SIXTEEN
In the present . . .
That very night, after the most passionate and romantic time Clarence had ever chosen to give me, making me higher than I think I've ever been, in his intense understanding of the Master/slave dynamic, he quickly pressed me back down to earth by telling me that "I want you to become as abased and humbled as possible because that will mean it's time for me to take you from the brothel and enslave you to myself permanently." I would do anything for that to happen and He made me prove it many times.
"You will continue to serve as a slave in the brothel for any man who doesn't mind being served by a middle-aged fag. I may indeed send a couple of men I respect to the brothel under the guise of ordinary johns who enjoy older slaves. Never forget that I become aware of every single thing that happens when you are "in service to a client."
Never forget that if I ever have to punish you, the punishment will go far beyond the point where you usually beg for mercy with a safe word. When I punish you, I will have no mercy on you. Keep that in mind, Denny."
I always get so confused when he uses my name—or rather, the slave name I was first given. What does it mean? What message does it convey to me?" I'm really not sure. Maybe it's a sign of a certain kind of affection. Maybe it's just a reminder that I only exist as a slave, that my non-slave identity I was born with has been completely obliterated by what's happened during my life.
Maybe it's to realize that when he uses that word it is because he owns me on every single level of my existence. All I know is that it makes me want to fall to the floor and kiss the ground under his feet.
With that one word, he turns around and leaves the room with me still on the floor after kissing his feet. As soon as he left, one of the attendants (the identity of the person who owns and runs this establishment is never made known to the slaves and sluts) comes to me to bind me in such a way that my butthole (what he refers to as my "pussy," but I hate to write that word) is open and fully exposed and available to the men who see me that way.
After he has me in position and well medicated and lubed up, he lets me know that there are five men here who intend to take advantage of my situation. This is actually the first time in my life that I've ever had to endure being fucked by five different men on one night.
This isn't like the time that all the members of the Tribe had put their hard cocks into me that way—because then, they just got all the way up my ass, stayed a short while making sure I felt them possess me, and then pulled out and walked away. They wanted me to learn how to tell them apart. I never managed to do that well enough because they quickly lost interest in me when I was no longer a twink. But this was going to be the real thing: these five men would fuck me until they spill themselves deep within me. (Note to reader: there are no sti's or hiv or anything else in this fictional universe which is parallel to ours.)
Before he left, the attendant gave me something to drink, promising me that this will help me serve those men better than I ever have before, because it will increase my will to become total slave for each of them. So far, no one has ever explained to me what it means to become a "total slave." After all, how could I be more total than I already am. I just don't understand.
Clarence continually reminded me that I have no rights and it doesn't matter whether or not I understand. He said one other thing that I can't get out of my head, "every single man who uses you is your Master, no matter how new or advanced." That's a hard command for me, since I'm almost always smarter or more clever than they are so it's all the more difficult for me to realize that I am inferior to each of them, to any who have made arrangements to use me. (That always sounds better than "any who have paid to use me.")
The lights stay very low once they've bound and opened me the way they wanted. My collar was tightened just at the point where my breath is restricted, it feels like lube is dripping out of me. "Men like their pussies to be warm and wet," the attendant tells me, further feminizing me--the thing I dislike the most. Just before he leaves me alone the attendant makes a snap decision and blindfolds me. That's another thing that presses me down. My wrists are bound up over my head. As the attendant leaves, someone else enters and I hear his zipper and soon after I'm ravaged. Normal kind of thickness and he can get himself all the way in me. He fucks steadily and not too fast, not too rough. Oh, if only they'd all be like that!
#2 comes in and spits up and down my crack before getting into me as fast as he could, while stretching me from his girth, and he fucks pretty hard, trying to get all the way up inside of me a couple times, and all this time he keeps spitting at the back of my head and behind my ears, and even chewing on my neck as he thrusts into me. By the time he's done with me I've slipped so deeply into subspace that I can't rightfully remember any more other than the guy with the biggest cock fucked me the roughest and he even kept choking me more than my collar was and I came close to passing out a couple times.
I guess he liked that. I surely didn't. But that didn't matter. I'm a slave. He can make me actually pass out if he wants to, if he enjoys having that kind of power over me. It hasn't happened yet, well at least not again from my twink days.
@@@
Even though I now had a good job and my own place to live alone, Master Tim had ordered me to go to a bdsm club every other night. The first club I attended was fifty miles from home. I figured there would be less chance of someone from home finding out what I was. There was no doubt about that in my mind by then, but it was still a little frightening. That makes perfect sense I'd be frightened. They didn't charge me to get in, but I immediately had to use a locker they provided to leave everything behind and to walk into the club stark naked, collared, and humbled.
