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Growing Up Naked http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/growing-up-naked/ Naked Whore http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/naked-whore Put Out to Pasture http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/put-out-to-pasture Santa's Slave Training http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/santas-slave-training Special Product Design http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/special-product-design The Trunk http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-trunk
Story codes: M, MM, bd, sm, exhib
The Downward Spiral of Jim – Chapter Eight
I woke up to the cop taking a shower. I heard him yell out, "Get up asshole and go fix dinner." I did just that. I pulled together a delicious meal. It was so pleasant to be well feed again in a nice house. The circumstances were less than idyllic. I did mind him calling me "fag", "queer", "cocksucker" and "asshole" all the time. On the other hand, I was not working at the baths and I was living in something larger than a breadbox. Life is always about compromise. I was grateful to be in a new circumstance after a shitty few years.
We sat down to dinner. The cop had not bothered to dress. I wondered if he was going to be naked a lot around the house. That would be a perk. It was hard not to stare at this splendid specimen. His body was magnificent. His barrel chest was accentuated by his big, suckable nipples. His thigh and butt were thick pieces of meat. His biceps would crush a man.
The cop complimented me, "Fag, this is a good meal. When I go back to work tomorrow, you are going to have lots of time to increase your culinary skills. At least you are starting with a bit of intelligence on your head. Now get the dishes cleared and the kitchen clean and meet me in my office. We have logistics to go over."
"Yes Sir. Thank you Sir."
I cleaned the kitchen fast before heading to the office. It was simple room; a desk, a reading chair, books lined one wall, no TV.
The cop did most of the talking. He was the one in charge, so it made sense that he always spoke and I listened. "Ok fag. Here is a preliminary document outlining our agreement. It says who you are and what your duties will be. It says what I will provide. It states there are no claims between us or in other words, this is a pre-nup.
"I have no claim on your trust and you have no claim on my property or assets. I will provide the food, shelter, a gym membership and proper clothes; in exchange, you will be my personal slave 24/7/365." I wondered how he had this agreement put together so quickly. It was just twelve hours ago we were in the diner with his proposal. He must have been looking for someone for a long time. Maybe he was looking for me. No, that would be too eerie.
"It says I can do with your body as I wish including piercing, tattoos, hair removal (that already started), body disfigurement except on your face." I believe he wrote that in there to scare me. The cop was a jerk, but I never felt unsafe or threatened by him in all the years we have been together.
The cop resumed the explanation, "That I will have sex with you whenever I want and that I may have, at my discretion, others use you for their own sexual satisfaction." I liked that part. My cock got hard thinking about servicing him and others.
The cop continued noticing my hard on regarding the sexual section of the pre-nup. "Ok, queer bate. Let's concentrate here. God, you are such a fucker whore.
"You are to take care of all orders given in a timely fashion. You are to look your best at all times. You will be my personal guest at all events and functions with no discussion of our arrangement to anyone other than we live together as husband and husband. You are to keep up on current affairs including my work so that you will be able to hold clever banters with people. I will provide you with cash and credit cards to run the household including all the shopping, etc. I don't believe you are the stealing type, but every cent must be accounted for as if running a business. If I find you've been cooking the books, out on your queer as naked on the street. Got it?"
"Yes, Sir." I was fine with that. I was a lot of things, but I was responsible with money and I wasn't about to steal from him.
"I am not providing you with a car. You don't get to drive mine other than in an extreme emergency. You will take public transportation or taxis and have everything delivered. You will have a restricted cell phone that includes monitoring by my wireless device to tell me exactly what you are doing. I will provide you with clothes and you will work out with me in the gym as my training partner. You are never to wear clothes in the house unless there is a function that requires it. This agreement is subject to addendums if so needed.
"The bottom line here, faggot, is that you will be taken care of in exchange for taking care of me. Your life will revolve around me and my needs."
That was how it was. I cooked, cleaned, did laundry, shopped – it was like being in a 50s sitcom except that I was naked all the time at home unlike June Clever and no pearls to boot. Like June though, I always looked good. When I was home and naked, I still had to be clean and groomed all the time. When I went out I was well-dressed. The cop did buy me some fine duds and I looked great in them.
