Chapter Seven
So I have to meet with this prof who's a Dom and knows I'm a slave? Holy shit! How far does this network extend? Next thing I'm going to find out is that Rusty is also on their faculty. If so, he's probably a prof. in Criminal Science or something like that. But wait! Gabriel isn't done laying down a code of behavior for his slave.
"You are a slave living on a college campus: You are respectable to everyone. even people who might piss you off from time to time. Always imagine they can see you naked, shaved and caged. Let others go first in and out of doors. Be respectful to people who speak with you and want conversations but never initiate anything yourself. Stay away from the glory holes.
"Blow anyone who calls you sport if they want you to-that's a sign they know you're a slave. Just because they make you suck them off doesn't mean they're queer like you. If I don't tell you what to have for your meals, you can eat whatever you want. Professor Walker will text you a meeting time. He has your schedule.
"Also, you have to stop by the Rec Center on Thursday and ask for Justin. He'll be your physical trainer. He'll have you use his private shower so no one will know your dick is locked up. Blow Justin whenever you're there after he's done working you; that is, if he wants it."
"You'll have supper here tonight. You'll be picked up at 5:30. Wear a tshirt, gym shorts and flipflips. Strip in the limo and stay naked until you're brought back to campus either that night or the next morning. You can drink all the coffee you want until 11 am. After that, no coffee. Any questions?"
"No, Sir. I'm just afraid I won't remember it all,."
"I'll email it to you. CowboyGabriel@xmail is my address. That's a bdsm email address. I'll get you one soon and I'll text you my number."
"Yes, Sir, thank you."
"So enough logistical crap. Now get down here, faggot. Take my big toe in your mouth and toy with the others. And so he instructs me toe by toe, in between and all over, but just one foot. "You'll get plenty of time on both of 'em, slave. when i watch movies—or rather when I watch a movie and you listen to it while munching down on your Master's feet. You're gonna get spoiled there, faggot. You're lucky though: I don't want you cleaning any dirty feet. I don't want you sick. I want you well and able to be put to work. Now lick my balls and start exploring until I tell you to just suck . . . . . "
He's fucking golden, that's all I can say. even the hairs are golden and I get such sweet sounding moans out of him. He reaches down and starts toying with my hair and it makes me want to melt. I try all the harder to toy with him with my tongue, teasing and loving and worshipping and when I start to lick his cock to the top I'm licking up a lot of pre-cum. "Get it, sport. Get all the pre-cum off. Wash that dick clean, boy. Show me what a cock-hungry faggot you are."
And I try to show him how Gabriel-hungry I am. "Yeah, this is a real faggot, so hungry for dick that it ended up getting enslaved because of it. So now you've got me wondering, sport, whether you're as hungry for pain as you are for cock. . . . . . . . . you never need to answer me, boy. your body gives me all the answers I need, and I'm an expert at interpreting a slaveboy's breathing. I reckon that you are hungry for pain, faggot, hungry for it but also frightened and worried you won't be able to take it. And yet, I've been around you enough to know how much you want to please me. I'm glad I decided to give you a try, to make you one of my possessions. Show me you're grateful to have such a hot Master, hot and smart enough to know how to handle the likes of you. So let's get started. Come up here, Sport, get to know what it's like to be over my knees because I want to thrash your ass now. Yeah, I want it bad, boy. Want to make sure you feel like my slave."
He keeps talking to me like that and his hand starts slowly taking possession of my ass, first with just his fingertips but they manage to get me tingling all over and wanting to feel more of him. And then he starts to strike me. Slowly at first, but then snappier and harder bit by bit until he has me crying out with each slap. Just a little, but I can't help it now.
The more he lays into me, the louder my outcries get. I'm sure he realizes that I'm very close to breaking down and start crying. And he stops hitting me and uses his fingertips on me again, but now they feel like burning embers and they make me scream out in a voice I don't even recognize as my own. Then he lets me quiet down and waits until my breath settles.
That wasn't so bad, I was thinking to myself that first time. I'm a little sore but not really all that much compared to other thrashings I endured back in school. And then all of a sudden I realize that "shit! I'm back in school again. 16 again.
Then HOLY FUCK! He starts in on me again slowly letting things get more intense until he takes me right up to the breaking point . . . . . . and he lets me down again . . . . . .
All this happens two more times. I start thinking of them as "waves." And shit! I didn't cry, but I'd like to cry right now because my ass is on fire worse than ever and Every time he reaches out to touch me I get ready to scream all over again.
