One Step Behind You
Part Fourteen
By Randall Austin
This story is erotic fiction meant for mature readers and should only be read by adults over the age of eighteen years old. Please do not use my stories without my permission and please forward all comments to randallaustin2011@hotmail.com
Randall Austin's Archive Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Randall_Austin_Stories
The drive to the punishment house was not pleasant. Tony and Perry let me know that they were pissed. They had called Lang to see if their team captain for the February slave games could meet with me sometime during the Winter Holiday vacation break, and Lang then asked them if they would baby-sit me for two days. They figured they had to say "Yes" to that as sort of a favor to Lang for letting them use me in the slave games. But then, on top of that, Lang asked them if they would now drive me to Punishment House, stay with me during the punishment session, and bring me back afterwards. I had never seen Tony so upset; "Needless to say, we felt put upon. Just so much fucking trouble! Perry and I had other plans for this afternoon."
Tony sat in the backseat with me during the drive so he could make sure I wasn't playing with my dick. He wanted to rub it in, "How you doing now that you no longer get to jerk? I bet you just want to tug on that thing real bad, don't you?" Perry looked back from the driver's seat and smiled at Tony, as I answered, "No sir."
Tony continued, "We learned about guys like you in slave psychology class. With some guys, once enslaved, various behavior patterns emerge which may have been repressed due to societal pressure. In your case, you probably were always a chronic masturbator, but once you were enslaved your true colors emerged and you became, basically, the little jackin' pig boy you always were inside. So poor Lang didn't have any choice but to go ahead and get you clamped."
Perry didn't care, "Well, so much the better for us. Because according to Hogan having a single penis clamped compulsive masturbator on our team is like having three extra players on our team."
Tony nodded and continued, "With individuals like Billy it is probably for the good of everyone that he was enslaved, because if he ever got married his marriage probably wouldn't have lasted once his wife caught on to his masturbatory obsession. That is if he's even straight." Tony looked sincerely at me, "And rumor has it, Billy, that you're gay. And if that's the case, well then I still love you as a best friend, but I think homos are better off enslaved."
"And so does society", Added Perry.
Tony continued to vent his frustration, "So why are you always getting into trouble. Is it true like they say that you slaves just get defiant for the sake of attention? Let me tell you, if you get out of hand or embarrass us in any way at the slave games we've been told to just contact the campus police. If you intend to take advantage of our good natures, you better realize right now that it's not going to work. Perry and I will be just too busy in training for the games, and we won't have time to put up with any slave shit."
The comments and attitudes of my two former friends somehow did not surprise me in the least, as I thought to myself, `Fuck you both!'
Tony was feeling the need to boss me, "Okay, Billy, why don't you sit up nice and tall for your drive to Punishment House." I sat up tall for Tony and Perry. "That's a good boy. I heard Lang tell you to take your punishment like a man." Perry commented, "I hear that the majority of the disciplinarians over at Punishment House are high school dropouts. Billy, how did it feel last time you were at Punishment House getting bossed around by a bunch of school dropouts? How did that make you feel, scholarship boy?"
Up until this moment I had never realized that Perry and Tony might have been jealous of me getting a scholarship while they did not. But, of course, it had never occurred to me either, that my two best friends in high school were in that class of people who supported a slave society by their very nature and instinct; who liked lording it over other human beings; who enjoyed watching other human beings suffer and seemed to believe that if the government said something was right and good, then by golly, it was right and good. In short, they were in that large group of people, about one half of the general population, who will shed sentimental tears when the national anthem of this great slavery loving nation is played, but who have no qualms whatsoever about kicking a dog, killing a spider, and dumping leftover paint in the local stream.
The Punishment House was a division of the Clarion County Slave Control Center, a utilitarian looking building near the courthouse. There were no large signs telling the world what went on inside, but once Tony drove the car into a garage entrance marked Deliveries', there were plenty of signs directing traffic to the proper drop off point. Tony drove his car to a station marked Punishment House' and told the guard in the station he was dropping off Billy Garneau and that he and Perry wished to be present as observers. The guard got on his mobile and in a second two guards came out of the facility to our car. The station guard told Tony to unlock the door on my side of the car and the officers came around to meet me. As the guards pulled me out of the car, Tony shouted, "Go to it, Tiger!" and another guard told Perry where to park his car and where to enter. At the check-in desk, after a reading of my collar ad ID, I was issued a large yellow ear-tag which was attached to my ear with a clasp. I was then led into a large collection room where already about sixty slaves, all with big dangling yellow ear-tags, were waiting. The slaves were dressed in a variety of ways; some in street clothes, some in smocks, and some, like me, in tan slave shorts and tunic. The guards told me to wait, and not talk to any of the other slaves.
