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Warning: This erotic fiction contains sexual experiences between fictional males. If this is not your thing, leave now. Furthermore, any similarity to any person, place or thing living or dead is merely coincidental.
There is no safe sex in this story because it is fiction. Remember: In real life, play as safe as possible preferably no exchange of bodily fluids.
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Story codes: M, MM, SM, bd
Please check out my other Nifty.org stories, which can be found under the prolific author section at http://www.nifty.org/nifty/frauthors.html and then scroll down to Douglas Marx
Growing Up Naked http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/growing-up-naked/ Downward Spiral of Jim http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/downward-spiral-of-jim Naked Whore http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/naked-whore Put Out to Pasture http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/put-out-to-pasture Santa's Slave Training http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/santas-slave-training Special Product Design http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/special-product-design The Trunk http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-trunk
Born – Chapter Thirteen
Something bugged me about waking up in my own bed and the request to not be seen the following day after the beautiful experience that Master treated me to. He had made passionate love to me several times. We dined together. We listened to music in each other's arms; then, back to the norm without as much as a how-do-you-do.
Monday came around. I was busily preparing my day of cooking lessons. I had learned never to get the cold food out or the burners on until after the food arrival. I never knew when the grocer was going to show up and fuck me. It was best to get fucked and not burn the house down at the same time.
Sure enough at the appointed 10 AM hour, I opened the door to the big ox instead of the wonderful delivery boy that I enjoyed speaking with weekdays. He grabbed me by the nap of the neck hauling me off to the dungeon and the sling. Within a minute my legs were in the air strapped to the chains. My arms were tied up on the chains as well leaving my fuckable cunt exposed to his monster cock. I didn't even get to suck him, which I had started to enjoy. He shoved his huge tool inside me and worked out a load. He didn't take long. I did enjoy watching him cum. His body would tremble. He hairy man boobs would shake. His belly would giggle.
When he was done he started to relax without pulling out. I thought, Oh no. He isn't going to...' Yes, he did. After a few minutes of relaxation, I felt the warmth of a waterfall of piss shooting into my vagina. Fuck.' I thought. `Now, I'm going to have to clean up this mess.' I was correct that I would have to clean it up, but incorrect about the time.
When he pulled out, he started to turn and walk out of the dungeon leaving me stranded. "Hey, aren't you going to let me down?"
"No fucker. There's more to come." The grocer replied exiting the sex room as his piss and cum slowly dripped out of my ass.
A few minutes later, the door to the room opened and another man walked in. I recognized him from the party. He was one of the famous twelve that showed up for my ringing. He pulled his pants down and stuck his dick in me.
"Look at those beautiful nipple rings. Fuck that was hot seeing you get ringed that night; made me cum big time." The man said. He grabbed my nipples and worked them hard. I screamed and he slapped me. "Shut the fuck up, cunt. I'll do whatever I want to you." He fucked me hard while twisting the rings to the point I thought they were going to pull out of my skin. Thankfully the surgeon had designed them deep into my body so that pulling them out was almost impossible even during rough torture. I had to admit that I did get into this guy. His abuse of my tits actually got me hard and I almost came with him but thought better of it. I played `real girl' and had an orgasm without shooting.
As soon as he was done, he pulled out of my cunt and left leaving me trapped again in the sling. Thank god I hadn't started the stove. This went on all day. There was clockwork to it. I finally figured out it was every half hour another of the twelve would arrive, shoot a load in me and either piss and depart or just depart. There was urine all over the floor and on me because I had to piss at some point and let go all over myself. The place smelled retched. After I pissed on myself sometime in the afternoon, I itched the rest of the day and couldn't do anything about it.
The last one came at what I figured was 3:30 PM. That meant that I would now have to wait for Master to come home. He typically didn't get home until around 6. I decided that sleeping would be better than lying here feeling the cold urine on my body and the twelve loads of cum dripping out of my ass onto the floor that I would surely be cleaning this evening when I got out of this contraption.
Master actually came home earlier than anticipated. "Walk up cunt. Get ready for number thirteen." Mr. Brown walked into the dungeon stroking his stunning piece of Master cock. "I'm sure I don't need to lube this since you've been a greased whore all day."
Mr. Brown jammed his cock into my eager hole. This was what I was hoping the end of this day of controlled sex was going to be; Mr. Brown adding to the mix. He fucked me for a long time the sweat pouring out of his body. I love to see Mr. Brown's perspiration as he hammered my pussy. This was a part of our life that I truly enjoyed.
