Jeff knew from his talk with the Colonel that Saturday would be critical to keeping Sam in his place. That is why the Colonel wisely required the two students to keep their schedules clear all the way from Friday night's coin toss until Sunday morning. Jeff deliberately set his alarm for only four hours of sleep. He awoke refreshed and raring to go.
Sam, meanwhile, was more passed out than asleep. His exhausted body and brain were barely beginning to recover from last night's seemingly endless ordeal when he vaguely felt it starting all over again. He slowly emerged from the fog as something long and with a soft surface passed between his lips and wedged between his tongue and palate. Hands firmly held the back of his head, forcing it forward and back, forward and back. He could not see, there was no sound, the thing (whatever it was) blocked all taste and smell, and he could only feel the chain (swinging forward and back around his neck) and that thing in his mouth. He went with the flow, following the rhythm, naturally shaping his tongue to fit the long soft (but now hardening) object running up and down its length within his mouth. Confusion gave way to dismay. He was sucking a cock!
One of the hands kept his head steadily rocking forward and back while the other hand gripped him under his lower armpit and pulled his upper body upward. The body behind the cock rose in sync with his own torso until he was on his knees (spread wide to compensate for his ankles being tied together), hands tied behind his back, with him wearing a blindfold but knowing exactly what was taking place. Jeff, his best friend, his roommate, his Master, was fucking his face and there was nothing he could do about it for now. The thought was so disconcerting that Sam momentarily let his jaw close, scraping his teeth against Jeff's cock.
"No teeth, slave!" were the first words Sam heard that day. "Any more teeth and it'll be worse than you can imagine." He needed no second warning, opening his jaws while clamping harder with his tongue. The pushing forward and back became faster, harder, more urgent until with a groan Jeff unleashed his sperm into Sam's trapped mouth and down his throat. Sam had no choice but to swallow, which he did.
"At least now I can relax and breathe easy," Sam thought, waiting for his Master's cock to withdraw from his mouth. Instead, it stayed in place while softening.
"Remember, slave," he heard Jeff state harshly, "you have to lie on this mattress every night. If I were you, which thank God I am not, I wouldn't spill a drop of piss on this pad." And with that Jeff let loose with his morning piss, fast and ferociously. Sam swallowed and swallowed as quickly as he could but the piss overwhelmed his mouth and flowed out through his lips. To make things worse, Sam gagged. His throat involuntarily clamped shut and the piss jetted out, spewing everywhere.
"Fucking asshole slave!" bellowed Jeff, "you spilled my piss all over me! Lick it up and swallow it, shithead!" Both hands behind his head smashed his face into Jeff's abs. He managed to empty his mouth by drinking its contents, then started lapping up all the liquid his blind tongue encountered all the way to Jeff's feet. As Sam tongue-worshiped them, he could feel with his chin that his mattress was sopping wet with piss.
That did it for Sam. He broke completely. Tears wet the t-shirt blindfold. Sobs wracked his body. There was no escape from, and no denying, what he had become. What he was. What he always would be. A slave. A slave with a chain locked around his neck. A slave who would have to sleep naked every night on a bare stinking piss-stained mattress. A slave who would wake up every morning to his Master's wants and demands. A slave who would spend every day doing whatever his Master desired.
Standing above his conquest, keeping his feet out of the piss puddles, Jeff felt no guilt, no remorse, no regret. He felt triumphant, gleeful, fulfilled; in a word, masterful. "By God, it really works," he thought, "Sam is now my permanent slave!" But that is not what he said out loud. When he spoke, it was with the stern tone of command.
"You owe me an apology for getting piss on me, slave, let's hear it."
Sam did not hesitate. Without thinking he started blubbering. "Please, Master, please, I'm sorry, Master, please, I'm sorry I got piss on you, Master, please, I'm sorry, Master, please." And so on without pause until Jeff clamped a hand over Sam's mouth just to shut him up. Once Sam did so, Jeff untied the three t-shirts. For the first time since falling asleep Sam was free of all restraints, but with two overriding exceptions. One was the heavy steel chain padlocked around his neck. The other, far more inescapable, was his mindset. He could no more stand up now and talk back to Jeff than he could sprout wings and fly.
Wordlessly, Jeff stepped over the kneeling cowboy and strode into the bathroom. Wordlessly, Sam crawled behind. When the slave arrived he found his Master sitting on the toilet taking a dump. Once that finished, Jeff wiped himself, flushed the toilet, stood up, then lifted the toilet seat and lid, pointed to the bare porcelain rim and said, "Your turn, slave. Get up here." Sam obediently rose up and sat on the toilet rim. He tried to evacuate a stool but only liquid came out, most of it Jeff's two sperm loads from the night before. Sam wiped himself clean, then looked to his Master for guidance.
