DISCLAIMER: This entire story is fictional. Both main characters are fictional constructs created from the two competing aspects of my sexuality. Both characters depicted are 18. This story includes non-consenting acts between two males which are sexual in nature.
PERSPECTIVE: Jonah
Cafeteria food, universally known for being horrible, is generally as appalling at our uni as in any other venue. Today, however, was an exception.
It wasn't really, of course, as I was well aware, but I nonetheless reflected pleasantly enough on the food as I ate it. I was simply enjoying the day, and the lustful nuzzling of my slave's face against the bottom of my foot. As soon as I'd come through the door, his eyes had widened, and he'd started shaking. His rather small dick, bare and exposed with no pubic hair around it, went from where it had apparently been sagging (while hard) towards the floor to full mast (and hard). Indeed, his naked form bore no hair anywhere except his head, which was a lovely dirty blonde. He was skinny, not anemic and not athletic, and of a regrettably pale light skin color, even lighter than I.
I had been quite turned on by the image and thought of my slave bound upon a small rod I had encouraged up his cunt, obviously straining to remain in a squat with his feet arched underneath him, his knees fully bent, legs splayed to the sides, chest upright and arms fully extended behind him. He had blushed and lowered his face, his gaze falling upon my feet. As I had crossed the room, my slave had taken several glances upward, eyes wide, in an obvious plea to release him from his torment, but I wasn't done demonstrating to him how thoroughly he had been subjugated. Nor, for that matter, had I been ready to give up the sight of his slender nude figure, with duck tape over his mouth holding my day-old dirty sock in his mouth, collared and leashed to my bed with his small muscles straining to keep himself as far up the impromptu dildo as he could.
As I munched I had one foot propped over the back of the chair, near enough to his face so that he might find some comfort in his humiliation beneath his master, and sure he enough he had leaned forward--forcing his bottom further down the rod--in order to tenderly rub his face into every crevice on the bottom of my foot.
Teddy bear--I had decided I did want to call him that, and intended to follow through with the bear-tail ass plug and clip-on teddy bear ears--was a remarkably lucky and unlucky young man. 18, a few months younger than me, he had never lived apart from his parents before, and had only met me two weeks before when we'd both moved into the dorm. For whatever reason, several days before I had been sufficiently motivated to setup a packet sniffer, which can display raw internet traffic, and had left it on on our internet connection. I'd already had a couple good times with my right hand imagining my roommate was my slave when I discovered (in what, I'm sure, was a freak accident of amazing fortune) that Teddy was writing porn--not just fantasizing, but actually writing porn--of being made into my slave. I hadn't said anything, of course, just waited until I'd gotten all of the necessary equipment, but my budding interest in several other classmates had waned as I realized potential to actually accomplish my fantasy life lay in my own room. It took a fair amount of research, preparation, and plotting--especially plotting--before I had felt I was ready. But indeed I was, and little teddy bear had no idea how much I had arranged.
I looked down on my naked slave's body, smoothly sliding forward and back as his nose and cheeks rubbed softly against the sole of my right foot. His eyes were closed, rather than on me, but the peaceful, happy expression he wore was beautiful and so I decided to allow the omission. As my slave's clear bare shoulders arched gently, and his arms flexed and loosened, I admired this view of my property. It's funny how you don't notice subtle details until after you own something--like slight imperfections on a used car you bought--but I noticed now some slight freckles on my pet teddy bear's face, and far from being defects they contributed to his beauty. I finished eating, and stretched, legs and arms locked outwards, knocking my property a bit away. His eyes opened, and I saw what I took to be fear in his expression as he fell back slightly, but once I had finished stretching I simply placed my other foot over the back of the chair, and lowered the first to the seat. I knew my slave was disappointed I had not taken him off of the rod, but he took to my other foot immediately. I pulled up my laptop and surfed for a bit.
My need to piss had risen significantly over the course of my meal, and it was no doubt time to water the bitch, so I stood. My slave trembled slightly, and bowed his head so that he was gazing at my feet. Stepping forward, I slid one hand through his hair, then pulled him face directly into my crotch, guiding him until his mouth was near the button of my jeans.
"Well, little slave boy, I think it's time to let you have a little drink. It'll also give us a chance to see just how far along in your personal development you've come, because it will mean you won't have the assistance of my sock in your mouth to keep you in your place."
