I hadn't been kneeling there long when the door opened and in strutted my beautiful Master, Drew. He was carrying several bags, the contents of which I could not see. "Good to see you followed my orders, bitch," he said with a smirk. "This place looks pretty decent. Now get your faggot ass up and call your parents to tell them you're spending the night. Initiation will take a good bit of time."
Master had an evil grin as he said this that I both feared and adored. I quickly complied with his order. Like I said before, my parents are pretty cool about letting me do my own thing, and they didn't seem to mind my absence at all. While I was on the phone, Master had situated himself lazily on the leather sofa, and when I hung up, he snapped his fingers for me to come to him. I complied, and hurried over before him, asking if he needed anything. Master just gave me an annoyed look, as if expecting me to do something, but I was new to being owned, and didn't really know what he was expecting.
"Get on your knees, you dumb shit. How dare you stand in my fucking presence."
At that, I quickly fell to my knees at his feet and apologized. He laughed at my patheticness, and told me I would definitely have to be punished for that later on. It was then that Master Drew began his spiel. "First things first, we need a few rules for you, you little fucker. Slaves are stupid inferior bitches who need rules and structure to their lives, so unless I tell you otherwise, you better fucking follow every one of these rules. You will address me as Master at all times, even in public. When you are in the same room as me, you will kneel and crawl. You will not touch your faggot little cock without my permission. You must have permission to piss, shit, eat, drink, and certainly cum. You will also need my permission to speak, unless I speak to you first. You will remain naked at all times when we are alone. You will not hesitate, complain, or bitch about any, and I mean ANY, orders or punishments I give you. You exist only for my pleasure and entertainment. Do you get that, you fucking cunt?"
"Yes Master," I quickly responded, not wanting to piss him off. All the while, though, my mind was racing. I couldn't believe how dictatorial Drew had become, and this younger boy's orders were beginning to scare me. I couldn't believe that in my intense horniness, I had thrown good sense out the window and allowed him to blackmail me. Now he really did have virtually limitless power over me, and all I could do was hope for the best.
"Good, bitch. Now, your initiation into slavery will go on all night tonight, and when it is over, you will finally have the privilege of sucking my wicked hot dick. But before you're worthy to do that, you will have to go through a lot of shit to prove your devotion as my faggot slave bitch. First, it's almost 6:30, and I want some fucking dinner. Get your ass in the kitchen, little girl, and cook me my dinner. I want grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, and apple pie. Everything should be in there. I will eat at 7 o'clock on the dot, so you better have it ready. Oh, and if I need anything, I will snap my fingers, and you will crawl in here and see what I need. Now get your cute little fag ass to work."
I crawled into the kitchen totally degraded, yet somehow feeling proud that Master had just called me cute. Man, am I pathetic. This boy is making my life a living hell, making me into a pussy bitch slave, and I worship him and love him all the while.
Let me tell you, making dinner while completely naked is an adventure. Master Drew had bought two nice-sized chicken breasts, a small bag of potatoes, and a (thankfully) already-made Mrs. Field's apple pie. Although I was certainly no chef, I had been forced to help my mother cook dinners sometimes growing up, so I wasn't completely unskilled. I found a pot and put the potatoes on to boil. Getting out the chicken, I got a large skillet out from under the oven and prepared to grill on the stovetop. After melting a little butter in there, I added the chicken and tended to it with a Teflon-coated spatula. The hot juices sizzled out of the pan, and I tried in vain to avoid having them splatter over my naked body. The chicken was just whitening up and starting to look pretty good when I heard Master snap his fingers and yell "Get in here, bitch." I knew I couldn't keep him waiting, so I dropped to my knees on the hard tile and quickly crawled into the living room, finally settling just before his feet and looking up to see what he wanted.
"Man, you look SO fucking pathetic, Matt." He had the biggest smirk on his face, and burst out laughing at me. I knelt their a moment longer, wondering if the only reason he had called me in was to ridicule me. It seemed that as I knelt their before him, his new status as a slaveholder was sinking in. He was overcome with a complete glow, tough to put into words.
"Kiss my feet." He broke the silence with a simple order, and I drooped my neck and kissed his feet a single time each. Looking back up at him, he looked baffled. "Keep kissing, you stupid cunt. I didn't tell your sorry ass to quit."
Damn. Even though Master Drew was sexy from head to foot, I was still getting used to how humiliating this felt. Plus, as I continued to mindlessly worship his feet, I started to worry about the chicken that I had left on the stove. The last thing I needed was to ruin dinner and piss my new Master off. I wondered how long this would go on. After a few more minutes, I was getting really panicked, and ventured to speak. I knew to be careful:
"Permission to speak, Master?"
"Denied. Concentrate on my feet, you faggot. Think about how fucking low you have to be to actually kiss someone's feet. That's the lowest damn part of my body, and you're kissing them over and over again. Most guys your age are kissing their girlfriends, not some other dude's feet. Think about that for a while, slave."
Shit. He was awesome at knowing just how to degrade me. I did think about what he said, and he was right. I felt lower than ever, and I still had the chicken to worry about. It had to be burning by now.
"Oh, and look," Master Drew said with a smirk. "Your cock is rock hard again. You get a fucking hard-on from kissing my feet. That's fucking unbelievable!"
