If he could have said anything about the house, it would have been that it was strikingly ordinary. A well- tended garden with flowers to endure the winter chill, a freshly painted exterior that looked much the same as its neighbours. In his earlier reflections, Bob's imagination had conjured images of a bleak, impenetrable fortress on top of a jagged mountaintop: a proper setting for a fairytale hero to venture into and vanquish evil, but considering the sheer unremarkableness of this house, it was unlikely that an ogre awaited him inside. There would be no trolls in this fairytale, he realised; no wicked witches, or three little pigs. This was his fairytale and Bob, the unlikely protagonist of this story, had a growing uneasiness in the back of his mind that told him that his destiny lay in front of him.
If his first step towards the unassuming structure could have been called difficult, the next one was an exercise in resolve. A third, a fourth. this was getting easier. a fifth. it rather brought back memories. a sixth, a seventh. yes, only three years ago. Why did it seem like yesterday? An eight. was it really this difficult? A ninth. the silent count never stopped.
Yet.
"Get in here boy." Sir Thomas had growled, "It's cold and you're gonna be no good to me if you catch your death out there."
Bob had hastened his steps hearing his Master's command and subconsciously moving to obey. His Master was taking him home for the first time, and now, metres away from the threshold, he had petered on the edge of indecision. Only his Master's reassuring growl had kept his nerve from breaking by reminding him of who made the decisions for him.
It was a small matter of a half dozen more steps covered in haste, and Bob was inside where he belonged. And he was warm.
Bob shivered reflexively. The wind was picking up and a light drizzle was beginning to fall. thirteen, fourteen. was it warm inside?' he wondered. Was his soon- to-be Master going to open the front door any second now and order him indoors? Fifteen, sixteen. would it be the same?' he wondered. Would it begin as it did all those years ago?
Would it be the same?
"Relax boy, relax." His Master crooned reassuringly. "You'll learn to obey promptly if it's the last thing I do."
A red ass and a bruised ego were testament to another display of disobedience, or to be more precise: belated obedience.
"Your punishment's not over yet boy." His Master warned him. "I'm training you boy. I'm breaking you in, but you have to want it too boy." His husky voice had an exhilarating edge to it, and Bob was forced to suppress a shiver. "You have to want it boy, and you're going to beg me to punish you boy. You're going to beg! Beg for it boy!"
"Please Sir," Bob began breathlessly. "Please punish me more Sir."
The impact of the next stroke rang in his ears. His Master had decided to employ the paddle this time. Perhaps his hand was getting sore. Perhaps Bob should be punished for that too.
Thwack! Thwack! The steady rhythm continued as, in between gasps, Bob begged, and pleaded, and cursed himself for his transgressions: past and present. How he loved his Master, he professed. How his Master was everything to him, and how he was nothing without Him. He might have begun to recite a Shakespearean sonnet. he wasn't sure.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Between gasps and tears now, he was begging, but finally the punishment was over.
"There boy. You're finally worthy enough to take my cum again." His Master's voice announced somewhere above the clouds of pain and remorse. Somewhere in his mind, Bob was grateful. "Well boy? What are you waiting for?" Bob mustn't have heard the sound of his Master's pants being undone, because all of a sudden, sitting in the armchair in front of him was the most inviting piece of Master-meat that he had ever paid witness to. "Down boy!" His Master commanded. "Down and suck my cock like the dog that you are!"
Bob barely managed a mumbled "Yes Sir," before his hungry lips gratefully enveloped his Masters throbbing flesh, already anticipating the sweet, satisfying taste of his Master's cum.
His Master similarly expressed his growing pleasure, groaning a "Yeah, good boy," here and an "Oh, that's right boy," there. Bob tasted precum and felt his Master's growing approval with his tongue. Safe in the knowledge that he was pleasing his Master, Bob savoured the taste of His salty cream and wanted more.
Harder, harder, deeper, deeper, Bob pushed himself. He had failed his Master and paid the price already. This time would be different. He would not fail his Master now. He would be a good boy for his Master. He would be a good boy. The thought circulated through his mind as his Master neared orgasm.
A few trickles of precum at first, finally became a flood as his Master's meat throbbed, pumping His delicious cum into Bob's mouth and down his throat. Swallowing appreciatively, Bob consumed every last drop before lift his head away, cleaning with his tongue as he went, and rested his head atop his Master's gently heaving chest.
"Good boy. That was very good boy. Did you enjoy that?"
Murmuring "Yes Sir," Bob let his eyes close, drifting off into a deep, satisfied sleep.
The rain was starting to really come down now. Bob felt drenched to the skin. twenty-two, twenty-three. winds that had previously chilled, now numbed him to the bone. Wrapped in a blanket of his memories, Bob continued toward his goal.
He remembered smoke. Smoke and sweat and an alcohol fuelled buzz. A warm, clammy hand rested on the thigh of his jeans and a stupidly smiling face regarded him happily.
"Are you having a good time?" Neil asked him, patting his thigh.