"Kneeling display," Jeff commanded, "on your knees, hands behind your head, chin up, eyes forward, and remember this position whenever I say 'kneeling display,' slave."
"Yes, Master," said the compliant cowboy as he assumed the position.
Jeff reached into the medicine cabinet, withdrew a tube of antibiotic creme, squirted a small amount on his fingers, and rubbed it into the slave's shaved armpits. He next reached down and rubbed more on the slave's shaved crotch. The bathroom business being out of the way, Jeff turned and headed for the kitchen, his slave obediently crawling behind. There Jeff commanded, "Standing display, slave, standing up, feet shoulder width apart, hands behind your head, eyes on me."
Sam immediately obeyed. Jeff then explained precisely how he expected the slaveboy to make his Master's coffee every morning, making it clear that Sam would go without. Jeff then went over breakfast preparations, where Sam would kneel while Jeff sat at the table, what bowls would be for Sam's food and water, how he would eat with his hands clasped behind his back, and so forth. Sam carried out all the orders, first brewing and serving coffee, then cooking a hot breakfast for Jeff while pouring cold cereal for himself, then eating at his Master's feet, then cleaning the kitchen and reporting back in the Kneeling Slave position, head and eyes down, hands behind his back.
For the rest of the day and into the night, Jeff put Sam through all his paces. There was television time, with Jeff watching his favorite teams while Sam knelt at his feet, his back to the screen, fetching a beer whenever Jeff commanded. By the end of the game Sam had become a blindfolded earplugged footstool for his Master's booted feet.
There were punishment sessions, with the belt, with Jeff's bare hand, with the kitchen spatula, with a copper bristled brush from the toolbox.
There were bondage sessions, with Sam tied sitting in a chair, with Sam tied spreadeagle to Jeff's bed, with Sam hogtied and left on the floor.
There were more punishment sessions, with Sam tied standing spreadeagle with his back against his vertical bed frame while Jeff attached clothespins to his body, then removed them, then attached them again.
And there were sex sessions. Jeff fucked Sam's ass. Jeff fucked Sam's face. Jeff put on latex gloves and fingered Sam. Jeff even let Sam cum with a hand job from his Master while tied to the bed, the first time Sam got to shoot intentionally since they had emailed the Colonel several days before.
But more than anything else, there were training sessions, rules to learn, protocols to follow, obedience to be shown. Several times Sam forgot what to do and received a hard face slap for his pains. By the end of the evening, Sam had it all down pat. Jeff was clearly in charge and Sam was under control.
Jeff ended Saturday night by having Sam give him a full body massage for over an hour, followed by the slave's best blowjob to date and culminating in a three-position fuck, first from the back door, then with Sam sitting on his Master's cock and finally with Sam on his back on Jeff's bed, his calves draped over his Master's shoulders while Jeff longstroked him and fed saliva into Sam's willingly open mouth. With great satisfaction Jeff pulled out, rolled over, sent his slave to his own bedroom and fell asleep with a smile on his face. And, hard to believe but nonetheless true, so did Sam.
Sunday was a transition day. In obedience to Jeff's last order the night before, Sam woke up on his own, crawled to the kitchen, brewed the coffee, poured a cup, then carried it into Jeff's bedroom. There Sam slowly woke his Master up by way of a long hands-free blowjob, followed by Sam taking all his Master's piss without spillage. Then Sam gave Jeff a shower as previously taught, followed by a shaving session (Jeff shaving his own face, then shaving Sam's face, pits and crotch). After breakfast, Jeff ordered Sam into study mode, allowing him to sit at his bedroom desk (naked, of course, except for the chain collar) and complete all his weekend class assignments. Sam finished with his classwork first, resulting in him kneeling under Jeff's desk and sucking Jeff's cock while Jeff completed his schoolwork.
Monday, Jeff shoved Sam down another notch, this time by removing the slave's cowboy boots and boot socks, forcing him to wear only sneakers for the rest of the school year. At least Jeff unlocked the chain collar so Sam would not have to wear it to class. Of course, Sam had to snap it back on himself as soon as he got home and stripped naked.
Later that week, items that Jeff had ordered online (with Sam's credit cards) started arriving. They included leather wrist and ankle cuffs, which Sam had to wear at all times at home except when showering. They also included a heavy sterling silver chain in a cable link pattern that Jeff had ordered from a talented lesbian gothic jeweler in Philadelphia. This became Sam's outside collar, which he wore to classes, the gym and anywhere else outside the shared home.