I knew the routine and after a few minutes a group of five disciplinarians, along with head disciplinarian, the dashing Tom Lattimore, entered the room. The disciplinarians were dressed in black slacks, with a shiny deep black silken stripe which ran the length of each outer side of the leg, black boots, crisply pressed steel grey shirts, black tie, and matching Punishment House insignia silver cuff links and tie clasp. The head disciplinarian, Thomas Lattimore, was dressed in the same outfit, only he wore a black jacket over the outfit, which had white ranking stripes on the front. The disciplinarians sported a variety of hairstyles, but all were neatly groomed.
Tom counted out fifty male slaves and the disciplinarians led us down one of the long corridors to a door marked "Punishment Room #4". As uneasy as I was, I couldn't help thinking, once again, of how handsome Tom Lattimore was. He was even more striking dressed in his classy uniform than he was dressed in civilian clothes at my party.
We entered room #4, and like the other room I was in at my first visit to Punishment House, it was a large room with grey walls, and five rows of 50 gurneys, 10 to a row. Each gurney was outfitted with restraining straps and storage compartments underneath.
All of the slaves in our group were in their twenties and thirties. We were shivering even though the room was not cold. Tom stood in front of us and told us to stand in a row, side by side, and then he addressed us; "Welcome, boys, to Punishment House. I know a couple of your owners very well, and I even know a few of you. Now I know this place has a frightening name and reputation. So for those of you who are here for the first time, let me familiarize you with what we do here. This is a not a training facility. If your owner doesn't like the way you curtsy, or thinks you move too slowly, or have an attitude problem, we don't work to correct those or any other problem specifically. What we do here at Punishment House is to make sure that you have a very uncomfortable time here. Whether your owner has signed you up for one hour or 48 hours, our job is to get you thinking about behaving."
"Now, this is not a torture house, nor is it a pain house. The idea behind Punishment House is to give your owners a place to send you where you can think about your options. A place where they can send you while they cool off or you cool off. It's a place where you can decide to do something about specific failures of yours that displease your owners. Your owner may have sent you here because you served him from the right side at dinner when he wanted to be served from the left side. We are not going to train you to serve from the left side. But what we do here is intended to make you think twice when serving, Let me make sure I got this right and am serving him from the proper side so I don't have to get sent back to Punishment House."
"In the end, all of you are here for one reason. You are here because you tried to act like us free boys. And you can't do that, because you are slaves. You simply have to do what we free boys tell you to do. I don't know why it takes so many of you slaves so long to learn that." All of the free boy disciplinarians were standing at attention during Tom's speech. They may be high school dropouts, but they at least were behaving in a way that was not displeasing to society.
Tom continued, "All of you boys here in this room should be very ashamed of yourselves. When I look at you standing here side by side I don't simply see 50 male slaves the way most people would. I just see a large mass of man/boy flesh that isn't being productive. I see wasted dollars. Income that is not being generated, tasks not being accomplished, or services not being provided, because you decided to behave in some way that slaves are not supposed to act. You had to go and try and act like us free boys. Your owners doubtless told you to do something, and you decided not do it when asked, or do it your own way, or talked back. But you as slaves cannot do that. You have to do what your owners tell you. When your owners give a command, you have to scurry. That is what is expected of slaves. When we free boys tell you to do something, you better scurry to it! You are slaves, and that is what you have to do!"
"And by your actions you have not only let your owners down, but you have let down our society as well. For the slave system to be successful it requires that each one of you do your part. Each of you has a responsibility to work as hard as you can at making the slave system a success for this great nation of ours. Do what is ordered of you. Our new economy is built on your dedication to service. We cannot have the system thwarted by you suddenly deciding you want to take it easy, or doing things on your own good time. You have to do what we free boys tell you do."