I pulled his head back slightly from where he had already began cuddling my crotch and yanked off the tape. With two fingers I reached into his mouth and pulled out the rancid sock I'd soaked with sweat the day before. I was immensely curious to see whether he would try and yell for help, forcing me to immediately shove it back in, or whether he would continue with what might still be a show of immense and loving subordination.
"Now you may unbutton and un-zip my pants."
Eyes wide, teddy bear leaned forward again (which forced the rod deeper, I noted) and began fumbling with the button to my jeans. It seemed to take a while for him to figure out a method that worked, until with increasing desperation he was able to pull the jeans with his teeth around the edge of the button. He soon had grasped the zipper between his teeth and pulled it down the length of my fly.
"Not bad, bitch, not bad. I'd almost believe you had already learned to love your master and the generosity with which he has allowed you to serve him. But then I remember seeing from your little fantasy story how well you understand that such an opportunity was a great honor to accomplish far more--perhaps removing some dirt from the feet of a man--than you ever could have with your own delusions of how your life was to unfold."
I stepped to the side and slid his leash off of the top of the bed post. Reaching down, I un-cuffed his hands, then cuffed them behind has back but free of the post. As I pulled him forward onto his knees, I slipped my hard cock out of my boxers and tapped it against his face. His eyes glanced upwards to me, grateful but also somewhat apprehensive, presumably at the size of my cock. I, however, was not concerned; in time he would learn to draw more comfort and pleasure from having it in his mouth and throat than I ever could from receiving his service.
I allowed his lips to close over the tip, then pass slightly up the shaft before I tightened my grasp on his head and held him still. As I expected it took some time while I held him in that position before I was able to piss, but I didn't waste any time warning him when I finally began, nor of my obvious expectation that he swallow all of it. When the urine did begin find its way through my dick, I felt him tremble, or perhaps stiffen slightly, and could tell he had begun swallowing rapidly. He did seem able to keep up--barely--but would certainly need to learn to chug it when I had gotten to the point of not being so aroused when I pissed. When I had finished, I pulled his head slightly off of the shaft, and then wiped the tip on his lips and cheek. He leaned forward and kissed the tip once more, but I stopped him before any further ministrations. At my restraining touch he immediately bowed his head once more.
Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. Both of our heads snapped towards the sound, then I called loudly, "Just a minute."
Reaching down, I grabbed my dirty, sopping wet sock and slid it into his mouth--which he widened, flattening his tongue obediently, to allow it in--then taped it in again. Sliding my cock back into my boxers, I zipped and buttoned my jeans while my slave knelt subserviently before me. When I had finished, I grabbed his leash where it connected to his collar and led him to the closet. There I had a large suitcase, already unzipped and opened, which I pulled him into. As Bear crouched into a fetal position, hands still cuffed behind his back, I closed the suitcase and zipped it shut.
Then I went to see about my visitor.
PERSPECTIVE: the slave
I lay perfectly still inside my Master's suitcase (which had once been mine, but of course belonged to Him now as did everything I had once so unrightfully owned). I'm not sure why; at that point I probably could have drawn enough attention to myself to get this visitor to notice, and I don't know what Jonas (my Owner) could have done to explain His way out of it. But for some reason I couldn't bring myself to do it. As I had cried my way through my Master's classes, so thoroughly and rightfully reminded I was owned by His rod in my ass (cunt, my mind told me), I must already have begun the process He knew I would.
Although the whole time He had been gone and the whole time since He had returned I had been aware of my obligation to attempt escape, I had such longing for (and then edification in) my Owner's presence and service. At some points I know I had been crying not because of the pain but because of...something else. I had never had a chance to find out before, but I truly was loving being in my place. I loved having His hand on my leash, my nudity on display for His inspection and pleasure. I loved serving as His urinal, His verbal reminders of my inferiority and unworthiness. I simply adored nuzzling His feet and couldn't wait for the time that He decided I might not need His sock in my mouth and I was allowed to lick, kiss and massage His feet with my tongue and mouth as He had promised.
These feelings were certainly partly sexual, but also partly not; my dick had been hard most of the time, which had seemed to please my Master, but even when it wasn't I had hardly had an easier time rallying my thoughts and resolve to escape. Instead I had thought about how much I did want this. He had been right in many ways about what He had said earlier that morning, that were I free to choose what I wanted for my life this could very easily be it. Even at the time, not knowing how I would feel about it, I had thought it likely to make me just as or possibly even more happy than living a successful life, earning the respect of my family and friends, and having the small pleasures that came from doing well for yourself. I hadn't been able to imagine having any kind of relationship at any point, because I couldn't really get into the idea of pretending to have a boyfriend to everyone and then as soon as their backs were turned having something so different from what they believed.
