When I come out of the showers, still dripping wet, the three of them are in the bathroom: Larry, Steven, and Craig with his hand around the handle of the strap which hangs down by his side. They've all seen me naked many times, but now, seeing me naked and soaking wet, this feels even more naked than ever. The fact that Steven and Larry both know Craig is taking the strap to my ass makes it even more humiliating and I can't raise my eyes from the floor. No one enters while all this is going on. I can hear someone outside telling guys to try another floor, that this one is temporarily closed.
Only two words are spoken. Craig tells me, "Bend over." My blood is racing. I do my best, putting my hands on my knees to keep me from falling over. Steven binds my hands behind my back then puts his arm around my waist keeping me in place. His other hand explores my chest and finds a nipple. Just great! He's priming me for pain and he does a thorough job, holding me tightly enough so I can't squirm away.
I hear swishing behind me. Craig must be trying out the strap to get a feel for how to handle it. He must have practiced because his aim turns out to be perfect. The sound of a swish is quickly followed by a loud clap as the leather strikes right across the center of my ass covering both cheeks. It bites me, hard, like a flash of lightning and I could swear my flesh is sizzling from the heat. Holy fuck this hurts! I'm no beginner when it comes to being thrashed, but damn, this is another thing all together. It's fire and the flames are reaching down into my flesh (or whatever it is) and I gasp while a high-pitched whine comes out of me somewhere. No one moves. Steven gets another nipple and hurts me there and my mind doesn't know which pain to go to first.
They wait. I've been subjected to this before, when the Dom or Disciplinarian or whatever hit me somehow then wait so I could experience all of the pain before continuing. This pain isn't gonna go away too quickly. I can tell that already. Finally, Craig lashes me again, this time a little lower than the previous time. Parts of me just got whipped twice in a row and the fires are raging more than ever, but down towards the bottom where my ass meets my legs is the worst pain of all. Two lighting bolts set me on fire on what turns out to be the most tender spot of all. Holy Motherfucker this is unbelievable! Now there are tears in my eyes and all I can think is how this was only the second lash and I'm already on the verge of crying. I have no idea how many he's planning to give me but I know I'm not gonna be able to hold out any more without crying like a fucking baby.
The blast of lighting is quick but the aftermath just doesn't get any easier to bear. Already this is the most painful spanking I've ever received and we're only just beginning. Fuck! What am I being punished for again? Do I even know? Shit, I can't think right now. . . . . . Oh yeah! For running away. I'm a goddamn runaway slave! I remember reading one time that a runaway slave back before the Civil War would get his foot amputated for running. Steven just put his other arm around me too. I guess he figures I'll gonna try to get away. Right now, the fires are burning in me and none of it is dying out even a little bit. I could swear my ass must be glowing!
THREE. OH. MY. GOD. I scream out and the tears are falling onto the floor as I howl like a fucking animal getting branded. That's what the fuck it feels like—a brand. He just laid glowing metal across my ass. He's gonna mark me for good. Part of me wants to beg him and cry "no more," but pride prevents me from doing so. It's a miracle I have any pride left after that at all. What the fuck am I going to do to handle this? He's not going to quit so soon. My ass is just one bright glowing coal right now. Ordinary guys my age never get thrashed any longer even if their fathers took them to the woodshed all the time when they were younger. But now? Here? 18 years old going on 19? This is something totally else. I'm a slave getting whipped for running away. I'm doomed.
All of a sudden Steven starts moving his arms and before I know it I'm standing up straight—and this makes my ass hurt even more! What? I dare speak. "Is it over?"
"Why? Do you need more?" Craig asks me.
End of discussion. Fuck, even punishing me he's still a sweet guy. He made his point. I'll never forget what he taught me. How much he loves me. How much I hurt him by not trusting enough. As awful as this whipping was, I deserved it. A chilling thought entered my mind. "This is what happens to slaves." I'm still skeptical. Does it really? Or is it only in fiction or masturbatory fantasies? The truth is, I guess, that most of the time the subs can put a stop to it at some point, but I sure didn't feel that way right here and now. After all, I had asked to be punished. Craig gave me what I asked for. What he decided I needed. Just enough to drive that point home loud and clear.