The cop never showed me any physical affection. We never hugged, kissed, or cuddled. He would fuck me daily or I would suck him off. That was the extent of our physical interaction. He never cared about my dick. If I wanted to jack off, that was fine, but I was not to touch myself while I was servicing him. That meant I could only masturbate when I was alone in the house by myself and had a spare moment. I never went out looking for sex. I had no doubt that the cop would throw me out on the street with nothing if I did that.
I longed to touch a man. I longed to have physical sex beyond what my cunt and mouth provided. I tried once to grab his nipples and play with them and he slapped me across the face. He screamed at me, "Don't fucking touch me asshole." That part was very frustrating because he had such a gorgeous body.
We worked out together almost daily. The cop would introduce me to his friends as his partner. He never used my name. I would have to stick out my hand and say, "Jim." At least he never called me fag or any other derogatory name in public. It was an extremely compartmentalized life – normal to the outside world and a top/bottom, master/slave/fag/asshole/cocksucker/cunt in private. We went to public functions for his job. I did my best to be the perfect wife. The juxtaposition of it all sometimes made me nuts. I eventually understood that this was part of his game. He enjoyed fucking with my head. He told me that the morning of our breakfast. I never fathomed the extent that he was willing to go until we were together close to a year.
One fantastic benefit of this arrangement was my body went from emaciated with just a semblance of my former handsome self to more muscle than I ever had in my life. I gained about thirty pounds, all of which was muscle. I looked fucking hot. Being hairless also had its advantages in accentuating the contours of my body. I missed my body hair, but it was a small price to pay. In addition as a subspecies, it was appropriate that I am sans hair.
The cop and I were a handsome couple after I gained the muscle and my health back. Both men and women would check us out. More than one frustrated housewife at these political and social functions came onto me after one too many cocktails. Trust me; these bitches were not getting this cock or tail. I was the property of the cop and everyone knew it. There was an unwritten energy around us; look but don't touch. Fitting considering the cop never wanted to be touched.
The cop was smart with me. He watched me like a hawk. He knew exactly when I was getting a little heady with my looks and living circumstance. One night he said we were going out to dinner to a nice restaurant. He had just bought me some lovely new clothes that I was so appreciative to have. We had a fabulous evening. The cop was pleasant. We had great conversation. It was as if we were equals for a few short hours. The food was delicious. The waiter was super-hot and enjoyed flirting with us without being annoying.
We left the restaurant. The valet opened the car door for the lady (me). I turned to the cop as I was buckling my seatbelt and said, "Thank you Sir. That was one of the nicest nights of my life."
"You're welcome, faggot. I enjoyed myself as well. But, I need to take you down a peg. I can see you are getting a little too big for your britches."
"Yes, Sir. I know that, Sir." I bowed my head in shame. I overplayed my hand and I knew it. "Sir, do you have to do this tonight? I would love to be able to just enjoy our experience together."
"Faggot, this is part of your training. You are to always be on top of your game. You must be the perfect wife in public, but you must also be the perfect slut whore in private. This is to help you learn."
"Yes, Sir." I started to quietly cry.
We drove in silence out of the city. I had a feeling where we were going from the road. I just kept saying to myself, `Oh please sir. Not that.'
It was that. The cop pulled into the rest area driving the car way around to the back where nobody parked at night. "Get out and stand by the car."
"Yes, Sir."
The cop walked around to where I stood. "Give me your face." By this point, I was crying. He wrote the word FAGGOT across my forehead in magic marker. On my right cheek, he wrote CUM. On my left cheek, he wrote DUMP.
"Please Sir. No." I pleaded.
The cop slapped me across the face. "Shut up faggot. There's your problem, asshole. You think you are something now. You are a fucking slave, period. Never say no to me fucker. That's not part of the deal. Come with me."
The cop grabbed my arm hard and walked me over to the infamous rest room. We went inside and he pushed me first to the mirror. "Look at yourself, faggot. Remember this is where you came from. Don't fucking forget it." The cop was very angry. I obviously had overstepped more than I thought.
He took me to the same stall, handcuffed my wrists to the pipes in the back. He took some ankle bracelets ensuring my bounds to the toilet. The cop took out his massive cock from inside his beautiful, pressed slacks and started jacking off. I did not get to suck him. He worked his cock and painted a load of cum all over my face.