"Well, I think I've said enough, and maybe now you can begin to see that we folks who work here at Punishment House are not a bunch of meanies. We're just doing our jobs, doing what we are supposed to be doing, unlike all of you. Okay, it's time for you slaves to get buck horn-dog naked so my boys and I can get to work on you! You are each to go and stand next to one of the gurneys, and you will notice underneath each gurney is a wire basket. Set the basket on the floor in front of you and remove every item of clothing, including any jewelry or collars or bracelets that are removable, and put them in the basket. When you are completely stripped, put the basket back under the gurney and hop up on the gurney and recline on your backs."
At that moment a door on the other side of the room opened, and a guard led in about 15 observers. I noticed Tony and Perry in the group. Tony and Perry like several other of the observers, had hit the vending machines before coming in to watch us get disciplined, and they each had a bag of peanuts and a can of iced tea.
Stripping for punishment is more humiliating then stripping for serving, or for being displayed, or for purposes of sex. Stripping for punishment lets everyone see what a naughty boy looks like all over. Naked naughty boys show off all of their naughty parts on their naughty bodies. And naked naughty boys present lots of flesh, and the more flesh surfaces presented for punishment, the better.
The observers in the room were free people; they were good people, so they didn't have to strip. But they got to watch us bad boy slaves strip. And that is what I know Tony and Perry were thinking, that we slaves were bad boys and they were good boys. It was right and good that we were being made to strip.
Perry and Tony were whispering excitedly to each other as they watched us strip, as were the other observers.
One slave boy balked at taking off his undies, and one of the disciplinarians shouted out a verbal prod, "What are you trying to hide? You don't want us to see your `little boy'?" The disciplinarians and observers laughed.
By the time my undies came off, I could hear that I was not the only cock-belled slave. I heard the tinkling of several other wiener bells. Nor was I the only slave with tattoos. Many slaves had tattoos. But many slaves had things I didn't have. Most of them had brands on their rumps. Many were tit ringed, several were nose ringed. Several had permanent leg or arm irons. We all had collars.
Once we were all reclining naked on the gurneys one disciplinarian went to each gurney and quickly strapped us down with secure straps going firmly around our arms, legs, neck, and midsection.
Each of the remaining disciplinarians went to a strapped down slave, opened the storage unit underneath the gurney, and started securing punishment devices to various parts of the slave's body. Soon moans of pain and discomfort filled the room as every part of the slave's body was fitted with various devices. The observers were very curious, and wanted to come closer and watch, so Tom signaled for them that it would be okay for the observers to come and walk about the gurneys, or go stand next to the slave they had accompanied. The fittings of the punishment devices went quickly, and soon all of us slaves were writhing in pain.
Tom Lattimore addressed the observers; "When you strap a naked slave boy to the gurney he quickly realizes that he's finally going to get the discipline he deserves. And there's no way out of it for him; strapped down and wiggling like a fish out of water, trying to flail his arms, thrusting his hips, his little dickie waggling. But on the gurney he soon settles down because he finally realizes he has no choice; he's got to take whatever we dish out! There's no way out of it this time."
Tony and Perry came up to me, and seeing all the things attached to my body, Perry whistled, "Wow, tough!" Tom passed my gurney and Tony asked what all the things were that were attached to my body. Tom smiled and came over, happy to provide information. Tom shook hands with Tony and Perry as they introduced themselves. Tom looked at me and said, "Hi Billy. How are Mr. Falkenberg and Lang doing?" I grimaced out, "They're okay."
Tom nodded, looked at Tony and Perry, then me, "Let me point out to you the things that get put on a naughty naked slave boy strapped down to a gurney here at Punishment House." As he pointed out each item attached to my body, he named it; "Head clasp, hair tugs, ear lobe clamps, neck yoke, cheek hooks, nose scissors, tongue gripe, jaw clamp, elbow tethers, bicep cinch-halters, armpit pin cushion, chest brick, tit pinchers, penis choke, cock root grapnel, glands muzzle, frenum pin, scrotum anchor, butt spreader, anal plug, inner thigh mandibulator, knee pinion, ankle vice, feet tacks, finger, thumb, and toe screws, and, what you can't see, he's reclining on a plasti-fiber pin cushion."
Tony and Perry watched me twitch uncomfortably as they ate their peanuts. The disciplinarians gathered at a coffee urn, poured themselves coffee, and casually chatted with each other as they monitored the room.