Steven took a towel and dried my hair somewhat then started to work down my chest and arms. Craig did the same from the other side, just barely touching my whipped backside. I would rather do it myself but it couldn't possibly be more clear that I'm not calling the shots here right now. Craig reached in and dried between my legs while Steven did what he could with my little locked dick and my balls which seemed bigger since they're the only parts of my junk that can be seen.
"Turn around," Craig ordered. I didn't notice it before, but Craig was naked too. He was naked when he was beating me.
He put his hand on my shoulder and pressed down. I got right down on my knees on the tile floor and it wasn't very pleasant. (So What?) Craig's awesome cock was hanging down. He put his palm underneath it and raised it up a bit as if he were offering it to me.
Okay. Point made. My fiery ass reminds me what I am. I scramble to get the head of his cock in my mouth. I know what's coming and you know what, after what Craig just did to me, it's only appropriate that I hold his dick in my mouth so he could use me as his urinal. I open up the back of my mouth like I'd been taught. Craig puts his hands on his waist now and lets go. The first drip is salty and I taste it as it flows wishing I didn't have to—taste it, that is—and before long I'm swallowing. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Larry and Steven watching me swallow piss, giving witness to the fact that Craig has conquered me totally, beaten me, and is using me like the most humble slave I could possibly be.
Once I hear myself gulp and it freaks me out. Fortunately, I have enough presence of mind not to take my mouth off his dick. That would have been a disaster. I'd surely feel the strap again. Shit! From now on, all my obedience is going to be motivated by fear of that strap! How can I hate that and love it all at the same time?
He finishes. I lick the slit the way Jeffrey had taught me that time I was with him. I've already been trained that way. Trained. Fuck, there's a whole story in that word: trained. I've been trained.
And speaking of being trained, the pain hasn't turned to pleasure yet, but it is having an effect on me. I really fucking want to show Craig that I've surrendered myself to him completely. After he takes his cock out of my mouth, without being told anything, I lower my face to the ground and start licking the tops of his feet. Craig has a fierce picture of a slave licking its Master's feet and he makes me look at it a lot. I replicate that picture right here, right now, while Larry is filming me and Steven is watching and getting ideas for things to make his subs do. I don't fully understand Steven's situation. He's a freshman in college like Craig and me (?) but he's also one of that group of six Masters that I'm supposed to serve. I guess he's older than the rest of us even though he's living in our dorm. Oh well, it's really none of my business to speculate about that. If he wants me to know anything about his situation, he'll tell me. Otherwise all I have to know is that he likes to make use of me from time to time and he sure as shit isn't shy about molesting me like a common slaveboy.
I'm only down there for a little while. Craig nudges me with a toe, getting me to stop licking. "Steven, thanks for your help. Would you mind bringing the slave back to my room?" With that, I'm lifted. Steven just leaves the bathroom and walks to my room. I follow behind him. Craig makes me carry the strap myself which totally completes the picture. It's obvious that I've been crying and all it takes is a quick look at what's in my hand and my naked ass to know why I've been crying.
This shouldn't be a surprise to anybody. They all know about me now, and the homophobes have been warned to keep their opinions to themselves. That doesn't really help me feel very safe around here, I have to admit. But right now, I've got bigger problems.
Considering everything that's happened, I find something else to worry about: how am I supposed to act when Craig and I are alone with each other? We were very informal back at his house (I still have trouble thinking of it as "home."). But now? That was a life time ago. I was on the other sign of the line back them—the line I crossed since Adrian brought me back to campus after my little adventure in town.
When we get back to my room (or, rather, Craig's room) Steven comes in with me, takes out his cock. "Get it hard and milk it, faggot," he orders. Dare I disobey? Dare I even hesitate? Not at all. Not while my ass is throbbing. When Craig gets back to the room, he sits in his desk chair and watches. "Shove it all the way down. Hold the slave's face right to your pants. Choke it!"
This releases all the tears I'd been holding back before. He lets go of my head and I explode off his cock, coughing and choking on my own phlegm. "Finish me off nicely," Steven tells me, "and we won't do that again tonight." It still hurts to suck him off after what he just did to me, but I manage. And actually, when his cum slides down my throat, it's almost a little soothing. Go figure.
