chip's. Once it was all over, the two guys woke Ronnie up and tried to get him home. That left me and Randy to go and wash up by a nearby stream. "You know, at 1:30 today, I went to the boys' room to secretly taste some piss. I thought I was a freak. I couldn't tell anyone my secret," Randy said. "Little did I know I was going to meet you, and that my life would change in an instant. This has been a very special day for me, Jaden. Thank you." And then he kissed me. His mouth tasted of everything we had shared: piss, spit and cum. "Things are never gonna be the same between me and my brother, that's for sure!" "You know, Randy, I feel the same way as you. For years, I never had anyone to talk to about the things I do with my dad and my brother Adam." Randy was aghast. "You mean you've done your brother before? And your dad?! Omigod! Fuck! I'm so jealous! I had no idea!" "I guess I've got a lot to tell you, Randy. It's a long story. Why don't you ask your mom if you can sleep over tonight and I'll tell you everything." "Great idea. You know, after all that, neither of us had a chance to get off yet. I'll come over and we'll finish each other off in your bed." "Sounds good to me."

Other Parts of the Urinal Boy Series: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

 

Originally posted on https://statdig.com

The Family Slave

Hello, let me start off by telling you more about myself. My name is Carter and I am turning 18 years old today. I just graduated from high school and have always looked forward to my life starting as an adult. I have never been athletic. I am an average student and graduated in the middle of my class. I am about 5’10” tall and weigh 155 pounds.

You could say I’m kind of on the skinny side. I have Blond hair and green eyes. You could say I am very cute looking. Not a sex object just your average Twink looking gay boy. Now I know I’m gay, but I am still a virgin and in the closet. I am very close to my family, so I think they know I’m gay, but I have never come out and told them.

I have a big family. There is my dad and mom, and my dad has 2 brothers and one sister, my mom has 2 sisters and 3 brothers, and I have 4 brothers and no sisters. I have 3 older brothers and one younger brother. And lots of cousins. So, its my birthday and I’m out with a couple of friends. My oldest brother texts me and tells me I need to come home right away.

So, me and my two friends head to my house and when I walk in all my family is there yelling SURPRISE. They had set up a party for my 18th birthday. I was shocked and happy. We all partied and had fun all night long. I decided to tell my dad that I was gay so I asked him if I could talk to him in the other room and once there, I was very nervous and just came right out and said.

“Dad I think you might already know this, but I need to tell you that I’m gay.”

My dad looked right at me and said.

“I know Carter, the whole family knows. We just figured you would tell us when you’re ready. If you ever need to talk about it or have questions don’t be afraid to ask me or your brothers anything.”

I looked at my dad with a big smile and a feeling of relief. And we went back to the party. After the party was over all my brothers stayed the night because it was getting late. I couldn’t sleep so I snuck into my brothers’ room that was one year older than me and still live at the house. I woke him up and asked him if we could go for a walk outside that I needed to talk to him.

We went outside and I told him about me being gay and that I told dad earlier in the day at the party. He laughed and told me.

“Like we didn’t already know. So, are you a Top or Bottom?”

I looked at my brother and said.

“I don’t know I am still a virgin and I don’t know what I like.”

So, let’s stop the conversation I am having with my brother so I can let you know about him. He has the same build and looks as I do. Blond hair and green eyes, he is 19 years old and his name is Josh. He is 5’11” and about 160 pounds. He has blond hair like me and green eyes like me also. We have been inseparable ever since we were little. He is my closest brother, we did everything together growing up, but the biggest difference between us is he is straight and has a girlfriend. So back to what we were talking about.

So, after telling him I was a Virgin my brother looked at me and said.

“Well Carter let me say one thing real fast, my girl hates sucking my dick so why don’t you get down on those knees of your and get to sucking my dick.”

I looked at him and thought did he just say that to me? I look right into Josh’s eyes and said.

“Are you serious? You really want me to suck your dick? I have never had sex or sucked a dick ever in my life. I won’t be good at it”

“Yeah bro I want you to, the way I look at it is that you can get the practice and I can get my dick sucked at the same time because my girl won’t suck me.”

I looked at Josh and the I went to my knees and said.

“Ok Josh lets do this. I will suck your dick for you.”

Josh then said to me.

“Now don’t get so jumpy just yet Carter, you have to know a few things before you say yes. I will not treat you as my brother but as a bitch. Just so you know once we start, I will not stop until I cum. Also, you need to know it won’t be a one-time thing, anytime and anywhere I tell you to drop to your knees and suck my dick you must obey, and I’m not going to be nice, I will teach you how to suck a proper dick.”

I looked right in my brothers face and agreed to his terms, I just wanted to suck my first dick so bad right then. So, Josh moved closer and got his crotch right to my face and looked down at me and said.

“What are you waiting for bitch? Get my dick out and start sucking faggot.”

I looked up at my brother and said.

“Do you seriously have to talk to me that way Josh?”

Josh then raised his hand and slapped me across the face as hard as he could and said.

“First off bitch yes I do need to talk to you that way, I told you before you agreed to this that I will treat you as a bitch, second off don’t you ever talk back to me ever again and do as your ordered to do.”

So, I then put my hands on the top of his paints and went to unbuckle his belt when Josh then slapped me across the face as hard as he could again and said.

“Ok bitch I can see that I have a lot of training to do with you, when a straight alpha like myself lets you suck his dick you must pull his dick out using your mouth only. You need to take a real mans dick out without touching it with your fag hands.”

I then moved my face up to his crotch and used my mouth to undo his belt buckle and then moved to the button oh his paints. I could feel his dick getting hard when I was trying to get the button undone and I was having problems getting his paints undone with my mouth since it was the first time I have ever done this and I was taking a long time doing it when I felt Josh slap me across the face once again and he looked down at me and said.