There we were; fifty slaves, naked, and strapped to gurneys. Being made to feel pain because our owners were unhappy with us. Fifty naked and naughty slave boys who need to learn obedience. Fifty slaves feeling pain because we had stepped out of line. Fifty slaves spending our day in torment, while our owners were at the golf course, while our disciplinarian sipped coffee and did crossword puzzles, while our former friends watched, or were in school, on holiday, or fucked their girlfriends. Fifty slave boys who were learning they had better start obeying if they didn't want to come back here. Fifty slave boys who envied almost any free person they saw. Fifty slave boys at the mercy of a rosy-cheeked head disciplinarian who enjoyed his job, and who would stroll among the gurneys, observing the writhing and uncomfortable slave boys. A head disciplinarian content with his lot, and satisfied that he was doing his part to help us become better slaves. Fifty slaves who looked into the handsome face of Thomas Lattimore as he looked down on them, and gave pleading looks to him. Looks that begged to be given some relief from discomfort. But our disciplinarian only gazed back, impassive.
Tony and Perry arrived at noon on Thursday along with Roy Garter and Hogan Rosenberry. In introductions to Lang it was explained that Hogan was the group's team captain for the slave games, and that the success of the pulling contests depended in large part on how well each player knew the team's slave. Tony praised Hogan; "Hogan has been giving us tons of valuable information on controlling slaves during the games."
Hogan responded, "I think we're all going to make a great team, we have Roy and me, two experienced drivers, two new drivers, you guys, who are very eager to learn every angle of slave gaming, and have a competitive spirit and want very much to win. And finally we have what I am told is one very smart drudge who is fit, compliant, able, and quick-stepping. We should do very well, indeed."
When Hogan turned to meet me, he said "Hi Billy", but he didn't reach out to shake my hand.
Lang explained that he was running late and had to leave to pick up his dad, and told Tony and Perry to take very good care of me. He showed them the cabinet where the punishment implements were kept. "I know this must seem to you boys who don't deal with slaves every day to be, on the surface at least, kind of medieval. But it's the kind of thing that has to be done if you want a functioning, compliant, slave."
Tony gushed, "Man, in no way do I think you are medieval. Far from it! You are totally cool. `Enlightened' is what I would call you."
Lang smiled, "Why thank you, Tony. I like to think that I am. A slave is like one of those airline passenger jets. Those things do amazing things, but they need an overwhelming amount of support and maintenance to function. A slave is the same way. Just look at Billy now. He's happy and obedient, the two things one ideally wants in a slave. But the only reason he is, is because of just such things as you find in this cabinet. Slaves need plenty of `maintenance' to remind them to be good boys."
Tony wondered about whether he and Perry could use me for `stuff', and Lang soon had Tony stammering, regretting that he dared to bring such a thing up, even in a roundabout way. One thing those uninitiated in slave culture perhaps don't know is that no slaver is ever going to confide with non-intimates about their sexual exploitation of slaves. Did Tony actually think that Lang, a straight man, would relate to the four of them, "Oh sure, boys, practically every day I have Billy lick my pits, play with my tits, and fondle my balls, before he sucks me off. Why don't you boys go ahead and use Billy in the same way as I do." Lang, feigning a communication barrier, was making Tony squirm as revenge for his audacity and ignorance in daring to ask such a favor. And I was enjoying it immensely.
When Lang completed showing Tony and Perry the essentials of my care, he went off to pack some things. Hogan was eager to get down to business; "Billy looks good so far, but why don't we have Billy get buck naked so that we can all get to know what we'll be working with. After all, we're going to be gaming him naked, and we need to see which parts of him work and which don't, learn where his tender spots are, the spots on a given slave's body that are especially sensitive to pain. The tender spots are different on every slave, and the only way we can find them out is by trial and error."
As I took off my clothes, Hogan continued, "At some point in his pre-game training at school we'll hitch Billy up to the calibrator, and get a more scientific read out on where his soft spots are. It's a unique system. We lay Billy out and use small whips and cover every part of his body. The machines record with pinpoint accuracy the decibel level of his reactions to whip stimulus on each part of his body. We run him through it about 10 times during the training period, and then by averaging all of the readouts we can get a pretty accurate picture of Billy's `power points', those prime areas that if you whip them, you are certain of getting a major adrenaline exertion. And, of course, it's that adrenaline exertion, and only that, which is capable of pulling those humongous slave weights."
