Back at the apartment Jeff was sound asleep. His mind was filled with dreams, very pleasant dreams. In all of them he was looking down on Sam. Sometimes Jeff was fully clothed and sometimes he was naked. Sometimes Sam was totally nude and sometimes he was fettered in bondage. Sometimes Sam was sucking on Jeff's cock, sometimes he was looking up silently with a pleading look in his eyes, and sometimes he was doing both. Jeff smiled as he slept.
Meanwhile, the Colonel continued to break down Sam's remaining resistance. Already the college student was compliant enough for the officer to risk a reduction in restraints. He did so by taking a pair of scissors and cutting away the athletic tape on both hands. Sam gratefully wiggled his finally freed fingers.
Then the Colonel introduced Sam to excruciating ballwork. The officer stood face to face with the slave and gave an order: "Open your mouth." Sam did. The Colonel squeezed both boy balls with his left hand while holding the back of the boy's head steady with his right hand. He then spat into the boy's open mouth and ordered Sam: "Hold it open." He did. The Colonel squeezed again and spat again. Sam's eyes started to tear up again but he held the Colonel's gaze and kept his mouth open for more spit. And more spit did come, accompanied by another hard squeeze. "Now close it," ordered the officer. Sam did so, wondering when he would be allowed to spit out the invading saliva. "Swallow it," ordered the Colonel, and Sam was stunned. He hesitated, his mouth still shut, only to feel the severest ball pain of his life (up until then, that is). He took the hint and swallowed hard. The officer took great satisfaction in seeing the slaveboy's Adam's apple bobble up and down.
What Sam did not know yet was that the Colonel prided himself on working over a pair of balls slowly and methodically. The officer removed the ball stretcher and its chain, but only to free up access to the testicles. With a single hand he rubbed the two globes together, squeezing one then the other then both at the same time. Sometimes he would pull down. Sometimes he would just squeeze. Sometimes he would hold a ball in isolation in one hand while using the other hand to slap it, or a finger and thumb to snap at it. Then he would move onto the other ball with the same techniques.
Sam had never felt such unremitting pain. Of course he had "taken it in the balls" before, both in sports and in the rodeo ring, but this was different. The other times it was one hard slam, doubling over, catching his breath and within five minutes recovering fully. Here he was in an uncomfortable position to begin with, his arms too heavy to hold themselves up, his legs buckling under the tedium of standing too long, with his newly shaved balls completely exposed to whatever the Colonel decided to do.
And then there was the mental component. Those other occasions, taking it in the balls had been a source of pride, of complimentary jests from his teammates or competitors, confirmation of his status as a jock. Here the Colonel had him (literally) by the balls. His inability to protect his own testicles confirmed how low he had fallen. His head hung in shame at the thought of it. "Come on, Jeff," he thought. "Get over here and get me out of here."
The ballwork lasted an hour. The Colonel spiced it up with variety, occasionally twisting a nipple still sore from the clothespinning or punching the college kid in the abs. He watched carefully as the sub's resistance faded away. When he was ready to shift gears he said, "Ask me for more spit, slave."
Without thinking about it, Sam immediately asked, "Sir, may I have more of your spit, sir?"
The Colonel gave that menacing smile of his and said, "Sure, slave, open your mouth."
Sam did so, when to his surprise three things happened. The Colonel let go of Sam's balls. The Colonel took hold of Sam's cock and started stroking it with the Colonel's left hand. The Colonel leaned in to Sam's face, used his right hand to pull Sam's head toward him, and stuck his tongue into Sam's mouth. It was not a pleasure kiss. It was a control kiss. It was a 'surrender to me' kiss. It was an 'I have you by the cock' kiss. It was an 'I can and will do whatever I want with your body' kiss. Sam's head was trapped. He couldn't back out even if he tried. He could only passively take the Colonel's tongue without responding in kind.
The officer pulled back, removing his tongue from Sam's mouth and simultaneously letting go of the boy's cock. "Do you like my stroking your cock, slave?" he asked.
"Sir, yes I do, sir."
"Then act like you do, slave." And with that the Colonel pushed his tongue and Sam's head back into position with his left hand returning its attention to Sam's hard cock. This time, Sam knew what he had to do. He met tongue with tongue. His cock started humping the Colonel's hand. He gave a small sigh of pleasure. To his bemusement, that sign of desire was rewarded immediately by the Colonel's right hand reaching up and releasing Sam's trapped left wrist, then bringing the limp arm down to and over the Colonel's right shoulder. Sam pressed his hand against the officer's naked back and, sure enough, the Colonel switched hands so his right hand could continue to strock Sam's cock while his left hand reached up and released Sam's right wrist from the chains.
Sam's legs were still stretched out sideways to an uncomfortable degree and securely chained to the walls and to one another. Now, for the first time since he lost the coin toss, his hands and arms were free. Or were they? Both wrapped around the Colonel's torso. Sam knew that he had to go along with this stuff -- or else. Yes, he had to, but he also needed to.
