Dave's boi julian

1. Aftermath

I was obviously in a terrible state when I got Julian's message. Sure enough, I tried to send a brief reply and wish him well but it bounced back: "That address doesn't exist." I didn't bother trying to call but instead deleted his name and information. I, too, needed to take a break from it all. Fortunately, the Firm didn't contact me until several months later. There was nothing else for me to do, so I, too, turned my back on it all and considered the entire matter as just a kinky interlude that ended abruptly, as so many kinky affairs tend to do.

Of course I grieved. At least I could take solace in what was happening in my relationships with my other two bois. I was able to share my pain with Murph, of course, but kept it "off limits" with Donovan. I'll make no mention of all this in their stories when I get to share them with you.

When at last, the Firm did contact me, they offered me a position at almost double the salary I was making at the time. I'm still considering and they've been patient. Nonetheless, they notified me a month later that Julian had resurfaced—or probably, they had made Julian resurface.

They wanted my help to "re-educate" him and informed me that he'd been given permission to contact me. This concerned me somewhat. What's this business about getting permission to write an old friend? What is this "re-education" all about? How could I manage to rescue him if necessary?

Two days later I got a long email from Julian:

Dear Dave,

Sir. I tried being away. I got a new job and place to live in a part of my new city that was made up almost exclusively made up of corporate office buildings and places to eat and carts to snack at. At first, it was interesting to hear about all the things we were involved with. I also had to memorize a list of talking points I should be using when entertaining a client or prospective donor. Two such excursions a week was the maximum, they told me. I'd have to wear a bug so they can hear the entire conversation and make recommendations for further progress. I really think these were all bogus dinner-dates. I can't imagine they'd take any risks with serious prospective clients or donors. It was really strange, Dave, because when the met with me to make corrections and give further advice, I was left feeling like something was missing. All of a sudden I realized that since I was being corrected, my entire system began bracing itself for the punishment that was due me. I couldn't shake it.

The job was okay, but its focus was mainly on increasing its influence in the industries they were involved with and increasing corporate wealth. I wasn't paid nearly as much as The Firm, but living expenses are a lot cheaper here so it balances out. I don't need a car. Everything is within a 15 minute walk in any direction. I soon had a favorite restaurant because it reminded me of the place you and I went to often. Most clients were happy with my choice, although a couple had dietary or ethnic concerns that I obviously was happy to accommodate. In each case, they had carefully researched the area before coming here. It they were going to have to attend meetings at corporate, they wanted to make sure they could eat in the types of places they enjoyed..

I guess I'm rambling, Sir, because I miss the hell out of you and I miss everything you taught me, even the punishments. I miss having someone like you in my life and for the first time I'm able to admit that to myself. I even miss Todd and Zach, but not the way I miss you. Sure, I miss being a sub. Not only that, Dave, but I really miss being trained and disciplined by men who were seriously interested in me, even if it meant becoming a slave. I miss working for a corporation—or enterprise, I'm not sure what to call it—that is so involved with organizations that help people who need help and are often without hopes. I actually felt I was helping save lives. Not only that, but the clients and associates were a hell of lot nicer than what I have to deal with here, even those who saw it as a matter of principle to keep me humbled and humiliated as a general rule.

Okay, enough about that. Finally it all got to be too much for me. I felt so empty, so useless, so not cared for. I realized that I could not live as an openly free ordinary man, even a gay man. I wasn't meant for this way of life when I was put together. I was meant to be subservient and under someone's control and discipline.

I guess we only fully appreciate something when we lose it or push it away. That's where I'm at now. Finally I gave up. I contacted Todd and he contacted The Firm. A couple days later, he flew out. On Friday night he beat the daylights out of me; he made sure I would be able to go to work on Monday, that I wouldn't be too sore to function. On Saturday and Sundy we had a Zoom meeting with the entire committee that had been overseeing my training.

They said they would take me back under a stringent regime which they specified in detail. I couldn't believe what they were going to do to me, how I was going to have to live for several months, but they wouldn't specify how long. To tell you the truth, Dave, I was really excited about what they were proposing. It was like a dream come true for someone like me. They told me it was time for me to experience what life would be like as a slave, but without any other distractions other than the remote work I would be assigned.

I got up and walked away from my screen. They disconnected and that was it. Todd caught an earlier flight home, on Sunday afternoon. Before he left, he gave me the address to contact when, as he put it, "you realize you're ready and you admit that you deserve the way they're going to `re-educate' you." And that was that.

So anyway, here I am, Sir. I'm their prisoner and I have to admit that it's amazing. They've "housed" me in a room no bigger than a jail cell. It has a small toilet-shower cabinet off to the side. There's a bed and a desk with a laptop and, like they told me, I would be working remotely.

There's a little table off to the side with a few items on it: a heavy wooden spoon, a cane (!!!), a blindfold and a plastic bowl looking like a cheap soup bowl. There is nothing else in the room. I', to be locked in here for as long as they think I need to be. I do have Internet though (I checked right away).

I'm told I will have to earn my meals by working five hours—the program keeps track. I can goof off all I want if I'm not hungry but I was careful not to be too stupid about it. The food situation—or rather, "feeding," because that's what it is, is the hardest part of all for me. Actually, it's hellacious. When I've earned a meal a slot opens in the door and I hand over my bowl. They fill it with something warm, sometimes a kind of gruel, sometimes heavy soups, sometimes with some meat or fish. Sometimes it's absolutely delicious, other times it's just what I call slop. They don't give me any utensils so I have to eat with my hands or just shove my face in the bowl like a dog. Todd told me that I'll probably be eating like most of all the time now.