"And from that same calibration record we sketch out a game plan on Billy's body to see what parts of Billy's body should serve as whipping, or contact points, during the three stages of each pulling tournament. A single match is divided into three segments. In the first segment you want to whip points on his body that will get him to pull with all his might, and which don't require great whip force. Then you gradually want to increase pressure of the whip strokes in phase two of the game to bring the slave up to speed. The final three minutes of the game are where you go at Billy's power points at full strength. But you have to be very judicious in how much skin you break and blood you draw during the fierce whipping that takes place at this stage. If you tear up the flesh too much during this stage your slave may not be good for any further rounds. It is only during the last, the final climactic round, that full force can be used. Most of the slaves are pretty bloody after this final round, but it makes no difference because the games are over and the slave can heal."
By this time I was stripped naked except for my chastity garment. "Holy Shit!" exclaimed Roy, and "Hallelujah!" screamed Hogan as the two experienced gamers high-fived. Hogan was ecstatic, "Jeeze, Tony, why didn't you tell me Billy was penis clamped? This is super! Penis clamped slaves have a super edge!" Roy and Hogan continued to whoop it up excitedly. Hogan shouted for Lang, "Lang, I have a feeling your slave is going to do some pretty amazing stuff for us in the games. In fact, I have no doubt that he will!"
Lang came down to see what the commotion was all about, and seemed pleased to hear that Hogan was giving me a good assessment. Hogan wanted to get down to business, "Can we get that clamp off so we check him out?"
Lang nodded, exited, and came back a short time later with the key to my penis clamp, and handed it to Tony; "Make sure this clamp gets back on him as soon as you guys are finished checking him out. And when that clamp is off don't you dare let Billy masturbate or out of your sight for so much as one second. If he needs to use the bathroom one of you guys has to accompany him. He has been behaving like an angel since I got him clamped over a month ago, and I don't want to risk wasting a single drop of his good-behavior energy towards a selfish release."
Tony gave Lang the thumbs up, "You got it Lang! Billy's cock is going to be nothing but a piss spigot while he is in our hands!"
Tony came up to me, figured out how to unlock the penis clamp, and when it came off he was unprepared for the inner parts; a cock sheath, a cock root ring, penis and ball straps, a molded plasti-screen genital guard, molded thigh O rings, and erection control bands for both the cock head and the shaft. Roy said, "Fuck, that looks complicated!" Hogan told everyone not to worry, that he was familiar with Billy's model penis clamp because he usually clamped all the slaves he gamed with at least two weeks before a tournament, so he was familiar with a wide variety of penis clamps.
Hogan came forward and helped Tony removed all the pieces of the clamp. As their hands touched me I could not control my erection which shot up with a speed I had never before seen it do. Hogan almost jumped backwards, "Whoa!" Tony shouted, "Easy there, big fella!" Everyone laughed.
Lang smiled, "Wow! Look at that thing. I think abstinence has made Billy's waggler grow a couple of inches!"
Roy was pleased, "This is good for team morale. I assure you, when the chicks in the stands see our entrant horned up like the Apollo moon rocket; we are going to be hearing some pretty loud cheers of support! That noise from the crowd, all the screams and cheers, really gets us drivers worked up and gets us fucking stoked!"
Lang seemed pleased with Hogan's hopes for me, but he had to leave to pick up his dad at the office, and from there they were going to spend a night at their vacation home. As he left he again warned Tony and Perry to take very good care of me.
As soon as Lang left, Roy suggested that they get some beer and put me through a few preliminary trials. Perry did the beer run while Hogan, Roy, and Perry talked about how excited they were to have me to game.
When Perry returned with the beers the guys all took seats in big easy chairs in the living room, and told me to stand in the middle of the room. Hogan sort of took control of the proceedings, "All right Billy, if you would, I'd like you stand nice and tall and at attention right here in the middle of the room, and I want you tell us all a little bit about yourself, how you're feeling right now, what your hopes are, and your thoughts about us being here and assessing you."
I actually expected treatment that would make me angry, and I was quite prepared to control my anger, but I must remark that I was nowhere prepared for being questioned in such a pompous manner by a college sports jock who was my age. But I maintained my calm, "Sirs, I am feeling excited about the games, and I hope we win the games. And I am happy to be assessed if it will help our team to win."
Everyone sipped their beers and smiled, pleased, at each other. Tony asked, "Billy, do you harbor any resentment towards Perry and me, since we are free college boys, and you're now going to be our game boy?"
"No, not at all Tony."