"Uh, yeah. But it's pretty busy." Bob said. "I'm not too comfortable around crowds."
"Oh, well we could grab a few beers and head back to my place." Neil wasn't exactly the most tactful of people with a few pints on him.
"I don't mind. Whatever you think." Bob answered, also considerably less tactful with some beer to cloud his brain.
"OK. Let's go then." Bob wasn't sure he'd expected this answer from Neil, but nevertheless, he had agreed to it.
Shuffling to their feet, they gathered their coats and hastened out the door. Stopping by an off-license, Neil picked up a dozen cans of beer and led Bob back to his apartment in a more-than-half drunken stupor.
There, through the drunken beer haze, Bob watched Neil put on a kinky porn video and open a can of beer, offering another to him, which Bob accepted gratefully.
"Thanks Neil." He said slurring and collapsing onto the sofa. Neil set down his can and removed his jacket, throwing it over the arm of the sofa, and then his top.
"It's warm in here." Neil answered weakly.
Bob watched as Neil removed his pants and finally all of his clothing, before sitting down calmly beside him.
The hand was back on his thigh.
"You shouldn't need that top here Bob. It's very hot in here." Bob wasn't sure whether of not Neil was flattering himself, but his hand did feel very good as it slid up his thigh and caressed his crotch. "Why don't you take it off and make yourself comfortable, like me?" At this, Bob's cheeks reddened visibly. "What's the matter Bob? Your Master doesn't have to find out. Besides, there's nothing wrong with being naked around a friend. He's wouldn't mind. Come on Bob. Make yourself at home."
Fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, Bob watched as Neil undressed him until finally, as the last article of clothing fell away, Bob was standing naked before him and shivering slightly.
"Come here. Let me warm you up." Neil said invitingly as Bob lowered himself onto the sofa beside him. Neil reached over and pulled Bob into an embrace, kissing him deeply. Bob felt his hot breath, fetid with the smell of too much beer, as Neil kissed Bob all over, his sweaty hands rubbing over Bob's shivering body. Finally Bob placed a tentative hand on Neil's chest, and allowed himself to be pulled forward into a deep, passionate kiss.
About a half hour later, Bob was retching over the toilet bowl. Waves of guilt and nausea washed over him as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the white enamelled bowl, watching the churning of the mixture of water, bile and dinner as he pulled feebly on the handle.
Standing, he wiped his face with a facecloth, and fought back the urge to vomit again. Staring into the shaving mirror, Bob wasn't sure he recognised the face staring back. His Master's obedient boy was gone, replaced by this treacherous interloper. He felt sick.
Bob shuddered. Not all memories were happy ones. The rain was coming down in sheets now, and he took his next numb steps. The warm glow of the hallway was reassuring, offering him a better life inside. An existence with meaning, with purpose. a second chance. twenty-seven, twenty-eight.
Not all memories were happy ones.
"You've betrayed me for the last time boy!" He Master shouted angrily. "I can't believe that I put my trust in you and you went behind my back like this. What were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?"
Bob knew that he deserved this tirade. For what he had done, there was no excuse, no forgiveness. No amount of punishment could ever absolve him. "I'm sorry Sir. I wasn't thinking. I was drunk and I made a mistake Sir."
"A mistake? Forgetting to put on clean underwear is a mistake. Leaving the fridge door open is a mistake. What you did was nothing short of treason. You know what they did to traitors in feudal times, don't you boy? Why should I be any easier on a treacherous scumbag like you?"
"Because I love You Sir. I need You Sir." Bob pleaded.
His Master choked back a derisive laugh. "You've shown me exactly how much you love me boy. I don't need that kind of love. Now get out! Get out before I throw you out."
There was nothing left for Bob to do. There was nothing he could say that would have changed his Master's mind. Bob wasn't even sure if he deserved a second chance. Faced with the knowledge that the last two years of his life had been an expensive lesson in loyalty, Bob had no other choice but to pay the price of failure.
A year passed and Bob never saw Him again.
Bob suddenly realised that he was standing in front of the doorway. Rain lashed down from the sky, as If trying to beat him to his knees and somewhere in the distance he could hear a low peal of thunder.
"I have suffered the consequences, I have paid my price, and I have walked my lonely road for long enough." Bob chanted inaudibly "Now I have a second chance. One that I don't deserve, one that I shouldn't have, but I will take it. My time in purgatory is over, and now I will reclaim my life. I will be happy." Bob finished his silent mantra and reached up a numb arm to push the button for the doorbell. "I will be happy."
A ringing sound reached his ears, a pure sound, and the sound of his salvation. Footsteps followed and the door swing open slowly, letting a warm golden glow spill out onto his shivering, rain soaked form. Almost weeping with joy, Bob let himself be led into the hallway, where he was warm, and dry, and happy.
NOTE: the author of these stories has been instructed to write based on his personal experience. He is a young submissive, in a serious long-term ownership. The stories are not completely autobiographical, but they include some experience.
Master Greg