After Steven leaves I get up to get my toothbrush. The taste of Craig's piss is still in my mouth. "Why are you standing up?" Craig asks.
"I want to go brush my teeth."
"Did I say you could go brush your teeth?"
"No, Sir."
"I thought I told you to always call me Master after I've hurt you."
"Sorry, Master. No you didn't say I could brush my teeth."
"don't you think you should ask for permission to do that?"
Fuck. "Didn't think of it, Master. Sorry, Master."
"From now on you ask for permission for everything, boy."
"Master, may I go brush my teeth?"
"No, you may not. Now get back down on the floor."
I warn myself: Don't get pissed, don't get an attitude. Just do it. When I'm on the floor again, he tells me to get back down on his feet and suck his toes. While I'm doing that he has some more things to tell me.
"I've given a lot of thought to how I can structure your life as my slave in a way that keeps you constantly aware of what you are and of how much control I have over you. These will all be good for you. They will all help you focus on the things that you now realize are important if you're going to truly live as my slave. So here are a few things I've decided. This is the only opportunity to safe word them, so your response to each thing is either YELLOW or YES, MASTER. Stop what you're doing, Q. Kneel up and sit back on your heels—and yes, I know it will hurt for you to sit that way. Consider it a lingering part of your punishment. Anyway, here we go:
"First, you are always naked in this dorm. Everywhere."
"Yes, Master." This doesn't surprise me; besides I still get a little thrill when someone looks down on me because I'm always stripped.
"Second, you are always on the floor in this room unless there is an important reason for you to stand or I've given you permission to stand up temporarily for some reason. Wear knee pads all the time as part of your uniform from now on along with the slave collar I've locked around your neck. When guys in the dorm see you with pads on your knees, they'll realize it's because you spend a lot time kneeling. Got all that so far, boy?"
"yes, Master."
"Third: when you need to drink something, ask. You always drink either from a bowl on the floor or from my mouth directly. I will see to it that there is always water in your bowl. If I forget, you may hand me your bowl while on your knees as a way of reminding me. Got it?"
"Yes, Master."
Craig actually managed to get his hands on a metal dog bowl. He shows it to me then puts it on the floor and pours a bottle of water into it. "Drink now. Both hands on the floor, your mouth lowered into the bowl and you suck up water. Always drink that way."
I go and do it and the sense of fresh humiliation sends my inner slave vibrating.
"Next: this is something I want us to try. If it turns out to be a problem we'll reevaluate it together after discussing it. But from here on in, the rule is this: you may only eat anything when you're with me. You can't go take a snack when alone. Because of this, you never need to have any money on you. Carry your wallet so you have your ID, but only for that."
"Yes, Master." In truth, the idea that I will always be a naked penniless slave, owning nothing at all, appeals to my submissive heart.
"And by the way, when that kid went to the diner to get something to eat, he gave Annie your phone. She let him keep the jacket. I'll give you a heavy hoodie to wear from now on."
"Thank you, Master."
"Now you can go brush your teeth, Q. Use mouthwash as well. I want us to cuddle and make out with you before we go to sleep so you remember I love you and that's why I've made these decisions about you hopefully for the rest of the semester.."
"Thank you, Master."
When I'm brushing my teeth a guy comes. When he sees my welted ass, he says, "You're probably the only fucking guy in this dorm who still gets his ass whipped, you know that?"
"Probably, George," I answer. "But you know why."
"Yup. Takes all kinds, I guess. But tell me something."
"What's that, George," I say after I spit out the mouthwash.
"What if you change your mind about all this shit you're doing? After all it's only a game, right? You can call it quits if you want to, right?"
To tell the truth, I'm really not sure how to answer that question, so I start brushing my teeth again so I don't have to answer him. Finally he gives up and leaves without saying good-bye.
This couldn't possibly be just a game now, could it?
It sure doesn't feel that way when I get back to the room and crawl over to him and he treats me like the most precious person he's ever met. This really serves to short-circuit my mind. "I'll think about all this again in the morning," I promise myself. For now, I want to lose my self in the gentle loving that Craig is so damn good at. So very very good at. Slavery aside, this is the way he truly captures my heart and makes me never want to be parted from him, from my Master.
THE END OF THIS CHAPTER
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