Chapter 52.
Bobby gave me nice clothing to wear to breakfast with Dad. It was good to see him. I don't get to see enough of him now that he's taken his own slave. We need this special time together—time to be Father and son, not Master and slave. I'm really pleased and thankful, since it's Thanksgiving, that we've finally managed to lay aside our sexual identities and just be Daddy and son.
He had only one concern: that I am happy and content with my life. I was able to assure him that was true, very true. We talked about my schoolwork, just as we always have over the years. He enjoyed hearing about my English course—he's also a Pat Conroy fan. My sociology project intrigued him and he asked me a couple questions that will help me to pull the whole thing together:
---What effect does my identity as a slave influence my behavior on campus?
Answer: At all times I try to remind myself what I am. I walk humbly, allow superiors (=everyone) to go first, keep my eyes lowered, seek ways to help others and help them feel good (such as picking up dropped objects for them, etc. When I get food in the caff, I sit alone unless someone orders (or invites) to join his table. When I sit alone, guys who have dom tendencies sometimes come to sit with me and begin asking me to tell them about how I'm used to serve other men.
---How is all this affecting the culture on campus, especially now that I am collared all the time?
Answer: I find that my submissiveness and slave identity tend to pull out tendencies to dominate behavior in others. Being collared arouses curiosity in others. A couple students have told me that they are beginning to look at others differently, sometimes imagining who would be a good Master and who would be a good slave. It is also definitely influencing the way others relate to me. Some treat me in mildly abusive ways (which I love), push me around, order me to do simple things.
---Being gay is often isolating. Being a gay slave must isolate me even further?
Answer: Yes, it does, and my Master is pleased that this is happening. I should be isolated, he tells me, because I am different, inferior, countercultural, and can only be relaxed in the presence of other slaves. Since as far as I know, I'm the only slave (straight or gay) on campus, that means I am basically alone.
---Is it easier or more difficult for me to stay true to my identity, especially in the presence of others who either don't get it or who are repulsed by the whole idea?
Answer: Those who are repulsed by me push my "humiliation buttons," so that's really hot. The most important thing of all is that I know what I am, and if I have to keep it to myself, so be it. We also talked about my recent crisis and how Bobby managed to help me through it by assuming more control over the situation; i.e., that fellow students must go to Bobby if they want to use me sexually. While we were talking about this, I realized once again just how lucky I am to be Bobby's slave, and how much I trust him to make modifications in our lifestyle when necessary. Bobby continually proves himself worthy of my trust. Because of that, he frees me from anxiety and fear in many situations.
Dad knows I'm in love with Bobby and how unique this is. One of my acquaintances has noted that our situation would not meet with general approval among the kink community; therefore, our love for each other is further isolating. I realized that our love really affects our M/s dynamic; it also frees me to be all the more submissive. Dad told me that he has no emotional connection at all with the woman he's currently keeping as his slave. Not only that, but they've never even come close to discussing this issue.
He's hosting Thanksgiving Dinner for several other M/s couples. His slave is preparing the dinner. Bobby, by the way, is having ours catered. Condon and I must be ready at 1:45 to receive the food and get it ready for the buffet.
I really wonder what it's going to be like for the two of us to interact with the people delivering the meal, both of us being clad only in leather shorts with collars around our necks. More humiliation.
I have to say it really felt strange for me to be able to do my own ordering. There have only been a couple of times over the last two-odd year when I've been free to do that. I was hard to decide what to have. I think I really like it better when Bobby makes those decisions for me. Dad remarked that he sees my personality evolving, that I'm not the same person I was before meeting Bobby, that I'm much more settled and self-confident now that I know who I am. What I am.
I'm glad I was caged because my dick kept trying to get hard whenever I was talking about Bobby and the things we've been doing, and that we'll be serving the entire Tribe today. Dad is pleased, by the way, that Tyler and I seem to have resolved the awkwardness between us when he first came back to the States. The fact that he has someone else as his slave really helps, although I know that there's a great deal of affection still between us. Tyler seemed to find lots of opportunities to touch my body during the meal, and it felt good. It didn't confuse me any longer. I belong to Bobby; all that is settled. There's no rivalry between the two of them, thank God.
