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A slave's Induction
Ch 3 - The Proposal
"Ok," he said snapping his fingers and suspending my trance. He sat down naked on the leather sofa in the place I had occupied, "Nick," he directed as he raised his arms and assumed that wonderful (fingers interlaced behind the head relaxed) position, "Grab the hassock for Tom." Nick fetched the ordered piece of furniture and brought it over to the Boss. Believing it was for me to sit on, its placement confused me as he put it in front of the boss and Bill put his legs up on it. My confusion would be short-lived. "Tom, why don't you kneel right there." He pointed to the other side of the hassock. His calves looked even more massive in their rested position on the ottoman, and there, were the soles of the beautiful feet I'd just been worshiping aimed at me as I took my privileged position. The combined scents of the god's exposed armpits and feet as he relaxed before me along with seeing him sprawled out naked in comfort, coupled to enrapture and intoxicate me.
"I want us to talk for a bit," Bill said, "And my feet are killing me. I would love it if you would rub them for me as we chat. You seemed to be really enjoying them there a moment ago. This will give you a chance to become familiar with even the undersides. Would you like that?" he asked needlessly.
"Of course Sir."
"Show me how much," he presumed, "I love a good foot massage. Right Nick?" he said.
"Right Boss."
"Lets see if he gets anywhere near the pleasure you give me when you worship my feet for me. Go ahead," Bill said, "I'll let you get started before we have our chat." Bill closed his eyes and put his head back against the sofa essentially limp with relaxation as I began something, which furthered that, "Feeling lucky" sensation I'd been reveling in so much. I DID worship as my accommodating ministrations enhanced Bills total pleasure. He waited fully fifteen minutes before he spoke from his lulled position - without moving a glorious hair covered muscle. His hands were laced across his hairy belly as he began, "Regarding my earlier toast to new associations, and the possibility of something beneficial in the making," He paused a moment, "I have a proposition for you. I'd like to feature you in one of my videos. Because of your genuine interest in the subject, I think you'd be great as a henchman in the production I'm putting together right now."
I was stunned. I didn't want to insult him or hurt his feelings, but I couldn't imagine me doing what I'd just witnessed. I remembered partial facial shots of the tops. I composed myself and thanked him very much for the invitation. I asked if he meant like the men I had just seen torturing the victims. Before he could answer I added, "Maybe if I wore a hood, like you see in movies where the executioner's head is covered. I wouldn't want to risk being identified. If I could wear a hood - " Before I could finish my thought, he cut me off.
"Oh no! No hood!" He lifted his head and looked into my eyes - but it was beyond looking into them, his steel grays seemed to be peering inside me, "I've done too many anonymous things protecting the so-to-speak "executioner's" faces & identities, including my own. Customers are requesting to see the entire man. No. What I want for this project, is having someone the viewers can fully observe and identify with - see close ups of the looks on his face as he enjoys torturing and then nutting his victim. Your look is just right. No anonymous bull shit." He put one hand on the arm of the sofa and scratched his balls with the other. He was out of that lulled zone and talking business with an intensified tone. I kept rubbing his feet wishing he were still where he'd been - feeling somehow I was failing to pleasure him the way I had been - the way he deserved and expected.
There was no way I could do this thing he was asking and I had to just say it. "Boss, I wish I could do it for you. I feel honored you would ask me, but I just can't do it the way you want it done. I'm really sorry."
He had a miffed look on his face and crossed his arms as he questioned me, "Would it do any good to tell you I'm taken aback that you would refuse my offer. I brought you home drunk to keep you out of trouble. I helped you to get relaxed and watched videos with you and let you smell and feel me all over. You even had the privilege of seeing and feeling my cock and balls and the crack of my ass. No one gets to go there. Even now u massage my feet. Go ahead. Lick them like I know you want to." I was drunk, and even fuzzy, but not so drunk and fuzzy, I couldn't see he was trying to make me feel guilty, to shame me into agreeing. I don't know if it was the pill and the extra booze he'd supplied under the guise of relaxation aides or what, but I WAS feeling guilty, VERY guilty as I licked and smelled and worshiped.
Quietly he watched me and then spoke, "From right there you can talk to me," I held onto his feet and from my place on my knees below the soles of his feet, peered over his toes.
"Sir," I said sheepishly, and ridden with the guilt he intended. "I am indebted to you for these things, but I can't be in your movie. I wish I could, because of how I admire and worship you as a god. You deserve to be pleasured and accommodated. I've come to see that this evening, with your help and Nick's." Bill took his feet from me, pushed the hassock aside, sat back and raised his arms overhead and clasped hands behind his head just like before. On his face he wore an expression of disappointment combined with resignation.