“Bitch I am going to keep bitch slapping you until you learn what to do fag, you need to learn to get faster and make me happy, you don’t want me to get mad because it would not be good for you bitch. Now get back to work and get my dick out in the next 3 minutes or next time I’m not going to slap you, but I will punch you so hard in the face that you will have a fat lip and bloody nose. Now I’m going to time you, so you better learn and get that dick out bitch.”

When Josh moved back up to me, I started to undo his paints once again with my mouth still having problems Josh said one minute gone two minutes left. And then I started to go nuts on his button and finally got it undone, then I took my teeth and pulled down his zipper, and Josh then said one-minute left bitch. So, I took my mouth and pulled his paints down and I heard Josh say 10, 9, 8 counting down the last minute when I pulled his underwear down and out pooped his 9-inch dick and smacked me in the face. Then I looked up and seen Josh smiling and he said.

“Great job bitch, see what a little motivation can do? Your learning, now put that cock sucker on my dick and start sucking.”

I put my mouth around his dick for the first time and the first time I have ever had a dick in my mouth. I got the first three inches in and Josh pulled his dick out real fast and smacked me hard across my face and yelled out.

“You are a fucking cunt, get your fucking teeth off my dick bitch before I knock them out of your fucking mouth, now do it right bitch.”

Josh then grabbed the back of my head and shoved his dick back in my mouth. This time I covered my teeth with my lips to make sure not to touch his dick with them. Josh then grabbed the back of my head and kept pushing my head into him hitting the back of my throat and I was gagging like crazy. I then heard Josh say.

“Good job on coving those teeth bitch but now you need to learn to relax your throat to let my dick down there bitch, trust me it will be easier on you because it don’t matter to me if you relax or not since my dick will go in with force or you relaxing.”

I tried my hardest to relax but I couldn’t it was hard for me to do since I have never done this before when I felt Josh grab the back of my head tight and shove his dick all the way in balls deep. I started to gag like crazy and my throat felt like it was on fire since Josh forced his dick down my throat. Josh then held my head buried into his crotch and said.

“That’s it you bitch, take that dick, oh yeah that feels great. Gag on it you bitch. I told you I was going down your throat no matter what. It feels so great bitch, your going to become a great cock sucker faggot.”

I had tears running down my face and was hoping it would stop. Josh was being so brutal with me and making me gag like crazy. This blow job has been going on for 30 minutes now and we were in the back yard of the house where at any time anyone could wake up and look in the back yard and see what was going on. I wanted it to jut stop. But I knew that Josh wouldn’t stop until he came.

Josh finally let go of my head and then started to move his hips to make his dick go in and out of my throat. I finally felt his dick start to throb and heard Josh say.

“That’s it you bitch keep that up, I’m about to cum any moment now. OH yeah that’s it you bitch. Oh yeah, I’m seeding your throat faggot, take that seed down that throat bitch. Make that dick you faggot.”

My throat was now on fire, I never stopped gagging, I had tears running down my eyes and I felt so used. I lip hurt from my teeth rubbing on them so that my teeth would not rub on Josh’s dick. I had Josh’s cum running down my throat and into my stomach. After Josh was finished, he ripped his dick out of my throat, put his hand on my head and push me to the ground. Josh then pulled up his underwear and paints and said to me.

“That was great bitch, you learned to keep those teeth off my dick and how to take a dick down your throat bitch. Now get the fuck up and follow me into the house and go to bed. We don’t need anyone asking why we are out here because I will tell them the truth. So, if you don’t want to tell them yet that you’re a fag you better hurry up.”

I went to say Ok and nothing came out, I then tried to talk, and it hurt to talk. Josh then started to laugh and said.

“Damn bitch, I really used that throat good, didn’t I? Well get use to it because it will happen a lot more now. Happy Birthday Fag and welcome to your new life.”

I went in the house and went to bed I laid there thinking about what just happened. I now sucked my first dick but didn’t know it was going to be so brutal. I was just so thankful no one seen me on my knees taking Josh’s dick in the back yard. The next morning, I woke up and my throat was still sore. I sat down at the kitchen table while my mom cooked us breakfast.

Josh then came down and sat right next to me and whispered in my ear.

“Damn I wish the family knew how much of a fag you are, I would have you under this table right now feeding you my cum for your breakfast. By the way I have something special for you this morning. When mom puts your plate in front of you hand it to me.”

A few minutes passed and my mom put a plate of pancakes in front of me and turned around to get everyone’s plates. The Josh picked up my plate and put it under the table. I looked over and he had a small glass with his morning cum in it and he poured it all over my pancakes. He then put my plate in front of me and said.

“Eat up Carter, you better eat ever bite.”

My mom then said.

“That’s right carter I want to see your plate empty before you get up and go out with your friends today. I don’t need you hungry.”

I have never used syrup or butter on my pancakes. I have always liked them plain. My youngest brother looked at my plate and seen the cum on my pancakes and laughed. He is 16 years old. His name is Damien, he is 5’7″ and about 150 pounds. He also has Blond hair like me and my brother, but he has nice blue eyes. The kind that I wish I had. Unlike me and Josh he has a great body. Six pack abs, and a tan body to die for.

I sat there eating these pancakes covered in Josh’s cum. I now got a good taste of his cum unlike last night when it was just deposited into my stomach. I could tell his cum was a little sweet with a little after taste of bitterness. I sat there in front of my family eating my brothers cum and the only one that noticed was my youngest brother Damien. After I finished every bite, I got up to leave with my friends when Josh said.