I had managed a few times to contemplate escape; perhaps even harder than the thought of shaming everyone I knew with my desire live as this man's slave (I certainly no longer thought of Him as anything but a man, even though He too was only 18) was the thought of telling them they would never see me again, as He had ordered. Even if I could get over telling my mother and father what I wanted, what was truly making me happy, and somehow get them to accept that and want me to have that happiness, how could I explain to them that they could never see me again?
It was that thought that I had rallied to several times earlier, and which I thought about while trying to bolster my resistance. Even if I didn't feel it was unfair to me, it was certainly unfair to traumatize them in such a manner. The thought made me feel more guilty than resolute; I felt guilty about how much I wanted to submit to my Master's every desire, including that of abandoning them, first and foremost. I thought it was really impressive how quickly my Owner had eroded my will. He had left me alone, horny for Him but also in pain and dependent upon His arbitrary choice to free me. Anything that happened to me happened because He chose it.
As my thoughts paused temporarily, I noticed the physical sensations of my situation. My bare, now hairless ass on the bottom of the suitcase, still had a significant ache from the rod that had earlier been kept up my cunt. My dick, growing erect again as I considered my posture, began to stiffen upwards between where my legs were curled against my torso; I was in a sort of fetal position in the suitcase, except with my hands cuffed behind me, squatting so that both my feet and my ass supported my weight. My chest and shoulders were bent forward over my stomach--no, tummy, I thought--and my head was propped in the upper corner opposite my bottom. My collar, which seemed to be made of metal links, hung comfortingly around my neck, and my leather leash fell down between my legs and spooled on the bottom of the suitcase. I began to notice the words of my Master and His guest and quickly tried to divert my attention; the entire time I had chosen to be lost in thought rather than inadvertently overhear my Owner's business, which was certainly not for me to know unless He chose it.
His sock was had grown much more comfortable in my mouth after my breath and saliva had warmed it back to my body temperature. I had tried not to think about how uncomfortable it was when He had shoved it in cold and slimy, as it was of course not my place to be ungrateful. Rather, it was always an honor to have a sock that He had gotten sweaty on His foot in my mouth. I knew my little dick--no, willie--was rock-solid at that thought, and felt it tap my tummy. His own had been much bigger, as I had both hoped and feared; i was concerned about being able to service Him properly, and worried i might choke when He used my mouth as His cunt, or be unable to hold back moans or screams when He commanded the use of my ass as His cunt. But despite my fear for the pain, I was immensely happy at how thoroughly it demonstrated my own natural inferiority to Him. I hoped He found the sight of my own insufficient member wagging with my enthusiasm for serving Him amusing.
The sounds of talking had slowed, and soon I heard my Owner open His door, and exchange farewells with His guest. I was eager to be able to see Him once more, and hoped for the opportunity to service His feet to His pleasure. Several minutes went by before He came and unzipped the case that held me; blinking up at Him, i made no move to get out until He indicated, taking my leash, threading it back up between my legs, and tugging on it slightly. I fell forward onto my knees before Him, lowering my face to His feet, but then was pulled up by my leash. My Master pet me with His free hand, running His fingers through my hair, possessively caressing His pet slave boy. I leaned slightly toward His crotch, and strained to glimpse His face without dislodging His hand. At His slight nod, I nuzzled my face against the center of His jeans, respectfully looking for His cock and massaging it back to full size. My legs were wide apart, and I could tell my own willie was sticking wide out in front of me, bobbing up and down with my motion. It felt good to have my ass spread slightly as it was, to feel completely available and visible for His inspection, regardless of the fact that He seemed more focused on petting my hair. Even kneeling in a closet serving my Owner in this impromptu way felt so satisfying; I was happy like this, happy in a way I felt guilty about, happy in a way that made me suspect this truly was what would make for the best life I could have. I was happy and it wasn't fair.
My Owner quickly tired of simply demonstrating His possession, and led me back into His bedroom. As He ceased pulling me forward and tied my leash once again to a bed post, I quickly lowered my face to the floor behind His feet. He turned, and briefly offered a foot beneath my nose, which I nuzzled eagerly, before he hopped up onto the bed above me. I could tell His feet dangled only inches above my head.