I was so horny by this time that there was no way I would be able to control my cock. My cock would explode at some point even with my hands tied. Mr. Brown played rough with my tits just as the second man had. He slapped my hard cock with his hands making it fly in all directions. "Oh God, Sir. Please. Please hit me. Please hurt me. Oh yes. Oh yes. I need you, Sir. Please. I will do anything for you, Sir. Thank you for this day. Oh, God. Thank you. I am your whore. Please give me your seed. I need you, Sir. I need you to hurt me. I want that more than anything."
"Yeah fucker. I know. You want that. You want my cock. Oh yes. Take it asshole. Take my seed. Take my load in that whore pussy of yours." Mr. Brown shot deep inside me as I shot all over my belly. He collapsed on top of me. I loved feeling his wet skin against me.
Mr. Brown eventually pulled out without a kiss or a hug. He unhooked my legs and arms and helped me out of the sling. "Get down on your knees fucker. I gotta piss." I got on my knees opening my mouth thinking that I was going to take his stream. Instead, Mr. Brown pissed all over my body. He never gave me a drop of his sweet nectar in my mouth. "Now, clean this place up and make dinner. I'm hungry." Mr. Brown walked out of the dungeon leaving me to the task that I thought I was going to do after the first fucking by the grocer. The place was a lot messier after a day of pig sex. The process took some time; however, I hurried as much as possible because I knew I had to get a meal on the table.
Master allowed me to sit at the table that night, even though, surprisingly I would have preferred to dine alone in the kitchen. I was still dripping cum, which didn't make for a proper dinner experience. Master actually spoke with me more than usual. He asked me what I thought of the day. I was honest with him saying that even though it was enjoyable, I would have preferred to work on my lessons; however, I was aware that I am for the ready under any circumstance. Master had an interesting look on his face when I told him that I would prefer to be in the kitchen learning than spending the day getting fucked by twelve men. I cleared the table and when I returned he was gone. I was left with myself, my sore and dripping cunt, and a lot of questions.
The questions about whether this was going to work between Master and me got more intense over the next weeks. I instinctively worked harder each day with my lessons. I took no afternoon reading breaks anymore. I was diligent in learning the finer skills of cooking. There had been weeks where I had practiced knife skills. I was very good now. I had learned stock and soups and sauces; the basis of all cooking. I realized in later years that I had done a Julie Child. I didn't even know who she was, but I read her biography and learned that I had done what she did cooking alone all day practicing what she had learned in school. When I understood that, I was quite proud of myself.
In the evening, alone back in my room, I took to writing my thoughts and experiences down about the past months being Master's slave. The conclusions that I was making from having my contemplations on paper were not boding well for the continuation of our relationship. I knew that I was born to serve. I thought that I was also born to be a slave; however, I was reconsidering that. Yes, I loved being a pig, pain bottom slut. The fantasies of my childhood on the Internet represented in pictures and on Nifty. Yet, there seemed to be more to my personality that I didn't know until being Master's slave. Ironically, I believed that learning to be a chef was taking me away from what my initial thoughts were about being a slave. I wanted simply to serve. I enjoyed the manservant part of my servitude with Master. I loved being in the kitchen and seeing the look on Master's face when I would present a meal. I liked cleaning the house. I delighted in being a manservant.
This line of revelation brought about that maybe I would be better as a cook and chef in the ranks of the food world, than as single manservant/slave for someone such as Master. I didn't appreciate the inconsistencies of Master. He was moody, quiet, a loner. He could not directly express his feelings toward me. Sometimes I thought he loved me. Sometimes I thought he would be happy if I was never around. I know. A slave is supposed to take that. Well, maybe I'm not a slave. I started to think better of myself than simply an object for Master's entertainment. Cooking was giving me a direction.
We were coming up on the one year end of my probationary time. The last month or so after the love making Saturday and the twelve man fuck Monday, Master became more isolated and less communicative, as if that was possible. We also stopped having any kind of sexual relations whether in the dungeon or in the bedroom. There was a pall over the house that was extremely uncomfortable. Naturally, I did not bring this up in conversation because I had learned long ago that my place was not to open my mouth and question.
In my writings, I brought the topic of the energy in the house. Through writing, I began to think that I needed to leave before the end of my contract. I knew that I was not a prisoner here. I knew that our contract was symbolic in many ways even though a lawyer drew it up. I could leave if I wanted to. My affects were hidden somewhere in the house so, if I left, I would be leaving with nothing; no phone, no ID, no money. But, I also knew that IDs could be replaced. I had money in my bank account. Once I got an ID, I could get at that money.
The details of what to do were becoming frighteningly real. I had never considered that this relationship would not work out. When I started a year ago, I felt that I would remain with Master for the rest of my life. Now I was thinking of leaving before the contract was up. If I stayed until the end of the contract, I had the option of leaving then with all my possessions and without the hassle of having to recreate all my life. Yet, the urge to leave was becoming stronger by the day regardless of the complications involved in leaving in advance of the due date.