“Hey Carter, I’m coming with you today I have nothing to do and I don’t want to be bored.”

I replied, “No Josh I’m going out with my friends today I will catch up with you later.”

My mom then interrupted and said.

“Carter your bother can go with you or you’re not going yourself stop being selfish.”

Damien then said.

“Mom I want to go also can I go with them?”

That’s when Josh said.

“Maybe next time buddy I want to spend time with Cater since it was just his birthday.”

Damien then started to act sad that he could not go until our mom said for us to take him along also, that she felt it would be a good bonding time for the three of us.

I was happy Damien was going because that meant that Josh couldn’t do anything to me all day in front of him. I could see that Josh was not happy about it and I knew if it was just me and Josh that I would have never made it to my friend’s house, and he would have other plans for us.

We all got into the car and I started to drive us to my friend’s house when Damien started to talk.

“So, Carter I seen you sucking Josh’s dick last night in the back yard. Josh really put you in your place, didn’t he? You want to suck my dick? I watched you eat his cum all over your breakfast this morning and you ate every bite.”

Right at that moment my heart dropped into my stomach and Josh’s face got the biggest smile on his face. Then Josh said.

“Yeah Damien, Carter would love to suck your dick. You know he is a faggot, right?”

Damien replied.

“Yeah, I know, I seen him go to town on your dick Josh. I was hoping Carter would want to suck me also.”

Josh then replied

“Ok later let’s go to Carters friends house and hang out first. I really did just come along to hang out also.”

I was happy that we were all just going to hang out and I would still get to see my friends but horrified that Damien seen me sucking Josh’s dick and that he also wanted me to suck his dick.

We finally pulled up to my friend’s mike house and Mike and my other friend Cody came out and got in my car. I said hi and then went to the water park near our house. When we got to the water park, we all got out of the car and went in. Once in there I headed right to the bathhouse to change into my swimming trunks. Cody and Mike already had theirs on, so they went swimming when I went to change.

Cody was three months younger than me, so he was still 17 years old, he is also tall at 6’2″, about 175 pounds and was in great shape, he has brown hair and beautiful dark gray eyes. He is the only person I have ever seen with eyes like that. Cody is straight with a beautiful girlfriend.

Mike on the other hand is two months older than me so he was already 18 years old. He was about the same height as me at 5’10” but was chubby at around 220 pounds. He has Brown hair also but hazel eyes. He has dated girls here and there but never really keeps them. Right now, he is single, but he is straight as well like Cody.

Damien changed super-fast and ran out the doors to go swimming, I went into the dressing area and pulled the curtain to change cloths. I had just finished getting ready and was about to head out when Josh came in and shut the curtain behind us and said.

“Ok bitch time to suck my dick again.”

I looked at Josh and replied.

“No not here, we are in public in the middle of the day with people all around.”

Josh then raised his hand and bitch slapped me hard across my face again and replied.

“I told you bitch, anytime, and anywhere. And when I said that I meant it so if you don’t want me to make a scene and force my dick down your fag throat you better get down on your knees and get to work.”

I now had tears in my eyes, and I knew he would force me no mater what. I dropped to my knees and put my hand on the top of his swimming trunks and Josh slapped me again across the face reminding me I need to use my mouth. I put my mouth to pull his shorts down and noticed they wouldn’t go down and seen he tied them, and I had to untie the string to pull them down.

I thought to myself why the hell would he tie up his shorts if he knew he was going to make me suck his dick. As I was untying the string on his shorts, I realized why he did that. He was getting hard while I did that, and it was a way to make sure he was hard for me to suck him. Knowing where we were it didn’t take me long to get his shorts off so I can hurry up and suck him off so no one would come in and see when I heard Josh say.

“Damn bitch you must really want my dick bad today, you got my junk out fast, ok get to work and get me off, the faster you work my dick the faster we can go swimming with Damien and your friends.”

I then put my mouth around Josh’s dick and started to suck. This time I remembered to cover my teeth. I then started to gag once again on Josh’s dick. Then Josh started to hit the back of my throat and then forced his dick back into my throat. Right at that moment I heard Cody come in and yell for me.

“Hey Carter, where are you? Your taking a long time. We are waiting for you to go down the slide.”

Josh then yelled out.

“Hey dude we are back here.”

I then tried to pull my head off Josh’s dick when I felt josh put his hands behind my head and lock his fingers together and hold my head balls deep gagging like crazy on his dick when I heard Cody open the curtain and look right at me on Josh’s dick and he yelled out really loud.

“What the fuck man? Why the hell are you on your knees sucking your brothers dick man?”

He yelled so loud I’m shocked the entire water park didn’t hear him when Josh then said while letting up a little and start to move my head up and down on his shaft and telling Cody.

“Your friend here is a fag dude. I’m shocked you didn’t know that. He loves dick, and I’m helping him to learn how to suck a dick.”

Cody the replied back in a normal voice.

“I never thought about him being a fag before. He is just a friend, so I didn’t think of it. I know he was always teased in school, but I just figured that’s all it was. I didn’t know he was really a faggot. Just so you know though I’m straight. So, are you a fag also Josh?”

Josh replied.

“No dude I’m straight also, I just enjoy getting my dick sucked, my girl won’t do it. So why not let a fag suck me off.”

During them talking about me I was still down on Josh, gagging and chocking like crazy on his dick. They kept talking about Josh’s girl not sucking dick and Cody saying his girl tried before but sucked at it and hurt him so he wouldn’t let his girl suck him. Then Josh said.

“See the fag here is not good at it also, but once he learns he will be a natural born c=cock sucker and it will feel great. At least he learned not to use his teeth and it don’t hurt. I just need to now teach him how to make me feel great while getting sucked off.”

