Fratslave: a love story

By Robert Louis / Robert Halstead

Published on Jul 15, 2024

Gay

THIRTEEN. Decisions.

I had just finished rinsing our breakfast dishes and was putting them in the dishwasher. Colton was sitting there reading my latest addition to the story. "Wow!"

"Does that mean you like it?"

"I . . . I'm not sure, baby . . . . Give me some time, okay? I don't know what to say about this.!"

To be completely honest, I wasn't surprised.

All the while I was writing that chapter, there was a voice inside me that I'd never heard before. It wasn't the voice I usually listened to while I was writing the story. It was something else all together.

It was a kind voice. A gentle voice. A loving voice. It was quietly sending me messages I wasn't sure I wanted to hear. "You are better than this, Dante."

"You are meant for love.

"You are loved."

"Colton loves you and gives you everything you need."

And it was so true, what this voice was saying to me. Colton didn't know what to think about what I'd just written. Colton, who loved me so much that he gave me the type of life I needed so much.

Colton put down the pages. "Take off your apron, sweetheart. Let me hold you."

I took off my apron and hung it on the hook. Except for my leather collar, the cock cage, my cushioned knee pads, and the fuzzy black slippers Colton had bought me the other day, I was naked. I liked being naked for him. I liked being naked when his friends would come over. The first time it happened, I quickly went and hid in the bedroom, looking around for my gym shorts to cover my nakedness.

"Come here, boy," he said, "just the way you are. Don't cover yourself. Come let my buddy see you the way I like you to be."

He rarely allowed me to wear anything these days. We had worked this out quite a while ago: Colton decided what I would wear, Colton decided what I would eat and drink, Colton decided which of his friends could see my naked body, which of his friends could enjoy using my body. He allowed his closest friends to watch him discipline me; sometimes he let them discipline me themselves, but always with him looking on, keeping me safe, ready to hold me if I burst into tears from the pain or humiliation.

Colton decided when I was allowed to leave the house, and where I could go, which of my friends I could visit or spend time with, and what kind of "work" he wanted me to do—usually menial work performed as a service to his friends.

I liked living this way. I liked the fact that my life was being controlled by the one person who loved me more than life itself, the one person who understood how much I needed to live as a slave to the Master I adored, the one person who had come to realize that living as his slave, obeying his will in all things, serving him and those he gave me to, submitting to restrictions and yes, punishment when needed, all aimed at forming my submissive attitude and behavior because all of this helped me to live happy and at peace.

Colton understood how to love me. Colton understood all of me, inside and out. Colton was my perfect Master now and I his slave, and there was nothing dark about it at all. It was complete and beautiful.

And now we were trying something new. We were co-authors of the kinkiest story we could possibly imagine. I did most of the writing, but he was the one who made it possible for me to explore the darkest places of my wild imagination and bring things to life that I would never really want to live out in real life.

But something had happened. These last two chapters . . . . . had crossed a line, had gone too far. They had become the things I hated the most about all the other bdsm tales I read and usually discarded. They were over the top when it came to violence. They sought to crush, to despise, to demean the main character to the extent that he lost every shred of dignity, even the tiniest trace of self-love or self-respect.

Colton got up from the table and went to his office. He came back and had me sit beside him. This surprised me because for the past few days I was almost always on my knees before him.

"I need you to sit here with me, baby. I have some things to show you. I printed out some of the emails readers have been sending you that disturbed me. I kept them from you because I wasn't sure what to do about them."

In case you might be wondering, we had also worked things out that I no longer had access to my own email accounts and was not allowed to have any account of my own any longer. Colton controlled all of that and once again, I found it intensely thrilling to be denied any access to what used to be my private accounts.

Colton had printed out and saved a few emails.

"The messages you were getting from readers had become terribly dark. Where in the past, men wrote to you to praise your ability to tell a good story, now the only guys who wrote to you were only interested in the details which dehumanized your character. The fellows who were writing you now had the habit of referring to themselves as it,' having stripped themselves of any humanity or dignity. Most of them were quite elderly, all of them were terribly lonely. They wallowed in their self-imposed feelings of self-disgust, they claimed they wanted to be treated like the fratslave and seemed to have lost sight of the fact that all of this was nothing but fantasy. Some of them had started calling you Sir' even though it was perfectly clear that you were not a Dom and never wanted to be one."