"This is a damn good start, sport. I'm pleased with you. Now go into the bathroom. you can pee if you need to. It will be a long time before I let you piss again so take advantage of this opportunity. Then gather up my laundry and bring it down to the basement. Everything is labeled on the machines. I'm sure you're smart enough to figure them out. Then I want to see you on your knees in the outer room scrubbing up any marks I left on the floor with my dirty work boots. The supplies you need will be there waiting for you. Put all your concentration on what you're doing like a good, slave. I'll take my strap to you if I catch you losing your focus."
He rolls me down off his knees so I can get started. "You may get up on your feet to do your chores, boy, just make sure you're never up straight but always bowed to show you know your place around a normal man's home." Holy fucking shit. He whips my ass until I'm on the verge of losing my shit and start bawling like a baby—his baby.
Then when I'm on the floor trying not to touch my aching ass to the ground, he starts giving me houseboy chores to do in a totally professional voice as if he's talking to a hired servant. But shit, that's what I am---all the part except about getting hired. I guess I'm more enslaved than hired. He addressed me as "slave" when he was threatening to punish me.
This guy is wrecking my mind and I'm high on it, higher than I've ever been before because I'm constantly aware of how sore I am from him spanking me. It reminds me of him saying how much he likes to see well-whipped boys busy serving their Masters. And he calls me "slave" and keeps talking about taking his strap to me. And I'm beginning to wonder what it will feel like and how it would compare to how much I'm hurting right now.
And damn it, I just realized that this is part of my life now, getting punished like a school boy. Not that: it sounds better to say I'll be getting punished like a slave, a naughty slave who's disappointed his Master once again. But this last spanking wasn't to punish me. He just wanted me to realize that He can beat me any time he wants for no reason other than he wants to.
The Master---He stands in the doorway watching me piss. No privacy for his slave. He likes to watch every move I make. Then when I bend over to pick up the laundry basket, he reaches out and touches the tip of his finger to my asshole then slaps my sore ass igniting the fire all over again and I cry out like a little boy. "I'm just claiming that hole as my own, boy." I tremble.
He doesn't follow me down to the basement laundry room but I'm sure he has everything monitored so I assume he can see me. I don't dare reach down to touch myself. My ass wants to be soothed so much but I know I'm not allowed. it doesn't belong to me any longer. He's told me that several times. Maybe I should dare sneak a quick love tap . . . no. I'm too sore to risk getting punished any more right now, just for doing something that every man and boy should always be free to do. Just not me. Not any more.
Now I could understand how it is that corporal punishment serves to help regulate a boy's behavior---or maybe it would be better to say that it helps regulate its misbehavior. I dare not misbehave right now. I'm afraid of any more pain.
I never realized how it would make me feel to be down on my hands and knees wiping his dirty footprints from the floor, sore from the spanking the Master gave me before, trying to focus all my concentration on the sight of the dirty footprints disappearing beneath the sponge I'm using to clean the floor. Why, why, why, I wonder, does this make me feel so right?
Why am I so content to be scrubbing his floors, naked, thrashed, humbled, while he stands there watching me and obviously getting so much pleasure from the fact that he has truly turned me into his slaveboy? And then to make the point even a bit more vivid, he pokes my asshole with his bare big toe a couple times and says "Good boy, knowing your place, being what you were born to become."
After supper, which this time I eat from his fingers again, bits and pieces of a tuna sandwich he had me make for us, and drinking milk from his mouth while he holds my face in his fingers. After that, he has me stand up to get dressed—no, wait, he has me stand up so HE can dress me in jeans, no underpants, and one of his black t-shirts with a large S on the front. I guess he forgot that I left my other clothes in the limo when I stripped. I decide not to say anything about that. I don't want to be accused of resisting him.
This time he has me wear a pair of socks—again, socks which he has given me because everything comes from the Master—before having me sit down on the floor again and pull on my boots. As I'm putting on my boots, he has more to tell me:
"Your roommate knows you've been away because of a family situation. He's been told not to ask you about it. Make sure you appear to be subdued."
As if that would be an act because dammit, I am subdued." After all, I've become his slave, that's why I'm wearing a big red S on the t-shirt he gave me to wear.) He continues: "Professor Walker texted me. You'll meet meet with him after your 2 pm class tomorrow. He's in the social science building. His office number is listed on the sign at the entrance. I'm sure he'll have questions for you as well as some instructions. Call him Sir. Stand before his desk with your hands behind your back like a proper slave and do whatever he tells you to do. He might have you kneel, but I'm not sure how much privacy he has so that's entirely up to him. It could be that you'll just stand there when you meet with him. Like I told you, he is a Dom, but he's not interested in boy slaves so you won't be serving him sexually. Just be open with him and do whatever he advises you to do or orders you to do."
