Stan asked a couple questions: So tell me more about yourself. We don't know anything about your family back home. What was it like? "Pretty lousy at the moment, Sir. My parents are getting divorced. It's my fault."
"Oh my, don't you realize that children of divorced parents often think it's their own fault?"
Note: Of course, I'm making most of this up. Maybe I should write stuff like this up and see if people would like it. So I spin my yarn for his entertainment:
"I know that, Sir. But this is really what's happening. My parents found out I'm gay. Some bastard from high school outed me everywhere in my junior year after he caught me sucking someone's cock in the locker room one afternoon. My mother flipped out, but my Dad seemed to be okay with it. She's super religious. She wanted to send me to some camp she knows where they supposedly cured gay teens, but my father refused."
"One day she got one of the elders of her church to come by when my Dad was away on business so he could punish me. He brought a big paddle with him. It had a fucking cross on it! He ordered me to go to my room and strip naked. I went to my room and escaped through a window and hid out at a friend's house. Fortunately, I still had friends after getting outed. When Dad got home he got in a rage. That was the beginning of the end for them. So it was my fault in a way."
"Doesn't sound like that to me, Q. It was your mother's fault, not yours. Too bad, though, that you didn't go through with the paddling. It would have gotten you ready for what's to come."
"Yes, Sir. But being stripped all the way in front of that old fart so he could beat the shit out of me? I couldn't handle that. It . . it's . . it's still hard for me to have to be naked all the time not only with the Masters but even in the dorm room."
"Your dorm?"
"Yes, Sir. My roommate decided he wanted us to be naked in the room all the time so of course I went along with it. But he doesn't care if his friends come by. He throws on shorts or something but he always makes me stay bare."
"Is he a Dom?"
"He claims he's not. He also claims he's straight, but I have my doubts, Sir."
"So anyway, back to your parents. What's the current situation."
"They're separated. Dad got us a condo. The divorce is in the works, Sir."
"It might be awkward going home for Thanksgiving, don't you think?"
"Yes, Sir. Very much. I don't know that I'm gonna do. My Dad's in a weird mood now because of everything that happened. He's having a hard time being okay with me because of it all. It's really weird."
"So then don't go home for Thanksgiving. Stay here. One of us will be able to keep you out of trouble. Do you think your father would be okay with you saying you were invited to spend the holiday with a friend?"
"he'd probably be relieved, Sir, to tell you the truth."
"Well then consider it done. Let him know right away. Don't worry about where you'll stay. We'll work it out. Maybe you'll even get to eat Thanksgiving Dinner at a table and not chained up in the corner eating out of a dog bowl."
I look at him with big eyes~ "Only kidding, boy. You might be a slaveboy but we're not barbarians. It will be a good experience for you, spending the school break as a permanent slave. We'll probably all get a crack at you over the weekend. It'll be good for you. Help you make up your mind for once and for all if you can handle all this stuff. We're curious about you, Q, because you're so young. That's why we're all kind of ganging up on you."
"Good thing, too. Some creep in my class was giving me a hard time this morning after class. Even knocked me down on the ground and spit on me. I got to meet Master Wilson. He saw it and intervened. I don't think that jerk will dare touch me again."
"Excellent. Well, to change the subject, boy, speaking of being naked. It's time for you to strip for me. I want to see all of you bare."
"Um.. here? Sir?"
Stan chuckles. "I just happen to have keys to the back office here. I happen to own this place."
Q guffaws, then tries to catch himself.
"Acting naughty in public. That deserves a whippin', kid." Anyway, follow me. I'll watch you strip then I'll discipline you for your outburst. After that you can get to know my cock and what my cum tastes like when I shoot it down your cocksucking throat."
My, my. He sure has a nice way to use his words! For right now, he's the Master!
. . . . .
I'm really surprised at how nice his back office it. I was picturing a tiny cramped thing with piles of papers everywhere. No way. This is classy.
He goes to his desk, turns his chair to face the center of the room. "Get barefoot." Then "roll up your sleeves and show me your forearms." Wow. He's checking out every inch of his slave's body.
"Turn around and pull your shirt off. I want to watch your back muscles when you do it. I already got to see your chest and your tits, faggot. The way I see it, faggot, men have nipples. Faggots like you have tits or maybe even titties. Now turn around and put your arms on top of your head so I can see your armpits." When I do so, he takes a wooden ruler from his desk and comes over to me. He cracks the ruler across each of my armpits, one after the other, several times then finishes by hitting my already sore nipples and I can't help it; I scream aloud."