I barely got out of the waiting area before some man pushed me to my knees and ordered me to take out his cock and suck it. I guess I was moving too slowly because he smashed me on the side of my head and told me to hurry up. Fuck. Wow. I fumbled trying to get him out of his pants, worrying I'd get hit again, but I finally got it out. "Lick up what I'm leaking," he commanded me, and there was a lot. All over the place. "See how hot I am about fucking your face, faggot?" he said as he shoved himself into my mouth almost all the way down to my gag spot.
And then yes, indeed, he fucked my mouth. He took my ears in his hands and worked my head the way he wanted around and over and in and out and sometimes rough and sometimes gentle until at last he fucked all the through my gag spot and unloaded his spunk right there to lubricate things. Then he pulled out of me and ordered me to use my mouth to clean him up. Finally, he pushed me down on the ground and before he walked off, he spit on my face a couple times. I lay there on the ground, still choking a little, and the tears were flowing from my eyes on to the floor. I actually sobbed a little down there while pairs of feet and legs were walking around me seeing my disgrace.
Finally I picked myself up, tried to use my hands to dry my face, and was trying to leave when I was grabbed from behind by a very tall men and he pulled me back while working on my nipples pretty roughly and I cried out. He'd comfort them but then start in again until I broke. And again. And again, until finally I just kept crying without stopping. "You're fucking lucky you're such a crybaby, faggot," he says to me before he spins me around and lets me cry into his chest while he rubs my back. "I like making you cry."
He starts chewing and biting on my ear and keeps it up until I'm crying again. He whispers into my ear, "I'll see you around, faggot. Save up those tears for me." The he lets go of me and I fall to my knees before him. "Boots," he says, and I'm down there for a good long time licking, drooling on, sucking and polishing his boots. When I'm done, he uses those boots to kick me repeatedly in the balls until I'm doubled over on the ground and begging him to stop.
He walks away. An attendant comes to help me get up and tells me it's okay for me to leave, that I'd pleased enough of their patrons for one night. And that was my first night there. I'm really afraid all this is going to be much too hard for me to take, and I don't know what happens to me then. And in the meantime, I'm just getting started in my career with low level things and the days right after a night at the clubs could be very difficult days sometimes.
I never went back to that club after the first time there. Eventually I found out that was considered to be the most intense club of them all and subs are really put through their paces. Check that box! I know from experience. I went to the closest place the next night. Called "The Inferno." It was a much more relaxed atmosphere, and guys at least would nod hello if not more. Oh, I sucked cock. Lots of cock. Spent most of my time there on my knees. And I'd suck balls. And feet. And lick things clean. One thing I did discover is that I really got into sucking toes. For some guys I guess it was humiliating. But not for me. It was like getting treats, those toes. And keeping everything clean around them. Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.
As it turned out, I would go to the Inferno mostly, especially if I didn't want anything rough to happen. The Inferno was a simple place. I'm naked in a collar. I will obey you, Master. Sure, sometimes I'd get slapped around. Nipples and balls tended to, and there are many things that could get me to cry out. Same as in the other place, but it's just a different vibe. The BDSM is rather more affectionate in many ways. And I have to tell you: it's a hell of a lot more pleasant to be crying in front of someone I like than crying for a stranger or someone I don't like.
This one guy I really did like would make me stand there with my hands behind my head and my legs spread. He'd look right into my eyes and hold me there with his eyes, and he'd just begin slapping my balls from underneath. Not too hard, but at a steady pace. And he's just keep doing that and doing it and staring at me and hitting me until at last I'd break down. And he's still keep doing it until I would try to run away from him. Then he'd make me suck his cock.
I liked getting spanked mostly, and I always had the next day and night to recover. Unfortunately, though, there were a couple guys who weren't into spanking as much as they were into punishment. One of them would make me look at him and he'd tell me that he was going to punish me for all the times when I've ever had a mean thought about a Dom. And that's what he'd do. Another one said that he was going to punish me because I liked to get spanked too much. And shit, that's what happened. The worse of all was the one guy who was very basic—7 words: "I'm going to punish you. No safewords." And then he'd get on with it. There was absolutely nothing there for a good masochist like me to enjoy. It was just what he said it would be: real punishment. The worst of all.
