III.
Aaron is the first to come "view" me, as Dean puts it. I'm wondering if they're coming in alphabetical order when I see who it is. I'm kind of surprised. I thought he's married, so why would he pay to watch me strip? I'm also wondering why they don't just all come at once and have a big session with the faggot slave. Later, Eddie tells me "If we did that it would all be over in one shot. This way, you get to be humiliated four times and each time will be different. Don't you get it, idiot? We're pimping you out!"
Back to Aaron. They didn't tell me these guys could use me to get off, but that's the way it turns out. Not only did Aaron enjoy watching me strip, but he got hard seeing me naked, then made me get down and crawl over to him and suck him off. Damn, this bites!
I work with these guys every day. I'm afraid they'll fucking make me work naked all the time after all this is over. Aaron stayed completely silent while I sucked his cock. It took him a long time to cum. I bet he was imagining it was some woman blowing him. If so, it was the best blow job he ever got from a female before! When he finally did cum, it was explosive. Almost made me gag there was so much. He wanted me off his dick right away then he pushed me back with his foot before he got up and put himself away. Not a word.
The next guy, Carl, didn't shut up the from the minute he walked in the door. Told me how much he was looking forward to seeing me naked and how he was surprised to find out I'm a fucking faggot slaveboy after I get off work, blah, blah, blah. He told me what to take off, one item at a time and how much he likes watching me expose my bare flesh to him. He made me wiggle my goes, helicopter my dick, bend my knees and swing my balls around. He made me bend over and spread my cheeks so he could see my asshole, making comments all the way through and telling me that he'll expect my "cooperation" from now on whenever he calls me into his office. I cooperated just fine on his smallish dick, which explained why he didn't make fun of me because I'm not big either. He came quickly and it wasn't much. This guy jerks off a lot, so at least I know THAT secret of his . . . . . .
Benson pulled my nipples and my balls, slapped me around a lot, and jerked off with one hand while squeezing my balls with the other until I was making loud noises and he kept saying "that's right, bitch, sing for me. those fucking balls will be sore from now on, kid. I'll be making sure of it." The last guy was the worst of all. Just a messenger boy and I can't say anything about it at all because he was under age. Damn, I'm surprised they took a chance like that. If word ever gets out or if that kid tells his friends, we could all end up in serious trouble. And that was the most degrading thing of all. How the fuck am I going to face these guys at work from now on?
Things were pretty much quiet after all that. I'm only at work until noon now. Dean's been giving me a list of extra chores to do besides keeping the apartment spotless at all times. Now they've both become total slobs, leaving their dishes in the sink, their clothes all over the place, making me pick up their filthy socks and work-out clothes from the floor. They've got me working pretty hard and sometimes I get very resentful of it all. "you can resent what's happening to you as much as you want, slave. It means nothing to us. All it does is increase your discomfort.
they're treating me like a slave, but I guess that's the point. I realize that, and sometimes the thought turns me on and I'm walking around half hard and wanting to jerk off while I'm feeling that way, not just because I'm pissed off at the way my life is turning out. And then there's the dreams and now the possibility that I'll actually be with HIM some times, hopefully, more often.
. . . . . HE's barefoot in my dream that night. HIS feet are on a leather hassock. HE watches me kneel down and stare at them, so damned attractive, smooth all over, nice toes, toes that are making my mouth water the more I look at them as HE actually spreads them so I can see between them. HE only says one thing: "A new way to serve, faggot." I don't think I have a foot fetish, really, but I do have a humiliation fetish as you well know, so every moment fills me with a brutal sense that I'll be doing this for any man who demands it of me for the rest of my life, and I'm sure they won't always be as clean as HIS are this time. I make sure to lick between HIS toes—after all, HE spread them so I could. I got real dry at one point and backed off trying to manufacture some more saliva. HE pointed to the ground. There was a glass bowl on the floor filled with water. Fuck. I actually put my face to the bowl and sucked up some of the water, then I went back to work on HIS toes.
