Chapter 23
I slept soundly and dreamlessly and only awoke at 10. Sunday morning, I think. I take a shower but keep backing off the spray because my nipples are still so sore. Warren is an artist, that's for sure. And what a happy ending! No Dom has ever allowed me to cum like that before. There was a text on my phone from Dad: "Call after your shower." I ring him.
"Breakfast food was put in your kitcheonette. Please eat there and stay in your rooms until I send for you. I'm setting up a meeting for later. Someone who wants to talk to you."
Interesting. My favorite foods and a new Keurig and fixings for coffee. Not bad. The slave is getting spoiled, being groomed in a nice way for whatever comes next.
Three hours pass and I get some good reading done but I'm restless as hell. I decide to go downstairs despite the fact I was told to remain in my rooms. Shit. The door leading from my suite is locked. Fuck. I start realizing that Dad's keeping me prisoner for some reason. At least it's not as bad as being locked up in Tyler's cage. Tyler! Shit! I hadn't been thinking of him and it's like my stomach cramps up and I double over. I was in love with that man. Dammnit, I AM in love with that man, despite everything. What will become of that love now? Was it just another mistaken fantasy of mine because I keep insisting that I want to fall in love with my Master? Who made up that rule? Me?
Dad rings the intercom. "There's someone who wishes to speak with you. Come down to where you were with Warren last night. Sit in the blue chair and wait for him to come to meet with you."
"Yessir," I answer but he's already disconnected. I wanted to remind him the door is locked, but when I got there is wasn't locked any longer. Whew! I got myself downstairs. Dad came over and gave me a hug and some kind of beeper. "I won't listen in on this conversation. If you get upset for any reason, push this button and I'll be there immediately." He swats my behind lightly and I head into the room and sit down where he told me to. I'm facing into the room with my back to the entrance so I can't see who's coming. Solid footsteps come near and the first thing I see are black boots and well-worn jeans until he sits across from me and I gasp. It's Bobby! Tears come to my eyes and I want to throw myself down on the floor and bury my face in his boots. "Sshh!," he says quietly. "Stay seated, boy. Take several deep breaths and then just gaze on my face the way you used to when you were in my history class. Be still. Look at me. Your Dad has invited me here to help you get back on track, so you know he approves of me being here. Just look at me, boy. Look and remember what it was like when you first started obsessing about me."
He says nothing else. As I stare into his eyes, all the early desires I had came to the surface and I wished more than anything else that we would turn back time and start all over again, even though I realized that could never happen.
We just sat there for a long time. I could hear my breath and nothing else. I could see his face and nothing else in the world mattered, and I remember all the times he would watch me while I was crying or sobbing, and tears betrayed me as they started to fall from my eyes again. I wanted to run but I was afraid to move and break the mood.
His gaze intensified as he started speaking to me quietly, gently, like he was teaching a little boy. "Your little dick is hard, boy. A hard dick never lies. It gives you away. It shows you what you are, what you need, what you're meant to become. And I want to tell you something I just learned from a very wise man: that when a true slave like you becomes so frightened or bewildered that it runs away, that doesn't mean the slave has failed. It means the Masters have failed. They didn't understand what a delicate thing a budding slave's identity is, as delicate as the petals of a flower, a newly blooming flower, and a harsh breeze would easily cause it to fly away. He taught me that even if a boy like you willingly submits to the touch of my whip, there is so much more involved, so much more that is more important than the pain, or the humiliation or the loss of freedom it must experience. We couldn't see that deep tenderness within you that needed to be cherished like the tenderness of an innocent naïve child. All we could see was our own wicked need for the power to crush the boy under our feet and under our discipline. This is important for you to understand, pup. You did not fail. I am not upset with you, or disappointed, and certainly not angry. I understand why things turned out the way they did."
"But I look at your nakedness now and I see your need exposed once again, despite it all, and I am resolved to find that tender core inside you and touch it, care for it, help it help you become what you are meant to be." "If you hadn't gotten hard, I would have simply apologized and then left you to someone else. But your body is telling me that you still crave me to take you as my own. So I will continue to sit here and gaze on your bare-shaved hairless boy boner until you respond to my gaze however it is that your inner submissive desire guides your behavior while we are here together. Come on, pup. Show me what you need. I promise I will cherish it. I promise."
