I don't know what was in that food Jeffrey fed me, but I was real mellow all morning long, even though I was doing their laundry like some kind of houseboy servant. It felt good to be doing something for Jeffrey, and even for Matt (but only because Jeffrey wanted me to). It also felt good to be naked, and that surprised me because there were a lot of frat brothers in and out of the place all the time and Jeffrey made it perfectly clear that I was not allowed to go hide myself away. "I want them to see you naked. I want you to realize you must never cover your nakedness when my friends are around. They're all superior to you even if they're not gay. They've seen naked slaves around me before. Nothing new about it. It's only new for you. Very humiliating, I know. that's why I want to keep you naked no matter who's around. Part of you learning what you are in our eyes."
Jeffrey can do more to humiliate me with mere words than I ever imagined possible. Maybe it's just because I'm here and I've consented to him "training" me. And damn it, he knows exactly hot to blend humiliation with affection. Every time some guy was around seeing me stripped naked, Jeffrey would keep using gentle touches to let me know that even though he was determined to make me into his total slave he always made sure I knew he cherishes me. One of the guys actually made a big deal out of seeing me naked and caged and almost had me in tears. As soon as that guy left, however, Jeffrey wrapped me in a hug and caressed my body while he was hugging me. Nothing was ever said, but I got the message. And do you know what? It made me want to beg him to own me as his. To bad it would be so complicated, and my father would never let me transfer here. I heard him call it "a crap school full of faggots who can't survive anywhere else."
As so often happens, it seemed like Jeffrey was reading my mind the last time he wrapped me in his arms. He kissed me behind my ear and whispered, "You are mine to train but not mine to own. You have not yet been claimed by the one who will become your Master. You must be patient, child. No one likes to put up with an impatient slave deluded by its own ambitions. Your only true ambition right now is to surrender to me until Sunday night in every single way I demand of you. Right now you are nothing but my slave." I thought about that a lot while I was putting clean sheets on Jeffrey's bed and delivering Matt's clean and folded laundry to his door. The door was locked so I had to lay it all on the floor. Jeffrey took me to lunch along with two of his housemates, Giles and Marty. I felt more naked than naked since all I had to wear were the gym shorts and t-shirt he ordered me to wear when he picked me up at my dorm last night. We rode to the restaurant in his car, the two of us. The others would meet us there. On the way he asked me questions about what I was studying at Dunstun and how many guys have I sucked off there. Before we reached out destination, he started speaking more seriously. "I have a confession to make. I realize I've been neglecting an important part of your training and that's not fair to you. I know I have to start beating you. You need that to be part of your new life." Gulp! When Jeffrey parked the car he said "stay" when he got out. Fuck! Another dog command! But it got worse. He came over to my side and opened the door. "There's a black strap in the glove compartment. Give it to me." Uh-oh. "Get out of the car." Once I was out he kept holding the door open. "Turn around and bend down over the seat. Keep your ass up." My blood starts racing. I'm scared. This is too fucking real. Right there in the parking lot he pulls down my shorts, smacks my bare ass a couple times, then looks around to see if the coast. It is, I guess. He hauls off and thrashes me with that fucking strap and I'm howling with my face buried in the car seat. He pulls my pants up again and shit it hurts. "Stand up and turn around." I face him with tears in my eyes. He looks annoyed about that. He takes his dirty handkerchief from his back pocket and wipes my eyes with it. "That is the first half of the beating you're gonna get later if you do anything at all to embarrass me in front of my friends. Just remember, Q: You're not one of us." I have to keep reaching up to wipe my eyes myself as I follow him into the restaurant. His friends are waiting for us at a round table. They can see what happened. It's written all over my face with tears used as ink. He points to a seat. "Sit. Keep you hands on the table where I can see them." When I go to sit he puts a hand on my shoulder and forces me down, hard. I almost yelped out loud from the pain. If my face wasn't already red from crying, I'd be blushing anyway. The others looked at me. They know what I was. They know Jeffrey had just whooped my ass. And that I'd been crying, It was pretty obvious. The three of them are juniors and bigger than me, so it must have looked like one of them was stuck having to bring his kid brother along, considering the fact that they were dressed as men and I as a child, although they know I was really a slave. Why was I not surprised when Jeffrey told me what I would be eating and drinking while we were there. The guys had beers; Jeffrey slipped me a gummy but it didn't seem to have any effect on me, at least not until I tried to get up from the table to leave and almost fell right down to the ground. Marty grabbed me by the armpit and hoisted me up on my feet, never letting go but rather digging his fingernails in. I was black and blue under that arm for the rest of my time there. The conversation was mostly about some goings on in their school between rival "parties" in their student association. I kept my eyes down, ate my grilled cheese sandwich and salad (make sure you finish the entire salad, boy!) and drinking the chocolate milkshake with a huge glob of whipped cream on top. It got on my nose which pleased the heck out of Jeffrey because he took a napkin and wiped it off my nose while the waiter was there refilling their water glasses. Damn, I really hope he thought I was some overgrown child Jeffrey had to look after. I had already figured