"Raise your head and neck, slave, and serve as my foot rest." I eagerly complied, and felt the side of one foot lie against my neck and shoulder, and the toes of His other foot combed my hair before His foot came to rest flat atop my head.
"Now, it may be some time before these become relevant, but these are rules I am giving you to serve me, so pay careful attention to remember all of them. Eventually, there will be a time when it is appropriate for you to be able to speak to me; not just in response to some question, but rather to let me know your feelings, needs, or things you have observed. When this becomes appropriate, you must of course beg permission to speak, and you will do that by kneeling as you do now--slightly above prone--before me and waiting. This is appropriate when you have completed the tasks I have given you, or if I have simply given you orders to remain at my feet. No doubt you have already figured out that such a command indicates you may massage, caress, kiss, or lick my feet unless I explicitly tell you to remain still. At any rate, you will hold that position respectfully until I choose to acknowledge or dismiss your desire to speak. If you have something urgent to say, you may mewl softly, as a kitten might, but unless it is truly urgent, understand that I will have no hesitation in punishing you for interrupting me if you persist after I indicate you are not allowed to speak.
"Another matter is that of your health; I'm still in the process of determining exactly what you will be allowed to eat, which dog foods are best for humans and what will need to be added for human nutritional requirements, but I will generally give you orders to prepare yourself a bowl of some kind of food and allow you time to eat it on my floor. For water, you are allowed to drink from my toilet as needed, although I recommend against gorging yourself at any point, as you are always responsible for being able to drink anything I or any guests give you. Obviously, the opportunity to exercise your right to drink from my toilet is only available when I choose to either leave you unleashed or with enough play in your leash to reach it. As far as excrement: you will always raise the toilet bowl and sit on the rim, regardless of whether you are peeing or pooping. You will flush, wipe yourself off, and always use clean water after the flush to clean out your hole. You will wash your hands immediately after by climbing upon the toilet and possibly counter until you can reach the sink, then resume your position on the floor. When I need to shit, you will wait at my feet until I have finished, and then I may choose to wipe myself or not. Regardless, afterwards you will be responsible for ensuring my hole is completely clean with your tongue. One you have done so, you will clean your mouth out with soap--you will not swallow until you have done so--and return to the heel position at my feet.
"I generally dislike alarm clocks--they are an unpleasant way to wake up--so in the future you will be responsible for waking me at the time I wish to rise. Until you are allowed to have your mouth free, you will have to accomplish this by nuzzling me much as you have been; you are allowed to nuzzle my feet, along my legs, and my ass, dick and balls, and will be allowed to lick and kiss them eventually. You may also wake me with a blow job, again once you are allowed used of your mouth. You yourself will sleep on the floor beneath my bed, until I decide I wish you to sleep elsewhere, such as the cage I may buy for you. You will be leashed and collared at all times for the first few days, but eventually you may be allowed to serve me all over my home, in more places than you could reach while leashed to anything. In such events, remember that even when I am not home, you are not worthy to rise to your feet, and for tasks such as cleaning something you could not possibly reach by stretching from your knees, you will clamber upon it on all fours. Now, I'm going to remove the sock in your mouth so you can demonstrate your understanding and gratitude. When I ask a direct question, you are allowed to answer, with no more than cursory thanks."
My Owner moved His feet off of His property and pulled my head up by my leash. He tore the tape off of my mouth, removed His sock and lay it over my hair, so that it hung down in front of one eye. I submissively bowed my head as far as i could without jeopardizing the position of His sock.
"Now, when and how will you be allowed to eat?"
"When my Owner orders me i may put some food in a bowl, and when You give me permission i can put it on the floor. Then when You give me permission i can eat out of it. Thank You sir for helping me find my place at Your feet. I will always be in your debt for the great honors You provided me so far this morning when You let me serve you."
It felt somewhat odd to be kneeling here, naked and subservient, before someone who (as it again struck me) had been before and could so easily be considered my peer. Rather than making any attempt to scream for help (as part of my subconscious screamed at me to do) or otherwise work towards escape, i knelt here. I couldn't help myself, somehow.
"A bit wordy, but nice to hear. Keep it shorter next time. Now, if you have something you need to tell me--something odd you have observed, or how you feel about me, your service to me, or anything else, or perhaps a request you have, how may you do so?"