"Well, listen Tom. Don't make that your final answer. You have to stay here any way. You're too drunk to drive, and I wouldn't let you try. So think tonight about things and then give me an answer tomorrow. You owe me that much," he said, "Will you make a promise to me you will at least do that?" He paused, and I said I would. I DID owe him at least that much. "So promise me. Let me hear you say it. Tell me you promise you will think through the night about things, and give me your answer in the morning."
I spoke a version of it, and he said to do it again. Don't get stupid on me," he said. I know you're drunk. But it's not that difficult a request. "Let me hear you say," and he spoke the line the way he wanted to hear it.
"While in the Boss's house, do it the Boss's way," I thought to myself, "he's obviously used to getting that." I parroted his words verbatim, and he smiled. He had such a beautiful smile. It was nice knowing I had done something at least, to warrant that much. I would find out it was about being pleased with himself, for eliciting exactly what he wanted to hear, that was putting that smile on his face. It was one of self-satisfaction. He was not pleased with me at all.
"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" The question was evidently rhetorical. He didn't give me time to answer. "It's late," he said. Nick will take you downstairs and get you situated." His smile turned into more of a sexy grin as he added, " - tuck you in so-to-speak. He'll see that you have everything you need for the night. What ever you decide, I'll expect your answer tomorrow. Ok?"
"Yes Sir - sure. Ok Boss," I said, with the tone of, "No problems."
It seemed a reasonable enough request. I had no intention of changing my mind, but there was no reason it couldn't wait till morning, after a good nights sleep, for me to say so.
From his comfortable place sitting with hands clasped behind his head, biceps relaxed but so big they were appearing flexed, looking so astounding in his hairy magnificence, he issued only one word while still grinning at me, "Nick - " as if to say, "Be on your way."
These two were exactly in tune, and Nick knew precisely what was being conveyed as he answered the man in charge, "Yes Sir Boss. I'll tuck him in and be back ASAP." He took my arm and pushed me ahead of him out the door. I was sure that in this setting, "Anything you might need for the night," would include a new toothbrush and razor, fresh towels, crisp linens, and anything else a guest of this affluent household might want. Nick directed me through the large house, "Go right - now this way - left here," and then directed me up to a door.
"Go ahead - open it," Was Nick's instruction. It had an entry knob and a dead bolt. It seemed a little odd, but not enough to warrant more than noticing and dismissing it. Nick gave me a nudge and told me to go on down stairs. As he closed the door behind him I didn't see that the self-closing dead bolt was keyed
The lower lever was like the upper. He directed me along a nicely appointed hall with expensive natural woodwork - carpeting - lighting - past several doors, and stopped me in front of one. It too had the double lock set up which didn't feel quite right, "Go ahead," he said. As instructed, I opened the door to enter a section of hall so short, that the two of us practically filled it. We passed through into an unlit room - which when he closed the familiar sounding door behind us, left us essentially in the dark. "You guys locking me in tonight," I said jokingly trying to mitigate my feeling a little less fuzzy, and a little more uneasy. My attempt t a lighthearted comment - I would soon find out - would end up the farthest thing possible from a joke.
In the friendliest unthreatening tone he said, "Ok. Hold on now. The Boss wants your reaction to the new room. It was just finished." I stood there blind and disoriented, as Nick walked away from me. His boot heels clicked on the hard floor that felt different under my bare feet.
"Cold floor," I said, feeling the coolness under my bare feet, in contrast to all the soft carpeting we had just traversed getting here.
"Yeah, polished concrete," he said. "Best thing for this kind of installation."
"What type of installation was that?" I wondered, but just responded with a tentative, "Oh?" While I waited in the darkness, he asked for a minute while he found the lights, saying he wasn't used, just yet, to the new locations of everything.
"There we go," he said. The sound of loud commercial breakers tripped as bright lights began to flood the big room, illuminating section at a time. I watched, as what came to life, felt like a combination of a sterile hospital facility, a dungeon, and a set for, "Saw" the movie.
Instinctively, I turned back and grabbed the door handle seeing the keyed deadbolt at my eye level - it did not budge. Holding fast to the doorknob - looking and not wanting to see, he ignored my reaction, "So what do you think?" he asked. There were high clean tile walls - some lined with cabinet doors and drawers - industrial tracks and hooks in the ceiling and among many other formidable looking things scattered on walls and floor, there was a cage affair, prominently lit in the middle of the room, next to a drain in the polished concrete floor.
"What's going on?" I asked, as a fuzzy kind of panic set in.
Comments welcome: mackxwayne@hotmail.com
Ch 3 - was a short one, but get ready for Ch 4 - A Terrible Night