NOTES>> This is the eighth chapter in the Contracted To Justin series. Safe sex doesn't appear in this story all that often, but I trust it appears a lot in your own lives. Sex does appear quite often though, sometimes quite graphically, and invariably of the gay and BDSM nature, so only read on if the law of your chosen land allows. The copyright is all mine, subject to Nifty's rules on the matter.
This chapter moves the plot forward more than anything else - but hopefully it will entertain nevertheless. There's some great degradation coming in chapter nine, and lots of sex in the chapter after that! Meantime, thanks for all your continued feedback - I really appreciate it. Words positive or otherwise to josh_armstrong2007@hotmail.com are always much much appreciated.
CHAPTER EIGHT: Mornings
It was amazing how quickly my degrading tasks had become routine.
Three days ago the thought of licking up my own piss would have disgusted me. Such activity had never once occurred to me when I'd fantasized about being someone's sub in the years before I met Justin. And despite stumbling across the occasional watersports website as I surfed the net for porn, consuming piss was never something I'd ever contemplated actually doing. Yet when I had twice pissed myself in my kitchen cupboard that Sunday night and Monday morning, I had done so without a doubt in my mind that I'd soon be licking it back up.
In fact knowing that would be the case somehow made pissing myself less of an issue. Not because I looked forward to licking the piss up - my ability to enjoy piss licking took a long time to acquire - but because I knew me pissing without permission would annoy Justin, but that there was a way to make it up to him - by licking the pissy cupboard clean once I was done.
I'd always avoid doing anything to annoy Justin if at all possible - not because of the fear of being punished, though that did always linger in the back of the mind, but because annoying him in itself really hurt me. But if there was simply no way to avoid annoying him, then the next best thing was to know there was something I could to that would rectify the situation some how.
And when you're tied up in a cramped cupboard all night, with no knowledge of when you're going to be let out, and you're bursting for a piss throughout, pissing yourself is surely unavoidable. But I knew Justin wouldn't like that. And the thought of disappointing Justin really depressed me. Except that there was another thought in my mind - that I could offer to lick it up once I was done. That would surely please him a little, and the thought of being able to make up for my fucking up, made me feel better.
Which is why as I had pissed that morning, over myself and the cupboard, I'd already decided that as soon as I could I'd beg to lick it all up. And that's what I did. As soon as the cock gag that had been in my throat all night was removed.
And it worked.
When he'd opened the cupboard door that morning, and seen the piss puddle I was sitting in, Justin had been seriously annoyed. "Oh, for fucks sake, no, don't do this shit to me - it's just not good enough. Oh, you filthy pathetic fuck, get out of there". I quickly crawled out of the cupboard. He immediately removed the cock gag. We both knew why he did that so quickly, but I took the initiative. "Please master" I said immediately, despite the fact it was a struggle to talk after having been gagged for so long, "please may I lick up my piss. I am really sorry for pissing in the cupboard, it was bad of me, I have to make it up to you, please let me. Please let me lick the piss up for you".
He smiled. Which, given how annoyed he'd been just seconds earlier, cheered me up no end.
"OK piss licker" he said, "I suppose I did say you'd be pissing on the floor and licking it up a lot from now on. But next time wait until I tell you when, OK? I'll let you off this time. Well, I'll give your ass twenty swats later, but that's all". I wasn't sure that was fair at all, but knew better than to argue, and quickly got about licking up the piss that was in the cupboard. I was done in minutes.
As I turned round having done my licking duty I noticed that red bucket full of soapy water again next to the kitchen table. And two clean cloths on the floor next to it. The table and the floor around it looked pretty rank - what with the mixture of piss, vomit and cum that was left from the punishment and fucking I'd received there yesterday. As soon as I saw the bucket I knew what I had to do. And as my hands were still tied behind my back, presumably I was going to have to clean up this mess by holding the soapy cloths in my teeth again. All this was immediately obvious to me, so much so I was doing my cleaning chore before Justin had even spoken.
As I say, it was amazing how quickly my degrading tasks had become routine.
As Justin left me to my cleaning task various things ran through my mind, many of which had first occurred to me while I'd sat in the cramped cupboard before Justin had let me out (I'd woken a good hour before Justin this time) and all of which bothered me slightly.
First, it was then that it had occurred to me how the locks on all the doors in the flat had got there - and that the stranger who had face fucked me on Friday must have installed them. I was still not quite sure why Justin would want all those locks, but was sure I probably didn't want to know why.
It also occurred to me that yesterday in the restaurant Justin had used one of my credit cards to pay, and that he'd signed the receipt. But the waiter knew he was called Justin. And that's not what it said on the card. I was under the table drinking Justin's piss at the time, so hadn't really listened to what was said. But I don't remember any questions being asked. Obviously the waiter knew about Justin's 'friends'. Perhaps he expected Justin to use his sub's credit cards. But the ease with which Justin could use my credit was increasingly concerning me.