"This room is soundproofed, Q. you can scream all you want. All you need to. I wanna hear you carry on like a spoiled little boy whose Daddy has finally decided to teach him how to obey for once and for all."
Stan puts the ruler back on his desk and I breathe a sigh of relief. It wasn't that it hurt so damn much. It was just the strangeness of this whole situation. He's humiliating me and torturing me for his own enjoyment while people are sitting only a few yards away drinking their coffee. Yep. I'm his slave. Maybe I should stop being so fucking dramatic about it and just take it and spare the thinking. But nay, that's not me. Besides, the author of this story would really get pissed at me because there would be nothing to write about.
No, Stan's got plans. "Open the pants and pull down the zipper." Stan takes a scissors from his desk drawer. He comes over and snips the waistband of my boxer briefs. "Slaves shouldn't have underwear nice than what their Masters have." He takes both sides of my pants and underpants in his two hands, pulls them apart and gets them down halfway to my knees.
"Turn around and bend over. All the way down." Uh-oh. For me, this is the worst part about being naked: showing my hole, even though it's far from being a virgin hole. Danny took care of that, despite what he told me once that he only fucked virgins. Fuck! He's the one who opened me up and taught me to beg him to fuck me.
"Put your hands up and spread `em so I can see the hole in your pussy!" Fuck. I wish I could safe word his vocabulary, but under the circumstances, I'm not going to anything to bring out his anger. I do what he tells me and force myself to stand perfectly still when he uses his finger to probe me and spread my lips some. "I'm gonna have to keep a plug on hand for the next time you spread for me in this office. But enough for now. Just get down on the ground again and get your legs out of your pants."
It's awkward trying to do it this way. He sits back and watches without saying a single word. I'm some kind of trained seal and he's watching me perform.
"All naked now, slaveboy?"
"yes, Master."
"Good. Now stand up. Hands behind back."
I do what he says. "Spread more, boy."
I do so.
"So now here's the deal. You know you deserve to be punished, but I don't really feel like thrashing you in here. I'll save that for another time. So anyway, I guess the best thing to do about punishing you will be to work your balls. So here's the rule, faggot: Keep those fucking hands behind your back. I don't care what else you do or how much you keep bending over when I hurt you. Just don't fucking take those hand out from behind your back. When I tell you to stand, you stand up right away."
With that he swings his legs up from his seat so he can gauge the distance to my balls with his boot. then WHAP! Shit, that hurts. WHAP WHAP I cry out and bend over a bit.
"up again, faggot. Take your punishment."
WHAP. It just continues until the last time I bend down so far trying to protect my aching scrotum that I almost fall to the floor. Stan uses his foot to press me down all the way. I'm spread out on the ground before him and I'm really crying from all that and trying to get myself into fetal position.
Finally, he orders me to kneel up again before I get more kicks.
He stands up. "So the next time you have an impulse to make some kind of public outburst, try to remember what just happened here today. Maybe that will help you keep yourself under control. No one wants to have to put up with a fucking slave who calls attention to itself. Now Come here, Q. Reach up and get my pants open. Then fish out my dick and run your fingers over it getting used to what it feels like."
It's a lot bigger than I thought it would be, maybe one of the biggest so far. I'd say a good 8 inches. I just keep running my fingers up and down it because he's starting to breathe more heavily. "That's right, faggot. Feel a real man's dick. Learn all about it. You should be able to pick my dick out of a whole row of guys with big dicks. Sniff it, faggot. Get the smell. . . . . fuck, quick, slave. eat my precum. don't fucking spill any. good, good fag. like the taste, faggot? . . . . there's more, get it! . . . Hey, fucking lick my slit. some day you'll drink piss from that slit like a real pig slave."
Suddenly he stops me and I'm honestly a little frustrated that he wasn't letting me put it my mouth yet. Shit! Just listen to that thought! I'm craving his dick. I want to feel it in my mouth.
He pulls his pants down below his knees. what an awesome crop of red hair on his thighs, balls, his taint, his bush and all around the base of his cock.
"Stare at the hair, faggot. Doesn't it look delicious to you? I bet you'd love to run some of my hair through your teeth, wouldn't you, faggot? Answer me, boy:"
"Yes, Master, please let me taste your hair, comb it with my teeth, please, Master, let me be your hair faggot."
