Chapter Three
I crawl back to him so quietly I can hear him breathing. "It gives me great pleasure to see you crawling to me showing me you know what you are and how you are to behave around me." I show him I know what I am by kissing his feet. I'm rewarded with his hands in my hair—both of them this time.
Then he leans down to me and kisses me. "Mmmm," he says, "tastes minty-fresh now." Then I realize he's salivating so I just hold my lips to his and drink what he wants me to drool into my mouth. "Medicine. A drug," I remind myself. When he's decided I've had enough, he sits up again.
"Okay, slaveboy, this is what I want you to do: Crawl to the kitchen and then you can stand up. Make a pot of coffee, get three eggs scrambled ready to be cooked; leave them sitting to the side. Also, make a small pot of the special porridge that's in a canister marked S for Slave. It's easy to make. The directions on the side. Use milk, not water. Set the table for me: plate, fork, teaspoon, sugar, cream, napkin.. Meanwhile, I'll get cleaned up."
I go and again I try to concentrate only on doing what he told me to do. That's all. No sense mind-fucking myself about this. He told me what to do so now I'm going to do it. Simple. I like this domestic scene. It's is a hell of a lot better than rolling around the filthy ground at the Hunt while men are standing around spitting on me and then be forced to crawl out of there on some Master's leash.
I've just about got everything ready when Gabriel comes in and I can smell that soap he uses and my dick strains in its cage. It's the same soap he makes me use, so for the rest of my life that scent is going to turn me on. And I'm gonna get a lot of it. Gabriel is only wearing a thin pair of lounge pants and flip flops.
"You smell nice, Sir."
"Good. Come here and make sure I smell nice everywhere. Get your nose up into my armpit and have a good sniff. Let me hear it." He bends his arm and raises it giving me access. I get right up in there, suddenly realizing how weird this would look to most guys. He raises the other arm and I get that one too. "Good boy. Now take down my pants and sniff my balls." And I do that and notice how awesome his dick looks even when he's not hard. It's just perfect size and shape.
"Now get around the back, Terry. Bury your face in my ass. I'm completely clean now so nothing to worry about. I want you to get used to having your nose and your tongue buried in a man's ass, so this is a good way for you to practice."
I can't help but realize that sometimes a guy might not always smell so sweet back there. I hope it will be a long time before I have that experience. Once I'm done he orders me to my knees. He goes to the stove, pours the porridge into a bowl. "Cream and sugar in your breakfast?"
"yes, Sir, please?"
He fixes it then puts the bowl on the floor in the corner. Then he cooks the eggs and when he's finished he empties the pan into his plate and tosses the pan into the sink. "You can wash this later.". He fixes his coffee and sits down. I'm just kneeling there watching everything. "Your food needs time to cool, so why don't you get down over here and lick my feet and my toes while I'm enjoying my breakfast."
Fuck. It's not the toe-sucking that gets me; in fact, I like doing that as a way of worshipping him, which I'm already doing. No, what really hits me inside and even sends some twinges into my dick, is the fact that I'm on the floor under the table sucking his feet while he's sitting there having his breakfast and only after he's finished am I gonna get to have my own—and I also just realized that I'm going to have to eat it from a bowl on the fucking floor!
I'm so much less than him. We live in completely different worlds. He does and gets whatever he wants. I do and get whatever he wants as well. My wishes don't count. I'm so much lower than him that when we're alone I'm hardly ever able to eat at the table with him. And I have no idea what's going to happen when he has friends over. What then?
He pushes my head away from his foot then stands up and goes to the fridge. "I forgot something that has to be ready for breakfast: juice." I can hear him pouring himself a glass. Then he sits down again. "Get over here and kneel next to me and I'll let you have some juice." It isn't the easiest thing in the world to do considering I'm down at his feet under the table. But I manage.
"Head up, lips ready to receive what I give you." Oh fuck. I remember: I'll be drinking the juice from his mouth. Yup. "You probably want some coffee too, don't you, pet?" Afraid of what my voice would sound like right now, I just nod. "Okay. Ready!" And I get to taste his coffee the way he likes it, almost black. This will take come getting used to. I'm the sweet and creamy type of guy and now I wonder if I'll ever get to drink it that way again.
Every single detail about the slave's life is now subject to the Master's wishes. I just wonder how long this is going to last. I'd be happy for it to end soon. Let's do this in bite-sized lessons, please? But then again it hits me: I don't even have the right to ask for anything.
I just keep kneeling there watching him and running my eyes up and down his torso and shit, I sure would love to tongue and suck his nipples, they're fucking glorious. And the faint blond hairs of his treasure trail. Oh my. But then he speaks again.
"Okay, boy. Go eat your food. No hands. Eat like a puppy. After you clean the dish, use your hands to wipe your face clean then lick them clean after that as well." Fuck. Here it comes.