Right then Josh started to moan and push his dick down my throat to cum down inside my stomach once again. Cody then laughed and I was swallowing Josh’s cum and Josh once again ripped his dick out and pushed me to the floor. Then Josh told Cody.

“Don’t expect the fag to be able to talk for a little while. He needs time for his throat to get back to normal after taking my dick down his throat.”

Cody said ok and then Josh pulled his shorts up and told me to get off the floor and that we are going swimming now. So, we all left the changing room and went out to go swimming. Mike asked what took so long and Cody replied.

“Mike you won’t believe this, but Carter was sucking off Josh. Carter is a fag.”

Mike replied

“I kind of figured that but he is our friend. But now that the cat is out of the bag or should I say the fag is out of the closet, maybe he might want to suck us also.”

Josh replied.

“Yes, please do I need help to teach him how to suck a great dick. We need to help him so when he meets a guy, he likes he will definitely snag him with his great head.”

I was feeling so low at that moment, but I also asked for it. I agreed to Josh’s terms just so I could suck his dick last night. I just didn’t know in lest than 24 hours I would be sucking him again and that my other brother and my two best friends would know about me.

I just put it behind me and had fun at the water park with my friends and brothers. It was normal, we went on the slides and went swimming in the pool. When Cody suggested we het into the hot tub. All five of us went in and was relaxing when Cody moved next to me and whispered in my ear.

“Hey, fag I need a hand job.”

He then grabbed my hand and pushed it into his shorts under the water in front of everyone and I felt his rock-hard dick for the first time. He must have been at least 10 inches and thick. I pulled away from him and took my hand out of his shorts when Josh whispered in my other ear on the other side of me.

“Fag you better put your bitch hand back into his shorts and show your friend some respect and give him the hand job he wants and apologize to him for pulling away and tell him you will never pull away again, or when we get home I’m going to take you out back and beat you with my belt until your black and blue. Got that bitch?”

I instantly put my hand back into his shorts and grabbed his dick and started to jerk off one of my best friends. I then apologize to him and told him I would never pull away again. Cody looked over at Josh and Josh winked at Cody to say I got you. Cody smiled and leaned back as I gave him a hand job in front of everyone. Mike seen this and Josh moved away to let Mike in and put my other hand in his shorts to give him a hand job also. Mike I could tell was only about 7 inches and felt more like mine.

I was starting to worry about myself because the only dicks I have touched before yesterday was my own and then when I felt Josh and Cody’s dicks, they were much bigger than me and I was worried I was small. So, there I was giving my two best friends hand jobs at the same time as they leaned back enjoying themselves. I the heard Cody say to Mike.

“Isn’t it great having a fag as a friend Mike? We will always get off now.”

Mike replied.

“Hell, yeah I wish the fag would have came out years ago, he could have been making our dicks feel good all these years.”

This is the first time I heard my two best friends call me a fag and tell each other how they would have used me for years if I had told them. In a way I wish I did tell Cody because I kind of found him attractive. But then again, I never though of Cody in a sexual way before.

Cody the whispered in my ear.

“Ok fag in about to cum so put your mouth around my dick and swallow mu cum so that it does not go in the hot tub.”

I the put my head under water and put Cody’s Dick in my mouth and he pushed my head all the way down my throat and came right into my stomach. I thought I was about to die because I started to gag and chock on his dick and Cody moved up to pull me out of the water to swallow his cum so if anyone would have looked over at the hot tub they would have seen me on his dick, but luckily no one seen except my little Brother Damien.

I then continued to give Mike his hand job and Mike was about to cum also, but instead of putting my head under water he just moved up and shoved my head down on his dick balls deep. I once again gagged like crazy as Mike came down my throat.

But this time Mike was making so much noise these two boys in their early teens walked by and said.

“Holly shit there a guy sucking the cum out of that dude. What faggot’s”

After I got done swallowing Mikes cum Mike told the boys he wasn’t gay he just likes getting off and faggots are great for that. The boys laughed and told Mike.

“Well use that faggot good for us then.”

Mike smiled and said he would.

Damien said it was he turn but Josh told him to wait until we got home, and he could get head from me tonight. Damien agreed and wanted to go home right away but Josh told him that we had to wait for it to get dark first before having me suck him off.

I now felt so low. Now two strangers saw me with my mouth around Mikes dick. The sad thing is I didn’t even find Mike attractive.

On our way home Josh took my keys and he drove back to Cody’s house. Cody then got a call on his cell phone and it was his parents. They had told him that they are going out tonight with some friends and most likely will be drinking so they are getting a hotel room for the night and wanted to make sure Cody was ok with that. He was fast to say yes and asked if me Mike and my brothers could stay the night tonight. They of course said yes. Then Cody said he had a great idea for tonight to call and see if we all could stay the night. My parents said yes for us and Mikes parents said yes also.

Once we got to Cody’s house his parents were already gone, and Cody’s only brother didn’t live there, and he had his own place. Cody looked at me and said.

`Oh, are we going to have fun tonight, I have some ideas if its ok with Josh.’

Josh replied he was up for anything as well as Mike and Damien.

Once in the house all four of them made a circle around me and Josh pushed me to my knees, and I looked up at them with evil grins on all their faces.

Josh looked down at me and smiled saying.

“Ok I think before we go any further, we should sit down with Carter and set some rules. Come over here Carter we need to disuse some things.”

I stood up off the floor and sat down on the couch and Josh then explained to me.

“You see Carter I don’t think this will work out with just you submitting to us. I think if you want to suck any of our dicks again you need to be our slave. Now we can’t force you into this, it will have to be your choice. We can go through things we want and what limits you have. But you must agree, and if you don’t want to do that it fine, just know you will not get to suck our dicks again.”