Gabriel rides in the limo with me and feeds me his spit while we're driven back to campus. Before I get out of the car, he has me kiss each of his hands, the same hands that thrashed me earlier today and the same hands which fed me my supper. Everything comes from my Master's hands.
"You've been a good boy, sport, and I'm sure you'll continue to please me. Have a nice day tomorrow. If the weather is nice, wear gym shorts and this t-shirt. If it's too cool, you may wear jeans. When you take off your boots tonight, put them aside and wear flip-flops all day tomorrow. Just remember everything I told you earlier. It's all in an email so read it over to make sure you obey all of it. Just remember that you aren't an ordinary college junior any more; you're a slave and your Master is allowing you to continue your education because it will increase your value and make it possible for you to have a good job after you graduate. We'll talk more about that some time soon."
The limo pulls up to the dorm. Before I get out, he runs his fingers through my hair and scratches my scalp, much the way he might pet a dog. It feels so right. I wish I could give him a hug, but I'm not sure if that's allowed, so I just hug him in my mind, thankful that he's the one I've been placed with. I just hope this will continue for a good long time.
I watch the limo pull away and I'm sad that he's leaving me here to try to carry on as best I can, considering everything that's happened since Friday night. for some reason it feels like weeks have gone by since then.
When I got to my room, Scott is at his desk typing, probably writing a paper. "Hey, the lost sheep has returned. You doing okay, Terry? Sorry to hear you've had some trouble but don't worry, I'm not going to ask anything about it." He's such a sweet guy, trying to put me to ease by already saying too much about what he's not supposed to talk to me about. At least he tries, and if he ever knew what was really going on he'd probably go out of his mind. It's way too far beyond him, this kid who thinks he had to go to confession if he ever starts getting hard looking at some girl's tits. If he only knew the types of things that get me hard!!!!!
"I'm hanging in there, Scott. I just might not be around too much any more. I keep getting called away. So thanks for respecting my privacy about this." I fucking hate that I have to lie to him, but dammit, I've been lying about sex ever since I started realizing the score, so there's nothing new about that. All gay guys back then did the same thing. It was just a question of survival.
Anyway, I went to check my email and got Gabriel's instructions. He sent me another email telling me to give him my login name and password because from now on he'd be monitoring my email for me. Dammit, this was a tough call. I mean, how often have we been warned to keep those things private and to reveal them to absolutely no one. I think I'll just pretend I didn't see it, but when I realized what his address is I knew that he's probably notified when one of his emails is read. Fuck. Well, maybe I'll just safeword it.
Now there's another issue. Scott has nice taste in music, mostly, and it's usually playing in the room unless I ask him to turn it down or use headphones. So while I'm getting settled, what comes up but the "Unchained Melody," a song that all of a sudden seems to ignite my yearning for Gabriel and my sense that I'm already falling for him hard. "O, my love, my darling, I need your love." Tears comes to my eyes and I realize I miss him so much and it actually hurts physically and it's the stupidest thing of all because I'll see him tomorrow anyway.
I decide to just give up. "Think I'm gonna turn in early. I haven't been sleeping well lately," I tell Scott. He asks me if I want him to turn off the music but I say no, it's okay. I wish I had the guts to ask him to turn it off, but I don't know if I'm allowed to do something like that now that we're not equals. He's an ordinary college junior and I'm a faggot slave. Gabriel tells me to always keep that in mind, so I guess I shouldn't be asking Scott to inconvenience himself for my sake.
Anyway, I fell asleep with my jeans on and I wake up in the middle of the night because the denim is hurting my sore ass. I get up and take them off then just get back in bed bare from the waist down, hoping that I can manage without Scott seeing me that way in the morning. His music is still playing. He must have fallen asleep with it still on. No problem. "When I fall in love, it will be forever." Promise? Can I ask the universe to make Gabriel want to keep me forever? Is that allowed? Besides, I realize that I have no idea what the future with will be like? Maybe I won't want to stick with him—that is, if I still have the freedom to back away from anything I don't like. Not sure how this all works, except that my ass is still so sore and the goddamn cage is really irritating when my dick tries to get hard. How many times a night does that happen, after all?
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I have pics selected to represent Terry and Gabriel. Ask for them if you wish.
I also found a brand new pic of Gabriel WITH HIS COWBOY HAT. Ask me for it if I had sent you the first one. This one is a lot hotter.
Also ask for a list of all my stories and I'll send it to you. Thanks.
Rob