FORTY-FIVE
Later that night, after supper, Derek got a phone call. His phone flashed "Uncle Harry." Derek went into his office and shut the door, then answered, "Hello?"
He heard Uncle Harry struggle to clear his throat but then get out the words. "I was hoping we could have a chat sometime soon. I realize I had made some very unwise decisions about how to treat my nephew now that he's become someone's slave. I'd like to try to repair the damage."
Derek sighs loudly so that Harry could hear it. "Wow. You . . you . . . . you don't know how happy it makes me to hear that. I've been hoping and praying for it for a long time you'd see things in a better way. What do you want to do about repairing damage? You know, by the way, you broke the boy's heart. He's still grieving what he sees as a loss, almost a death experience."
"Oh, my. I should have realized how he would react—not as a slave, but as the one who loves and trusts his uncle. To be honest, Derek, that's why I'm calling. I need your help. I have no idea how to proceed."
"Give me some time to think about it, Uncle Harry. I don't have any answers at the moment. I'll mull things over and get back to you in three days or so. Would that be all right?"
"Oh yes, definitely, Derek. Thanks for accepting my change of heart and offering to help. It means a lot to me. It also tells me what a fine Master for my nephew you must be. I'm glad he has you."
"thanks, Uncle Harry. I'm doing my best for the imp. I'll talk to you soon." And he hangs up, just about to get choked up. He sits there for a couple minutes, meditating about the conversation, until there's a faint knock on the door.
"come in," he calls out, and the door opens. There stands Toby, looking concerned. Derek hardly ever shuts the door to his office. Meanwhile, Derek, still sitting, holds out his hands. Toby falls to his knees and puts his hands in Derek's, kissing them.
"I just got a call from Uncle Harry," he tells Toby, having decided he wasn't going to start keeping secrets about anything. Toby immediately tenses up and pain shows in his face. "Remember how I told you to just be patient for a while, that eventually Harry would come to his senses?"
"I remember, Sir," says Toby, automatically hoping like Derek had something nice to say.
"Well, it's happening, just like I told you."
"You've got to be kidding. Really?"
"Yes. But here's the catch: Harry feels terrible and I let him know what I thought and how much it hurt you. He wants to "repair the harm," to use his words. Basically, he was asking for my help."
"And so you figure the best way to help is just to tell me exactly what's going on . . . " observes Toby. "Such a wise Master. But now you've put the entire responsibility on my back, in a way."
Derek chuckles. "Tough life being a slave, having to carry all its Master's baggage itself."
"Well, wise Master, do you have any suggestions for your dumb slaveboy?" Derek replies immediately. "Follow your Master's example. Be direct."
"As in, `hey, my Master told me what you said to him and I'm really happy and forgive you everything an miss you so much, Uncle Harry' and maybe start to cry a bit?"
"Something like that. But don't say anything that isn't true. You haven't forgiven him everything. Doesn't seem like it to me, boy." Derek lightly smacks Toby's backside, knowing it's still sore from before.
"Do I have to do it now?"
"I told your uncle that I'd call him in two or three days if I got any ideas. So I got my idea."
"So I can keep him waiting for a few days?"
"Precisely!"
Toby rubs his head in Derek's crotch. Derek says he has to piss, expecting Toby to go and get the urinal. But Toby doesn't. Looking into Derek's eyes, he opens his pants and manages to get his cock out enough that he could put the crown in his mouth and then simply wait. "You sure?" Derek asks. Toby nods. Derek closes his eyes and lets his bladder empty out into the slave's throat and gut. Derek is so pleasantly surprised. He just hopes that Toby doesn't end up regretting what he just did because he was so happy about Harry. But that's another problem for another day. He finishes what he's doing. "Suck the end for any remaining drops then clean my slit, slave," he says in his Hard Dom voice. Right away Derek decides he's not going to make a big thing about this. The slave just did what he expects his slave to do: be his urinal. He doesn't really understand why he was so hell bent to have this happen, but for some reason it became a priority for him right from the first time he realized that Toby would end up being his slave.
Actually, Toby was hoping Derek would just take it in stride and not make a fuss over him. The whole this was still humiliating as heck, but he knew how much Derek was pushing for it. and Derek rarely ever pushes the way he's been doing with this. Derek wanted his slave –whoever it turned out to be—to be his urinal. Period. So Toby decided to surrender. After he had finished doing what the Master commanded, Toby gently put the Master's dick away and zipped up his pants, with some help from Derek.
"Grovel for a while so you can settle down," orders Derek, who knew the slave would need some time to process what had happened, and decided groveling would be the best thing for him to make the slave do. For Toby, this had become a comfortable position, not only physically but also sexually and mentally. The slave poses there, unable to do anything else or move any way at all, and just exists AS SLAVE until the Master wanted it to be doing something else.