The boys continued to be gym buddies, with no discernable difference between them when working out. In fact, Jeff insisted that Sam push him just as hard as he always had. The results were twofold: Sam eagerly looked forward to his two hours of gym freedom; and both cowboys worked themselves into even better physical shape.
Days went by, then weeks, then months. Sam more and more became a true slave until he could not even remember what freedom had been like. Jeff more and more became a true Master until owning Sam was as natural as breathing. They went hunting together, they went home together for Thanksgiving and for the holidays, they spent weekends together riding their snowboards at Snowy or Steamboat, to all outward appearances they were still the best friends they had always been. That, however, was no longer the case. Sam never forgot that Jeff owned him, and neither did Jeff.
One warm spring Friday, the kind of weather that comes to Laramie for a few days in a row only to be buried by weeks of more snow, Sam came home to a shocking surprise. H opened the outer door as always, walked down the stairs as always, unlocked and opened the downstairs door as always, closed it behind him and turned around, preparing to strip, kneel and collar himself. Instead, when he turned around after closing the lower door, there was Jeff, standing in front of him with a big smile and a strange command: "Don't strip, Sam."
"Yes, Master," replied the puzzled cowboy.
"Don't call me Master either, Sam."
At this point Sam was really confused, but he responded "Yes, Maste ... uh, what do I call you if I don't call you 'Master'?"
Jeff smiled. "Just call me Jeff."
"Yes, Jeff," Sam said, but unconvinced.
Jeff's next statements really confused Sam. "Take off the silver necklace, Sam, but don't go get the chain collar and don't strip or kneel. From now on you are not a slave. You are just Sam."
Jeff gently guided his befuddled roommate to the couch, where they sat side by side. He explained to Sam that he was releasing Sam from slavehood for the rest of the school year. They would just go back to being roommates, but with one condition: if Sam ever asked to be re-enslaved, Jeff would agree -- but it would be forever, with no second grant of freedom and no second dare.
Sam listened carefully but uncomfortably, unable to relax while sitting when he should be kneeling on the floor, paying attention to Jeff but panicking inside.
When Jeff finished explaining all the changes, Sam said nothing. He stood up (which in itself felt weird), removed the necklace, handed it to Jeff, then walked into his room. Jeff sat on the couch, wondering if his ploy would work. And work it did.
Within two minutes, a naked Sam came crawling out of his room, holding the steel chain in his mouth, the open padlock dangling from one end. He crawled between Jeff's legs, looked up into Jeff's eyes and removed the chain from his mouth. Without breaking eye contact, Sam draped the chain around his own neck, snapped the padlock shut connecting both ends, put his hands behind his back and said,
"Jeff, you are my best friend. You have always been there for me. I have always counted on you having my back. I have thought this through carefully and completely. There is only one thing that I want in life, only one way that I can be happy. You are my Master. I am your slave. I belong to you, Master Jeff, if you will let me. Please, Master, please let me always be your slave."
Jeff looked down on Sam and the pleading look in Sam's eyes. He smiled, knowing it all went just as he planned. He bent down, put a hand under Sam's chin and raised it, then used the other hand to pinch Sam's nostrils shut. When Sam reflexively opened his mouth, Jeff spat a wad into it then for the first time ever bent further down and gave Sam a long passionate kiss. He withdrew his tongue, raised his head back up, gazed into Sam's adoring eyes and slapped Sam so hard across the face that the slave fell over. When he returned to his kneeling position, Jeff was grinning from ear to ear.
"Welcome to your life, slave," said Jeff, and they both joined in a smile that turned into a laugh that turned into the best sex they had ever had, the kind that only a Master can have with his slave. And all because of the flip of a coin.
THE END
All chapters of "With the Flip of a Coin" are copyright 2012 by the author, subject to Nifty's non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual, and non-cancellable license to display the work. My thanks to Nifty and also to the readers who wrote me with their comments and suggestions.
My next story will appear in Gay Authoritarian and Gay Military. It will tell what the Colonel did to the buck sergeant who briefly appeared in Chapter 6 of this series.
This storyline is a work of fiction. It is based on my experiences over the years as a Military Master. I make no warranty about the techniques used but, properly done, they usually work effectively. All of the events I describe have happened under my direction and control at one time or another.
Jeff and Sam are fictional characters, but I know for a fact that there are people just like them looking for just what they found. The Colonel is also a fictional character but based to a large degree on myself. One difference bwtween the Colonel and myself is that he made a career in the Army and rose to the rank of Colonel while I rose to the rank of Captain and then left the Army for a civilian career.
This storyline has no connection with the University of Wyoming other than the setting in Laramie. It is a beautiful town with lots of basements, including the one in my home.