Chapter 30
To recap: We had just gotten to the club. I begged for "safe chat." I was taken into a small alcove and ordered to kneel between Master's legs as he sat in the bench and leaned down to me. My voice was shaky when I whispered into my Master's ear. "My Uncle Ben is here," I began. "He used to try to molest me when I was a kid."
"How old?"
"I'm not sure when it started. I became aware of it when was in third grade and always tried to wiggle away from his grasp. As I got older, the `spankings' became more real and he'd really go to town feeling me up. At first I thought it was just silly fun, but as I got older it started creeping me out."
"When did he stop"
"Once I got into junior high. I guess I got to be too old for the pervert."
Bobby slapped me across the face. "I don't want you using words like that. No matter who it is. If he comes up to you for any reason, don't act like you know him. Just tug on your leash three times and I'll deal with it from there."
"thank you, Master."
"Safe chat is over now." Right away he holds my leash tight and brings me over to a table covered with corporal punishment instruments, picks up a couple straps gauging their weight and then picks one.
"Which hand did you slap your Master with in the car? Hold it out, palm up."
It was my right hand. I held it up to show him. "Do you understand why I have to punish you, pup?"
"Yyyyeesss, Master. For forgetting my status in life and slapping you."
"I'm sure you'll think twice before ever doing that again, slave," he says, as he lets the strap come crashing down on the palm of my hand. I cry out and pull it away, rubbing it against my ass trying to soothe it.
"Again!"
I cry out. almost choking, and immediately pull my hand away again. A few men are lucking at the entrance to the alcove, observing with lust-filled eyes. Bobby addresses them.
"Earlier today this slave was fooling around. It forgot itself and slapped me on my leg. I don't think its hand will ever attempt such a thing again." To me, in a loud voice, he says, "This time if you hold your hand still, that will be the end of your punishment. If you move it away, you'll get it again. It's all up to you, slave. How much punishment do you need in order to correct your behavior?"
I say nothing but, as so often happens, look into his eyes to get strength. Gingerly, I hold my hand up, palm out, and brace myself, knowing for sure that the pain of this third lash will be so much greater because my hand has always been beaten sore.
Bobby speaks: "Three , , , two, , , one!" and slams the strap down on me again and it's all I can do to hold it steady as I cry out and the tears start flowing. I force myself to keep my hand steady although I wonder if I'll ever be able to pick up a pencil again.
There are murmurs behind me and I try to ignore them, fixing my face on Bobby's so he can see my tears. "Good job, brother," one of the observers says to Bobby. Not a single person said anything to me, not even to praise me for being so brave. I got the punishment my Master decided I observed. My cries and tears are part of the punishment, as far as they are concerned.
Bobby is wearing his boots. I bow my head to the floor and lick the tops of them, holding the back of his legs with my hands and squeezing (not so much with my right hand, though. It is in agony.) Bobby orders me to stand. "It's too filthy here for you to be crawling around."
Hank comes by to say hello. "Not even here half an hour and already you've made a spectacle out of yourself, dude. I'm glad you came to get things livened up a bit," he says to Bobby.
"You know what you need, Hank?" Bobby asks him. "you need a room or space where slaves can crawl around without wrecking up their knees or catching some dread disease from the dirty ground."
"Dirty?" says Hank. "We spray down all the floors before closing at night. But you just gave me a good idea. We'll work on it. We can crawl the room "crawl space" or something like that."
Bobby laughs and packs him on the back. "We had a very busy day. I'm just bringing my slave around to show signs that it's been whipped lately." "Well I'm glad you managed to come over," says Hank. He pulls something out of his shirt pocked and hands it to Bobby. "This is a VIP pass. You get in free any ordinary night. Reduced fee when there's a special program or demonstration." Bobby thanks him and then Hank moves along to greet other guests.
"I want you on display," he says to me. "Come." He takes the leash and "guides" me to one of the large side rooms with is equipped for various forms of bondage. Quickly he clips my arms out to each side of a frame, and then my ankles as well so I'm standing there spread-eagled and unable to get away.
An attendant speaks to him and Bobby says, "blue light, please." Before I know it my entire body is bathed in a blue light which doesn't in any way serve to hide the welts from the other time and the marks of Master's whip all over my body this afternoon right after I finished drinking down all his piss. Then he puts a blindfold over the mask I'm wearing, so I have no idea who may end up touching me. "I'll be right here watching," he says to me. Surrender into whatever happens to you."
That gives me strength. It also turns me on like crazy that my Master has put me into public display. It doesn't take too long before I feel hands on me exploring my sorest places, tugging at my balls, toying with my nipples (which always makes me cry out right away). "Leave its nipples alone, gentlemen. They were well-tortured earlier. Best way to quickly get a slave's attention: make sure its nipples are sore as hell so that all you have to is lightly squeeze one of them and the slave will immediately jump to attention. It's a good thing to have if your slave daydreams a lot, just like this one does."
Fuck! I've become a demo.
Someone is speaking quietly to Master. "Never tried anything like this yet. Go ahead, but just a tiny bit at a time until I tell you to stop." Someone comes up to me from behind. Next thing I know, a very soft cloth (a necktie?) is put around my neck and the Dom behind me starts to pull on its end, and I feel my throat being constricted. Count of 6. Then it's loosed for a while. "Take a deep breath," someone orders, and I do so. The noose gets tightened again, this time more so and for longer period of time. it's hard to let my breath trickle out of me. Then a third time, the hardest of all and the longest of all and I start trying to shake my head loose, very close to panicking. "Stop!" Immediately all the pressure is released and I take big gulps of air.