I thought about it for a few minutes and I knew that I wanted to be able to suck their dicks. I knew it was rough with the aging and being forceful, but I also knew I would get use to it. I wanted Josh’s dick, and if I had to suck the other three to just be able to suck Josh off I would, so I looked at Josh and said.

“Yes, I agree to be your guy’s slave. Just as long as I get to suck your dick Josh.”

Josh then replied

“Don’t worry you will, we will go over everything. I’m going to download a contract from the internet for us all to sign, we can go to town hall tomorrow to have it notarized.”

Cody then jumped into the conversation and said.

“Why wait until tomorrow? My brother is a notary and he can make it legal, let me give him a call.”

Cody called his brother and informed up that he was on his way over to make the document legal. Josh went on Cody’s computer and found a slave contract and printed it out. Once Cody’s brother got there, he sat down at the dining room table with all of us and we went through the contract.

Cody’s brother’s name is Adam and was 26 years old, about 6’1″ tall like Cody, he also was also about 175 pounds and was in great shape, he has brown hair and dark green eyes. He is also straight and has been dating the same girl for 4 years. He just got engaged to her a couple months back.

So, Josh said in the contract that he wants Him, Damien, Cody, and Mike to be the Master’s, and that they will all have equal and total control over me. I will be turned into an object, and if they wish that they all can rename me if they like. As far as their point there would be no limits to what they want on them to do with me, even have me serve and obey other men.

Now it was my turn to go through the Slave part of the contract. When asked what limits I have that I would not want done with me and where I can say no to. The only thing I could think of was that I was not to be told or must have sex with any female. See I never thought of anything else that I wouldn’t want to do.

The next part of the contract was term of length in time that the contract would be valid. In the comment section it said life term unless all four masters sign off on releasing me from their part of the contract. Then Adam explained to me and said.

“Now Carter I need to you understand this part very good. This contract will stay valid you entire like unless all four of them decide to release you from your obligations. Now if Josh releases you then what that would mean is Josh would not be your master any longer but Damien, Cody, and Mike still would have ownership so you would still be their slave until they don’t want in the contract anymore. Do you understand this Carter?”

I shook my head yes and said that I understand it and I agree with the terms.

We went through four pages and finally finished the contract. There were two copies made. One for us and one to be filed away with Adam at his office. He had all four of them sign the contract and then the papers were in front of me with the pen in my hand. I looked down at the contract and seen where it said Master with all four of their signatures on them. The next line down I seen the word slave.

I wasn’t sure why I did it, but I took the pen and signed both copies. And Adam filed one away in his brief case and locked up his brief case up. Then Adam said.

“Alright Boys you now officially own a slave, and Carter your officially their property and considered an object. So, about my payment, I want the slave to suck my dick. Kim has been out of town now all week and I could really use a good blow job.”

Cody looked at me and said.

“You heard the man fag get to work on his dick bitch.”

I looked at Cody and said that I prefer not to when I got a slap across the face by Josh and was told now that I have signed the contract, I don’t have a choice, I must obey by law. So, I then went down under the dining room table and Adam already had his dick hanging out. For me to get on it.

I started to suck on Adams dick under the table as they all sat around talking about me and what to rename me. As I sucked on Adams dick I looked around under the table and seen everyone’s crotch and thought to myself that I was going to be busy tonight. Adam started to get hard and I could tell that he was hung just like Cody. Must have been 10 inches long and thick also. Must run in the family.

Adam didn’t force me down like Josh did and the others, he just sat there and enjoyed his blow job. Adam finally was about to cum when I felt his hands go under the table and hold my head still as he shot cum in my mouth and hit the back of my throat. His cum tasted very bitter and I couldn’t handle the amount of cum, so it came out of my mouth and hit the floor.

When he was done, he pulled out and stood up and pulled his paints up and looked down at me and said.

“You better lick all that cum up off the floor faggot. You better not waste a single drop of my nectar bitch.”

I then put my face to the floor and started to lick up the cum off the floor and eat it. Everyone else just watched me and laughed as I had my face on the floor licking up cum and eating it. Then Josh looked at me and told me my new name he said.

“Well fag we talked about it and we got the new name you will go by and answer to. Your new name is Slut. Everyone will call you by that name from now on and you will only answer to that name. Got it Slut?”

I looked up and said yes, and with that Josh slapped me across the face hard and said.

“From now on you say yes master, you only call me master and you only call Damien, Cody, and Mike master also. I don’t want to hear any of our actual names come out of that cock sucker of your again. Understand Slut?”

I looked up at Josh and said.

“Yes, Master I understand Master.”

Josh had a big smile on his face and told me that I was a good faggot. After Adam was finished, he got his stuff together and told everyone bye and left. Damien then came over to me and looked down at me and said.

“Finally fag it’s my turn to get that blow job. Get between my legs and suck that dick.”

I then moved my way over to my 16-year-old brother that has already pulled his dick out for me to suck, and I put my mouth around his dick and started to suck. The thing is he was about 7 inches hard and was around the same size as I was, but he was still growing, and I knew when he was 18 years old like me, he would have a monster dick like my brother.

I wondered why I was the only male in our family with a smaller dick. I still gagged on him and chocked I was still not use to sucking dick yet. It’s only been 3 days but then again it was the fifth guys dick I had in my mouth to this point. It didn’t take Damien long when he then started to cum down my throat. He started to moan and smile. He didn’t call me any names or say anything to me. He just moaned as he shot cum down my throat. After he was finished, he looked down at me and said.

