Sub Protocols: Rules for bois. Number 70: When the Superior speaks, the sub pays close attention and thinks carefully about what He is saying, always looking to learn more about being a good sub.
Duke picks me up early to take me into the city. He wants us to arrive before things get heavy so he can help me get used to the deliberately "seedy" environment the Cellblock offers the kink and leather community. "I've never been able to understand why all of our play spaces are deliberately sinister and ugly, always stone walls and floors, bad lighting, dark corridors as if we are all so depraved that we're not worthy of anything better," he tells me, and I can't help thinking of the play rooms and dungeons I've visited in the homes of Doms and Alphas.
They've always been lovely, and even "comfortable," all things considered. I mean sure, if I'm bound to a wall, there's no reason the wall has to be as ugly as possible, and when I've been bent over a spanking bench, at least the bench has been clean and relatively attractive, made of nicely stained and polished wood.
None of the men who've worked me over or taken a part in training me to be a slave have lived in run-down ramshackle dumps. They have nice homes; they have a reasonably high aesthetic way of valuing things; they're well-educated and they're articulate. I mean, just because I'm going to end up collapsed on the floor sobbing my heart out doesn't mean the floor has to be filthy and the room has to smell of poppers, grass and piss. Nope. That's never really happened to me. I've only been beaten into submission in nice places, sometimes even comfy carpets, never anywhere like some dank basement (unless the basement was finished).
"So anyway," Duke continues, "let go of any self-respect you have, any expectations that things will be pleasant, any trace of pride. Tonight those who are your superiors will see you as the lowest of the low; you'll be protected from brutality, so don't worry about that, but expect abuse and punishment, expect humiliation and disrespect. Get in touch with that part of you that yearns for these things, because that's the only part of you that can be present tonight. More than ever, tonight you're nothing but a faggot cocksucking piss-drinking whipping-boy slave present to be used, disciplined in every possible way, and then discarded when they no longer have any use for you."
Wow. If my dick weren't cramped up in this damn cage, I'd probably be shooting my load just thinking of the things he's saying to me. Part of me realizes that this is nothing more than grand theater, with brilliant stage setting designs and props, and a large cast of actors who are all capable of playing their roles as if that what's they really are. Fuck, yeah! I guess they call this "Suspended disbelief" or something like that. Knowing this makes it all so much fun, especially for a sub like me, because it is the safest possible environment I could ever be in to surrender to my superiors and submit to their training and discipline as they earnestly work at turning me into more and more of a slave at every moment of my existence. Yeah, baby! Bring it on! Show me how tough you are! MAKE me your slave.
Duke parts in a well-tended parking garage several long blocks away from the club. "We're going to the most dangerous part of the city. I'd never dare park there. Besides, taking you on a long walk through the city streets sporting a slave collar and clothing that will soon be torn off will help you get into the proper state of mind. I'm an agent who's located you and I'm delivering to the people who plan to keep you. Tonight I'm delivering you to men who are very serious about what it takes to turn boys like you into total slaves."
"Some of them have already taken a crack at you, so your entire story will be pretty well-known by every Alpha or Dom there. They know how much of a faggot you are. They also know that the best way to handle you is to keep you as humiliated as possible and never to spare the rod. All they have to do is get you to fear punishment. To do this, they will take you to the very limits of your pain tolerance and then assure you that if you need to be punished, that punishment will begin in your red zone, and you have no recourse to safe words. Not tonight." This is as real as it will ever be for you, faggot. I'll be looking out for you, but I have no intention of rescuing you from anything. Tt's about time you learn to suffer if you continue insisting you're meant to be a slave."
Duke is quite the philosopher. He's able to get me to think in ways that very few ordinary subs ever discover. His words are chilling: "Tonight is important, boy. Tonight will either make you or break you. After tonight there will be only two options for you: one is to walk away from all of this and never again dare have any interest in it; the other option for you to finally realize you're being pulled from ordinary life and delivered into a slavery from which you will never be able to escape. You will become a slave in each and every aspect of your being. That is why, by the way, your academic program had to be re-envisioned. You are not an ordinary college freshman; you are a slave and because of that as long as you are allowed to remain at college, your education will be based on the fact that your Masters want you to be to understand what it means. Despite all of this, as horrible as it might seem, the truth is that your subjugation is only just beginning."