"He he, go for it, faggot. Bury yourself in it all over. Use your fingers too, and your fucking mouth. Salivate on my pubes then suck it off them again. . . . Quick. . crawl around behind me and lick the hair in my crack and over my hole. Just the hair, faggot, not the hole. We'll save that for another time. . . . .good job, boy, now come back around here in front and open wide. Let me find out much of my dick I can bury in your maw!"
He slaps me as I open my mouth. then he reaches down and squeezes my nipple and I try to holler out. My mouth opens even more and Stan shoves himself in bit by bit at a steady but unforgiving pace until at last he hears me gag.
He backs off a bit. "don't wany you gagging and choking and spewing your guts on my clean floor." Keep half my cock in your mouth. work it with your tongue. Use your hands on the rest and jerk me hard and fast. Come on, boy, faster even than that. Milk me hard, faggot. . . .more tongue . . . . .. . "
He grabs the back of my head and finishes the job on his own until he shouts and spews a full heavy load of his slimy bitter cum over my tongue and orders me to start swallowing. fuck! He uses his cock to help shove it all down my throat. Most guys don't want their cocks touched after they blow. This guy, shit, he's still fucking my mouth with his dick even though he just blew a huge load! Powerful.
"Clean me off quickly, faggot. It's 1:40. Just enough time for you to get dressed and get to class. don't be late!"
With that he walks out of the office leaving me alone. I really don't want to move for a while, but I have to force myself to get dressed. No sense putting on my ripped boxer briefs now, so I just leave them sitting on top of his desk. Shit! I'm gonna run up a big underwear bill if this keeps happening. Or maybe I'll just stop wearing it any more.
Just as I'm leaving the shop I get a text from Stan: "Be back here at 9 pm. My janitor is sick. You'll clean up after closing. Danny approved it." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. And why is the whole thing turning me on? And why am I wondering if he'll make me clean the place naked? And why am I hoping he will? What a fucking slave I'm becoming.
Right after my 2 pm class my phone rings. "Q? This is Larry. Would you please stop by my office in a couple minutes? There's someone here I'd like you to meet. I think he'll become a good friend for you."
So sure, I agree, wondering what this is all about. On my way I remember the command Danny had given me: "obey everyone." I guess that applies here as well. . . .
When I get to his office, the door is closed. Strange: it's usually open and inviting. I hear voices inside. I remember he said there was someone he wanted me to meet, so I wait just a couple minutes then knock on the door lightly. I hear Larry's voice, "This must be the boy now."
He opens the door. "Thanks for getting here quickly. Come on in. Meet a good friend of mine."
I walk into the office and gasp. His good friend happens to be Danny!!!!! What the fuck?
Larry closes the door behind me and locks it. Danny looks into my eyes. "Strip."
OMG! OMFG! Larry is leaning up against the door with his arms folded. Danny is just standing there staring at me and I feel like I should be down on the floor kissing his boots. "Come on, Q. Get naked!"
Fortunately I've got my back to Larry so I can just forget he's watching the show. I pull off my shirt as fast I can. Danny reaches out and takes it. He nods at my waist. "Get them down and off, faggot. Then bend over and show the good professor your asshole. Let him see that pussy."
I'm trembling so much I can hardly stand. I close my eyes and just make believe I'm stripping for Danny alone, but then when I bend over Danny orders me to spread my cheeks and all I can think of is that Larry is checking out my hole and that I've just shown him what a slave I am and it becomes part of his world. Still, I wonder, what's Larry's deal?
"Straighten up, Q. Turn around so the professor can see all of you. Hands on your head. Show him your bare armpits, how you look like a nine-year-old boy. And keep your fucking eyes open so he can see what your face looks like when you're in sub space."
As I stand there completely revealed to him, I feel like I've just been stripped even more naked than ever before. He sees me for what I am now. I'll never forget what this feels like, what he sees now. Will he see me that way when we're in class? Will he allow me to continue attending his class with all the ordinary guys who don't know what I look like, caged, shaved and displayed?
Larry takes in the sight, focusing on one part of my body then another, taking it all in. "Q, I sensed that you had all the makings of a good sub but I figured you were too young to realize it. When Danny told me he was training a freshman slaveboy I knew right away it had to be you."