“Damn fag you must be getting better at that because you suck dick better than my girlfriend.”

Now the funny thing is what should had made me feel low was the fact I just sucked off another one of my brothers or the fact that my family is calling me a fag, but no the thing that bothered me was that my 16 year old brother was already getting his dick sucked by his girlfriend and here I was 18 years old and has never been in a relationship and I don’t know what it feels like to get sucked off myself. Up until this weekend, I have never been naked in front of anyone.

Then Cody and Mike decided that it was their turn to get my mouth around their dicks. I sucked them both off and they both moaned and called me names and they both made me eat their cum again. After they was finished everyone went to bed and I slept on the couch.

The next morning Me Josh and Damien got in the car and Josh drove. We drove to an adult store and told Damien he had to wait in the car. Once we stepped in some guy asked for our ids and seen I just turned 18 and congratulated me and told me happy birthday.

Josh and I was looking at the BDSM area and looking at collars. The same guy that asked for our ID’s came over and asked up if there was anything, he could help us find and Josh said.

“Yeah I’m looking to buy my slave here a collar that I can lock on him. Do you have anything like that?”

The guy replied.

“We sure do it all depends on what kind you want. We have leather collars that you can put a pad lock on them to a metal ring collar, it locks in place with a small tool inside it and depends on how much of a level you want to keep him locked in there. Some people like to be locked in collars and they get the metal one like this and squirt super glue in the locking device and locks it on his neck for good. It would take a lot of power tools to get it off. Your slave would not be able to remove it.”

Josh smiled and bought the metal ring collar. The collar had a metal hoop to connect a leash to and a place to have an engravement put on it. We then got back into the car and Josh showed Damien the collar and he laughed and said we have one last stop before going home.

We then stopped at this engraving store where they engrave jewelry and other things. Josh grabbed the collar and told Damien to get in the back seat of the car with me. I was told I had to sit in the back now that I’m a slave. And said.

“Damien get in the back with slut while I go have his collar engraved, and slut you suck on Damien’s dick while I’m in there.”

Damien smiled and got right out and jumped in the back with me and said.

“Get to sucking faggot”

I didn’t have to take his shorts down with my mouth this time because he whipped it out and put his hand on the back of my head and shoved me into his crotch. I sucked him and started to gag once again. Damien rolled down the window to feel the breeze and put his hands on the back of his head and stretched out laying his head back and said.

“There is nothing better than relaxing while a fag sucks my dick. Keep that up and I will cum down your throat in no time Slut.”

It didn’t take long, and Damien put his hands on the back of my head and pushed down as hard as he could to shove his dick down my sore throat and came down my throat. Just as he finished Josh came out and Damien jumped up front again and we drove home.

Once we got home Josh told my dad and mom that he wanted to know if the family could get together for a meeting. They of course loved family meetings so it was a fast yes. My parents are very laid-back go with the flow kind of people. They are very open minded and never judge anyone. My other two brothers and my sister came, and we all sat down in the living room and Josh stood up and started to talk.

“hey fam I know everyone knows it was just Carters 18th birthday. Well he came out to me and told me he was gay and wanted to know if he could be mine and Damien’s slave. Last night we got a contract printed off and we all singed it and had the document legally binding.”

At that moment Josh pulled out the contract and handed it to my parents. They read it and passed it on for the rest of my family to read. After they all read it my dad then said.

“You know Josh I don’t mind, if that’s what you kids want that’s fine. I’m happy for you. Me and your mom want you to feel free to be who you are, and you can make any rules you like for your new slave and enforce the rules here at the house. The only thing I ask is that the chores around the house still get done.”

Josh replied

“Oh, don’t worry about that dad the slave will do all the chores every day to keep the house spotless.”

My dad said they was ok with that and that we should feel free to do as we like. Then Josh told the family my new name and my role in this life now. I just sat there being quiet. Then Josh got the collar and put it around my neck and locked it in place and then he went to the other room and came back with super glue and locked it around my neck for good. He did this in front of all my family as they watched me be collared and locked in it.

My dad came over to me and looked at the collar and read the engraving and said.

“Josh, I take it you named him Slut?”

Josh laughed and said.

“Yeah we did, and Damien and I would like it if everyone called our slave by that name for now on.”

My oldest Brother Kurt said.

“Hell, yeah we will. So, Slut, you suck any dick yet?”

Damien jumped in and said.

“Yeah he did he sucked Josh four times now he also sucked me twice and then sucked his best friends Mike and Cody once each and gave them both hand jobs at the water park and swallowed they’re cum after jerking them off and that was just this weekend.”

Kurt looked at me and said.

“Damn Slut you have been busy. You need to suck me off also I think.”

Kurt is the oldest of all the children at 28 years old. He was 5’11” and around 180 pounds. He had some muscles, and a slim figure more like a swimmer build. He had dirty blond hair. Darker than me and my brothers but still blond, and he has dark blue eyes.

My sister was the second born, and then there is my Brother Aaron that is the third born at the age 22. He is 5’8″ and weighs 165 pounds. He has blondish red hair. Him and my sister are the only two that got red hair. And he has the nicest eyes of all of us with sky blue eyes. He is built because he works out, and he is your average straight sport guy type.

Aaron goes to the university in town and lives on campus. He is also the quiet one in the family and don’t talk much but when he doses talk, he makes it meaningful, and Aaron then said.

“Josh why don’t you make Slut get a job and have his checks direct deposited into your account so you can use the money on things you may need for him, maybe even pay you back for that collar and get more things for him, and if you like you can always bring him to my frat house and me and my frat brothers can help you and teach you how to be a better master.”