At least the stuff tastes good. Very good, in fact, but I have no idea what it is other than a nicely flavored kind of oatmeal. I'm trying to be a neat as possible but it isn't easy. Maybe I should just dive my entire face in it like a real puppy—but I can't seem to manage it. Meanwhile, the doorbell rings. "A friend of mine is stopping by to view my new slave. Just keep eating when I bring him in here. Don't stop. He's seen plenty of slaves eating just like you are." He gets up to open the door. I can hear conversation and laughter. Then footsteps. Why is my heart thumping in fear? I remind myself what he said: "keep eating." And so I do.
The two of them come in. The guy walks right up to me and leans over me, checking out what I'm eating, I guess. "You'll have to let me know how this mixture works out with a boy this age."
"Do you think age makes a difference?" Gabriel asks.
"The way I see it, Gabe, age makes a difference with just about everything else, so it probably does so here as well.
Gabriel chuckles. "Wait a sec. How old do you think this slave is?"
"I figure 18 since that's the youngest that's legal."
Gabriel laughs out loud. "Guess again, dude! This boy here," and he emphasizes the word boy, "is 21. Rusty procured him for me at the `Hunt.' Twenty-one, Vic. It was junior at Clarkson."
Rusty PROCURED me for him? Wait a minute, just wait a minute! Do you mean that Rusty knew I'd end up as Gabriel's slave? What the fuck is going on here? Not only that, but also I heard him say I "was" a student. Shit, I'm right in the middle of the semester. It must be Monday morning by now, I think. I have to get the fuck out of here. School tomorrow.
"Really! Well now I understand why you said you were going to the other extreme."
"Well I wouldn't want any younger than this. It's good for them to have some college. 18 for me is still a child. But wait till you get a closer look at this one here. Exquisite. And it has a good mind as well. That matters. What fun would it be to fuck the mind of a stupid twink? I'd be better off fucking a watermelon."
His buddy laughs his head off.
Wow. I guess I should be proud of that but the opposite happens. I feel completely humiliated, my body assessed like some common whore off the street. And that comment about the mind? I'm not sure what to make of that yet. He's fucking my mind? Well, in a way, I guess he is. Fine. It's hot in a way.
Gabriel—or maybe I should say, "My Owner"--offers his friend some coffee and he accepts. I'm surprised that he doesn't make me get up and fix the coffee, but no, he does it himself. "This boy is smaller than what you usually like," his friend says and I guess he just insulted me but who the fuck cares since I'm bent over naked eating from a bowl of mush on the floor.
"Yes," answers Gabriel, "I wanted to try out a more boyish slave. You're guessing this one is only 18 proves I got what I was looking for as you'll soon see once it's done eating."
Then he turns to me: "When you're finished, clean up everything. Put your bowl in the corner by the coffee pot, wash your face and your hands. Then crawl inside so this fine Sir here can check you out." The two of them go inside.
You would never guess what happened next. I just kept eating the way I had been and when I was done I cleaned my face exactly the way he told me to do even though he wasn't here watching me. I was afraid he'd somehow catch me disobeying him. I was afraid of being punished.
I have no idea how rough he'll be when he punishes me. Notice I said "when" not "if" because I know it's gonna happen. After all, he got off on having me cry out when he worked my nipples and my balls, so I guess a punishment would be brutal. So much for consensual, you know?
I wonder if it will hurt as much as it did when my uncle Jake took a paddle to me back when I was 10. But he didn't want to hear me scream and cry. In fact, at one point he told me that he would keep paddling me until I shut up so I learned to stifle it. I don't think Gabriel would be like that. I know he likes to hear me cry out, maybe even break down and sob, I'd bet.
Funny that I just started thinking about when I was 10 years old. I guess it's because I really feel like a boy right now. A young boy who's been sold to this man, to be trained as a sex slave. I have to confess that the idea is appealing to me, despite how scary it seems. I think the worst part of it is that from what I've read, a lot of Doms enjoy hurting their subs, and they have a lot of different ways to do it. I think I heard it said before that I would be "trained" to take pain. Or was that my imagination?
One thing I notice as I'm cleaning up is that I can't just stay in the experience for some reason. I just keep on conjuring up other ones; that's just the way my mind usually works. I swear that if I could turn these scenarios into books, I'd fill a library, but I'll never have enough time to do that.
The real strange thing about now is that I'm just remembering what really did happen this morning when I got to suck his cock for the first time, right after he locked mine up. His cock is perfect and I can't believe how much I was enjoying the feel of him in my mouth and his texture, scent, and taste, and what it's like to run my tongue around the head of it and listen to the way he's coaching me and humiliating me all at the same time. I'm nothing but a faggot cocksucker to him. I hear him sigh and I slobber all over him and even try to take him all the way into my mouth but no, I gag before he's all the way in. "Don't gag now, faggot, just suck." And so I get to work. "This is perfect, sport. You're my dickless cocksucker, pleasuring yourself by pleasuring my cock, learning how to do what I brought you here to do."