I don't remember when it all ended because I woke up from the dream because my mouth had gotten so dry. I got out of bed to go get something to drink but there was a bowl of water on the floor right there when I opened the bedroom door! WTF????? How can this be happening? Who the fuck, which one of those bastards put this here? FUCK THIS, I grumbled, and headed for the bathroom, but the fucking door was locked! Finally I gave in and got down and drank water from the bowl. All of a sudden there was a FLASH! Eddie had taken a picture of me with my face down over the bowl, then he disappeared.
"At least he didn't make me kiss his feet," I thought to myself. I went back to sleep, hoping the dream didn't come back, but I can swear that HE got into it again with me. When he fucked me, it felt amazing, just like the other time, no pain at all. I woke up alone and realized that something was dripping out of my ass. WTF. I started wondering if there really is something like an anal wet dream?
Oh well, I was planning on changing the sheets today anyway. Dean set up a schedule and today was the day for mine to get changed. When I got to the kitchen there was a note up from him telling me I had to do his today as well because he had someone over last night and it got messy. At least I didn't have a dream about that! This is all getting too fucking weird.
When I got to work a couple days later I found out everyone in my office had gotten that pic of me drinking from the bowl on the floor. Much to my surprise, no one decided to make me drink that way in the office, but I noticed that things have been shifting and even the newest staff members hired after me started speaking more sternly to me, ordering me to do things rather than asking. I might be paranoid, but I really think they were seeing me differently because of what had happened.
Maybe it was because I was no longer a full-time member of the Team. Everything was new now; I realized I was just some "kid" (I fucking hate being called that!) who comes in for a few hours each day to do whatever they tell him to do. They took my office away and I have to do my work in a room half that size and always keep the door open in case someone wants something from me. Sometimes they just send a message to my screen telling me what they want from me or to get me to service their contracts now instead of my own—or sometimes to service the men they're doing business with.
One day the message on my screen told me to report to room 213. I knew that was in the residential area of this building and I must confess that I was getting pissed off that they might be sending me to a client like some common whore they were using as a perk to close a deal. Little did I realize just how right I was. When I got to the door I stood still for a bit trying to collect myself, to let the negativity drain away, to sink a bit into my submissive nature. No matter what would be required of me, I must remember that my role in life is to serve free men however they want. It took a bit of time. When I finally took a deep breath and knocked on the door, it opened automatically. The room was dark and a few candles were lit. Shit! This was some kind of sexual assignation. Then I got the shock of my life:
It was HIM!!!!! Not in black this time but in white. I was so happy tears came from my eyes. I immediately started to strip naked. "Move more slowly, child," HE said to me and I realized that it gives HIM pleasure whenever I display myself to HIM. (HE's the One Who taught me to use the word "display" rather than show myself or just "get naked".) Finally, I'm naked. "Stand before ME, legs slightly spread, arms at your side, palms facing me." I immediately get into position, well aware that my body wants to fall to the ground before HIM and grovel. It feels even more naked be standing here like this, so well aware of HIS gaze that I feel like HIS eyes are touching my flesh like rough fingertips, and they are marking me for HIM.
"Come into MY arms, slave boy, put your mouth to MINE and drink." HIS mouth is so wet! I feel like I'm drinking from a faucet! HE speaks again: "IM giving you to the guys you work with as a commodity. From time to time they're going to give your body to one of their associates or clients or donors or benefactors, whatever it may be, so they can enjoy what it is like to be with a well-trained slave. Always room 213. When they are finished with you, you will clean the room completely and prepare it for the next person who will be using you. This will always happen on a Friday. That way you will have the weekend to make up the work you missed because you were serving as a company whore. Keep in mind that whoever you serve in this way will report back to ME directly and I will evaluate the quality of your service and administer punishment either MYSELF or by someone I designate as your disciplinarian. Always remember that whenever you serve a man this way you are serving ME."
HE makes full use of me after that and HIS body seems to be a drug for me. The more I serve HIM the more I want to. HIS feet, HIS cock, HIS smell and taste, HIS juices that HE pours down my throat, it all drives me right out of my mind. After HE is completely satisfied HE holds me in HIS arms and speaks to me of love and servitude, and how my servitude is the way I am meant to show HIM love. "This coming Friday, you will be given to a Dom who's an expert in teaching slaves like you about pain. It is time. Up until now we've been babying you when it comes to pain. Now it's time for you to experience what it means to be MY slave and what it feels like sometimes when your MASTER wants to get tough."