Josh smiled and told him that was a great idea and had me go online and look for jobs. I have never had to work at a job before, my parents always felt that we didn’t need to worry about jobs and only focus on our schoolwork. The only two of us kids that have jobs right now is my sister and my brother Kurt because they are now out of school.

Josh is taking a couple years off from school to figure out what he wants to go to college for, so my parents didn’t make him get a job yet, my brother Aaron is in school and me and Damien have been in high school. So, I went online and found a couple places to put my application in at. I spent around two hours putting in applications when my cell phone rang, and it was one of the jobs wanting to interview me.

I went later that day, I got all dressed up and looked great except for the collar around my neck that I could not take off even if I wanted to. It was a job at a five-star hotel as a bell hop. I went in and meet with the manager and the interview last for over an hour. We talked about my schooling and then the manager asked me.

“So, Carter what is up with that metal ring around your neck?”

I put my head down in shame and told him all about me being a slave and it was super glued shut and could never come off. I thought at that moment the interview was over and I didn’t get the job but by my surprise he just said.

“Well to each their own, as long as you dress up and show our guests respect and their property with respect, you got the job, you seem like a well-mannered young man and truthfully being a slave is going to work to your advantage because I know you will never give our guest any problems. And will treat them good.”

He explained to me that it was minimum wage with tips, and only 20 hours a week to start. I signed all the paperwork and then filled out the direct deposit form to have my money be sent to Josh’s account.

I left the hotel and got back in the car in the back seat because Josh drove me there and I told him I was hired. Josh was happy and then took me back home. Once we got back inside the house Josh told my dad that I did get the job and then my dad said.

“Good glad to hear that, and now I can give you a advancement and we can go get some supplies to start Slut off right if you want. I will just keep the recites and you pay me back once Slut starts making you money.”

Josh got excited and took our dad up on his offer and then my dad said.

“Damien we will be back, you are in charge of your slave until we get back.”

My dad and Josh left the house and Damien looked at me and told me to start cleaning the house. I must clean every room top to bottom. Damien then told our mom to relax and watch a movie whit him that she did enough, and he wanted to spend time with her.

My mom went in the living room and sat down as I cleaned the house. This did not bother me at all because I also felt that my mom dose way too much and she needs a break and I was happy to clean the house while she rested. My dad and Josh were gone for about four hours until they came back.

By the time they got back to the house I had already cleaned all the dishes, clean the counters, mop the floors, vacuumed the entire house, dusted and made the house look perfect. Not one thing was out of place and now was sitting on the chair in the living room watching television with Damien and my mom. When I heard my dad say.

“Stand up slut and strip naked.”

I stood up and then said in a questioning voice.

“Why do I need to take my clothes off dad? And right here in front of everyone?”

My dad then said.

“Shut up and do as I tell you to, you’re the one that wanted to be a slave, and you don’t have the right to ask question, just do as your told now strip.”

I wanted to cry so much, my dad’s speech had Josh and Damien laughing, and my mom just sat there as if to say you better listen to your father. So, I then took off my shirt. Removed my shoes and socks and pulled down my shorts. Then I put my fingers in the waist band of my underwear and pulled them down and took them off fast and covered my crotch with my hands standing in front of my family naked. My dad then said to me.

“Remove your hands from your crotch slut and put them behind you head.”

I did as I was told and now my dick was there for all to see. This is the first time any of my brothers has seen me naked. My dad and Josh took out something from a bag and took it out of the packaging and wend down between my legs and said.

“Ok Slut this here is called a chastity device. Once we put it on you, you won’t be able to touch your dick again. It’s to keep you from getting to aroused and stops you from being able to cum.”

Now I was scared, I had jerked off at least three times a day. It was one of my favorite things to do. And now with this metal cage around my dick I won’t even be able to touch it at all. The only good thing was after it was on my family didn’t see my dick anymore. Then my dad grabbed around the top part of my balls and pulled them down hard as he connected a metal ring around my balls and shaft at the base right up to my skin on my pubes. It hurt like hell having my dad pulling down on my balls.

I can’t believe I was standing the naked with my hands behind my head as my dad and brother was all in my crotch area fondling me. When I heard my dad tell Josh.

“We better hurry up Josh the fag is starting to get hard with us down here putting this on.”

Oh My God is all I could think. I was getting hard with my dad and brother grabbing at me and putting this chastity on me. I then felt them putting a tube in my piss hole and it started to burn bad. I was told to stand still and shut the fuck up while they finished up.

I finally heard the pad lock click shut and they moved away. I looked down between my crotch only to see a sold metal tub where my dick uses to be and my balls hanging below. Josh then went into the other room and brought out the super glue once again and filled the inside of the small pad lock that was locking it shut.

He kept putting little by little of the super glue in at a time to let it dry and put more in until it covered the inside of the lock and no key could go in and I was permanently locked up. I then asked.

“How am I going to pee if this thing is lock on me for good?”

Josh then said to me.

“Well you see Slut when we were at the adult store me and dad talked a lot to the guy and asked a lot of questions. I picked this one out because it has a stopper attached to it and that’s what that tube inside you dick dose.”

Josh then lifted the chastity up and pointed it to my face to see at the tip there was a bolt that screwed on and off when he took it off I seen a rubber stopper on the inside and then he screwed it back on and said.

“So, to answer your question, when you need to go you need to ask permission and if I give you permission, I will take it off for you to go. That also stops you from Cumming, so you need permission for that also. But I don’t see how you will ever cum because your dick is locked up and can’t be touched again.”

I was then taken to the bathroom by Josh and he pulled out a razor and shaving cream, he told me to get into the bathtub and then started to put the shaving cream all over my crotch. He then started to shave me when I said.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Josh then slapped me across the face and said.

