Chapter Eight
Scott's not in the room when I wake up so I get out of bed right away and throw on a pair of gym shorts to cover up my cage. I head to the bathroom and run into Patrick. "You want a shower?" he asks me. "Yes, that would be great."
"When's your first class?"
"Not until 10."
"Good. So come blow me now and then we'll take showers together. Go to your room and get your stuff and a towel then come to my room. Just leave those shorts on. You don't need to wear anything else because you're gonna strip them off before you kneel on the floor to suck my cock."
Fuck! I wish he'd lower his goddamn voice before someone hears him belittle me the way he always does. I don't mind, really, except for other guys around here knowing my scene. So far at least, Patrick hasn't told anyone about me.
So anyway, once I've done the deed for Patrick, he has me wrap my towel around my waist and we head to the bathroom again. I go to brush my teeth and he stops me. "Keep the taste of my cum in your mouth, boy. It's your reward for doing such a good job." At least this time he whispers to me, and I don't care. There's something really sexy about my mouth and throat reminding me that I just swallowed some guy's load of cum. Nice fresh cum from a guy who isn't even legal yet. (Patrick is still 20.)
So I wait for him to brush his teeth. Patrick looks to see if the coast is clear. There are only two other guys in the showers so he points to the opposite side of the room and has me stand under the water facing into the corner and he showers right next to me, keeping an eye out for any possibility that someone will see my bare caged little dick. Or my still-sore ass. Patrick told me that my ass doesn't look like I got thrashed when I told him what had happened to me.
We take nice long showers--thank you, Patrick--and then part company. When I get back to the room Scott is there. I don't dare take off my shorts, so I put my jeans on over them then hasten down to get coffee and some breakfast.
A text comes through from Gabriel: "What are you having for breakfast?"
"I usually only have coffee, Sir."
"Eat something. Cereal or a muffin. You're only having salad for lunch so fill up a bit now."
Ulp. "Yes, Sir, thank you."
When I get to class, the prof welcomes me kindly and tells me to call him if I have any trouble catching up. But all I missed of this class was one lecture, and he doesn't test on the lectures, only the reading. All my reading is caught up, so I'm not concerned. It wasn't hard to fill in the gaps when he started speaking. He asked a few questions about the reading, and apparently I was only one of the few students who had done it, so I had a chance to shine a bit.
Uh-oh. Is that allowed? Fuck. Am I going to be second-guessing myself about everything I do from now on?
I'm really hungry by the time the limo picks me up. I have to chuckle because once I get in I see a banana on the seat with a note `EAT ME' stuck to it. I strip down easily. All I wore was the tshirt and the gym shorts so I'm naked right away then eat the banana and it really hits the spot. At least I know that Gabriel isn't going to starve me. I was afraid of something like that even though I never read anything about it before. Just a little paranoid, I know.
And guess what? The first thing Gabriel does when I get there is have me lie on the couch with my head in his lap looking up at him. He plays with my hair and my mouth and my nipples and I'm sighing and breathing heavily. He keeps toying with my lips and poking my mouth with his fingers and exploring me on the inside. "The main purpose of this mouth besides eating is to give me pleasure. Now I want you to understand that when I make you lie this way it's because I want to hear you tell me what's been going on with you. I'm sure a lot of questions are coming to mind, so this is the change to get them off your chest. So what's going on, sport? How was your first day at school as a slave?"
"This might seem petty, Sir, but last night my roommate asked me if I wanted him to turn his music off or use headphones. I really wanted him to turn the music off but I was afraid to ask him. I wasn't sure if it was allowed."
"A lot of what you'll be dealing with is petty, sport. That's because slaves like you are always petty. you have to be to deal with adjusting to what you are. So as far as Scott is concerned. You have my permission to act with him exactly the same way you have the past year or so. No restrictions. If you want him to turn off the music, just ask him. Next?"
What else? . . . let me think . . . for some reason I keep drawing a blank. . . . . "I didn't get to brush my teeth. Patrick wouldn't let me. He made me blow him and he wanted me to keep the taste of his cum in my mouth all day."
Gabriel chuckles. "A man after my own heart. You can brush your teeth after supper tonight before I send you back to the dorm. Anything else?" "Just that I'm driving myself crazy by second-guessing everything I start to do, whether or not I can do it any longer."
"Like what?"
I have to think back. "I answered a question in class that no one else tried to answer and I felt proud I could. then I felt that maybe I shouldn't have tried to answer it."
"You have a reputation as a good student, I'm sure, and I want that to continue. Contribute anything you can to your classes. As far a second guessing yourself, just text me if anything comes up. I can't guarantee I'll answer you right away because I'm usually pretty busy during the day, but I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible. That way we don't have to waste the time we spend together on trivial and petty stuff. Okay?" My Master has some very strict notions about what constitutes "quality time."