Dad also surprised me by telling that he will be spending Christmas and New Year's in Berlin with his girl and wants me to look over the house. He slipped to let me know that he invited Bobby to bring me with them. So far Bobby hasn't said anything at all about this to me, so I'll have to keep it buried within me until he decides to tell me. I really don't think Bobby will want us to go, so I'm not getting my hopes up. As for me, I'd much rather stick close to home alone with Bobby.
I get back home after getting a nice hug goodbye from Dad. I take of the clothes Bobby gave me to wear and put them away. Bobby comes up to me and tells me to go clean myself out because he wants to fuck me before we leave for the dinner. He comes into the bathroom just as I'm sitting on the toilet emptying myself out for the third time. "Stand up," he orders, and then looks into the bowl to see how clear the discharge is. "Nice and clean. Good job, boy. Now get back down on the ground and crawl into the dungeon so I can remind you who you belong to. You'll be serving all of us at dinner, but I want you to remember every single moment that you belong to me."
When we get to the dungeon, he has me lie on the table, puts manacles around my ankles and then clips my feet to the wall up over me so my ass and hole are open and exposed to him. He begins the litany.
--What are you? I am a slave.
--Who do you belong to? I belong to you, Master.
--What can I do to you? Anything you want, Master.
--What is that hole for? When clean, my hole belongs to you and exists to give you pleasure, Master.
He's kind of in a rush, so he cuts the litany short. He strips and I can peek through my legs and see how fucking hot he looks, standing there staring at my ass with lust in his eyes and a derisive smile on his lips. He lubes up his fingers and toys with my hole before entering me and exploring my rectum. Today he uses his fingers to encircle my sphincter muscle, making me groan like a common whore. "Open up your body, faggot, to take your Master's cock."
He smacks my balls a few times and I grunt out in pain. "Force yourself open, faggot, so I can enter and claim you," he says, and spits on me several times, smacking the sides of my ass—damn, that stings!
Finally, he enters me and slowly pistons himself, invading more deeply with each stroke. "Oh my God, Master, please fuck your slave and let it know it belongs to you. Your slave craves your cock, Master. Claim me again. Make my ass throb all day so I can't forget that I'm your bitch." Bobby finally gets all the way in and begins slapping my face and spitting on me as he fucks with long strokes, pulling almost all the way out and the plunging back all the way in and then holding my throat and cutting off my air as he withdraws again. "Slave, will be allowed to breathe only when I am taking your body with my cock. Your very ability to breathe depends on your willingness to allow me to possess every aspect of your being. Do you understand, boy?"
"Yes, Master," I say as my soul fills with awesome devotion to this wonderful guy. He plunges and I gasp and then continue inhaling until he is seated deep within me. He shuts off my breath and withdraws. The symbolism is so powerful: When He is not in me I cannot breathe. When He departs from me I have no desire to breathe any longer.
He smiles at me and spits as he enters me again. I open my mouth to breath and take in his spit and swallow it at the same time I'm swallowing the air that HE HAS DECIDED TO ALLOW ME. Everything comes from him. Without him, I might as well not exist. That is how a slave should view its Master. If it cannot, then it hasn't yet found the right Master.
I am so fortunate, so very lucky, so grateful to Bobby for so much. He holds himself within me and I continue to breathe, knowing it is a gift from Him. "Use your inner muscles, faggot. Caress my cock with your muscles. Understand what you are. Understand that your main mission in life is to give pleasure to my cock." Looking deeply into His eyes, I take in the sweet air that He is giving me. I work my muscles and I'm rewarded with a quiet groan from my Master.
He withdraws. He tightens his hand as He withdraws. I no longer have His permission to breathe. "You did that well, slave. This time, do more of it," He commands and thrusts all the way in as I empty out my breath and take in more. Rapidly I flex those inner muscles that are actually touching His cock. He nods at me and smiles. "Do you understand, baby? Do you realize what you can do to show me you love me?"
"Yes, Master," I gasp, as He withdraws again and I can no longer take in any air.
