This story features bullying and fighting and some masturbation and oral sex among high-school-age males. I visualize the character 'Karl Spivak' as looking like a model called Karl at boyfun.com.
There probably won't be another episode until January, sorry. I'll be away. But keep the comments coming, to antinous48@yahoo.co.nz.
In part 1, Karl told how he and his slave Nicky were kidnapped by Robby and three other jocks. In part 2, Nicky began to explain how he came to be Karl's slave. In part 3, Karl took up the story, describing the first task that he as master set for his slave Nicky. This is how part 3 ended:
"'I'm sorry, master!' said Nicky. 'It's not for me to enjoy ... to enjoy the tasks you set for me!'
'No, it sure as hell isn't! So what are you goin' to do to make amends for your disrespect?'
'To make amends? Uuuh ... I crave the privilege of serving you -- of serving my brave and strong master Karl -- in some task that I WON'T enjoy! The humble slave Nicholas craves some ... some unpleasant and humiliating task!'
What task would be suitable? I had a brainwave ..."
Now Nicky carries on the story.
I was a fool. I should have foreseen how Karl would react to what I said after the foot massage. I wasn't there to enjoy myself. I must always make it seem as if the tasks he set me were burdensome, and that I fulfilled them only out of respect for my lord and master. Not just respect but fear. And believe me, after his latest outburst, my fear was genuine.
Did I guess what he would tell me to do next? Thinking back, it seems like I always knew. But maybe that's only because it's so kinda obvious, in view of what I had been doing before.
'OK, you worthless little slave! You've massaged my feet -- now lick them!'
Karl must have seen the expression on my face, because he reacted with a gleeful sneering smile, stretching himself contentedly on that beat-up old couch. He was still wearing his denim jacket, but for the first time that day I had a good look at his chest -- the two mounds of his pecs. His nipples stood out under the tight T-shirt. 'Yes,' I said to myself, 'I can well believe that my strong master made a thug of twenty-five regret messing with him, back when he was only sixteen!'. In Karl's lopsided smile and his dark brown eyes there was a look of smug satisfaction. He knew he had me in his power. But he also had some good reasons to be proud of himself, perhaps. And ... had I noticed the color of his eyes before? And his eyebrows, honey-blond, just like his hair? I was beginning to see Karl in a new way.
'You don't like that idea, do you?' Karl went on. That's excellent! You're not meant to like it! But I'll pay you a compliment, turdface, even if you don't deserve it! Your massaging felt real good. So I'm confident that your tongue and your lips will feel real good too. I want you to lick between each toe, real thorough, and suck each toe until it's good and clean. And the standard of your work had better be satisfactory, otherwise your lord and master won't be so merciful as he has been so far! You remember what I said about leaving the school in an ambulance, huh?'
'Yessir, I remember.' I didn't dare hesitate. I grasped his right heel in both hands, lifted his foot and inserted my tongue between his little toe and the next toe. Yuk! You know what dirty old sneakers smell like. Karl's sneakers, now lying on the floor, were certainly dirty and old. But there was nothing for it. I tasted that taste of rotten cheese, mixed in with sweat. Still -- I guessed he had had a shower within the past day because his foot didn't seem too grimy, it was just the old sneaker smell that had rubbed off on it. I put his right little toe in my mouth and felt around it with my tongue: first the toenail on top, then the bulge underneath, then the two tiny joints beyond.
Hmm ... it felt sort of vulnerable, almost, that little round lump of flesh underneath the tip of the toe, soft under the hard skin. I was scared of a Karl's snarl and his fists, but it was hard to be scared of his little toe. It wasn't exactly enjoyable, sucking it, but it was ... interesting. Some of the other toes weren't so enticing, though. ('Enticing'?? -- that's a Freudian word choice!) Between some of his toes, where the skin was white and soft and peeling, flakes of flesh came off on my tongue. Uggh! There was nothing for it but to swallow these tiny fragments of my master. A weird thought came to me. What if my friend Abe could see me now, sucking Karl Spivak's toes? Would he be repelled, or fascinated, or ... secretly jealous?
Karl's big toe was quite a different proposition from his little toe. The toenail was huge and sort of gnarled and badly in need of cutting. It was frankly repulsive. What's more, when I had the whole toe inside my mouth, Karl bent it so as hook on my bottom teeth, then used it to yank my head forward. He tittered. I knew what I had to do: submit uncomplainingly and go on sucking.
The right foot done, it was the turn of the left foot. I was getting into the swing of it now. I studied at close range the top of his instep, his knobbly ankle, the little bit of hairy shin that protruded from his jeans. Holding his foot by his heel, I gently squeezed and kneaded his heel in time to the rhythm of my licking and toe-sucking. I began to hear little moans from above. Karl's head was tilted back so I could see only his neck and chin as he rolled his head from side to side. 'Ooooh, that feels good! Ooooh, little Nicholas, I may be so generous ... as to reward you ... Now, slave, ... kneel up straight ... look at me ...'
I respectfully withdrew my lips from around Karl's left little toe and did as I was told. Karl was still lounging back on the sofa, but he was looking down at me now with that cocky grin, and his cute brown eyes were all mischievous. (Yes! Cute eyes! Especially when he lets his eyelids droop just a little in that lazy languid way ...!) Now Karl planted both ankles on my shoulders and squeezed my head roughly between the soles of his feet, twisting it up and down and from side to side. I, his slave, submitted to this in the proper respectful submissive fashion, neither complaining nor amused.
'Yeah! In my capacity as your lord and master, slave Nicholas, I hereby dub you ... distinguished foot fondler and toe- sucker extraordinaire!'
'Your humble slave is honored. My only wish is to serve my ... strong and ... and courageous ... and magnanimous master Karl!'
'Your laudable intention is noted. You will continue your service tomorrow, same time, same place. Further tasks will be assigned to you then.'
My heart sank. Or did it? "Further tasks" ... What ... ???
'So little Nicky is beginning to make amends for tripping me up,. Only BEGINNING to, mind! But how are the other nitwits in that class goin' to know about this, huh? There's the problem! You've got to be not just punished, you've got to be seen to be punished!' Karl frowned pensively.
'They will see me walk respectfully behind you and ... and carry your books for you between classes.'
Karl grunted and shrugged. This was clearly not enough. I began to panic. Would a public beating-up in the schoolyard be necessary after all? I tried again.
'I will make sure my friends know -- I will make sure everyone knows -- how generous you have been in not punishing me the way you punished that big guy who tripped you in Bert's diner, when you were sixteen! You beat that guy even though he was ten years older than you, and now he shows you respect. He shows you respect like I do, and like ... like everyone should!'
'That's good! And that's ALL you'll tell them, huh? Good thinking, slave! You can stand up now! Lunch break's over, nearly! You know your orders: report for duty here tomorrow!'
I was in a daze. Suddenly I found myself outside the shed, pushed through the door by Karl. He relocked the door and then loped back across the schoolyard, the tough denim-clad guy from the mean streets, radiating cool self-assurance. His slave in the striped button-down shirt and smart slacks followed, gazing in admiration at his master's back -- the broad shoulders, the narrow hips, the muscular arms that enforced respect ...
One thing was for sure. No, two things were for sure. One: in the last two hours, my inconspicuous life had lurched into a whole new trajectory. Two: I was agog for the next day's lunch break, and dreaded it ...