They made sure I must constantly realize how much I deserve to be punished for running away the way I did. They show me faces and film clips that they started taking the day I left. These clips are on what was happening to the people I would have helped rescue if I'd been there doing my job. It took a lot of time to fill my position and that's why the help got delayed. They kept tell me it was all my fault, and I realize how true it was. Maybe this was all nothing but a ruse. Nonetheless, it was effective. I truly feel guilty for the cowardly way I had acted.

Either Todd or Zach or one other guy whose name I wasn't told stop in every couple days. They're assigned in rotation. Todd taught me how to position myself for their visits. Legs up over my head and spread, slid down on the bed so my "hole" is open and exposed, ready to be fucked. Blindfolded sometimes, except for when it's Todd or Zach. They beat my ass and upper thighs with either the spoon or the cane, just enough to hurt enough to get me crying. Then they fuck me. They like to fuck me when I'm crying. Todd told me "It feels like we're fucking the tears of you, faggot."

Oh yeah, I'm ordered to clean myself out before they visit so I always know when someone's coming. I have to stay in position that way, with their cum dripping from my asshole, until a signal lets me put my legs down. Sometimes they talk to me but I'm not allowed to say anything.

Others come by, but only for blowjobs. They're allowed to slap my face, as much as they want, but that's all. Usually I have to be blindfolded so I have no idea who these men are or what they look like. All I know is their cocks. Todd tells me that it's a good way to train me—the only things that should have my attention are the cocks I serve.

When do I sleep? When the lights go off. Total darkness. Dead laptop. I don't seem to have any trouble sleeping. they probably put something in what they give me to eat. That's fine. The sleep is good. And I get a cup of coffee when the lights go back on. The smell of the coffee wakes me up. The coffee isn't bad; I've gotten used to drinking it black.

There's nothing much else to say right now. All this is certainly affecting the way I think. They tell me that there are going to be times when I'll wish I could be back there again. Life for me is work, food, sleep, thrashings, getting fucked and servicing cocks while blindfolded. I guess that's what they're trying to write into my core: cocks and punishments are all that matters. They want me to let you know that they will be contacting you soon with another offer that won't require you joining the Firm. Please, Sir, please take it. It will mean that I will be back in your life, this time as your slave, they've told me. Please, Dave."

Julian D"

Dom Dave continues . . .

My goodness, these people don't fucking fool around. Their control over the boy goes far beyond simple punishment or even imprisonment. They're managed to get the boy convinced that he deserves to be punished by living as a confined victim with nothing pleasant in its existence and nothing distracting it from being a slave. I can't say for sure if Julian had been free to actually tell me what's really going on, or whether everything in that email was said for their benefit to prove to them that he's surrendered even the right to think for himself. In my opinion, this is psychological torture. Does he truly believe he deserves all this? I have no idea.

He didn't say so in the email but I subsequently learned that there was only silence in his "room" during sleep periods and even those were rationed and controlled. A lot of the time it was simply brainwaves that supposedly affect his mind in positive ways. Some time they play music they know he enjoys. Maybe that's a reward for good work or something.

All my attention was focused on the end of Julian's email, the "please" and the possibility that he "will be back in your life as your slave." I vow to myself that I will do whatever it takes to make that a reality for him. Then maybe I can find out the truth; then maybe I can help him recover if that's what's needed. If necessary, I will set up a "new reality" for him, much the way they do when someone who testifies against a criminal has to go into hiding. Whatever.

It was two long weeks before they got back to me requesting an on-line conference. Needless to say, I agreed, keeping Julian's plea in my mind. The terms were better than anything I would have expected from them at this point. As usual, they summarized our agreement for me in a numbered list, much like one I'd received last year from them.

"1. You do not need to have any further association whatsoever with The Firm for as long as you desire it.

1. The Firm will always be open to changes in your status when and if you so desire it.

2. Julian will continue as an associate on the level he was originally hired.

3. As per a new policy, Julian will always work barefoot as a sign the he is subservient to the Firm in ways ordinary associates are not. At the moment there are 19 barefoot associates working at The Firm. Julian will be the 20th and the only one on his Team.

4. You will be known as Julian's Master. Julian will be officially be your slave in all our personel records.

5. Julian will be with you only at times you specify.

6. It is agreed that because of your other obligations and commitments, Julian will never be required to live with you permanently unless you decide that is what you desire.

7. You have complete charge of Julian's life when he is not at work. You determine any restrictions, requirements, anything that needs permission, his meals and recreational activity, the extent and description of his sexual service to those you designate. You determine when the slave deserves to be punished, who will administer it, and how severe it will be.

8. When not with you he will continue to live with Todd and Zach but they will now both use him as a common whore.

9. If you deem it necessary, you can commit Julian to one of our "farms" where he will live as a ranch hand under discipline. Terms there are from 3 days to 2 full weeks as you determine. You are hereby invited to visit a farm to observe what happens there.

10. We ask that you consult with us if at any time you wish to cease being Julian's Master or wish to sell him or even give him to a new Master.

11. You are free to suggest additions or changes to this agreement.

And so, that's that. Of course I've accepted it. All of it.

SO THAT'S THE END of this Chapter. Please write and tell me what you think. subkodak25@gmail.com

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