Of course, right now, the worst thing about being made to grovel was that the slave hadn't yet had a chance to brush and gargle the taste of Derek's piss out of its mouth. And by now it realized that the Master's piss never tasted the same way but changed from time to time. Holy shit, the slave thought, I'm groveling here right now thinking about the different ways the Master's piss tastes! I'm really really this awesome dude's totally broken and humbled slave!
. . .
Galvin takes Adrian to a small quiet bar nearby, a good place to go for a quiet chat with someone else, quietly gay but with a mixed clientele. Galvin only comes here for respectful chats. Adrian isn't afraid to speak his mind. "I think that if I had a younger brother training to be someone's slave I couldn't possibly hold back and stay uninvolved,"
"Adrian, I'm not sure I could have held back even two or three years ago if something like this happened, but things are different now. I had to let the boy go, think of him like my little brother who's a slave as if it were some kind of weakling or freak or inferior piece of shit. I looked over our texts and I can see that the boy was on to something. I was a hell of a lot more Dom than big brother. Hell, I used to pick on him a lot when we were kids. I guess I still like to do it."
"Wow. I'm glad you could see it that way and own up to it. I didn't really know what to think. Or what to expect from you since I'm your kid brother's Master. So when I was talking about this to Elliot, he said one thing that really stuck with me: he said the he still wanted to have a big brother, something like that. Does that make any sense?"
"it makes perfect sense, Adrian. I get it."
"Then I think my slave should get to spend some time with his big brother. Is there anything you guys used to like to do together?"
"Places to go more than things to do. Although we do have a favorite Arcade we'd go to sometimes."
"Sounds good. When can you do it?"
"Why waste time? Tomorrow night would work for me."
"Then it's set. Where do you want to meet?"
"Away from either of our houses. Tell him to meet me at our Dad's place. There's plenty of parking there. He can bring his own car and we'll have more separation from the usual. And I'm sure Dad will enjoy us dropping by."
And so that ends that. Their "business" concluded, each went his own way. Adrian realized right away that he and Galvin weren't going to become friends socially. Good fences make good neighbors. It's a good idea to have some boundaries here.
...
Harry needed some distraction to help him keep his mind off what solution Derek would come up with. He decides to bring Eric to the club he picked him up from. That time was too traumatic for the boy to be able to enjoy the atmosphere. He thought it would be good for others to see that the boy had been claimed by a Master who was capable of taking the boy in hand and provide both the care and the discipline it needed after what had happened. It would be good for Eric as well, and Eric was actually pleased about being brought back there and the guys would see thing are working out for him as Harry's boy.
It was a weeknight so there wouldn't be many guys there. Harry put a high collar around the boy's neck and the usual manacles on its wrists and ankles. Except for the collar and the pair of old army boots in the slave's feet, it was naked and on a leash. The thing Eric hated the most was that Harry led it from the house to the van that way, knowing full well that a couple of nosy neighbors probably took delight in the sight. The only visible marks on the slave's body was the three welts on its back from the lashes with the Master's strap before they left the house.
When Harry led the slave into the club, it was overwhelmed with the way it was decorated and furnished with just about every possible bdsm equipment possible, the strobes which had various colors glistening in the atmosphere, and the music unlike anything it had every heard of before, music which indicated that this was an intoxicating and lugubrious realm. The last time Eric had been here was the night August had dropped it off, abandoning it to anyone who wished to claim it and enslave it. It was being offered for free to anyone interested because, as the sign attached to it said, in its former Master's eyes, it was basically worthless. Eric was so traumatized that night that he just wasn't aware of anything other than its own total humiliation and the fear that it would be claimed and ruled over by someone more sadistic than the one who had just literally left it hanging there, being offered to anyone for any reason.
Tonight was different. Harry planned to "initiate" the slave in the eyes of the others at the club, and he had explained in detail exactly what would be happening because he wanted the slave to anticipate its fate, knowing full well that on the one hand the slave will be thrilled with what was going to happen while on the other hand, it was somewhat fearful about whether or not it would be able to bear the pain of the beating its Master had planned for it.
Harry had given the slave a bowl of tepid tomato soup for supper, along with an edible that would help the slave relax without doing anything to dull the pain of the whipping it was going to receive in the sight of all those who were present that night. Twenty-odd men were there, some in leather, some naked, one in chains, most of the subs hooded. Harry had given this some thought but decided he would do nothing to hide the slave's face from others. If the former owner had spies around to report back to him, so be it.
It was clear now that Eric had a new owner and that this owner had no qualms about demonstrating to everyone in the club the depth of this slave's total subjugation. This was something new for Harry, as his Dom friends knew well. Harry usually had no interest in "owning" a sub, but this was different. It was clear that he regarded Eric has his personal property and would be making it clear that this possession of his was going to become well acquainted with corporal punishment.