“Don’t you ever give me that tone again Slut, in fact you don’t have the right to ask me anything, but since I feel nice, I will tell you. The guy at the store explained to me some masters shave their slaves body hair off because slaves are not men, and only men have body hair. Now shut the fuck up and let me finish faggot.”

He then shaved me to where there was not once hair on my crotch, he then continued to shave the rest of my body, from my toes to my neck. I did not have one single hair on my body. It was strange looking at my legs and arms with no hair, especially my crotch.

Then my dad came into the bathroom when Jodh had finished shaving my body and said.

“Ok Slut I figure since you are a slave now you don’t need a bedroom. Josh and Damien will figure out where you sleep so I want you to clear out your room and put everything in the garage, cloths and all. Anything on the walls goes down also. I do not want anything left in that room it is to be bare. I am turning the room into a craft room for your mom, she has always talked about wanting one.”

I could put cloths back on so that I can go outside and move all my stuff to the garage. The funny thing is I looked over at my mom and she had a smile on her face and was happy about this. I don’t blame her, but I was so upset because I will not have a space for my own anymore. Once I was all done clearing out my room, we all went out to the garage and I had to put all my cloths in bags. I was told to strip right there in the garage and put those cloths in the bag also. Then Josh handed me a set of cloths that I would never wear in a million years and told me to put them on.

The shorts he gave me was a shiny black rubber shorts and a black shinny rubber shirt. When I put them on, they were skintight. The shorts were very short and just covered my butt. They did not go below the top of my thigh. Once I got the shirt on it was also skintight, and very short sleeves that just covered my shoulders. This outfit left nothing to the imagination of my body and showed the chastity on me in detail outlines.

After I got them on, I was told to put all my cloths in the trunk of the car but before I did that Damien and josh then went through my cloths in the garage and picked out what they liked and would wear. I now knew better to ask any questions, so I just did as I was told. I put every single piece of clothing I owned that was not taken by my brothers into the truck of the car. I had a lot of cloths, so the trunk was full.

We then drove to a clothing donation box and I was told to put all the cloths into the donation box. I then looked at Josh and my dad and said.

“Are you serious? That’s all my cloths. I won’t have anything to wear. I can’t do that sorry, I won’t have anything.”

Josh looked at me in the back seat and said.

“Do you really want me to drag you out of this car and beat the living shit out of you while you donate those cloths in front of everyone faggot? Anyways you have a new set of cloths I picked out for you to wear, what I want you in not these cloths for real men.”

I just then got out of the car and went to the trunk when my dad popped the trunk, I started to grab the cloths and put them into the donation box. I heard Josh say while I was doing that.

“That’s what I thought faggot.”

I also heard my dad tell Josh he was proud of him for taking control like he did and that is how a master should be with his slave, and that putting his foot down like that will keep me in line. I at this point was crying. I didn’t want to donate my cloths. I loved my cloths. Once I was finished, I got back in the car and heard Josh say.

“Aw cheer up Slut, it’s not the end of the world. You still have cloths, just new ones for your new life.”

Once we got back to the house I looked over at my mom and Damien and seen a metal cage they had put together and Damien said.

“We finished putting Sluts cage together. Where do you want to put it?”

My dad said for now to just put it in the laundry room until Josh and Damien can figure out together a permanent place for it. I was then put into the cage and it was pad locked to keep me inside of it. My parents told Jodh and Damien goodnight and went to bed, they followed soon after that.

It was a rough night sleeping in that cage for the first time. My bedroom was always pitch dark, and silent, and I had a comfortable bed to sleep in. But in the laundry room had a light on in the room near the kitchen so if anyone ever woke up, they could see around. I could hear every noise in and around the house from there, and I was sleeping on a metal floor of a cage with no blanket or pillow. Every time I did start to fall asleep, I could hear someone either going to the bathroom that was right next to the laundry room or someone getting something to eat from the kitchen.

Also, I realized I have not got to eat anything all day. And every time I heard the refrigerator door open all I could think about was food. The next morning came along and I was let out of the cage by Josh and sat at the table with my family to eat breakfast.

After breakfast Josh went to the computer to look up ideas and things to do and how to treat a slave, what things would be expected and what a slave’s life should be like. He also researched what masters do and how they train slaves. The guy at the adult store told him to do research to be the best owner he could.

While Josh did that, I cleaned the kitchen, and made sure every room in the house was also clean. I went to everyone’s rooms and made their beds, even my parents’ room. I walked into my old room and seen an empty room and wanted to cry. Once I was done cleaning the house and I see Josh he said.

“Well Slut I learned a lot of things and let me say a lot has to change so get ready for your training, I noticed I am being very easy on you and you have to learn your new life.”

With that Josh came over and slapped me in the face as hard as he could and yelled.

“NOW GET ON ALL FOURS SLAVE, I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU STANDING EVER AGAIN UNLESS YOUR CLEANING, OK FAG GET THE FUCK DOWN NOW BEFORE I BEAT THE FUCK OUT OF YOU.”

I went to my knees and put my hands on the floor and was on all fours. I then started to cry because this all happened in front of my parents and they didn’t say a word. They just looked at me and watched me obey Josh like this, I then heard my dad say.

“Keep it up Josh, learn your new roll, you’re doing good, this is what slut wanted and asked for so I’m glad that he trusted you to teach him and I’m glad it’s not with a stranger so I know he will be safe with you his brothers.”

My mom smiled and agreed that she was happy that a stranger was not doing this to me, and she feels safer with the family using me. I on the other hand wished I did ask a stranger because I was so humiliated in front of my family and I knew it would only get worse from this point on.