He continued, "Billy, do you envy us free boys?"
"No sir."
"Would you like a beer?"
"Yes sir."
"Too bad! You can't have one!" The four free boys laughed and took more swallows of their beer. Tony was winning Hogan over with his ability to verbally taunt slaves. Hogan asked my friends why Lang had me penis clamped.
Tony answered, "Because he's a homo pig boy compulsive masturbator!"
Hogan sipped his beer and smiled, "Well I don't care if he's straight or homo, because as long as we've got a clamped, girly-pretty, compulsive, pig-boy, masturbator with a steel hard-on the size of Milwaukee on our team, we are in clover!"
Roy added his insight, "You know how it is, Hogan; when we draw blood on the pretty boy types the chicks turn into tigers!" He grabbed his crotch, "Oh man, the babes are going to be lining up to party on our rods!"
Perry and Tony were gulping their brews, "Fuck! Why didn't we get into slave gaming sooner?"
Roy added, "That's nothing. You should see the crowd react when we pull out the `butt barbs'."
"Butt barbs!" hooted Perry. "What are those?"
Hogan was surprised at my friends' ignorance, "Fuck man, I really need to fill you guys in how the games work." Hogan took a big sip of beer before he began, "You need to know the format of the tournament. College slave tournaments are modeled a good bit in overall form on the bullfights of Spain. In the Preliminary Phase of the games the slaves are all marched out into the ring, naked, led by a tether to their nose rings, which is held by the team captain. Along side each of the captains walks the other three team members, that will be you two guys, and Roy. The slaves are usually decorated with colorful paper wreaths, a headdress, and jewelry. The gamers are dressed in their traditional uniforms, which consists of spiked shoes, which can be used to kick a slave in the ass, gaming shorts and gaming vests. At this stage we do one complete walk around of the ring to the cheers of the crowd. It's a real proud moment for the slaves, knowing they are the objects of so much attention."
"In the First Stage the team leaders, those are the gamers who rank just below the team captain, (and that will be determined by tryouts in the nine days of training before the games begin) come out with their slaves, who by this time are divested of all their decorations and are totally nude. The gamers carry with them their tall and slender harpy whips' and slave lances', or `butt barbs', and the goal of the First Stage is to provoke the slaves into a real gaming spirit. This is usually done by taunting the slaves with the whips, making them jump around by snapping the whip at their feet and legs, and through verbal assaults. The whole goal of the First Stage is to get the slaves' adrenaline flowing, and that is usually accomplished for certain once the leaders start jabbing the slaves in their asses with the lances. The leaders are sort of like the picadors in a bullfight, who jab the bulls with banderillas to get the bulls angry. The lances are similar to the banderillas used on bulls during a bullfight. They are basically a very sharp hypodermic type injection needle on the end of the stick. They have an adjustable stop guard that can be set at a quarter, half-inch and three-quarter inch length. Each leader has to decide what depth of needle plunge is needed to motivate their slave. But once the leaders start jabbing the slaves in their asses with the lances both the crowd and the slaves go wild. It's a totally hot part of the game."
"The second stage of the game is the actual set of weight pulling matches. There are eight rounds per day for the five-day period. We each get to wield the whip and drive Billy during a match twice a day."
"The final stage is the playoff round between the two leading teams of the day."
Tony's beer was mellowing him out, "God, this is beautiful man. How we are being reunited with our old best pal Billy. It's just a really special thing."
The beer was taking its effect on all of the free boys, and Hogan and Roy had the sense to take their leave while they could still drive home.
After farewells and the exits, a glassy eyed Perry came up to me and hugged me, "Billy, I love you man! I fuckin love ya man!" He embraced me hard and squeezed me. I could feel his hardon against my leg. I was amused, though wary, so I said, "I love you too, Perry." He gently started doing a swaying humping of the sort a guy would do to while slow dancing with his gal in the privacy of their apartment. He was drunk, I was horny, and so I let him. I noticed a cell phone in his back pocket, so I pulled it out and tossed it onto Lang's small pillow saturated couch, which no one ever sat on. The phone hit a pillow, and sank into the folds of the couch.
Tony came from the bathroom and joined us, putting his arms around the both of us. He rubbed me on my behind like I was a mascot. "This is our boy, our little Billy, with the naughty behind." Perry had his eyes closed and was swaying and grinding to some unheard music, and moaned, "Can our little Billy recite a slave mantra for us?"