He took Eric to the bar and made it grovel before him while he spoke with club member who came over to say hello. He drank no alcohol, but enjoyed the nice snacks the club provided to members—that is, to the Doms and only to subs if a Dom decided to feed them. Eric was given nothing but rather ordered to feed itself with the dirt and scruff from its Master's boots, which, interestingly enough, had a faint coat of ginger oil on them which would serve to intensify the pain of the initiation the slave was going to receive. "Yes, I'm keeping this one," Eric heard its Master say to others. "It pleases me, and its craving for discipline, humiliation, and training suits my own purposes better than any sub I've ever had an opportunity to work with."
He knew how easily Eric could still get bored, so he didn't leave it groveling there before him, but ordered him to kneel up. He blindfolded the slave and then had it suck the cocks of three of his friends, only one of whom chose to spill a load into the slave's mouth for it to swallow. The slave would obviously never know which Doms it had serviced, although perhaps in the future it would be able to identify individuals by the shape and taste of their cocks if it were pressed into service more often. Harry had told the slave that they would be here at least one night a week, sometimes maybe even two or three, and that the slave would always suck cock blindfolded, denying it the pleasure of seeing the one it was servicing and being turned on (or off) by that Dom's appearance.
Finally, announced Harry, it was time for what he was calling the "initiation," a public demonstration of subjugation and punishment that would be remembered by all whenever they saw this slave in the future. He made the slave stand and then led it to a whipping post for the first set of 40 lashes on its back with a rawhide flogger Harry enjoyed using. The slave knew it would receive 40 lashes so it could count to itself and would know when this particular whipping would be concluded. Harry did not gag the slave but rather had instructed it to freely cry out when and if the pain of the beating was enough to "get the music out of you, bitch." And so Eric was bound to the post, a blue light shone upon its flesh, and Harry whipped its back. The greatest cries of pain from the slave resulted when the flogger happened to land across the welts Harry had given the slave back at the house before they left.
After the whipping was completed, Harry let friends run their hands over the slave's back to feel the results of the whipping, and in a few situations, increase the amount of pain it was suffering. The slave had wept a little, but not much. A lot more was to come. He had the slave taken down from the whipping post and then bound its head and hands in a low set of stocks which forced it to bend over. "Keep that ass out and high or I'll lose count," Harry advised the boy. Next there followed sets of 20 lashes, first with the flogger across each of the slave's ass cheeks separately. It began to moan and whine and some tears were beginning to flow. Then Harry took the heavy wooden spoon he had brought from his own kitchen, and the slave was given an additional 25 blows of the spoon to each side of its ass again, with another 20 across its asshole as two onlookers held its cheeks apart with rough hands which amplified the pain it was already suffering.
Once again, Harry left the slave bound there and actually walked away, allowing any interested observe to toy with the boy's sore ass however they wished. This was obviously impossible to plan for, and right away Eric learned that many of the Doms in this club had no fear of making a disciplined slave cry out from the depths of its pain.
Finally, Harry had it taken from the stocks and then laid on a platform with its legs pulled apart and bound to sides of the platform, exposing its inner thighs when were each to receive an additional 30 blows with the spoon. By the time this beating was completed the slave was now loudly sobbing, and many of the assembled sadists enjoyed the sight and sound of this slave's reactions to what its Master had done to it. Harry kept it there for a good hour, once again leaving it to the mercy of anyone who wished to toy with its nipples or balls, hoping to extend the amount of time the slave lay there sobbing.
Finally, the ordeal had come to an end. Onlookers set the slave's legs free from the platform and helped it fall to the ground and crawl over to the Master, who now sat in a chair usually used by shoe-shine boys, and the slave knew exactly what was expected. It was time for the slave to worship the Master's feet as a way of thanking him for the beatings it had received. One more thing remained, and Eric was actually looking forward to being able to do this while others watched: Harry took out his cock and Eric held its mouth in such a way that Harry could easily piss into the slave's mouth and all could see the piss shooting from the Master into the slave's body. Not every sub was automatically trained to serve its Master as his urinal, but this had been established between them the very first night it was taken from the club and brought to life with its new and permanent Master. Of course this was noticed by the Doms present that night and a couple of the subs watched this with slight disgust and much fear in their eyes that this would eventually be something they'd be required to do if they continued in their search for Doms or Masters.
When Harry had finished emptying his bladder, he spoke the two words to Eric that the slave always rejoiced to hear: "good boy."
All this being completed, Harry arranged for the slave to be locked into a cramped cage for the rest of the evening while he relaxed and traded news and gossip with his fellow Doms. He knew that when confined that way Eric enjoyed great peace of mind and the luxury of just paying attention to his own mind. Of course, Harry maintained to the others that lucking up his slave that way was a form of humiliation and even punishment. Therefore, they were duly impressed that the slave obeyed its Master's command to cram itself into the cage without hesitation or any sign of resentment. This was all to the quality of Harry's training skills, they assumed. The slave got no credit for it at all. It simply did what it was told to do: obey. Some of them weren't sophisticated enough to grasp that since Eric obeyed Harry in this way, Harry already knew that Eric was also turned on by everything that had been happening.
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