And with that he grows silent. Still locked on his gaze, I feel a prompting from inside and a pure desire drives me to admit my truth to him. Slowly, I slip off the chair and cast myself at his feet and lower my face to his boots. I weep on them and then begin to lick up the tears which have fallen on the black leather whose scent begins to intoxicate me all over again. I hear him breathe heavily and quietly say, "Perhaps you would like to remove my boots and put your mouth to my flesh once again, sweet boy," and it is exactly what I desire to do most of all. I take one boot and try to pull it off. He raises his foot and slowly helps me, and then the other. He is wearing thick socks which are just a little damp from sitting in his boots. I lower my face to his feet and feel him wiggle his toes and I want so much to taste what has dampened them. "Remove them, boy. Get to my flesh. Show me your secret desire."
I do so, oh so very slowly, and feel the touch of the soles of his feet in my trembling hands and I'm aware of the subtle scent and I find myself growing ravenously hungry to devour it, to use my mouth and my tongue to give myself the pleasure of serving his feet like the loving slave I need to become so badly. I touch my tongue to his foot and suddenly lose my mind and I plunder what is there, licking and sucking and tasting and understanding that this is the only way I will ever be at peace, and this is Bobby I adore.
He says words to me I've heard many times, but they've never so sounded as sweet as they do now: "Don't forget to clean between the toes." And I obey him and lick his feet clean slowly. He says "that's my good boy," and my weeping intensifies and my tears wash his feet again. I suck off the saltiness that comes from my eyes. Gradually, I fall into a deep sleep.
When I awaken, I am naked on my bed and he is holding me in his arms and the softness of his shirt and the roughness of his jeans are rubbing against my bare boy's flesh. He presses his groin into me and I realize that my dick is locked into a cage again and it all feels so right. "Sleepy-head comes to life again," he says in a cheery voice. "Drink," he says, and he puts his mouth to mine, and the juices that flow from his mouth to mine are sweet and tinted with mint, and I begin to suck greedily. He backs off. "Oh, baby, slow down. I don't want you to overdose. You are still too tender and your body still bears the marks of brutality. I look forward to seeing your bare flesh smooth as a baby's bottom. Until then, everything must be gentle and tender. Let my spit heal you, boy. Let my caresses erase the fear and hopelessness you tasted during the dark times."
I surrender to him, only this time there is only joy in my submissiveness. He touches me everywhere, and I whimper because I am still so sore, my nipples, my back, my ass, my legs. "You were trying so hard, pup. Too hard. Rest, now."
I fall asleep again. I am alone when I wake up again, he's gone. That's the first thing I notice. I'm flat on my back. There's a sheet over me so I don't have a chill. The cage around my cock feels different from the cages I used to have to wear. It is very snug, yet very comfortable. Dad is sitting there, reading as usual. (That's where I got it from.) "Turn to your right," Dad whispers. I do so am tears come to my eyes as I see it's a nice big picture of Bobby in a platinum frame. He stands and takes the sheet off me and my usual shame at being seen naked by my father still courses within me. "Stand up, boy, so I can examine the cage he locked you into." Damn, even more embarrassment. He is not shy in handling it, but not rough either. Again, that notion of my father feeling up my genitals is so humiliating, especially since it's another man who's locked me up.
"Shower if you'd like, then come downstairs. Warren and another business friend, Nathan, will be here for lunch and you will serve us. The food will be ready soon, and will be kept warm in the oven. Set the table for three. You will eat when we're finished."
And he leaves. He's never spoken to me that way before and it really hits me hard. He talked to me like I was nothing more than some naked houseboy kept in chastity and here to serve them. The fact that there is obvious evidence that I've been recently punished, perhaps even more than once, considering the marks on my body. Holy shit! He's treating his own son just like a slave. I hope this isn't permanent.
It was so awful that I don't want to talk about it. And that Nathan guy, shit, he came across as the most anti-kink dude that ever lived, said I should be institutionalized, not realizing that such a situation might have been fun—see how sick I am!!!! So there's only one thing I want to tell you about it. After they all left, Dad came in to help me clean up from the meal, and we worked side by side just the way we've been doing ever since I was old enough to help. And after everything was done, we stood back and looked it over, he turned to me and gave me a hug and I collapsed in his arms, tears flowing.