I was hard and possibly about to get my rocks off, so I recited a mantra, "By rendering service to my owner, and rendering service to my owner's friends, I render myself the highest service of all." Perry moaned, "Ooooh, that was nice, Billy."
I wanted to go on gyrating, but I didn't want my `friends' to get out of the party mood. As I broke away, Perry said, "Where you going little guy?" I told him I would be right back as he and Tony kept doing a slow dance. I soon came back with beers for the both of them. They both had momentarily forgot about beer, but were obviously happy to be reminded of its existence, as they chugged them down.
Eventually I led them to the couch, and sat with them until they both stretched out and fell asleep. I got the chastity belt key from the coffee table and Perry's cell phone from the couch, put on some shorts, and went into the back yard and called my youngest brother, Timothy, and told him our conversation was very confidential, and that I needed him this very night to get me a list of supplies, and to have a copy of a key made for me.
Timothy was over within an hour, we met in a pre-arranged, dark, unlit, part of the Falkenberg's yard, and I gave him the key to my penis clamp for him to copy, and a list of critical items. I told him that I probably would not be able to meet him when he returned with the requested items, but pointed out to him some property dividing shrubbery where he was to place the items.
Later that evening I found all of the items which I had requested of my brother in the bushes. I brought them into the house and hid them. Then, while my baby sitters snored in the living room, I went to my room, pulled up a pile of porn from the Internet, and jacked off three times in a row.
I went to bed and slept wonderfully. When I went down in the morning, Tony and Perry were still snoring off their beer. I made breakfast. They eventually woke up, ate breakfast, and noticed only a couple of hours later that my penis clamp was still on the coffee table. They were upset when they realized that they were responsible for me having my penis all to myself for the night, and asked why I didn't ask them to put it back on. I told them that when they tried to refit me with my penis clamp, they couldn't find the key, and that we had all spent a good amount of time looking for the key, and that they had fallen asleep before it was found.
Hearing this, they both became frantic as they searched for the key. "Shit! Lang will be furious!" Hollered Perry. Tony was angry, "I suppose you were jackin-off all night long!" I said, "No. Perry jacked me off while you sucked him off. Then you ordered me to suck you off, but you were too drunk to get your clothes off, and eventually just fell asleep."
They both were silent, clearly angry with themselves, each other, and the world as they rushed around trying to deal with what I had just told them. They didn't talk to each other for almost the entire day.
When Lang and Mr. Falkenberg returned home and realized that my baby sitters had gotten dead drunk, and lost the key to my penis clamp, they were both, indeed, furious. Lang ordered me to start looking for the key along with Tony and Perry. Tony and Perry were very worried over upsetting Lang, and even seem to be terrified of him. As they rushed around looking for the key they made lame excuses for themselves. Lang scoffed at them.
I surreptitiously placed the key on the phone table, and soon Perry found it. He gave it to Lang, and Lang, relieved, had a few words to say, "I am very glad for this episode. You boys clearly have no idea how much a slave like Billy is worth. And I certainly am not going to put him in your charge ever again. Needless to say, Billy will not be available to you for the college slave games."
Tony and Perry were crushed. They stammered, they made excuses, and Perry almost cried. They openly worried what Hogan would say about them in public. Lang watched them bumble. Mr. Falkenberg led them to the door, "You two useless turds had better watch out, because I don't think you're going to get far in life!" He slammed the door, and addressed Lang in the angriest tone I had ever heard from him, "What in the hell made you think those two boozers were fit guardians for Billy? You should be ashamed of yourself!"
Mr. Falkenberg came over to me, hugged me, and said, "God, if we ever lost you, little Billy, I would be heartsick." He patted me on the back of the head, and said, magnanimously, "Billy, after all you have been through at the hands of those two drunks, I'm not going to put the penis clamp back on you until tomorrow. I want you to go to your room and have some fun!"
My eyes started to tear up, "No, Mr. Falkenberg. Please, put the clamp back on me. I want all of my energy focused on serving only you and Lang. Please, don't tempt me to masturbate. I want to be a good boy. Please lock me back up."
Mr. Falkenberg was overcome, "Oh my God, Lang, what a slave we have in Billy! Let's get our precious boy locked up." As Mr. Falkenberg and Lang locked me up in my penis clamp I never felt so loved, happy, hopeful, and triumphant.