The cop stood there for a few minutes in silence looking at me. I lowered my head in ignominy but when I did, he seized the back of my head and screamed. "Look at me faggot." When his cock was relaxed again, he started to piss all over me. He soaked my hair. He wet down my beautiful new shirt and sweater vest. He pissed directly into my crotch soiling my brand new pants.
"Look at you faggot. You're all wet. We will have to get you out of those damp clothes or you will catch your death." He undid my belt pulling it out of its loops. He tied it around my neck. Then he did the most despicable thing. He took out a pair of scissors and cut off my sweater vest and my shirt. He did the same thing to my pants and underwear. He let my wonderful new clothes fall around me on the floor by the toilet. He took my shoes and socks off and put them in the trash. The cop spent several hundred dollars on the outfit I was wearing. Obviously, my lesson was more important to him than money.
There I was, naked, humiliated and reminded of the faggot that I truly was at the bottom of my heart. Before he left, he took his strong hand, clinched my jaw forcing me to look at him in the eyes as tears continued to roll down my cheeks and said, "Don't worry faggot. I won't let anything happen to you." He left the stall and then I heard the entry door open and shut.
Where did he go? Was he outside? Was he in here and just pretended to leave? `Please don't leave me, Sir. I need you.' I thought to myself. Oh my God, I realized I needed the cop. I wanted the cop. This relationship was not some silly game. The cop and I were in it for the long haul. We both needed each other. The cop needed a wife, partner, servant, and slave. I needed a man to serve. Thinking back, I had that with David. I just didn't know it. I had that with big man in prison. During the time after prison when I worked at the bathhouse, I was lost. I didn't understand that at the time. I understood it now. Why was I such an unhealthy mess when the cop found me at the baths? I could barely take care of myself without a man to serve. Now that I had a man again to serve, I was back in shape, healthy. I did get heady. The cop was correct. That's why I was now handcuffed to the toilet awaiting the men. And, if my mind was correct; that the cop needed me as much as I needed him, he was not far and would protect me from harm. I relaxed making myself ready to serve.
In they came. Man after man lined up for me to suck sweat cum out of their meat. Most men just wanted to cum in my mouth or on my face. A few pissed on me. I took enough recycling that I had to piss on myself as well because my cock would not go down. There was a peaceful feeling that made bound to a toilet and sucking cock enjoyable, instead of scary. I lost count of the number. At some point, the cop came back in. I overheard him say, "Sorry, buddy you missed out."
The man said, "Oh no fucker. I want that action too."
"Look buddy. For your own good, I suggest you leave now." The cop forcefully stated.
The man didn't take the hint because the next thing I heard was a slug to the man's stomach and a thump on the floor.
"Come on faggot. Time to go home." The cop entered the stall, unlocked the hand and wrist cuffs. We walked out stepping around the groaning man leaving my ruined clothes on the floor. I never carried keys or a wallet when I was with the cop. He took care of everything so there was no need. It was just clothes.
As we walked back to the car, the cop was very helpful, as I couldn't move well. I turned to him and said, "Thank you, Sir. I apologize for getting imprudent. You did a good thing for me back there. I appreciate it."
"You're welcome faggot."
"Sir, I'm a mess. What about the car?" I worried.
"It's ok faggot. I put some plastic and some blankets down in the trunk. I'm going to take you home and get you cleaned up."
I rode back in the trunk so I wouldn't soil the upholstery. The cop was very kind to me when we got home. He took me to the shower and washed me. I didn't have to do a thing. He scrubbed on the magic marker, but said it would be a few days before that went away laughing as he said it.
The cop dried me and walked me to my doggie bed. He helped me lie down and pulled a blanket over my body. "Good night faggot. Now, it is one of the nicest nights over your life."
I thought, 'Point taken.'
The cop leaned over and kissed my forehead.
I didn't say a thing. It would be a while before the cop showed affection to me again. Later on, I realized that something happened to the cop that night too. It would be something that I would have to deal with, would make me very uncomfortable, yet, as his slave, I would agree and submit to.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
Please send any comments to: douglas.marx.4@gmail.com