I tried to block him out and kept kissing his feet, now recognizing my cock. He was right as usual. He was making me so horny with all the orders. I wanted to jerk my cock off so bad, but I knew that was against the rules. Finally, after another three or four minutes of kissing his feet, the monotony was interrupted. Drew lifted his right foot and used it to shove my face away. "Get back to work, fag. I'm hungry. And don't you dare touch that cock."
I raced back to the kitchen, which had some visible smoke coming from the stove and going out the nearby window. The chicken was charred to a crisp on the bottom, and the potatoes were boiling over. I quickly removed both the skillet and the pot from the stove, burning myself a little in the process. The chicken was so bad that I had to scrape it out of the pan. I looked at the clock -- it was 6:58. Holy shit, I must have been kissing Master's feet for twenty minutes or more. Setting the plate of ruined chicken aside, I quickly shifted gears to try and at least get the potatoes mashed in time. I got more butter and a fork and really went at it. I think I did a pretty good job. I had just gotten enough for a pretty big portion when I heard Master snap his fingers and say, "Dinner is served. You may stand upright to serve me."
Not knowing what else to do, I put one of the chicken breasts on the plate with the mashed potatoes, trying as well as I could to hide the charred side, and carried it in to Master, who had perched himself at the round dinner table by the window.
"Get me a knife and fork and a glass of coke, dumbshit," he said with a look of annoyance. "And bring me the other piece of chicken too." I had somehow hoped that other chicken breast was for me, but that was obviously not the case. I hurried to fill Master's requests. Coming back into the dining area, it was clear that Master was displeased with the dinner. He had flipped the chicken over, exposing the pitch black underside. "What the FUCK do you call this, cuz it doesn't look very much like chicken."
I scrambled to apologize. "I am very sorry, Master. It wasn't my fault. It was on the stove, and then you,...well, you made me kiss your feet for so long...and I tried to tell you, but when I got back to the kitchen it was--"
"Sounds like you are saying it's my fault, bitch."
"Oh no. That's not what I meant." He really had me trapped.
"So if it's your fault, then, you need to be punished." His trademark smirk returned as he awaited my response.
I paused and finally hung my head in resignation. "Yes Master. I guess I do."
Master laughed at my predicament. "You will get a good spanking after I finish eating." That sounded so surreal coming from a kid who looked like he should be my little brother. "But first, get a knife and cut this fucking ass-crust off my chicken."
I rushed to the kitchen and returned with a knife. Master watched as I struggled to cut it all off, but I managed a pretty good job. I scraped the resulting heap of blackness onto an extra plate I had brought in. "Let me see that," he said. Taking the plate from me, he proceeded to hock deep in his throat and spit several mouthfuls of saliva onto the mound, making sure to keep one eye on my appalled reaction as he did so. Finishing, he handed me the plate. "Eat up, faggot. I wanna see you lick that plate clean. You made it, the least you can do is enjoy it." Master continued to eat his own dinner as I provided the amusement. There I stood, naked with an inexplicably raging boner, struggling to eat charred, spit-covered pieces of chicken rind. It was atrocious, but I managed to choke it down. Master inspected the plate, and once he had seen that I had satisfactorily licked the plate clean, he asked for his dessert.
I retreated to the kitchen and heated up a generous slice of the pie in the microwave, bringing it to Master. After taking the first bite, he mocked me. "Finally something you couldn't fuck up, slave."
I nodded humbly, admiring his cute face as he ate.
Taking another bite, I saw the return of Master's smirk, which signified that he had come up with a new idea to torture me. "Since your tiny little dick is still so hard, why don't you get on your knees and jerk off to entertain me. But make sure you don't cum. Just jerk it real hard until you're close, and then stop and start again. And if you mess up and cum, I will beat your balls so hard you won't be able to cum for a year."
I sank to my knees and gulped at the order. It was so nice to be able to touch my cock, but I knew I couldn't get any relief. Simultaneously, I feared the horrible consequences of an accidental burst. After all, I was hornier than I had ever been in my twenty-year existence...and that is really saying something. I stroked to near climax and then backed off in frustration, all the while looking up at Master calmly enjoying a warm slice of apple pie. "Put your right hand on your head and buck your hips while you do it," he ordered. God, he was making me feel like a slut, but I of course complied. I was getting really close again, so I pulled off and let out a moan of agony. Master just laughed. This went on for quite some time, with me reaching near climax four or five terrible times. Finally, Master announced that he had finished his pie. "Alright, bitch. That was hilarious. Now clear these plates off and clean up the kitchen. When you're done, get your sorry ass back in here. Your initiation is about to begin."
My cock throbbing, I got up and took the plates and plodded into the kitchen. I desperately needed to cum, but I was pretty sure that wouldn't be happening any time soon. As I cleaned the plates, I was filled with apprehension of what the night's "initiation" could bring. I had heard horror stories about fraternity initiations, and my young Master didn't seem to mind pushing the limits. What was worse was that I was falling in love with his boyish smirk, and it seemed the worse he treated me, the more he turned me on.
My apprehension probably caused me to take longer than I should have cleaning the kitchen, but when it was all done, I took a deep breath, sank to my knees, and slowly crawled back to meet my fate.
...
Feedback greatly appreciated. This is my first story on Nifty. More parts coming soon!