But the thing that was bothering me most was how this morning was going to pan out. I had to be at work for nine. I had no idea what time it was now, except that it was light outside. Was I to just trust Justin to get me to work on time? Should I remind him? Would that make him angry again? I really didn't know what to do. Though, for once, Justin allayed by fears somewhat.
"OK, enough, let's get you washed".
Justin had walked back into the kitchen as I finished cleaning off the table and floor, and quickly directed me into the bathroom where, like yesterday, he had squirted cheap soap over my head, cock and balls, and back, and then turned on a powerful spray of cold water. This allayed my fears because the fact he was getting me washed so early suggested he was working to a deadline that involved getting me to work on time.
And I was right. From that point onwards Justin directed me through what would become my early morning routine on work days.
I never did know what time I was woken up, but he always left me enough time to clean up any mess left from the night before, to take a cold shower, to stand on my balcony while I dried, to take an open air piss and shit into that old metal bucket, to take a helping of his piss down my throat, to have my dick re-encased in its CB3000 cock cage, to have my hands untied, to prepare him pancakes and bacon and eggs for breakfast, to feed myself economy line cornflakes and water (or cornflakes and Justin's piss on special occasions), to clean up breakfast, to get dressed and to travel to work. And however long that seemed to take me, I always arrived at work on time.
And some mornings began with me also giving Justin a blow job, or him fucking me up the ass, or me blowing any friend or one night stand he'd had stay over, but on those mornings he presumably got me up earlier because whatever my early morning duties involved, I was always at my office by nine. If there's one thing being Justin's sub achieved, it made me a whole load more punctual than I had been before.
"OK, we better get you dressed", Justin had said that first morning, after my shower and open air shit (still embarrassing but somehow less so at that time in the morning - the potential of an audience across the street seem less likely - plus the morning sun put my balcony in the shadows), and once my piss drinking, cock caging and breakfast making duties were done.
I followed him into the main bedroom - his bedroom now - where the big chest that I'd dropped all my clothes into on Saturday morning was still sitting next to the door. The trunk was already open.
"What do you wear for work?"
"Smart casual, master".
"Cool. OK, so you'll need a shirt and some pants. As it's your first work day, you can pick out your favourites". After the slutty homemade outfit he'd made me wear out yesterday this seemed like good news. Of course it was only a couple of minutes before I realised the implications. But my immediate reaction was to sincerely say "thank you master" and quickly locate my favourite shirt and trousers from the cluttered chest - the former a swish denim shirt I'd treated myself to once from a posh department store in town, the other a pair of beige jeans that I had always thought really suited me. I held them up.
"Good" he said. "Put them on the bed. OK, socks. I've got you a present". >From behind his back he handed me a pair of bright pink socks - he must have got them out of his bag while I'd be rooting around in the trunk. I took them off him. Around the top of one was the slogan 'I suck cock', around the other 'I drink piss'. He smiled as he saw me reading the straplines. No one would see the writing of course, my trousers would cover them. But the fact they were there was going to put me on edge all day. And Justin knew that. "Put them on then". I did as instructed. He smiled.
"OK, underwear. Now, normally you won't wear any. But as it's your first day, I'm going to give you a special treat. You can wear this". He'd reached inside his bag and pulled out a jock strap. You guessed it. That jock strap. The piss, cum, vomit covered strap that had caused me so much heartache since my new life began. I'd been on an up over breakfast, and the socks, while making me edgy, hadn't brought me down too much. This did. The thought of wearing this disgusting smelly jock strap at work was not attractive.
"What do you say?"
"Thank you master"
"Sniff it first, then put it on".
It was the first time I'd been told to sniff this horrible jock. Clearly Justin wanted me to sample the aroma I'd be carrying around all day. I took a good sniff. The smell was simply repugnant. It was horrible. Though I did feel my dick twitch as I inhaled. What was wrong with me?
"When you get home tonight, obviously you'll chuck all that stuff in the garbage before you come in the flat." Damn. I'd forgotten. I was going to have to throw my favourite clothes in the bin. "But don't chuck the jock. Use it as a hat like yesterday. Then when I get home we'll see if we can get it up your ass". He smiled, and paused again, taking in my look of shock at that last comment.
"OK, you've got five minutes to get dressed - we need to get a move on". And with that, he left the bedroom. I stood there for a few seconds, transfixed by the sight and smell of the jock strap I was going to have to wear, and puzzling about how I was going to get it up my ass. Was he serious about that? He'd been serious about everything so far. "Oh, one last thing" he said, popping his head around the door, "keep your flies unbuttoned, I prefer it that way". And then he was gone.
Despite the horrible jock strap - the disgusting aroma of which reached my nose every couple of minutes - and despite the plastic cock cage securely fastened to my dick and balls, once I was dressed in my smart trousers and shirt I felt somewhere nearing normal again. And even more so once we left the flat and began my commute to work.
I hadn't expected Justin to come with me. Perhaps it was an act of authority - so he could rule over me for as long as possible - but it felt more like a friendship thing, he wanted to make sure I got there safely. And for a short while it did feel like we were friends. Well, Justin spent much of the cab journey to the office giving me orders (yes, he called a cab, which seemed rather extravagant, but rather fun too), but he didn't provide the orders in the master sub way he usually did, furthering the idea in my head that we were nearer to equals here in the outside world.