The Colonel ended the kiss but continued the embrace and the cock stroking. With his left hand he reached around and behind Sam, swatted the kid's buttocks and asked "Who owns this ass, slave?"
"Sir," the college kid responded instantly, "Master Jeff owns this ass, sir."
"Who has control of this ass for now, slave?"
"Sir, you have control of this ass for now, sir."
The Colonel let go of the boy's cock and stepped back, leaving the kid wanting more (but not sure just what it was that he wanted more of). "Bend over and grab the chain," the officer ordered. Sam did so, reaching straight down and taking into both hands the chain that connected his spread out ankles.
The officer walked around the hunched over college student, whose shaved ass was now jutting up into the air. "Count, slave," the Colonel ordered, and with that he gave a hard hit on the right buttock with the black leather paddle.
"Sir, one, sir," barked the compliant cowboy. The Colonel struck again. "Sir, two, sir," the cowboy called out, with the same crisp snap. And so it went. This time, Sam responded with the same voice level and the same quickness to each and every paddling. His hands were free to move but did not let go of the chain. His tired legs found new energy and stretched themselves into a position of relief. He would make Jeff proud, he told himself, by being the best slave that he could be.
After fifty swats, divided equally between right and left, the Colonel stopped the ass beating and put the paddle away. He reached down and released Sam's right ankle from both its chains. "Release the other chains," ordered the officer, and Sam did so. "Take a minute to stretch your legs," the Colonel commanded, and Sam did so, standing in place but bending and lifting first one and then the other leg to restore its circulation.
Without leaving Sam's rear, the Colonel loudly called out: "A slave belongs on his hands and knees, correct slave?"
"Sir, yes, sir!" the college student responded.
"Say it, slave."
"Sir, a slave belongs on his hands and knees, sir."
"Then get down, slave, now!"
"Sir, yes, sir!" And without further prompting, without any pushing, without any restraints, on his own Sam dropped to his knees then bent at the waist and placed his palms on the floor.
"Crawl over here," the Colonel ordered. Sam turned around and, on hands and knees, crawled to the Colonel's booted feet. The officer walked around behind the supine student and clicked back together the wrist cuffs, then did the same with the ankle cuffs. He returned to standing in front of Sam and gave a one-word order: "Lick."
Sam leaned forward, hands behind his back, and tentatively stuck his tongue out. The Colonel wore Corcoran jump boots, highly polished with a spit shine on each toe piece. Sam knew a lot about boots; like a lot of Wyoming guys all he wore were boots and athletic shoes. But he had never thought about licking a boot, much less another man's boot while kneeling at the man's feet. He gave a small sniffle as his tongue made contact with the glossy black leather. He moved around, covering the entire forward top part of the right boot, then did the same to the left one. "Sit up," said the Colonel, and Sam gratefully sat back up, his butt resting on his heels.
The Colonel unlaced the jump boots then pulled them off, leaving him standing in his boot socks. He looked down at the resting college kid and said, "Pull off my socks, slave, and if I feel any teeth against my skin you will regret the day you were born."
Sam bowed down, his head almost touching the floor. He pushed his mouth up to the right boot sock and gingerly gripped the toe end with his teeth. Then he started pulling, gently at first and then firmly until the sock started pulling off the Colonel's foot. He finally got the whole long boot sock off. "Good slaveboy," said the Colonel, and despite himself Sam felt proud to get the compliment. He then repeated the pulling off with the right boot sock. "Sit up," said the Colonel, and Sam again returned to sitting back on his heels. The officer then placed a water bottle in front of the kid's lips. Sam gratefully downed all the water he could.
Both guys knew what was coming next, one with happy anticipation, the other with dread. "Lick," ordered the Colonel. With only a slight hesitation and another sniffle, Sam bowed his head forward and down, stuck his tongue between his lips and for the first time in his life licked another man's toes. "Do it like you love it, slave," said the officer, and Sam responded by taking a turned up toe into his mouth, wrapping his lips and tongue around it.
The Colonel could not help himself. For the first time all night he came close to losing control of himself. The tickling feeling of his toe being sucked, the graphic submission and humiliation of the muscular student doing it, the satisfaction in knowing that his mastering skills were succeeding again, all of it almost made him too emotional to be in command. Almost but not quite. He mentally slapped himself and regained full control, moving his foot to indicate which toe to be the center of Sam's universe until another toe took its place. Once every toe received its due, the officer rested his heel on the floor and lifted the foot straight up, exposing the naked sole to Sam's robotic tongue washing. It is good to be the king!
When Sam finished with the Colonel's right foot, again the officer gave the kid a moment to rest on his heels and again the former gave the latter a mouth rinse from the water bottle. Next came the left foot, which Sam did even more thoroughly than he did the first foot. Again he got to rest and to rinse his mouth with a slug of water.