Wow! Why am I made this way, why do I want all of this? I don't think I'll ever fully understand it why my entire being craves the type of existence Duke is describing for me. I really want this. All of it. The valets park the car. He has me put on thick socks and leather boots. Barefoot boys are only allowed in one area especially designed to be safe for barefoot men, so it's always possible that I'll be stripped and barefoot sometime tonight. It will be best to walk through the city with boots on my feet.
Duke has nothing more to say to me right now. I'm glad because there's so much to think about and to feel within my gut. Yes, I am what he just told me I am. Let go, let go, let go. I need to strip myself before I'm even ordered to strip off my clothes while others watch. Fuck, that thought was hot! I'm well on my way.
We walk down the street, usually him first in kind of a protective stance with me following humbly behind, aroused by everything around me. Talk about seedy! Sinister-looking guys of all ages, lots of leather and chains, no drag, interestingly—unless it's leather drag. Closed up buildings. A couple police cars slowly cruising around the area. The silence of the streets is broken by sounds coming from bars and clubs as far at the end of the city as possible, lots of wealthy limos in front of a couple places, but no, not us.
He turns a corner unexpectedly and I almost trip following after him. He stops to talk to the most menacing-looking guy I've ever seen in my life. He makes me to stand in front of the beast who gestures to me as if I'm nothing but dirt. "So do you think this punk-will benefit from spending some time here tonight? Seems so new. But hey, Duke, it's your call." "I think this specimen will become the talk of the town after we're done with it tonight. There's hardly ever been a willing candidate than this one."
"Put your hands on your head, boy," the man says. "Let me look you over." Ulp. Not sure what that means, to "look me over," especially since I'm still dressed. RIP!!! not for long. The shirt is literally ripped right off me and the pants only take a little more work before I'm naked except for the boots and my cage. Then this guy, whose name is Micro—weird name for such an Alpha—looks more closely, this time with his rough fingertips. I find myself wondering if he rubs his fingertips on the skulls of his victims as a way of keeping them conditioned. Holy fucking shit, how could I be dreaming up such silly things while this big man is putting his mark all over me and in places I never would suspect would make me crazy. "Turn"
He inspects my flesh for signs of previous beatings. He's got this really weird sense and I swear, he actually causes my ass to remember how it hurt the last time I was thrashed. That was the first time I ever got beat with a switch. About a month ago. My cousin and me were out for a walk in the woods when the weather was still nice, but before we started out he told me he wanted me to be barefoot. !!! What the fuck?
"You heard me. An important sign of who's the superior person here and how you can be handled physically by him. Being barefoot is only the beginning." Of course I pulled attitude. I didn't think my cousin would want to demean me. But as it turns out my cousin is an experienced DungeonMaster and knows exactly how to quickly take control of me. "One demerit for pulling attitude. Five warrants a beating."
I let go of my brat-face and get down on the floor to take off my sneakers and socks. I'm embarrassed because I can tell my feet stink. No matter. He helps me up and we start walking. Now it's hard keeping up with him because I have to look where I walk a lot more carefully so I don't get hurt. My problem, not his. He keeps walking along and talking about things he wants to talk about. Every once in a while he stops dead. Once he looks at me and just says "lose the shirt."
fuck. "Second demerit. Delay." Fuck fuck. quickly I tear it off then hold it to him, not knowing what to do with it. "I said to lose it. Right there." Quickly I drop it. We keep walking and finally he admits to me that this was not just a friendly walk but this is being used as part of my training. And holy shit, I blow my fucking top!
Big mistake. Now I'm standing there in the middle of a path, completely naked, hands bound in front. He's stripping leaves off some thin parts of a tree that he's planning to use as a set of switches. He says I'm getting a dozen. Bare ass and legs. And holy shit, it was awful. the worst ever. How did young boys ever handle it? I can't. I was sobbing like a five-year-old by the time he got done with me. Then ordered me to get up on my feet and keep walking or I'd be getting another dozen across my back.
Wow. Nice memories for a night like this. Micro's touch brought all that back to me as if it were happening to me right now. The backs of my legs are stinging the way they did when my cousin beat them with those damn switches.
Finally, Micro smacks me lightly on the ass and opens the door to admit us. "Be good, faggot," he whispers as I slink past him and I throw him a tiny smile before I go through the door. Duke follows quickly behind, both hands on my shoulders. The door is shut again—actually, it seems like it's somehow "sealed." Large cavernous rooms one after the other, all stone and brick, no windows. cement floor, a leaky pipe in one corner with pipes running overhead. A little cool, but there's hardly anyone here yet.