One night a Dom came up to me and told me he knows Major Tim, so then I knew I was in for it. Uh-oh. I lowered my head. He tapped me on the shoulder. I get on my knees. He takes out his cock and orders me to open my mouth. He make me wrap my mouth around him not too tight and drink the piss he gives me. Damn. Once word gets out about this I'm done for. I really get frightened, thinking that I could end up becoming a common urinal for every Dom around. or even worse, for some subs too. When he's finally done and I clean off the slit in his dick, he says, "as long as you're a good boy urinal for me I'll keep your secret. The first time you refuse me I'll start telling others about you. Do you understand, pissboy?"
"Yes, Master."
Fortunately, he only hung out at one club, so I could just as easily avoid going there if I didn't want to be forced to do it. Finally he contacted me and told me that I had to be there with him at least once a week, otherwise he'd start spreading the word. Fuck. Well I did just what he wanted. Sometimes it was just to swallow a load but not suck him. Until at last I got fed up with it and just stopped. fuck the consequences.
And sure enough, after that I'd get approached a lot of times by Doms who wanted to use me that way. Most of the time I just walked away. The only time I'd give in to it was when a Dom would really work to get my entire being down into that low a state of slavery. But when he got me there, he could make me take it however he wanted. There was just one Dom. His name was Conor. He always got me there quickly and made me beg him for it. And I would. Sincerely begging him for his piss. That's how much he broke me in.
He told me one time that one day he was going to piss in a bowl and then make me lap it up from the bowl like a dog lapping up its water. It's a hot idea but I know that's when I'd just call it quits with him. I hope he realizes that.
It was much safer most of the time, at the Inferno. All oral. Not much head play. Basic. Except for a couple guys. Timothy (as opposed to Major Tim) would sometimes make me lick him clean everywhere and then tell me that my next visit had to be either to the whip place or to the piss place. Over simplification, to be sure, but I'm sure you'd get the idea. I hated to have to be the one to make the choice.
Do I choose to drink piss or do I choose to get thrashed tonight? Ordinary questions for a sub who's sunk a deeply into it as I even though I was still in my early 20's. More often than not, I `d opt for the spanking, no matter how hard. But sometimes if backfired. I've had my ass caned in a piss place and I've had to drink someone's piss while he was holding a whip. I could have suffered from both at once. (Of course, you understand that when I use the word "suffer" it's an exaggeration. I mean, I am into this stuff.)
I never forgot what Major Tim had told me, or maybe promised me: that one day I would be an owned slave by a Master I adored. Sure hope so. Many times I'd wish Clarence would come back again and take me for himself. But it never happened.
One night, I got worked over by a Dom named Alan. I was 28 at the time. He took me from the Inferno to his home and totally broke me so I could understand what I am meant to be. I can't really say anything about it, it's too difficult to think about. But I started falling in love with Alan. After that first time he would only work me in the club, and as it turned out, he would have me every single time, every other night, for close to three years.
Never again would he bring me to his own home again. He told me he had decided I was too low to be in his home. I was nothing more than a common dungeon slave and that's how he saw me. That's how he owned me. But of course, once he was done with me, then I was fair game if anyone else was in the mood for me. So it was an intense three years. Every other night for three years, I'd be under the control of a man I was in awe of, and I'd "suffer" every kind of pain he enjoyed afflicting and I'd serve him however he specified and lick and suck and drink and whatever. He always was in charge. He was the Master. He owned me (every other night for three years) in the dungeon. But . . . .
Fuck. I got fed up with itl I realized that what we had would never be more than it already is and I hoped that there would be someone out there who could make me feel something like what I thought I would feel for Clarence. So one night when I got there, I headed for a Dom who I was attracted to, and by the end of the night I was still bound by him and subject to his whims. And guess what? That night he brought me home and kept me. Master Vincent was His name.
He let me keep my job, but every second of my life outside of that job belonged to Him. For whatever He wanted. Hardly a day or night would go by when I didn't somehow feel the taste of his lash or paddle or cane or flogger . . . you get the idea? And everywhere. Not just back or ass. You haven't lived until you've had your abdomen caned. Sure thing. Total slave. Slave of Master Nelson. It only lasted for two years. He tired of me but was kind enough to find me a new place to live as an ordinary single man strongly addicted to serving other men as the slave I knew I was meant to be.
And that's how things continued for close to twenty years. That's how things were when I first began writing this story. So now everything's been brought up to date. I hope this satisfies all of you, Masters. @@@
I LOVE IT when you write me. It's the BEST REWARD for writing.
subkodak25@gmail.com
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Here are the other stories I have posted, with the dates where you can find them:
The first five should be read in order:
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
These stories are stand-alone
Tommy Loves His Sub 8/17/2023 Training Toby 12/31/2023 Breaking Me In 03/10/2024