"Here's five bucks to buy lunch" he said, speaking softly, possibly so the cab driver couldn't hear. "Don't forget if you need to piss, shit or fart you have to call me for permission first. You already have my cell number. Now, at lunchtime you've got an appointment with the doc, he wants to check you out. You're due there at half twelve, it won't take long and he's just round the corner from your office, so you should be able to get it all done in your lunch hour. I want you straight back home after work, we need to get you shaved and cleaned before dinner".
The 'doc' was Dr Roberts, a friend of Justin who he'd sent me to see before we'd entered into our contract.
The doctor had been really nice and courteous as he'd given me that pre-contract health check. And he'd been very thorough too - urine and blood samples and everything. He'd seemed to assume I was just a friend of Justin's and had asked no questions as to our relationship. Though now that Justin had mentioned his name again it had occurred to me I'd never seen the results of the check, or been asked pay for it. Justin must have settled the tab, and perhaps he'd been sent the results too. Certainly it had been him that wanted to know about my health before our new life began. But surely a doctor couldn't share confidential information about his patients with another without that patient's permission? Could he?
That possibly should have got me worried, but actually I was glad that [a] Justin had arranged the check up and that [b] there was a chance the doctor already knew about me being Justin's sub. I haven't mentioned how much I ached that morning, or how sore my ass, balls, cock and whole groin was, or how horribly bruised they all were, because I seem to write about the aching way too much. But I was in a lot of pain and looked a mess down there, so the thought of having it all checked out, and without having to explain to the doctor how I'd got that way, really cheered me up.
But not anywhere near as much as what happened next.
By the time Justin had provided me with all my instructions we were outside my office. Justin asked the cab driver to wait for him, and got out with me. He pulled me close to him, squeezed my ass cheeks, and whispered in my ear "you're doing well Joshy boy, we'll make a proper sub of you yet".
And then he kissed me. On the lips. And pushed his tongue into my mouth.
The kiss only lasted ten seconds, but it was like getting an energy burst. The aches, the soreness, and the horror of wearing a cock cage and the most disgusting jock strap in the world, all disappeared I was on such a high.
And it obviously showed. The security guard on the door at work noted how good I was looking, as did my boss as I passed his office, who also noted my punctuality (five to nine as I reached by desk). I was feeling good. And I channeled the high I was experiencing into my work, and achieved more that morning than I'd probably done the whole previous week. I still ached and everything, and deep down was pretty tired from my traumatic weekend, but I was on such a high that never stopped me.
In fact it was nearly half twelve before I knew it.
"Shit", I thought to myself, "my doctor's appointment". Fortunately I was pretty much able to take my lunch whenever I wanted - I was the only IT guy in this branch of the company so could pretty much come and go as I pleased providing I met all my deadlines (which is why my commitment to get to the office by nine hadn't been that great previously). I turned on my voicemail and rushed to Doc Robert's surgery. Fortunately it really was close by.
I got there at 12.29pm exactly. Perfect.
Though by the time I was sitting in the waiting room it was 12.40pm. It had taken me a short while because when I'd got to the surgery the main door was locked, which had confused me a lot. Especially as the opening hours printed on the door said the surgery was closed between 12 and 3 on a Monday. But I'd eventually found an intercom, pressed the button, and found a helpful receptionist who was obviously expecting me, and who had buzzed open the door.
Having successfully got inside I didn't think too much about the fact the surgery was officially closed. Nor did I think too much about the fact the surgery's waiting room was completely empty. Or that there was a pair of trousers, a shirt, a pair of boxers and a pair of shoes, neatly stacked on one of the chairs.
Instead, after making some idle chit chat with the pretty girl on reception - the weather, how out of breath climbing the two flights of stairs had made me - I'd picked up a newspaper, taken a seat, and caught up on a world I'd been cut off from for three days. Despite everything, the normality I'd felt since getting dressed that morning, and the high I'd been on since Justin's kiss, all remained.
Until, five minutes later, that is, when the door of Dr Roberts' office opened.
And the doctor walked out with two guys.
One of whom was naked.
His hands clasped behind his neck. His head bowed. His cut six inch dick was fully erect, and sticking out in front of him.
I noticed he had no body hair.
And also that there was a chain around his neck - not a jewelry type chain - but the kind of chain you'd put on a dog.
I was immediately on edge again. What kind of doctor's surgery was this where patients were escorted back to the waiting room naked?
"OK, cunt boy," Dr Roberts said. At first I thought he was talking to the naked guy, but then I realized he was walking in my direction and talking to me. By now he was standing next to me, handing me a glass. "Get your kit off and piss in this, and no messing round cunt boy, I've not got time for any of your cunt boy shit".
To be continued - chapter nine coming very soon! Meantime, comments and thoughts positive or otherwise are always much much appreciated - josh_armstrong2007@hotmail.com