One morning I approached the delivery boy about the idea of him helping me. Long ago, we had discussed what I was doing here. Why I was naked. I had given him a lot of the sorted details of the past year. When I asked him to do me a favor, it was not without precedent. I asked him if he would be willing to let me leave with him one morning. I asked him if I could borrow a small amount of money simply to get my ID and a set of clothes being the only outfit I had was the butler outfit hanging in my closet. I told him that I would pay him back as soon as I got my ID and could get money out of my bank account. He was concerned that if I helped him, he would be fired because his boss was a friend of Master. I suggested that he simply lie that he had helped me claiming when asked that he delivered the groceries and left. That I must have escaped sometime after that.
He told me he would think about it. I said that I understood if he didn't want to help, but I also told him that I felt that something was terribly wrong here and that I needed to leave soon. He said he would get back to me.
The boy came by for several more days without a word as to his decision. He gave me the groceries and departed. The angst was getting the best of me, but I knew that this was a major move on the poor boy's part and that I should expect nothing.
One day he arrived and said, "Let's go. If we are going to do it, we have to do it now." I raced to my room and put on that stupid looking butler outfit and walked out the front door into his very beat up old car. We didn't talk a lot. He seemed to be in a big hurry to get this over with. He gave me $100, a piece of paper with his name, address and phone for me to give him the money back and he took me directly to the DMV and dropped me off. He said that he couldn't help me any more than that.
I was now temporarily homeless. I walked into the DMV and waited in line. Somehow I was able to sweet talk the woman behind the counter to give me a new state ID without any proof of who I was. I don't know how it happened. I guess the Gods were on my side that day. I walked out of the DMV and over to a branch of my bank. Luckily, it was not the branch that I had worked at or that my Master worked at. I withdrew some money. Then I walked to one of the local supercenters and bought some cheap clothes and a prepaid phone. The next thing I did was call my old landlord asking him if he had a studio for rent. He did. I took a bus downtown, met him and moved back in. The place was down the hall from my original apartment. I looked at the door to that place thinking about what had happened there.
Next, I put in a call to the chef that owned the catering company that catered the event the day of my ringing. He said that he needed somebody right now and how fast could I get there. I said I would be there as soon as I could get a bus. He said fine and hung up.
I worked all the rest of the day and well into the night as a sous chef doing whatever needed to be done to make the evening affair work. The work was extremely hard and I had not worked with anyone for close to a year so my people skills were rusty and I felt myself get angry a number of times when things were not done the way that I was used to.
Around midnight we loaded up the truck, drove back to the chef's main kitchen, unloaded and cleaned everything. 2 AM, the chef dropped me at my apartment without asking me anything about what was going on. He simply said that I did a good job. He wanted me to come by his office at two tomorrow afternoon for my money and to talk. He said he was too exhausted to explain tonight. I told him that I would be there.
I walked into my apartment, showered, and collapsed on the bed. Sleep eluded me for a while as I was worked up from the long day of escaping my slavery and doing a job. I briefly thought about everything that had happened and how the Universe just seemed to provide at each moment what was needed. I felt that I had done the right thing by leaving Mr. Brown.
The next day I showed up at the caterers to speak with the chef and owner. He told me that he wanted me to work for him on an on-call basis. He also gave me the name of a restaurant that needed a garde manger and charcuterie. He gave me the phone number. I immediately went over and got the job starting to work right then.
I worked so many days in a row I didn't even start to catch up on what had happened in the world while I was gone. I just worked and served; two things that I am very good at. Each night I went home disintegrating onto the bed. My first day off I went to a branch of my bank and closed my account. I moved all my money to a new bank and account that I had opened with my pay checks. I wanted to get the old account closed so that Mr. Brown could not see any activity. I then sent a certified letter to Mr. Brown asking him to please return my stuff telling him where to ship it to a private mail box company. I was not going to give him my address; although if he had wanted to find me, I'm sure that he would have been able to.
In about two weeks, I checked with the receiving company and my stuff had arrived. I felt that Mr. Brown would be a good sport about that and return my stuff. I was glad and sad all at the same time. I almost wished he hadn't because the computer, the clothes I wore to get in the car service that night, my phone and my ID all reminded me of what had happened over the past year. I gave the clothes away to charity. I took my old phone and dropped it in one of those boxes at the wireless stores that send phones to third world countries. I burned my old ID and the minute I had enough money, I bought a new computer, transferred some important files over from the old one, wiped the hard drive clean and dropped it at the computer recycling center.
All was going along well in my new created life. I started to think about how I would proceed with my slave/manservant desires. I was preparing to have contact with my parents again. Then, one morning as I was walking over to the little corner grocery to get some food, I saw the front page of the daily paper. That was the moment I knew I had done the right thing.
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