The Colonel put the water bottle away, then used his left hand to lift Sam's head up to receive the officer's unflinching stare. While the Colonel held Sam in his gaze, the officer's other hand reached down to his belt, released the buckle, then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. "Let's see how good you are with your teeth," he said to the college student, and with that he guided Sam's head to the front of his open jeans. Without needing an order to do so, the slave took the jeans flap in his teeth and pulled that side down, then the other side, then back and forth until the Colonel's jeans were at his knees. The officer then lifted his right foot off the floor, signalling the slave to grab the bottom right jeans leg in his teeth and pull it all the way off. Then both switched legs. The man in charge was now wearing nothing but a jockstrap.
The Colonel repeated his previous one-word order: "Lick." To guarantee obedience, his hands grabbed the back of Sam's short haired head and pushed it into the officer's crotch. "Lick!" he ordered again, this time with a stern tone that brooked no opposition.
Sam had no choice. His face was mashed into the jockstrap. The odor assaulted his nose. His eyes were closed to keep the other man's body hair from sticking in them. He took a breath and, without realizing it, absorbed the alpha male's pheronomes along with the musky smell. His tongue darted out, deciding to start first with skin. It made contact with the Colonel's inner thigh, then glided into the spot where skin ended and jockstrap material began. It grazed up and down along this border, feeling the officer's muscles quiver under the skin, then darted under the jock just a smidgeon.
The Colonel was pleased. Matters had gone just as planned. With the confidence of success he pulled the boy's head onto the center of the jockstrap and was rewarded with the sensation of a tongue working his cock and balls from outside the cloth. He guided the head to the other thigh, then up and down the border, then back across the jockstrap, enjoying every square inch of pleasure. Next he pulled the boy's head out of his crotch, used his hand to lift the boy's chin up and, looking the slave in the eye said, "Take it off with your teeth, slave, and remember my warning about me feeling any teeth."
Sam by this time was in a semihypnotic trance. He barely knew which end was up. He only knew to do whatever he had to do. He leaned forward and carefully clenched his teeth onto the top of the strap, then pulled it all the way down and off. When he lifted his face back up, he was staring at a cock only inches from his mouth.
"Did you suck a cock tonight?" asked the Colonel.
"Sir, yes, sir," said Sam in a whisper.
"What does that make you?" asked the Colonel.
"Sir, a cocksucker, sir," whispered Sam.
"Say it, slave, say that you are a cocksucker," commanded the Colonel.
"Sir, I am a cocksucker, sir," sobbed Sam.
"Ask for permission, slave, and make me believe you want to do it," ordered the Colonel.
Sam's hesitation was met with a face slap, the hardest of the night, sending his head reeling and almost knocking him over.
"Do you want another hit?" asked the Colonel with a sneer.
"Sir, no, sir," replied the chastened slave.
"Then ask for permission, and make me believe you want to do it."
"Sir, may I suck your cock, sir?"
"Tell me you want it, slave, and ask again."
"Sir, I really want to suck your cock, please, sir, may I suck it for you, sir?"
"Permission granted, slave, but I will teach you how to do it right. Always start with the inner thighs, slave, then the balls, then the cock shaft, then the head, understood?"
"Sir, yes, sir."
"Repeat the order to me, slave."
"Sir, first the inner thighs, then the balls, then the cock shaft, then the cock head, sir."
"Very good, slave. Now show me, and always take your time and be slow and thorough."
Sam was raised to believe that anything worth doing was worth doing well. He hardly expected that motto to apply to sucking another guy's dick, but it was the only thought that gave him any solace. So, giving himself a boost, he leaned into the Colonel's thighs and started licking one with his tongue and rubbing it with the stubble on his face. When he heard a small moan of pleasure, he continued what he was doing, heeding the admonition to go slowly. After he had thoroughly pleasured one inner thigh he moved to the other, spending an equal amount of time on an equal expanse of skin. Then, taking a deep breath, he moved his mouth and tongue to the ballsac and worked its skin up and down. He opened his mouth and a single testicle slid in, where he blanketed it with his warm saliva and gently but firmly put pressure on it with his palate and tongue.
As Sam moved to the second ball, and then placed both into his mouth together, he surprised himself with how easily he was adjusting to his new status. He started, almost imperceptibly, to take pride in his newfound skills. He couldn't get rid of the fact that he in fact had the Colonel by the balls. Having relinquished all control he now had some control. And with that thought he released both orbs and moved his mouth up to the rigid cock shaft, running his lips up and down the top, then up and down the bottom, then up and down one side, then up and down the other, moving slowly, slowly, slowly, making the Colonel bend his knees in pleasure.
Finally, there was only one act left to perform. Sam had worked all over the Colonel's inner thighs, scrotum, testicles and penis shaft. Only the cock head remained. Sam opened his mouth wide to start swallowing cock for only the second time in his life, thinking the whole while, "Hurry up, Jeff. Come save me. You can do it, ole buddy, I know you will." And with that self-assuring thought, Sam wrestled his mouth around the officer's willing cock.