Off in a side alcove there's a bar. All "men" have a drink ticket, one only, "boys" drink water. (And that's how we're distinguished—men and boys. Yet some of the men are barely over 18 while there are already a few boys around who are probably closed to 30, one with a well-scarred back from a recent disciplinary episode, so it seems. Then there's the room with the carpet—also very large. Except for the carpet it's the same as the outer room.
I find myself wondering if I'll end up in there, my boots taken away from me for some reason. Damn! I have to stop myself from anticipating because it always leaves me disappointed. I'm a slave. Whatever happens, I'll have to deal with it. Duke is keeping an eye on me. Let go, let go, let go. . . .
Then there's the locker room. Three boys are in the process of stripping down and now I'm to join them. They all have boots on at this point as well. The oldest is caged like me but the other two aren't and I must confess that I have a nice time looking at their dicks hanging nice and soft, a little perky, both of them slightly bigger than my own and I quickly realize I have a real appetite for young dick. Consider that I'm barely 20 myself, who am I to judge? But there's one Dom here who is actually only 18 himself—Danny told me he would be there—and I'm hoping I get to meet him. Can't believe he could be a Dom so young.
Micro had already ripped my clothes off me in the street. Now I only have my boots and the jock under the shorts that holds the cock cage. Fuck. So now that comes off as well and I'm stripped. No sooner do I shut the locker but this guy in a mock police uniform walks in and orders the three of us to follow him. I shrug at Duke and follow them out.
We're brought into a room set up like a shoe store. Manacles. We get manacles. Leather manacles. Locked on wrists and ankles. My blood is racing through me at what is happening to me. They've outfitted me so they can easily bind me any way they want. I also note again the they're all locked, not strapped like a wristwatch. Only someone with a key can take them off us. We're trapped. Of course, I'm glad.
We're told to go out to the main room and be available to anyone who take an interest in us for any reason. Just my luck, the child Dom comes right up to me and stares into my eyes. "So, boy, I'm younger than you. But I'm a man and you're a boy. I've been a man since I was fifteen, boy. My uncle trained me good. I know how to handle little boys like you. I know what it feels like to be a little boy like you, so I know just how to handle you. Right now how you wish you could be kneeling on the ground before me. Go ahead, boy. Chase the feeling, the feeling that you'll be calling me Master every time I come near you tonight."
###Sub Protocols: Rules for bois: Number 102: A sub always kneels to show it understands what it is. ###
Without even realizing how it happens, I'm on my knees at his feet. He reaches out for my nipple and touches just the tip with his fingernail and he presses it into me and I quickly inhale. "Yes, boy. So you know. Keep it in mind. I'll tend to you later. Go around and be the most submissive here tonight. Refuse no one anything." With that he walks away from me and I quickly shake my head to try to ward off the spell he just put on me. I so desperately wanted him to take ownership of me then sell me off when he tires of me. Oh, if only!
Wow! He sure has gotten to me. It makes sense how he's so intense. He's been exploring these things for four years already under the guidance of an expert. Well, he sure did humble me, so much so that I'm thinking I should just stay down on the ground. And keep my head down. Right here. Advertising what a slave I'm being groomed to become.
Before even a minute passes, I see a pair of boots on the ground below my eyes. Brown and scuffed. And a man's fist has landed on the back of my head just above my neck and it's pressing me down. I realize he wants my mouth at his boots. I salivate on them as best I can then start to lick it off. He taps the back of my head lightly so I guess he approves. Shit, he keeps me down there a good long time and finally my mouth is as dry as sandpaper. "Kneel up, bootlicker."
He's holding a bottle of water and takes a big swig, then swallows. "Open your mouth," he commands. I do so and he fills his mouth again then pulls mine to his and pours it all into my mouth. No coincidence here. I remember that's a rule. But this guy, after he feeds me the water. he drowns me in his saliva and I feel like I'm drinking from a waterfall. Then, to make this more meaningful, his hands quickly find my nipples and he quickly discovers the connection between my nipples and how much my throat opens.
He pushes my head back down to his boots and I bathe them with the moisture he put in my mouth and how grateful I am for the way he just used me and for how he's training me, this unidentified Master. What does it matter who he is? I'm a slave.
That's the end of this chapter.
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