Jeffrey's last words kept echoing through Q's mind while he was bringing the slave back to its own school. It was in the back seat, hands bound, gagged, dressed in the gym shorts and wrinkled T it had worn on Friday night. Jeffrey had wanted Q naked, but decided to let it get dressed so the clothes would cover up the marks on its body from the weekend's activities and punishments.
Jeffrey didn't have much to say except "Keep thinking over everything that happened this weekend and all the things we've been trying to get you understand about what you are." And indeed he was. He remembers every word Jeffrey told him before:
"You're a born slave, G. We're just bringing it out of you. It's time for you to become what you were meant to be. And that means that a lot of things will happen that you don't like. Tough. You've a fucking slave. Take it. Obey."
That's what Jeffrey told him before "getting you ready for our social time," referring to the fact that once a month the frat members had a private get-together, just them. It was at the party that Q learned there were two other slaves who were members of the frat. One was a senior soon to graduate. Several frat alumni were considering whether to claim him right after the ceremony, because he had indicated that he realized he needed to live as an owned slave for the rest of his life. The other was an older man, hard to tell his age because his nude body was completely shaven. This one was taken by an older member after his own graduation a good many years ago when he was 21. He still belongs to that man's family. He takes the slave for himself every once in a while. The slave is strong and works as a laborer so this is always a welcome a vacation from its labor.
"Fuck! I this what's in store for me?" he wonders. He's exhausted and sore in many places. It was a turn-on at first to realize he'd be at the party naked (of course) with his wrists bound to his collar, allowed to stand on his bare feet unless one of the members had something else in mind. What he didn't realize until right before Jeffrey brought him downstairs was that he'd be gagged as well. A four-inch penis gag with a Yale lock behind his head. He figured he'd get to suck a lot of dicks, but that's not how things turned out. The other two slaves took care of all that.
All night long he was bullied, getting pinched by one guy in the arm and then slapped on the face by another while a third toyed with a nipple. The drunker the members got, the harder the slaps and pinches and nipple torture, and there was one guy who kept zapping him in the balls with some electrical thing. He was forced to his knees so he could use his bound wrists to jerk off a guy—who eventually shot his load into the slave's hair. The guys asked Jeffrey to remove the gag because they wanted to hear him whimper and cry out from the things they were doing to him. Finally, Jeffrey also set the slave's hands free so that he could try to defend himself. No one was terribly rough on him; it was the accumulation of things that eventually had him openly crying out for mercy and curling himself up to avoid one bully or another. Jeffrey kept an eye on him because twice Jeffrey stopped someone from doing whatever he was planning to do. He finally put an end to the "entertainment" when he realized that Q was quickly getting overloaded and was about to panic.
By the end of the night Q was getting sore all over. A couple times he got obviously pissed off. Then Jeffrey took him aside to a private space, had him kneel, then covered his balls and ass crack with Ben Gay. "Let the pain make you pay attention," he ordered. "You're a faggot slave and I've given you to them for their amusement. Each of them is Master to you. If you were just an ordinary guy and anyone did anything to you like they're doing tonight, you'd have a prefect right to get pissed off, maybe even slug whoever pushed your buttons. but you're not an ordinary guy. You're a slave. You don't have a `get pissed off' button any more. Sure you can feel miserable, humiliated, abused, all that shit. You've a fucking slave, Q. That's what slaves go through for their Masters. Your fucking purpose here is to entertain any brother who wants you. So stifle that urge to get angry. If you don't, I swear, I'll fucking beat it out of you and send you home black and blue. Now get up off your fucking knees. Walk out there so my friends can have some fun with you. Just take it, kid. You came here this weekend because you thought you wanted it, so we're giving it to you. Take it. You fucking asked for it."
As long as he lives, Q will never forget what Jeffrey had just made him realize. As long as he lives, he'll recall those words when pushed up against a harsh confrontation with the reality of his state in life. From that point on, Q took everything because he was afraid of the beating Jeffrey would give him if he didn't. "so this is what it means, huh? obey out of fear?" By the time the party ended, shortly before dawn, Q had had all resistance taken out of him.
Jeffrey didn't wipe the slave's face when he brought it back upstairs. He let Q's face be covered in the tears and snot and cum and sweat. Jeffrey stripped himself then ordered the slave to crawl inside and get in the tub. Q did so mindlessly, wishing he could beg for a chance to rest, but he didn't dare.
Jeffrey came in. "Kneel up, faggot." He put his thumb in Q's mouth and felt around inside. "Make fucking sure you hold this mouth open, bitch. It's time for me to take the final step in your training this weekend. Urinal training. "Don't you fucking fight this or I'll make you drink the piss of every guy in this frat. Just put the end of my cock in your mouth, slaveboy. That mouth is my toilet now."