out that I wasn't the first slaveboy Jeffrey took under his wing. Giles referred to me as "this one," as in "how long are you keeping this one around?" "Mikey's a freshman over at Dunstun. I'll return him there Sunday night. If either of your guys wants anything, feel free. My slave is your slave," he says, then cracks up at his own clever remark. "But before 11. I have someone making use of it after that for the rest of the night." "How about stationing it at the glory hole for a while later?" Marty suggests. "You know, the one over in Essex. I heard that even dudes from off campus go there to get sucked off." "No way," Jeffrey objects. "I want to see whose cum the kid has to swallow." Can you even imagine what it was doing to me to hear him speak that way about me? Can you understand that just the thought of him having that much power over me was driving me into another dimension? "That place isn't cool any more, Marty," says Giles. "A kid got beat up there by three townies. Word is out to avoid it." "I got to tell you guys, this faggot here would have ended up the same way. do you know what he fucking did? Q, tell them what you wrote in the stalls of the history building." He explained to them that it's the place with the heaviest cruising. I just barely lift my eyes. "Want to suck a dick for the first time. Please?" "Stop the fucking mumbling. Say it so they can hear it." I repeat and dammit, the waiter is right there hearing me. If that wasn't embarrassing enough, he turns to Jeffrey and asks "Did he finally get to do it?" Jeffrey chuckles. "Indeed. Lots and lots of times now. Lots more to cum." "Can I be one of them?" the waiter asks. "Name's Mickey." "Leave me your number." Mickey looks at my face and smiles. Next time he comes to the table he hands Jeffrey a business card folded in half. "It might be a couple weeks. The boy's from Dunstun. I don't get it here all the time." So now he has me wondering. He expects to have me here again? Maybe often? And he talks about me like I'm a thing that gets given to him sometimes. Or maybe my imagination is getting too carried away with itself. The waiter chuckles and quietly tells Jeffrey, "After you gentlemen are finished I'll need to, um . . . go look for something in the locker room downstairs." Jeffrey winks at him. "Deal," he says, and I realize that they were negotiating about when the waiter can have me suck his dick. Deal. I guess I was sold. This is definitely not the type of guy I would want to suck off. "Them's the breaks," I tell myself. Later, when this Mickey guy gave them the check, he said, "I'm going down now." Jeffrey said to me, "So are you. Just remember what I told you after I whipped your ass in the parking lot. Follow him and do whatever he tells you to do." Cringe cringe cringe. He just announced to this Mickey-the-Waiter-guy that he beats me! So anyway, when we get down there, he locks the door. "So he really whipped your ass?" "Yes." "Let me see." I turn my back to him and drop my shorts down. He actually reaches out and touches me and I jump up. "that still hurts?" "Sure does." "Now I got another question. Why?" I just don't know where I'm going to take this. Maybe I'll be talking over his head but I decide to be completely honest. "He uses corporal punishment as a way of modifying my behavior. That's how he's training me to be a better slave for him." "So if I complain about how you sucked me off, he'll punish you more?" "Definitely. So please don't. I promise I'll make it real good for you." "I'll be the judge of that." He opens his pants and quickly drops them and his boxers to his knees. Holy shit! What an awesome cock he has! Finally I get it. Just cause a guy's not attractive doesn't say anything about what his cock is like. Ugly guys can have beautiful cocks. Thinking this way really paid off in the long run. Every time a Master gave me to someone who didn't turn me on, a cock is a cock, and sometimes the creepiest looking guys have the nicest dicks. I mean sure, I'd be happier sucking a nice cock for a guy who turns me on, but I'm almost really a slave. I don't get to be picky. It's the same thing with feet. Shit, I've seen twinks with big hairy feet and a bodybuilder with short slender sweet toes. Jeffrey told me that if a guy has something wrong with his feet, or a toe fungus, or shit like that, he just doesn't ever make anyone service them. He even gave permission to call yellow until he could see for himself why I said it. Sweet and sour, I remember. Sour Jeffrey whips my ass in parking lots. Sweet Jeffrey protects me from ugly feet. And I must confess that I did enjoy the chocolate milkshake. I get sick of vanilla. Whenever Craig and I go out to eat he orders a vanilla milkshake and watches me suck it all from the glass by a straw. He says he wants me to get more practice sucking up white stuff. (Ahem! The author needs to be beaten!) So anyway, Mickey had an awesome cock and I worshipped it as the work of art it is and poured all of my submissive love over it and Mickey made a lot of noise that inspired me even more, so we both had a fantastic time. He didn't have a big load to feed me. He must have jerked off before work. There's something else I want to tell you about: the smell. I know because I worked in restaurants in my younger days: guys get real stinky. I call it "restaurant slime." Especially between the legs in all the creases. Takes a good shower to get the stink off. But guess what? Turns out I love the stink. I'd lick Mickey's groin clean any night after he gets off work. What a fucking pig I am! Jeffrey knows all about that. On the way back from lunch he actually asked me, "Did he stink much from working all night?" "Yeah, but it turned me on," I confessed, wallowing in the humiliation. "Fuck," he laughed. "If I owned you, I'd rent you out to restaurant locker rooms so you could service the wait staff like a good faggot pig." If he owned me. Well, sounds like it's not going to happen or he would have said, "WHEN I own you." Shit!
So that's all for now. Hope you like how it's developing. My name's Greg. ogt009966@gmail.com Write me any time, please?
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