"One more plunge, slave," He tells me. "This time I will spill my load into you and you will then relax and let is ooze out of your hole as I watch and enjoy the sight." OOFFFF He plunges more fiercely than ever before, and with loud gasps, He shouts out, "I love you, boy!" and I can feel Him shooting Himself within me. He holds Himself there for as long as He can. Eventually He begins to soften and this results in His dick slowly slipping from me. "Hold yourself open, boy. Don't tighten up on my load. I want to see it come out of you."
He puts a towel beneath my hole and watches as slowly His juices begin to seep out of His slave, His property. It takes quite a while. He reaches over to the table He had prepared and picks up a small syringe filled with . . .I"m not sure . . . oil? Damn, I just hope it isn't Ben Gay! He shoots it into me and I'm pretty sure it's some kind of oil. "This will help you expel it all. Now you can do what you can to empty yourself out for me."
It takes a while, but ultimately He is satisfied. I'm wondering if I will have to feel my ass oozing oil throughout the day? I'm wondering if Master is going to clean me out again. (He always does it Himself if He cleans me out after fucking me.) He walks over to put the syringe out and just leaves the now soggy towel underneath my ass. He's holding His wooden spoon. Oh, shit!
"You must remember every single minute of this day that I own you and you are serving My friends as a way to honor Me. This will help you. I am going to spoon you." I realize He isn't speaking about the type of spooning we do in bed, but rather He going to beat His slave's most tender flesh with His wooden spoon so that I carry the pain and the humiliation around with me all day and probably even into the night if He decides to hit hard enough.
"I engraving My name into your body, slave. I am marking you as owned' and in service' as I warm up your flesh." He begins by hitting my ass cheeks, the part He can get to, three hard times and I yelp. The He begins "Peppering" my surrounding flesh and my oozing hole and all around until I am glowing and inhaling through my teeth as I always end up doing when He's torturing me in some way. I know this act gives Him pleasure because it lets Him know that He is giving me His gift of pain. The backs of my upper legs still bound over my head to the wall get a lot of attention, up and down one side and then the other and then back and forth until he hears the sound in my voice He's looking for and I keep saying. "I am Yours. I belong to You. I give You pleasure by bearing Your pain."
He's only added that last sentence this past summer and it knocks the daylights out of me because it keeps reminding that I am giving Him pleasure in return for pain and that I am meant to be the `holder of the pain' for as long as He owns me, which will probably be, forever.
He gets as much of my inner thighs as He can manage. This is rather strange. All He has to do is unclip my legs from the wall and lay me out, then He can have full assess. Suddenly, I realize what's going on. He wants his slave to bear the results of a beating it received while bound.
Of course it will be our secret only, unless He gets a naughty inspiration at dinner and decides to show the rest of the Tribe the evidence of how He beat His slave after fucking it today. "Fucked and oiled and tenderized," He tells them, laughing at His own inventive phrase. A phrase which will be in my mind until the end of my days. He lays down the spoon. The beating is finished. He pours oil into His hands, the same oil as the oil He used in the syringe, He tells me. Then He massages all the parts of me that are red and sore and I feel it as a very strange combination of pleasure and pain at the same time. I wonder if other slaves have had the same experience.
He entraps my eyes with His eyes and I feel like I'm getting a blood transfusion from Him on the energy that flows from Him into me. "I love you, not because you're my slave, but because you're my faggot sweetheart. My love language for you is a combination of control, discipline and punishment. When you feel any of these things, remember your promise to me and my response to you as I give you exactly what you are asking for. I always give you what you ask for, because I always know it will bind you even closer to Me."
If I weren't bound to the wall, I would have wanted to crumble to the ground before him and place his boot on my neck pressing me into the ground, that's how low I felt. Totally exposed. But speaking of binding . . . He keeps me bound that same way, exposing all the spots marked by His beating to the open air.
I swear, I bet you might cum will reading this, dear reader. If you are, consider it as a gift from a writer who sometimes likes to be a slave himself.
And with that, I think it's time to end this chapter. Thanksgiving dinner will be next.
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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)