And there it was. Immediately the piss started flowing—Jeffrey wasn't shy about this at all---and he just kept swallowing and gulping, realizing what this meant and how it changed Jeffrey's relationship with him. Jeffrey put a hand to the side of Q's throat so he could feel it swallowing. It seemed to last forever but Q realized at some point that he was eager to take all Jeffrey's piss to prove how deeply he surrendered to his Training.
"Urinal. I'm his urinal," Q thought to himself as Jeffrey drove him back to his dorm, to a world where none of the guys would ever think of such a thing. Twice today Jeffrey fed him his piss and it was harder today than the first time because Q wasn't as broken as he'd been before. Not only that, but the last time Jeffrey didn't even do it in the bathroom. "You've my fucking urinal. I can piss wherever you're kneeling. You've my toilet, faggot. That's what you've become."
And the goddamn worst thing about it was that when Jeffrey said these things to him, it was in the most demeaning one of voice that Q had ever heard. Jeffrey succeeded in convincing Q that this was his destiny, to be the lowest of the low. "Wow, look at what you're doing, you disgusting pig. Gulping down my piss like the hungry toilet you are. You're not a boy, Q. You're a thirsty hole for me to use. You really get what this is about, toilet mouth. You know what you are. I brought you here this weekend to seve me the humblest way possible, so you'd know what you're worth, what the fuck you are in my eyes, Q. My fucking urinal. I'm gonna fucking send you home with my piss on your breath."
That's right; Jeffrey didn't let him brush his teeth after the last time. The taste of his piss was still in Q's mouth. Q was becoming his own worst enemy, it seemed. In his heart of hearts he knew that as rough as all this had been, it would only take a few days before he'd started thinking about the next time Jeffrey came to get him, about missing Jeffrey and the times of sweetness, the kisses and hugs, the touches, the slick softness of his velvety voice when he would praise the slave. Slave. Slave. Good boy.
But now there was a bigger worry. What would Jeffrey say to Craig when they got back to his room? How much would he give away?
The time has come. Jeffrey pulls into a parking space but he's keeping the car idling. He turns around. "Look at me, Q."
Uh-oh. Now what?
"There are two gentlemen at this school who have experience dealing with faggot slaves. We've let them know about you. I'm sure one or both of them will summon you along the way. When you get to your room keep your clothes on as long as Craig lets you so he doesn't see how marked up you are. If anyone sees you in the showers and asks what happened, just say you don't want to talk about it. The less you say about everything the better. I don't want Craig showing up at our place ready to break heads for what we did to you. Sure, you asked for it. You deserved all of it: every single mark on your faggot body. You deserved all of it. It's what you know you need. You'll never be able to get him to understand that. So keep your fucking mouth shut."
Jeffrey takes the gag from Q's mouth. "Understand, faggot?"
"Yes, Master."
"Now don't forget: your name is Q. Craig is not your Master or your Sir. He's just your roommate."
"Yes, Master."
"You've been a good boy, Q. You pleased us very much. Now off you go. Don't forget to take the bag you packed!"
That's all. Q gets out of the car, waves goodbye, and stands there on the sidewalk watching Jeffrey pull away. He has tears in his eyes yet again. He feels weird. Unmoored. Lonely. Frightened. Slowly he makes his way to his room. Craig has the lights off and his television on when Q enters the room.
"Dude!" he shouts. "have a good time?"
"It was unreal," Q replies, and that was the absolute truth. He drops his bag, gets his toiletry kit and rushes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and clean out his mouth.
Steven walks in. "Hey, kid. You look weird standing there with clothes on? What's wrong? You cold?"
"Just a rough weekend," hoping the conversation doesn't continue.
"rough good or rough bad?" Steven asks.
"A bit of both, actually," Q replies after spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing his mouth repeatedly.
"Well I'm horny. Come back to my room with me, boy," Steven says and waits for Q to follow.
He's about to beg off saying how exhausted he is, but he hears Jeffrey's voice in his head: "You're a born slave. Take everything. Obey everyone. Email me every day to tell me what you did to act like a slave, no matter how stupid, no matter how small."
He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Follows Steven to his room so he can obey whatever Steven tells him to do. He just hopes Steven doesn't make him strip so he'll see how marked up he is. But as soon as he gets to the room the order comes: "Strip, slaveboy."
He strips.
"Holy shit! Someone really worked you over. But I bet you deserved it. Didn't you, Q?"
"Yes, Sir. Deserved most of it I guess."
"then show my big cock how much good it did for someone to work you over like that! Swallow it all the way down. I don't care if you choke. Get my hard cock down that throat, boy." Steven pushes on Q's head but meets no resistance.
Q swallows Steven's cock. Q is Steven's slave, too, right now.
Q spends the night sleeping naked on the floor by Steven's bed, collapsed from exhaustion. Steven was going to wake him up and help him back to his room but when he looked down and saw how he'd been whipped, he decided to just leave the slave where it lay. They can sort things out in the morning.
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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