Chapter 25
That night I sleep naked on my tummy. Despite the pain of the lashes I received today while Bobby looked on while holding me captive, I hope with all my heart that he will be here again soon. And, much to my surprise, I find myself praying that the day will soon come when I will serve as Bobby's urinal while assorted superior men look on and congratulate Bobby for how he has broken me in when no one else could.
I couldn't shower the next morning because of the welts on my back, so I bathe at the sink so I do not stink underneath the clothing I have been given to wear when with Dad. Once dressed in jeans and flannel, I go downstairs and make coffee and start a pot of gruel for my breakfast. Dad comes down and asks me to fix him some eggs and toast for his breakfast, and I do so like a good obedient son.
He asks me about my classes for the day and I fill him in. He suggests I wear a dark t-shirt to school; a light one will not hide the evidence that unlike the other boys in my class, I have been whipped at my Master's insistence. He lets me know that he will be quite busy the next three days so I won't see much of him, and that it will be fine for me to remain naked here because it will help the healing. Bobby plans to take me to lunch, he tells me, and I am excited about that. Since I changed my schedule, I don't often see much of Bobby when I'm at school any more, and I find myself missing him quite a lot during the day.
I eat my gruel with a big spoon, knowing that if Bobby were here my bowl would probably be on the floor; I actually feel a little guilty to be using a spoon, but Dad is here and I'm not going to pretend to play the slave while wearing the clothes my Master has chosen for me to wear when Dad is around. It's tricky sometimes, to be a son and a slave at the same time and to keep each in the proper place and have each determine my behavior.
While I'm cleaning up from breakfast, the mail arrives. Dad, dressed for work and carrying his briefcase looks over the mail and tosses a letter on the kitchen table. It's a letter for me, postmarked from Denmark, but with no return address. It's from Tyler:
"I'm sorry I'll be away for so long. I hadn't planned to, but it turns out I have important work to do here, and it will keep me away until the summer, boy. Although I'll miss seeing your bare-shaved flesh, I think it is good for me to be away right now. I need to step back and reconsider everything that happened between us in light of the fact that you felt a need to run away, or, as I've heard it said, to "escape" from my intensity.
"I'm not upset with you, boy; I'm upset with myself for pressing too far into your life. I love you with all of my heart. I love you for who you are. I love you for what you are seeking. I love you for how hard you try to surrender to our bungling attempts to rule over you even when we exceed your capacity for slavish subservience.
"I'm happy that Bobby has you bound to him once again. I know how hard Bobby is seeking the best way to subjugate you and tame your restlessness and your bouts of resistance and resentment. I know how earnestly Bobby is seeking guidance from Dominants with decades more experience than either of us, and because of that I'm not worried about you. You will become the slave you need to be, I'm sure of that.
"To be honest, in my weaker moments I've thought of having you kidnapped and brought back to me, but I know I do not have enough time to devote to your constant need for supervision and training. Besides, I would want to be arrested for trafficking across international lines. Never forget, boy, that I believe you must learn not only the ways of bdsm slavery, but also how to be a good boyfriend and lover and companion for your Masters outside of the bondage, the humiliation and the discipline that will always be part of your life. I've stressed that with you in the past and we managed to have some good times, didn't we, even while there were wounds on your boyflesh, because it is always so necessary to punish you in order to control your behavior and remind you that you will never become just an ordinary free college goy. You could never survive that way, and I suspect you know that in your heart of hearts. My only concern about Bobby is his intensity, but then, who am I to be concerned about the same thing which has caused you to run from me as well?
"I'm relieved to hear that you will now continue to live with your Dad. All things considered, that is the best place for you and still provides Bobby with the access he needs to you to practice what he is learning about the art of sexual subjugation. I know you love him and always have from the first day you cast your horny eyes on him. I also know you love me as well, and hope that I have not frightened all of that love out of you.
"All I can say to you at this time is what I've often said to you, that I hope you'll be a good boy, and a humble slave, and that I hope you'll find just what it is you need, even if it turns out that it will be with someone you haven't yet met.
"You must turn this letter over to Bobby and to your Dad. I assure you that I have ways to keep abreast of what is happening in your life. You do not have permission to write to me. I encourage you, however, to think of me at those moments when your find your limits sorely tested by Bobby or any other superior Man, and that you press just a bit more into what is taking place, assuming that if I were there I would stare deeply into your eyes and give you the strength you need to submit. When you weep the tears that all faggots like you must weep often, weep a few of them for me, because you will always be bound to my heart."
Tyler
And I weep those tears as I read Tyler's words. I wish I had a picture of him the way I have a picture of Bobby. I wish I could see the both of them looking at me from both sides of my bed. I wish they could somehow merge into one person to whom I could give all of my love and devotion. I wish I had done a better job of surrendering to every demand each of them has ever made of me. I wish, I wish, I wish . . . but then I feel guilty. Am I trying to control things by wishing too much? Should I just rather wait in patience, always ready to submit and obey?
I decide to keep Tyler's letter with me so I can give it Bobby today. After he reads it, I'll just leave it on the kitchen table so Dad can see it when he returns from work tonight. My first class today isn't until 10:30. I go back upstairs and strip, then finish the paper I was working on yesterday when Bobby came to make me serve his cock and take the beating he felt I needed. Or deserved. Or maybe just take the beating he wanted me to suffer just because I'm his slave. Whatever. I have to stop thinking so much, to stop trying to fit things into boxes and compartments and make sense of things. I'm a college student and a slave. I can't help trying to make sense some times; it is needed for my studies. But as a slave, nothing needs to make sense. How I wish I could just turn off my mind! How I wish I could just be a slave and nothing else. But there I go again, wishing! Will it never end? I punch myself in the balls until the pain in my stomach is acute, trying to correct my own frivolous thinking.
The doorbell rings downstairs. I throw on a pair of short and run down to the door and open it, making sure not to show my back to whoever is there. It is a package, addressed to me. Special delivery. I thank the postman and bring it up to my room. I open the package and there is a note for me. It's from Bobby. "I decided you should have this. It will keep you on the right track." Something is in a box. Hurriedly, I rip the box open and gasp, then begin to cry once again. It's a picture. The same size as the picture of Bobby. It's a picture of Tyler.
I'm sobbing so heavily that I have trouble bringing it up to my room. My sobs are filled with joy and with agony. Once again, I'm freaked out how it so often seems that the Masters are able to read my mind. And they always seem to know how to give me what I need to help me remember once again that I am not the owner of my life. I throw off the shorts and fall to the floor and grovel before the picture of Tyler's hypnotic eyes.
Please write me and let me know what you think of this new story. subkodak25@gmail.com. And by the way, despite the email address, I'm not a sub. I'm just a story-teller. But for the right Dom, . . . some day . . .
I now have a pictures of BOBBY, TYLER, and the boy (narrator). Ask and I'll email the ones you want.
Here are the other stories I have posted, with the dates where you can find them:
The Alex Chronicles 9/25/2022 Sweet Subjugation 1/15/2023 Brandon's Bosses 4/3/2023 Brandon's Brothers 5/19/2023 Total Subjugation 5/25/2023 Tommy Loves His Sub 8/17/2023 Training Toby 12/31/2023
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