"That's so wise, Sir. thank you for thinking of it.."
"Then why don't you get down at my feet and show me your appreciation, slaveboy. Words are cheap, sport. Actions are what count. How you act like my slave rather than what you have to say about it. Anybody can say the words `thank you.' Only a true slave is willing to humble itself by sucking a Master's toes to show its appreciation."
And so I begin. There's a little bit of a scent and right away I think of what he told me about bacteria. But I'm not going to question him. He told me to service his feet so I'm gonna do it like a good boy. And the truth is that I like doing this it for Gabriel. Even his feet are awesome. Cute even, and I love the little sounds he makes when I'm pleasing him this way. I'm even feeling especially humiliated when he orders me to use my tongue to clean between his toes.
Of course, Gabriel spoils me; his feet are always clean for me, but if they're not, he lets me wash them myself (with soap and water). This time I decided to let it pass so I could get a taste of his slight stink.
"You really are a slave, sport. The best kind. Do you know why that is?"
I stop for a second to answer him. "I . . . I'm not really sure, Sir. Because of how I use my tongue to please you?"
"No, sport. That's only a tiny part of it. The best slaves are the ones that always need to be trained and disciplined because the only way they can ever be happy is to be living like the slaves they were born to be."
"To be honest, Sir, I'm still a little nervous about the whole `disciplined' part."
"I'm well aware of that, sport, and it will become part of your training to toughen you up. If I wish to turn you into a pain pig it will happen. Right now that idea is very frightening to you, as it would be for most boys your age. But you're a slave, sport, and pain will be part of your existence. Do you doubt my ability to guide you more and more deeply into your slave identity?"
"No Master. I'm learning to trust you."
"Well then, let's get started right now." Ulp. I'm on my knees before him. I start to suck his cock again when he rubs some Ben Gay into my balls. "This will help you open up that throat so you can swallow me whole without gagging," he says to me, but I can't for the life of me believe something like that can happen. Until it does.
. . .
My eyes are still red from crying as I'm riding naked in the limo and the driver just told me it's time to get dressed again. We're almost on campus.
I'm glad it's 11 pm already. Scott is usually asleep by now and the room will be dark. He won't notice anything. I really want to sleep naked tonight but I keep my shorts on just in case the smell of the Ben Gay might still be obvious.
So I call Patrick to see if he'll help me shower but there's no answer. He must have an early meeting or something. So anyway, I decide not to shower until I meet Justin at the gym at noon. I managed to snag a large cup of coffee before my classes—two of them back to back and remember that the author of this story has stipulated that I cannot discuss any of my academic matters because that's not what this story is about. It's about how degraded I'm supposed to be despite being a good student.
Gabriel has made it clear now that I must continue to excel or I'll be pulled out of school for good, and that's just about all I'm allowed to say about this until further notice.
Classes over, I have a chance to snag a hot dog on a street cart before I head over to the gym to meet Justin. Fuck, is he hot!!! And straight. And a Master. He has a private office and bathroom. As soon as he strips me down he can tell I need a shower. "You will shower in here once every other day before I arrive at 11 am. It's better for you to shower here. We don't want your. . um . . . `condition' seen by other students. In fact, I'm prefer that the only place you ever shower is here, boy. Every other day."
And with that I learn that he also has authority over me. Wow. I'm surprised Gabriel hasn't already changed my roommate and put a Dom there in place of very vanilla Scott. Or maybe I spoke too soon. Little did I know just how many people would have authority over me when I'm here on campus. I'm better off when I'm with Gabriel, because then there's only one person calling the shots. It's less confusing.
I know he told me that any time I obey a superior I'm actually obeying him, but I'm not finding it easy to think of that right now, as Justin starts putting through my paces. I know he's being easy on me because I'm a total wuss, but as much as he can, he deals with me the same way he deals with any slave.
After the workout he gives me something to drink to replenish some sort of chemicals in me. The drink mellows me out nicely. Then he orders another shower because I'm meeting with Professor Walker soon and he wants me smelling nice for that first meeting. I guess that means that this Walker guy is going to make me strip in front of him so he can also see me as the naked slave I should be most of the time. At least, that's the idea that Justin puts in my head.
And oh, another thing is that Justin kept the door to the shower open so he could stand there and watch me wash and even made me turn around and bend over so he could watch me wash my `hole.' Wow. This is the stuff that dreams are made of. Only this isn't a dream. It's my life now! And sometimes I slip and start feeling sorry for myself. Nothing wrong with that. Most slaves feel sorry for themselves, even when it's a deliberately chosen sexual role.