"Master, i would finish whatever orders You gave me, because even the most un-important order You give me will always be more important that anything i might say, and then i would kneel before You and mewl softly for a short time and wait until You give me permission to speak. Thank you, Owner, Sir, for letting me have rules to know my place."
"Good. However, keep in mind that not just your body, but also your mind and emotions belong to me. It will be your duty to tell me of your feelings and thoughts, both as a matter of curiosity for me and to ensure I can keep my property maintained in the best health, and so I will expect you to regularly discuss your feelings and desires with me. You, slave-boy, are bound to be completely open and honest with me about your deepest feelings, desires and hopes. Now is not the time for that, however."
"Now, keeping that in mind, how will you relieve yourself when you need to pee-pee or poo?"
I was grateful to hear my Master use childish terms for my own bodily members and processes, compared to more vulgar, adult ones for His own; i had read it in porn before (as i assumed He had) and found it appropriately demeaning. However, i hesitated while i tried to determine what He meant about keeping in mind what He said before; in retrospect it is immediately obvious, but fearful of making a mistake in front of my Owner, I tried to think.
"Well, slave?" my Owner said, taking His foot off of my shoulder just long enough to kick my head with His sole, then allowed me to be His footrest again.
"I will move the toilet seat up and sit on the rim when i need to relieve myself, Sir, and wash myself so that i am clean for You immediately after."
My Owner kicked me slightly harder this time. "Yes, bitch, you will, but you will ask for such permission by completing any assignment I have given you, then coming to kneel in the proper way at my feet. Also, I will probably eventually begin keeping your ass plugged, at which point most likely you will only be allowed to shit once a day, on a regular schedule, as I permit."
I thought of acknowledging this verbally and thanking my Master, but figured He would probably prefer i remain submissively silent. As i waited, i became again intensely aware of my own nakedness before my Owner, of the collar that ringed my neck and the leash that connected it to His hand. With the foot He had used to correct me, He had passed the leash between His toes, making gentle tugs on it as He worked to slip it in between each one. I watched from beneath his wet sock hanging over my face, grateful for the sight I found so beautiful, finally allowing myself to think of feet with that term, certainly something I could not have voiced or allowed myself to relish feeling before. His feet were beautiful, all of His toes just the right length, His toenails neatly trimmed (a service I hoped to be able to provide Him in the future), and I was immensely turned on as even the small motion of wrapping my leash around one toe would tug on my collar, reminding me of my proper place. I hoped my slender, hairless form, which He had so recently shaven, looked at least acceptable in my Master's view, and hopefully even brought Him some pleasure to know that He had a slave to serve Him, however little it had done to deserve that honor. I thought of my back, arched forward and the top of my blonde head bowed before Him with His wet sock hanging down over my face, my legs splayed out and kneeling, my ass resting on the heels of my feet, toes and balls supporting my weight, and knew my hard willie was at its full five inches of extension.
He on the leash until it slid through His toes; it became taught and i leaned forward as smoothly as I could to follow my leash until His toes tapped my forehead. He rubbed the ball of His foot over my forehead, down over one eye, and then up over the bridge of my nose to rub the other. Letting the leash slip off, He explored my face with His toes. He seemed to enjoy grabbing my cheeks, nose and lips between His toes and pulling gently one direction or another. It felt like i must have died, because i was in my own perfect version of Heaven. I'd always wondered what actually being enslaved could be like, if i wouldn't get bored or eventually lose interest, and although it was clearly too early to say, the excitement so far was only a small portion of the happiness i felt, and that gave me hope that the happiness would last.
When He tired of demonstrating His ownership of me in that way, He hopped off the bed. I quickly knelt next to His feet, and as i leaned my face to the floor the sock slipped off. Mortified and unsure of what to do, i leaned forward and grabbed it with my teeth, then froze to wait for His guidance.
"Good slave-boy. You did well, not only keeping your mouth shut while under my direct observation, but when presented with the tool which helped you so much earlier, you intuited the correct response."
He pulled my head up by the leash and pushed His sock fully into my mouth, then led me to a roll of duck tape and tore off a new piece. I wasn't sure how i felt about my actions or responses either way, or about what He said. I didn't know what the right thing to do was--when He brought it up again, i was reminded of the effect my enslavement would have on my family and friends. Indeed, had the very same feelings occurred before He had put His sock in, i may have tried shouting while i had the chance.