"Now he knows what you are, faggot." Danny walks right up to me and uses my nipples to pull me down to the ground. I try not to cry out but I can't help but gasp from the onslaught of pain and also from the intensity of how he's humiliating me in front of the one faculty member I really liked. I just give up and put my head all the way down to the ground.
"That's right, faggot. No secrets from the professor. He's a Sir. Not your Sir, don't worry. His slaves are female. Boy slaves are a lot lower than girl slaves. Girl slaves are straight, at least. They're supposed to like cock. You're the faggot, the lowest cock-hungry piss-drinking faggot. From now on you come here and let him see you like this, exactly the way you are now, naked and groveling, your head on the floor, your hole exposed to his sight. You come here and let him see you like this whenever he wants."
As usual, Danny knows exactly how to get me rolling in humiliation like some pig rolling in shit. And then Larry starts in on me the same way.
"Nothing changes when we're in class, boy, I enjoy watching how you squirm, trying to share yourself to the others in our chats without giving yourself away while always knowing that I see you the way you really are when you humbled yourself in my presence today."
"All part of breaking you in, boy," says Danny. "All part of displaying you the way you're meant to be. Now don't move. We want to get some pics of you while your flesh is smooth with no welts or marks."
I hear them and know they're taking pics from several angles. I hold my breath as long as I can, just collapsing down into the floor itself. Larry sees all of me now. I'll know that when I'm sitting in his class. I'll see it in his eyes. I'll know he's picturing me naked.
They leave me there like that while they both sit down and chat about things that are really none of my business. I soak up what it means for me to be here like this, to be treated this way by superior men, to be naked in the sight of one of my teachers, a man who is becoming my mentor in many ways. Me, naked, groveling, exposed and on display as the pervert I am to a man who is 100% straight. I suck up Danny's power over me to make me look like this to a much superior man. What must he think of me considering he's a psychologist and probably an expert in abnormal psych?
And then Danny orders me to get up off the floor and get dressed. This is just as embarrassing as being stripped, especially since Danny doesn't let me tuck in my shirt. I look like some vagabond as I leave the building but then try to tuck in my shirt once I'm outside. A student passes me and smirks. I wonder what he must think, why I'm still trying to get dressed after something weird must have happened.
Fuck! I'm so hungry. It always seems to happen after I've been mentally worked over. Not after sex or punishment, just after being treated contemptuously the way I just was. Danny gets me so fucking confused. On the one hand he makes me think he could actually be in love with me but then on the other hand he treats me like nothing but repulsive swill. And what a fucking glutton for debasement I am! I finally admit to myself that I'm more at peace and feel more authentic when he's demeaning me.
I have a couple spicy tacos when I get to the caff. I sit alone, keeping my eyes on my food, afraid to look around, afraid that everyone can see what Danny's just done to me, afraid I might attract other bullies like shit draws flies. Sure enough, it's always bound to happen. I must give off some kind of signal that draws Doms to me. Brett comes by, looks around to make sure no one is noticing, then spits on my food. "Eat up, boy. Then get your ass to your room and do your homework. Make sure you're back at Stan's shop on time." He stands there and watches me eat everything, then gets up and leaves without saying another word.
Craig isn't in when I get back to my room. Still I get naked because he likes me to be naked even though he isn't interested in taking advantage of my submissiveness. Good. I have a lot of reading to do, so I get right to it, and am actually able to get myself lost in the description of life in a pilgrim village before the Revolution, and how restricted things were with all their stupid rules. Religious people are really slaves sometimes, I find myself thinking. Or wait! Maybe being a slave is a kind of religion all its own. But who's God for a slave like me? Brrrrrrrrrrrrr!
At 8:30 I head for the coffee shop. It's a long walk, all the way to Avery then through the woods, and it's getting dark. Fuck! How stupid I am! I could have just walked on the street and made my way to the shop that way.
The shop is dark and all the shades are drawn. "Guess I'm gonna clean the place naked," I think to myself, mentally getting myself turned on by the idea. The door isn't locked, so I walk right in. "Close the door and lock it." I do so. Stan comes over to me, carrying a riding crop. I brace myself.
THAT'S ALL, FOLKS!. Hope you like how it's developing. My name's Greg. ogt009966@gmail.com Write me any time, please?
I've selected pics to represent Danny, Jeffrey, Matt, Craig, and the sub. AS OF AUGUST 19 I HAVE NEW PICS OF CRAIG AND Q. Tell me about your reaction to the story and I'll send a couple to you.
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