I'm well away that some people would think this is all either disgusting or pathetic. But then again, this is chapter eight already! Why the fuck are they still reading this if they find it so offensive? It wasn't written for them. It's being written for people who are attracted to all this stuff, always through no fault of their own, mind you. There's nothing to blame about all this. I hope all my readers realize that. There's nothing to blame about it all. It's not something that any of us chose. We just discovered what makes us tick!
Justin gives me a snack before my meeting with the professor. Today it's an apple. I have nothing against apples, but usually when I look for a snack it's usually something a lot more gooey and preferably with icing. Those days are over, I guess.. Fuck my life.
My meeting with Professor Walker was astounding, but I must say I left his office feeling more like a slave than ever, and in the best possible way.
Damn, for a 60 yo man, he's hot. Rich white hair, dark piercing eyes, rugged looks, clean shaven (which I really like) and full of confidence and charisma. I give my name as I stand in his open doorway. "I'm Terry, Professor."
"Sport. Right on time. Good boy," he says to me. I was a bit surprised that he knows the name Gabriel gave me and he notices it. He has me shut and lock the door then says, "I know who you are and what you are, sport. Never forget that, sport. I will always call you sport, sport. That way you will always be well aware that as far as I'm concerned, I'm not speaking to a student; I'm speaking to a slave named sport whose Master allows him to be here. You are here as a slave, not as a student" Then he gestures to one of the chairs facing his desk.
"You may sit here or feel free to remain standing if you've recently been thrashed and would rather not sit." I opt to remain standing and now I can see in his eyes that he is pleased that I'm too sore to sit down.
"When were you thrashed?"
"Yesterday afternoon, Professor."
"Simply call me Sir. Did your Master do the honors or did he give you to someone else to punish you?
"He did it himself, Sir."
Then he looks at me with what I think is tenderness. "I am well aware, sport, that you've been through a whirlwind before you had the good fortune to end up as Gabriel's property. Now let me ask you this: Are you aware of the symptoms of PTSD?"
"Yes, I am, Sir. I'm fine, or at least I think I'm fine. Thank you for your concern. More than anything, Sir, I'm so relieved to belong to Gabriel now, and grateful."
"As well you should be. You narrowly escaped a terrible, disgraceful, illegal, and possibly fatal fate. Someone up high has been looking out for you. Do you believe in Guardian Angels, sport?"
"Haven't given it much thought but I was taught about them when I was a kid, Sir."
"Well, I'd like to believe your own angel managed to protect you from those nefarious individuals. At any rate, you're here now and you're a fortunate slave, that's for sure. Gabriel is a fine man and a gifted Master. He's one of my former students, by the way, and I've always been proud of him and of his accomplishments. He's only a few years older than you but he has already gained the respect of many of the most responsible Doms in the entire kink community."
"Yes, Sir, he has been very good to me."
"You say that even though he apparently thrashed you soundly yesterday?"
"Yes, Sir." I don't hesitate. "He told me it's part of the way he intends to 'care for' me, or train me, so I'm not stupid. I've read a lot about all this. I knew it would probably happen."
"Of course, sport. You'll do well to always trust him, even if things sometimes seem to make no sense. Those are the times when we must trust more than ever that things will be worked out. Even for slaves, sport. Never lose that sense of gratitude, boy, because if that happens, your life will turn into a nightmare. And this is one of the ways that I can be of service to you, sport. If ever you begin to doubt or struggle, you can speak with me and there will be no consequences. I'm not doing this out of some sense of service to you, slave, of course not. It's something I'm doing for my dear friend Gabriel by helping his slave become a better slave. Everything is done for the Master, sport. No one's ever catering to you because they think you deserve it, except for punishment. Always keep that in mind, slave boy."
"Yes, Sir. Sir, may I be honest about something?"
"Certainly. What is it, sport?"
"Sir, the way you are speaking to me makes me feel like I should be kneeling in front of you, not standing."
"Noted. However I did not give you the option to kneel. I said you could either sit or stand. What you need to learn, boy, is how to kneel in your mind, or for that matter, even grovel. So, sport, right here right now I want you to grovel before me even though your body is still standing." Holy fucking shit! Now I can see where Gabriel got his feistiness from. I close my eyes and picture myself stripped naked and groveling behind the desk at his feet. And that is where I'll try to remain.
Silence.
"That's right, slave," he says approvingly and I'm filled with pride despite the fact that he's humiliating the crap out of me. "Now open your eyes but maintain your position on the floor at my feet."
I'm surprised at how easy I'm able to do that.
More silence. Then, "sink lower, slave," and I remember when Thornton made me press my whole chest down into that filthy concrete floor at the Hunt.
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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