He kissed me on the cheek and said, "I've decided that some times I'm going to see you not as my son but as a slave I'm training. But you know how you live in my heart, even if I ever have to punish you still." My tears turned to chuckles and I was going to say "Well, you're really good at it," but thought better of it. I'm not going to encourage him. I need my Dad, to be my Dad, not my Daddy. Shit, When I look into that picture of Bobby, I can picture myself over his knee and calling him Daddy while begging him to stop spanking me. Woof!
Later that night, after we sat up and watched a silly movie just to help relax all the tension, Dad asks me to wait a second before going back to my place. Bobby left something for him to give me at bed time. It was a nice wooden box with a clasp on it, but the key was hanging in the lock. Interesting. So anyway, I took it upstairs and right away opened it up, taking the key and putting it on a long string so I won't lose it. There were two black plastic boxes inside. One has a note that says "open this right before going to sleep." The other says, "take a look. Put it on when you need to. It's my collar. Only mine." OMG! He just told me so much. He's himself. He's not the Tribe. Sounds awkward, but I know to trust him. He'll work it out. I open the box and, oh my, it has a few gems in it and hooks. It gets locked with a silver lock which also has the key in it and is attached to a note by a string. The note says "Only I can lock this on you."
I thought about trying it on, but shut the plastic box right away and picked up the other one. "Right before I fall asleep," I turned off the light and got under the covers and then opened the box. A strong scent his my nose and I knew what was inside: his sweaty smelly socks from when he made me take them off him. Holy shit. I kept the box over my face for a long as I could handle it, going back to the time when he was slowly awakening my desire to belong to him. Even though he could be a brat.
After all, he really learned something important from his mentor, whoever he is. He overwhelmed me and immediately took away my shame and made me feel safe and loved. Even as a slave. And slowly, he begins to train me to serve him. And in my mind I keep begging for more. This time I won't run away when it hurts too much.
Finally I close the box, put it inside the bigger box, and close it. I take it and put it on the other side of the bed so I could maybe reach out and touch it during the night and feel like he is here with me. Right before I enter the room of my morning class, a text comes to my new phone from him. He and Dad are the only ones who have this number. "You are among friends. Someone is always looking out for you." That's sweet, I guess, but why?
I get into class and sit down. The guy in the desk next to me sneers at me and gets up to change his seat. The another guy sits down and shrugs his shoulders at me. "What the fuck was that all about?" I asked him. "Some guys heard that you hang around a leather bar naked and sucking cock and sometimes they beat you. I guess that's why he shunned you. Probably a homophobe. Or a Bible-thumper." "Same difference," I said to him. "Thanks for the heads up." And so NOW that text message makes sense. But you know what? In my heart of hearts, I think it's hot that such a story is going on about me. Especially because it's so true. Hey, maybe I'm drumming up business for the club!
After class is over, one guy walks by me then turns around while holding his hand over his junk and trying to wave it at me. "Do it here? You that low yet, faggot?" I shake my head and try to walk away. "Catch you later," I say, squirming out of the wrist he's wrapped around my arm. I get away and a different guy gets behind me and says, "you're okay." A text comes through so I pull out of the line of guys leaving class to check it. "My Mentor is inviting you to lunch. Science and Technology building, room 224. Noon. Get naked." Wow. Quite a day. And it's barely lunch time.
I hang out on a bench in the courtyard and pretend I don't notice the dirty looks I'm getting. I imagine I'm being exposed here, naked and offered for sale as a sub slave. (I think the fact that I'm already sub increases the price). I get to the man's door. He's a chemistry professor emeritus, whatever that means. I knock on the door and he calls out "enter." I open the door. It closes behind me. "Lock it." I do. Then I start stripping myself naked, right down to pulling off my socks. I go to kneel but the command quickly comes "no need to kneel, come sit with me, boy. I have a special lunch for you." So I approach him keeping my hands at my side not trying to hide my caged dick, just being open.
"Turn around please," he says, and then inhales strongly when he looks over my back. Ass almost completely black and blue, the other marks warm. "My, my. Pain level at the moment, /10?" "3 or 4, mostly just a reminder, but ass still 6." The he gently turns my around with his hand over my nipple and he notes I'm also sore there. He motions for me to be seated.