"This can be a good way to let a slave know how even its breath depends on the Master's will, especially when it's sucking cock," the man says. "Thanks, dude," answers Bobby. "I'll have to keep that in mind."
"Do you plan on beating it any more tonight?" someone asks. I don't hear Bobby's answer. Someone grabs my ball sac and starts slapping it. Bobby stops him for a minute to hand him something he can use. "Not too hard," he says. "Get the slave to make some noise for us, but stop when I tell you to. Start gently and keep increasing." Well, that's certainly reassuring!
It doesn't take long before it becomes real torture. Pain in my gut! I try to keep saying "thank you, Sir," but eventually all I'm doing is hollering until at last Bobby puts a stop to it. He takes my balls in his hand—I can tell by his touch—and he smooths away the ache and once again I realize what a lucky slave I've become. Finally my arms and legs are set free, the blindfold is take off, and Bobby stands before me so I can feed on his face. He smiles at me and then engulfs me in one of those wonderful "Bobby hugs" which is more than worth any kind of pain I ever have to tolerate as his slave. I lose myself in the embrace. Observers walk away. Apparently gestures of affection do not attract audiences. Most of the people here are looking for bdsm sans emotion. That's what clubs like these are for.
Speaking of which . . . we hear an older slave being caned. I can tell he's older by the sound of his voice when he cries out. "Shit. When you get that old, I'll take you to Africa and sell you to a diamond mine. You can finish out your life laboring under the lash of black Masters and never again seeing the light of day."
Now I know what Bobby is doing—creating scenarios for me which are both dreadful and fucking hot to imagine—but just the idea, not the reality! He loves doing this and I love it when he does so, especially when it demonstrates the extent of his total power over my life. The truth is that if that's what he really wanted to do with me, he would just go ahead and do it.
Obviously someone overheard him. Bigger guy, much older than us with the air of a major account executive. He wears his success like a badge of honor and power. He speaks directly to Bobby. "You still in school?" "Yes, Sir. Freshman," Bobby replies. The man hands him a card. "Bring this faggot to the address on the card any weekday evening after 8. Turn it over to me and I'll cut you a check. All your college expenses will be paid for with enough left over to provide for a couple years after you graduate. This is a serious offer, lad. Give it serious consideration." Bobby fucking freaks! "You're actually been able to buy slaves this way?" "You'd be surprised what money can by."
"do you also get to pay off the guys sent to arrest you. This is illegal, dude."
"In that case, just think of it as a wild fantasy. For now. But the day may come when you might tire of the hassle of keeping a slave on your own and you'll lose interest in this faggot. Then you call the number on the card and we'll make arrangements for it to happen."
"Hmmm...I can see why that might happen some day." Bobby runs a hand down my back to calm me down. "Thanks for the offer, but it's far too soon for me to consider something like that."
"I assure you the faggot will live a much more opulent life than you could ever afford. As a slave, to be sure, but still there advantages once we're able to break it to our standards of behavior."
"Well thanks a lot for the info and the card. Don't hold your breath because it will be along time before I'd ever tired of this boy." And with that he walks away and pulls my leash. "Fucking bullshit," he says to me. Wait until Red hears about this!"
Bobby approaches Hank. "See that guy over there, well-heeled, black vest?"
"Yes. Told me he just moved into the area and wanted to check the place out. I told him admission was $30. He handed me a 50 and told me to keep the change."
"He's a fucking slave trader. Just offered to buy the pup off me for a very large amount of money. I think you should call Red. Maybe they can get hold of this bastard before he leaves."
"Shit. I surely don't want any cops in uniform coming here. That will kill off the business before it even gets off the ground."
"Let me call him and speak to him."
"Sure enough. Come to the office." That means we both go to the office. Nice carpeting so Bobby indicates I should get on the ground. Fine with me. It's easy to center myself on the ground, especially after what just happened. Bobby texts Red---probably the easier way to get to him. Shortly after that, Red calls Bobby's cell phone.
Bobby tells him what just happened. Red says he'll come by. He won't wear his uniform.
It only takes him 15 minutes to get to the club. Hank meets him at the door. Bobby unclips my leash and tells me to go "slut myself out" in the club. Suck cocks. Actually I'm glad to get away from whatever's gonna go down in that office.
First person I run into is Uncle Ben. I must confess that I tried to convince myself that it would be really humiliating for me to give this child-molester a blow job without him knowing who I am, but I couldn't go through with it. Enough of that! Finally I just get myself into an alcove and kneel down on the gritty floor. Before long I'm being kept quiet busy. Fine with me. This slave is not going to get involved in whatever's going on with that strange man; I'll leave it up to Bobby and Hank.
When at last Bobby comes to fetch me, I can tell he's tense. He clips the leash to my neck and next thing I now I'm being led through the parking lot still stark naked and let into the car. Off we go. Bobby is pretty silent on the way home. I don't bother putting my clothes in, hoping that might distract Bobby from whatever happened back in the club.
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If you write me, let me know what you think of this new story. subkodak25@gmail.com.
Here are the other stories I have posted, with the dates where you can find them:
The first five should be read in order:
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
These stories are stand-alone
Tommy Loves His Sub 8/17/2023 Training Toby 12/31/2023 Breaking Me In (in progress)