I apologize if it seems like I'm complaining, but when I reread my copy of the letter I sent HIM on our anniversary, I can see that everything in it is, especially when I said he was getting me to understand who I am in a different way. All that stuff is true now that almost a year has gone by. Damn. New goals, new skills, limits pushed. New goals: my main goal is to serve to the best of my ability no matter what they ask me to do. My goal is to please them all, my roommates, the superiors at my job, people who come to use me sexually, all of it. New skills are mainly as a house servant and sex slave at home, Limits pushed? in all sorts of ways and now I'm going to be tortured by men who enjoy hearing a boy like me cry and sob, scream and beg.
Oh yes, sometimes they make me work naked in the office now. The bastards even put a water bowl on the floor by the water cooler, thanks to Benson's wicked influence over the others. I asked if I would just have one in the cubicle where I work but I was told they wanted it right out in the open so they could enjoy seeing me humiliated this way. AND lately, I've been getting slapped around from time to time more than ever. And dammit, I like it when a couple of the guys hit me. Not all of them, though. I told Aaron I wouldn't blow him any more if he keeps hitting me. That night, just as I was falling asleep, my bedroom door was kicked open and a masked man dressed in black leather came in and whipped my ass with a leather strap until I was sobbing. Then he left without a word.
The next day everyone stood around and wanted to know who punished me and why I was punished. Aaron spoke up and told them I got punished because he complained to the MASTER about my attitude. Then Aaron started slapping my face and spitting at me and when he ordered me to, I knelt down and he fucked my face while the tears and spit were dripping down onto my chest and onto the ground.
Sometimes I get to have exquisite encounters with HIM in the flesh, or at other times when HE comes to me in my dreams. Every time HE is with me I'm being broken in to something new. It always works that day. A couple of times a dream has morphed into reality. Once I asked HIM why it is this way and HE told me that's not something I'm allowed to ask and that I had to learn to accept what happens without questioning it in any way.
Sometimes I dream about HIM spanking me over HIS knees and when I wake up in the morning my ass is sore as hell. The pain in the dream becomes pain in real time (that's what I'm calling it when not dreaming) and, of course, now Eddie has let me know the next night that they've decided they'll be spanking me as well. There's always the same goal: They beat me to help me understand more about what I am. I wonder if I will ever get to the point where I can surrender to getting beaten without feeling resentment.
Finally it hits me: The Master was correct. The resentment hurts more than getting hit. I'm just doing that to myself. I decide I'm going to try to surrender to it all like the slave they're trying to make me be. Is that what HE wants, for me to be a common slave under anyone's control?
Apparently I don't mark up easily, because Dean gets me the worst when he thrashes me. He doesn't let up until I'm sobbing, and he's warned me not to fake it so I don't dare. The first time he really went crazy on me I was sure he had wrecked my ass, that I was probably black and blue. It turns out I was good and red, but even that didn't last for long, and there was only one spot that looked like a bruise.
Actually I was relieved that the evidence of a thrashing wasn't really there when I went back to work. I didn't want to give them any more ideas than they already have. I get the impression that HE's put a kabosh on the idea of my getting spanked at the office because it never happens. I get slapped across the face a lot, Benson likes to swat my ass and Carl like to rap me in the balls. The only man in the office to use me like a slut is Aaron. He makes me suck him off sometimes and that was always a work out. Damn guy takes forever to cum. He says it's because he's still uncomfortable getting a blow jobs from a fag, but obviously that doesn't stop him from using me a couple times a week.
As the week goes on, a sense of dread starts taking over. There will be pain on Friday. Much more pain than I've ever experienced before. I keep reminding myself that HE wants this to happen to me. The worst part of it all is now knowing what will be happening and how much it will hurt. I don't really think I'm all that much of a masochist. Even getting spanked is nothing more than an assault on my person. Not even the idea of it gets me turned on. And yet, strange as it may seen, this, too, is consensual. Maybe it means more to HIM to have my consent even though I'm not that masochistic. Maybe it means more to HIM that this will hurt all the more because of my disposition.
I think this is the strangest story I've ever written. Do you agree?
Write me at subkodak25@gmail.com
I'll send you a list of my other stories if you ask.