"The problem with being a pain pig, which is what you are apparently, slave—I will always calls you `slave'—is that you boys always push yourselves too far and then get scared and run away because of the brutality you brought upon yourselves by not setting a limit." Isn't that so, slave?"
"Yes, Professor, it is what I guess I did to myself."
"Don't guess, slave. That's what happened."
"As you say, Sir."
He motions for me to be seated at a little table in the corner covered with a black tablecloth. There is a bowl of some kind of gruel and a spoon before me, a yogurt and a banana before him. That banana looks so good! "I've prepared a special luncheon for you, slave, and it will do you much good. I'm a chemist, don't you forget."
"Thank you, Sir." I pick up a spoonful and plunge in on it and get it down my throat as quickly as I can.
"Don't choke yourself, slave, dammit! Take a small spoonful. Gently. Taste it. You'll find it quite pleasant, I suspect." Ok, so I try it his way and dammit, he's right. It's awesome. We both eat in silence, looking each other over. He's quite elderly but in good shape, probably better shape than me. "There are good fellows who are keeping an eye on you. No one will harm you." "Sir, there is only one person I'm afraid of running into and that is Tyler."
"There is no need to fear running into Tyler. His stay in Denmark has been extended for the entire semester. By the time he returns things will be very different for the both of you." I breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly I found myself looking into the professor's eyes and couldn't look away. Bearded. Intense eyes like Bobby's. "That's right, slave. Focus on the eyes. If someone ever objects, quit that person quickly. We Masters attract eyes like yours, slave. They call out to us, "please, take me, please help me be good," and we take things from there. I am pleased to learn that Bobby is pleased with your about-face with him. Like you, he has a lot to learn. Like you, he's a good student. But he's a scientist while you're a romantic. A hard combination for scientists. So easy to get lost in the process and forget the tender boy who entrusting himself to you. I want to make sure you grasp what I'm telling you."
"Sir, with all due respects, you make it sound like something that can't possibly work out."
"I said it's hard, not impossible, slave. Listen more carefully to my words. Let me say it a bit differently: You are a romantic. You can't change that any more than you can change the fact that you're gay or that you're meant to be a faggot slave. It is how you were made. Neither biology nor chemistry nor any kind of spooky religious incantation or witch doctors can change you because you are what was intended at that precise eruption of divine creativity. Take that in. You must be what you are.
If you had succeeded in running away from all of it, even if you managed to survive 10, 20, even 30 years without it, it would still be hiding inside you crying out, looking to sneak out wherever it can. Someone has to hold a container to keep you in and make sure you don't spill over. That's you, slave. A scientist is different, because the more a scientist learns the more he craves to continue learning, and if that involves learning to be a Dominant, he will have to learn how to understand all types and find ways to make use of those types without trying to destroy there essential natures. The sad thing, slave, is that there are few true Doms who have learned all this. That is shy so many subs get damaged or try to run away from what they are."
"So the scientist has to take care of the romantic?"
"Better said that the Dom has to take care of the sub. The language used is important."
"Okay, Sir. thank you for pointing that out."
"Good boy. Now there is one more thing that I want you to understand, and it is the most important thing of all."
"What's that, Sir?"
"I want you to know that as far as I am concerned, Bobby is a gifted scientist and still has a lot to learn. I suspect you found that out recently when he had you for a while. I bet you discovered that something important had changed and that Bobby knew exactly what he had to do to help you stay. I think he did an excellent job."
"That all makes it sound so clinical, Sir," I dare object, because I realize it's safe in here to say anything.
"Sorry. Scientist talk. What I mean is that Bobby found out that fear hadn't closed up your heart completely, that he found a tiny opening he was able to use to enter your story again in a way that made you pining for more."
"Pining. You can say that, Sir."
"I have said it, you brat! Now come over here and lie on your stomach on this mattress. I wish to tend to some of the marks on your flesh from former punishments."
I don't hesitate to get into position. I close my eyes and things got hazy but I can feel something pressing down on the spots the strap had hurt and something tingly was being massaged into the cheeks of my ass.
A voice from somewhere, not the professor's voice, not Bobby's, not mine, says to me, "You. Will. Be. His." over and over again. Damn! Talk about witch doctors!
Please write me and let me know what you think of this new story. subkodak25@gmail.com
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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