While i was lost in thought, Master Jonah had led me back to the bed-post where He had kept me impaled to stew on His mastery of me this morning. Once again, He pulled on the back of my collar until my knees had been lifted off of the ground, and quickly tied my leash to the post so that my back was facing towards it. I attempted to mewl through my gag, hoping He might allow me to beg to not to be put on the rod again, but He simply slapped my face lightly and said "Not now, bitch." He released my arms, then bound them behind the bedpost, then loosened my leash. Pulling on my collar, He lifted me until my ass was high enough to clear the rod, positioned it, and then pushed me back down on it. I again gasped through the sock as i felt it shoved up my cunt, and felt tears well up from the pain. I tried my best to keep myself silent as i began to cry, remembering earlier that morning how He had wanted me to shut up. When i had been pushed far enough down the rod to satisfy Him, He re-tied my leash so i would be again unable to rise off of it. As i perched on the balls of my feet once again, unsure how long i could continue through the aching pain of that stance, i kept my gaze averted to His feet as much as i could. I couldn't help glancing up at His face through my tears a few times, eager both to beg for His mercy and to acknowledge the wrongness of desiring to change His will or lose my reminder of His dominance.
PERSPECTIVE: Jonah
I was very pleased with my slave. He had done almost amazingly well--I had been almost sure that at some point I would have had to shove my foot into his mouth or in some other way gag him again while I let him speak, but I supposed he was still too overwhelmed with enjoying being a slave too much for the guilt to penetrate enough to try escape. There was time enough for that in the next few days, I supposed, and I knew it would come. I certainly hoped I had adequately prepared for anything my new pet might attempt, but I wouldn't know until the time came.
I enjoyed his tears as I locked him up again before I left for class. He cried then, I knew, because of the pain of having a giant stick shoved up his ass, but eventually he would start crying as he tried to work out the emotions he was going through. I enjoyed that thought too. Not because I liked the act of inflicting pain on him for its own sake, in either case, but rather because of his innocent reaction and submission to the will of his owner, and because I knew he and I both agreed that I should have and use that power over him. It was his place to cry before me, to me, and for me.
I had finished getting my stuff together--put on flip-flops again, stuffed my laptop in my backpack--and walked to the door before I realized I needed to stop dwelling on teddy-bear (Damn! did he look cute with a sock draped over his head) and adjusted my hard-on so it would be less noticeable as I walked to class. Horniness was for the middle of class, when no one could see.
In English, I payed marginally more attention than I had in Psych or Calculus that morning. Although I did allow myself some fantasizing, I wanted to make sure this didn't become a habit and detract from my school-work. After all, the idea was to have acquired a slave to serve me, not to have gained an obsession that would stand between me and my goals of having a well-paying job and plenty of other nice things.
My thoughts wandered to the rest of the afternoon. After class I would head back to the room, drop my stuff off, and probably change and go work out. Although I hated it, it was important to me to finally get into shape and enjoy looking at my body. I had no desire to get all hulk-y and muscular, but I did want to be quite athletic, with well-defined pecs, a six-pack, etc. Certainly I did want to be more muscular than my slave boy, but I already was. He would need to get to working out a bit too--he was skinny enough, but I did want him to have a little visible muscle, not much, but enough. No idea how I was going to get him to work out just yet, but I'd figure it out. And that thought reminded me in turn that I needed to finish designing his diet. I'd looked up brands of dog food that were safe for human consumption, and tried to find vitamins to round out the rest of his needs, but there were a few things that simply might require human food to cover.
As the class let out, I wandered more or less absentmindedly in the direction of my dorm. I hadn't really made a lot of friends, but I casually knew a few of the people heading out and replied to their greetings. One, who perhaps also hadn't made too many friends, suggested we hang out and grab coffee or something. This was a new and kind of liberating experience; it felt very...mature to just go grab coffee with someone. That sounds shallow and superficial, because I'm sufficiently pretentious to think "feeling grown-up" should be completely irrelevant to me, but it's not. It's a nice change from high school and living with parents, when you have to get permission for everything. I said sure to the guy (Casey, I think) and wandered on.