He kept stroking the back of my head while he spoke to me. This helped me calm down lest I get upset about what he was trying to explain to me.

"Sweetheart, I'm afraid you're feeding the most unhealthy fantasies of sad individuals who seemed to have lost all sense of reality, individuals who were living almost completely within their sickest fantasies. I fear that if you keep writing the way you are, you'll be helping some readers bury themselves in pathologies that they might never be able to recover from. I know you wanted this story to become a love story, baby, but you have to face reality yourself. Please listen to me, Dante. Please take these things to heart:

"You are living in a beautiful love story yourself. You and I, together, have found the perfect way to love each other. All of it is beautiful, and meaningful. You and I together, we have found what very few people ever manage to discover. You and I together, we are living a life that is so alien to the way the story has developed that it is not possible for you to keep developing it without having it threaten to undermine everything good, everything beautiful, everything holy that is the bedrock of our marriage."

His hands are trembling a bit as he hands me the pages he had printed out.

"Here, sweetheart. Here are the emails that have disturbed me when I read them. Here is the best way I can prove to you that it's time to simply stop writing the story lest it do some serious damage to you as well as to those who are feeding on the darkness you've been depicting. Read them over, Dante, then think about them for a good long time before making a decision about whether or not you will continue writing about the fratslave. I'll be inside. Come to me if you need me to hold you. Come to me if you need me to help you make any sense out of what you will read. But please understand, my love, that the decision is yours. I will not take control of this issue. You must decide for yourself what to do, how to move on from here. Whatever you decide, I will support you with all my love and devotion. But please, Dante, please understand how important it is the you be the one to make a decision about this."

And with that, he gets up from the table and leaves the room.

I sit alone with the emails Colton gave me to read. . . .

An hour later, I got up from the table, got down on my knees, and crawled to him. I bowed to the ground before him and kissed his feet. He reached down and pulled me up into his arms and held me, allowing the love from his soul to permeate my being.

"Master," I said to him, "I made a couple decisions. The first decision was that I will place all my trust in your wise words and not try to rely on my own sentiments or inclinations. Because of that, I did not read the emails you left for me. I don't need to. You have explained what I need to understand, and as always, I surrender to you in all things."

"What is the second decision, sweetheart?" he asked me while exploring my naked torso with his fingers, occasionally making me moan by the way he fingers my nipples.

"The second decision might surprise you, Master, but it seems to me that it is a decision which I must make. I have decided that the story has reached a point where it would possibly destroy me if I were to keep writing. It has taken on a life of its own and a dark power all its own. And so, I will not write even a single word beyond what has already been written. I will not allow it to infect readers any further."

Colton begins to weep. For once, I stand, and I hold him in my arms.

For the rest of the day, we work side by side with some ordinary daily tasks. Colton's mother calls inviting us to supper. A friend of theirs who works with the GoodGay Foundation is coming as well, something Colton had been wanting to meet. As usual, Colton decides to accept the invitation and lets me know after he gets off the phone.

Dinner, as usual, was wonderful, and as usual I receive lots and lots of love. The highlight of the evening was when Colton introduced me to Mark Plounder (pronounced like "flounder") as "One of the most courageous people I've even met."

I just lower my eyes, fighting back any tears. Other than earlier when Colton wept after I told him what I had decided, this was the only other indication of just how happy he is about my decision. There was no need of any further discussion about it. It was done. It is over.

It turned out to be a weepy day for Colton. He wept later that night after we returned home while he was thrashing me over his knees with his favorite strap. When he had spanked me as much as he felt I needed, he flipped me over, put his face to mine, and for the first time in history of our life-long love affair, he had me mingle my tears with his.

THE END.

Message to reader: It took a great deal of thought and prayer to decide to conclude this story the way I have, knowing full well that it would disappoint or even baffle many readers.

I only ask that you give it some thought. As is always true, those who have the strongest negative reactions to this ending are the ones who need to think it over the most.

You can write me if you want at subkodak25@gmail.com

or Telegram me: sub_Kodak is my handle.

I might decide to have this story taken down from the Nifty site in a few weeks.

This is the last story I will be writing.


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