Back to the present, now I start to fantasize: I'm about 14, 15 yrs old, a trafficked young goy delivered to this guy and his ranch and I don't even fucking know his name. All I can call him is Sir or Master . . and oh yeah, and Daddy. I didn't think I'd like that last word, but for some reason it fits. he is my Daddy but also my Master. I imagine the scenario: Daddy has enslaved another man's son as payment for a debt. He's training it now in order to increase its value when he's ready to sell it to someone else.
Then I come back to myself and realize I can hear the music to the "Unchained Melody" playing in my head: O' my love, my darling, I need your love. Fuck! What's happening to me? I've never felt I've needed anyone's love before. I certainly never got any of at home or in school. The most I ever got was the nice way Danny would talk to me when I was blowing him. But he didn't ever even let me sleep with him. He always made me sleep on the floor when he had me stay over.
Would I really want to call Gabriel "Daddy?" Sure, he's somewhat older than me, but he's a perfect man, a viril, tough young man used to hard work. A respected Dom, I suppose and I guess that also includes a bit of "sadist" in there somewhere, but not the way those other men were. Anyway, I know I'll be calling him whatever he tells me to call him and if Daddy is one of those things then he'll be my Daddy. I just hope not. Master, owner, Dom, Sir, all of that. Hopefully not Daddy.
As I'm finishing up cleaning up from breakfast, I'm hoping that I get to suck his dick again real soon. Then I stand in the doorway of the kitchen and can see them seated in the living room talking to each other. Gabriel is completely dressed now and I don't know when that happened. Oh wait, not completely dressed. He's barefoot. They're both barefoot, so I guess I know where I'm gonna end up. Fine. I just hope that this Vic guy showered before he came over here.
I didn't know it at the time, but later I found out that Gabriel would never make me clean stinky feet with my mouth. "Feet stink because of bacteria. I don't want you ingesting anyone's bacteria other than mine and not even much of that." And well, that's a big relief. My Master is into hygiene. That more than makes up for the fact that he's into other forms of torture, and making me labor like a common houseboy. I have to admit, by the way, that I like the humiliating way he talks to me. It helps get me down into sub space and stay there.
And dammit, he's already taught me that he doesn't have to give me all that much pain to get his point across and to modify my behavior. I mean dammit, it's already working even before he's ever really punished me. Just the fact that he can punish me is causing me to self-regulate, to modify my own behavior because this isn't all just a game now. It all seems very, very real. All too real.
They stop speaking when I enter the room and crawl to where they're sitting, both seats facing out into the room so I can be easily put on display. He tells me to stop, then kneel up. I put my hands behind my back without being told, and I lower my head. Holy shit, this is intense.
"Sport, the next time I have to tell you to keep your legs spread I'm going to take a wooden spoon to your inner thighs until they're black and blue. That will help you remember if you can't do so on your own."
I'm afraid to say anything. I spread my legs as far as I can go.
"You should weigh down those balls so they start swinging more freely, Gabe. Right now they're very close to the body, as if they've just fallen" says Vic.
Fuck. Talking about being made to feel like a young boy whose balls have just dropped, not even aware of his own balls yet.
"You're right, Vic. Look at how much we think alike. Hold on," says Gabriel, who gets up to go get something inside. Vic stands up and walks right over to me, puts his hand on my shoulder and I shiver at the touch. He feels my shoulder and then my upper arm. "Flex it," he orders and I do so, knowing I've got little to offer. "Fuck. You ever see the inside of gym before, punk?"
"No, Sir, never have been."
When Gabriel comes back, Vic says, "Shit, Gabe, I've seen bigger arms on my ten-year-old nephew."
"Sure. Your farmboy nephew who's already used to hard labor. This slave grew up in the library, so to speak. It's going to need a lot of conditioning over time."
"Train it to work out, Gabe. Or lend it to me for a while and I'll put it to work with my nephew, let the ten-year-old make fun of him for how fucking weak he is. If not that, then hire a trainer at the gym if you won't want to be bothered doing it yourself. If you let this punk stay so undeveloped, dude, it will hurt the resale value."
"Point taken." Resale value? What the fuck am I now, some kind of used car?
Gabriel is holding something in his hand. "Stand up, boy. Spread `em." He winks playfully, but he was nice for reminding me. He takes me by the elbow and helps me stand this time, not just leaving me to struggle trying to do it on my own. He reaches down and pulls on my ball sac the way he did earlier. I can't help but breathe a bit heavier. He smiles to hear it.
Next thing I know, he's got something wrapped around the entire sac with a weight hanging on it that pulls my balls down just a little.
"How's that?" He asks Vic, then lightly smacks them so they swing back and forth a bit.
"That's a good start, dude." A good start. That tells me that there's much more to follow. Oh, my! Don't go feeling sorry for me because I'm quite thrilled with all this. I was born to be some man's slave. Look how lucky I am that Gabriel is the one who's gonna train me.
That's all for now. Write me at subkodak25@gmail.com and let me know your reactions to this.
Please make a donation to Nifty. https://donate.nifty.org
I have pics selected to represent Terry and Gabriel. Ask for them if you wish.
Also ask for a list of all my stories and I'll send it to you. Thanks.
Rob