Slipping back into my room, I observed my slave somewhat less taught than before; the stick was deep inside his cunt, as he had obviously been unable to maintain the incredibly straining position of straddling it as high as he could. Rather than teetering on the balls of his feet, legs splayed wide in a squat, his knees and forelegs rested on the ground, tops of his feet flat against the floor behind him. His boy-peen had gone completely soft; his face was tilted towards the floor, leash tight from his neck to the bedpost. He had very clear tracks down his cheek where tears had fallen.
Noticing me, he seemed to brighten up. His gaze first darted upward to me, then back down again; his posture seemed to straighten slightly, then slump, then straighten again as he struggled against fatigue. His expression changed, too, although it was less defined; he ceased to look sad, both facially and through body language, and looked excited and perhaps even eager. This time, however, I doubted he expected me to let him off the rod immediately, as he seemed to last time. I walked over to him, dropping my bag off on my bed. Reaching forward, I unleashed him, and he seemed to stiffen a bit in surprise. I reached down and un-cuffed both of his wrists this time.
"Rub your arms; they'll need the help for circulation." As my slave began to comply, I grabbed his leash near his collar and pulled him forward, enough that he crawled forward off of his ass-plug. I held his leash with one hand as I tousled his hair with my other. When I was satisfied that his arms were in a functional state (if not comfortable), I instructed him that he could use them now to crawl.
As I walked him towards the closet, I explained that he should always use his mouth to perform tasks for me unless I explicitly commanded otherwise or it was clearly impossible to do. For tasks such as carrying large, heavy trays, for example, he could use his arms to lift them onto his back, and then balance it there as he crawled to his destination. Other cases might generally need him to use his hands and arms, but I expected this to be the exception rather than the norm. He should regard his hands and arms primarily as tools to crawl and climb his way to wherever he needed to be.
Walking into the closet I grabbed my workout clothes and shoes. Kicking my flip-flops off, I walked back outside and stood next to my teddy bear's head. As I changed shirts he obediently lay his face against my feet and began nuzzling them, perhaps a bit more slowly and purposefully than before, inhaling and stroking with his nose, pausing occasionally to gaze at each foot from less than an inch away.
I got so turned on by that.
Pulling my tented jeans off, I slipped on the workout shorts. Watching my bitch struggle to make as much contact with my feet as he could made me pause; socks or no socks? I didn't think I'd want to run without them...but getting my feet sweaty in my sneakers sounded like a winning idea, so on a whim I allowed my slave to slip them onto my bare feet--using his hands, no less--and tie them.
"It's time you got some rest, teddy bear." Pulling his leash under the bed, I pulled his collar tight to one of the center bedposts, wrapped the leash around and through, and then pulled it up and over towards the side of the bed near the wall. Lifting his arm up to make sure he couldn't reach it, I tied the end of the leash to the top of the far post.
I started to walk away when I heard mewling. It was surprisingly clear; he must have practiced while I was at class. Entertained, I turned, walked back, and removed his gag. "Speak, bitch," I commanded.
"Thank you, Master, for putting me in my place. I am so grateful, Sir, that you own me now. Please, Master, would you like your bitch to be handcuffed again while you are gone Sir?"
"Do you wish to be handcuffed, teddy bear?"
"No, my kind Master."
"Sucks to be you, then, bitch. Right now, you don't need the handcuffs to keep from escaping. I don't think you'll try anything in my absence; you know better than to touch your willie, but without my supervision and some external assistance I don't think you'd be able to stop yourself. So you get the handcuffs. But I'm going to leave the sock out; after all, if you said caught anyone's attention at this point, all this would end, and why end it so early, before you get to enjoy it a bit more? It's not like you can't yell and get someone's attention later, after all, and try and execute whatever ill-advised escape attempt you come up with then."
He obediently lowered his gaze to the floor, and I went into the bathroom and filled a plain bowl with toilet water. Placing it next to him, I told him he could drink. Knees bent and ass in the air, he place his arms to either side of the bowl, careful not to touch it with his hands, dropped his face into the water and drank. His slender body and limbs looked fantastic dressed in only a collar and leash; the slight movements of his bare back as he drank, the wiggle of his smooth butt cheeks, the tensing of his thighs and calves almost made me reconsider working out just so I could watch this creature I possessed drink from a bowl. After he'd gotten his face good and wet, and well before he looked like he'd had enough, I stepped over with the handcuffs and cuffed his wrists so that the links went around the outside of a support beam running between the legs of the bed.
Moment over, I walked out the door, locked it behind me and headed to the gym.