Date: Tue, 3 Dec 2002 17:16:19 +0000
From: fueroth@hotmail.com
Subject: A Decision (Part 2)

     If he could have said anything about the house, it
would have been that it was strikingly ordinary. A well-
tended garden with flowers to endure the winter chill, a
freshly painted exterior that looked much the same as its
neighbours. In his earlier reflections, Bob's imagination
had conjured images of a bleak, impenetrable fortress on
top of a jagged mountaintop: a proper setting for a
fairytale hero to venture into and vanquish evil, but
considering the sheer unremarkableness of this house, it
was unlikely that an ogre awaited him inside. There would
be no trolls in this fairytale, he realised; no wicked
witches, or three little pigs. This was his fairytale and
Bob, the unlikely protagonist of this story, had a
growing uneasiness in the back of his mind that told him
that his destiny lay in front of him.

     If his first step towards the unassuming structure
could have been called difficult, the next one was an
exercise in resolve. A third, a fourth. this was getting
easier. a fifth. it rather brought back memories. a
sixth, a seventh. yes, only three years ago. Why did it
seem like yesterday? An eight. was it really this
difficult? A ninth. the silent count never stopped.

     Yet.

     "Get in here boy." Sir Thomas had growled, "It's
cold and you're gonna be no good to me if you catch your
death out there."

     Bob had hastened his steps hearing his Master's
command and subconsciously moving to obey. His Master was
taking him home for the first time, and now, metres away
from the threshold, he had petered on the edge of
indecision. Only his Master's reassuring growl had kept
his nerve from breaking by reminding him of who made the
decisions for him.

     It was a small matter of a half dozen more steps
covered in haste, and Bob was inside where he belonged.
And he was warm.

     Bob shivered reflexively. The wind was picking up
and a light drizzle was beginning to fall. thirteen,
fourteen. `was it warm inside?' he wondered. Was his soon-
to-be Master going to open the front door any second now
and order him indoors? Fifteen, sixteen. `would it be the
same?' he wondered. Would it begin as it did all those
years ago?

     Would it be the same?

     "Relax boy, relax." His Master crooned reassuringly.
"You'll learn to obey promptly if it's the last thing I
do."

     A red ass and a bruised ego were testament to
another display of disobedience, or to be more precise:
belated obedience.

     "Your punishment's not over yet boy." His Master
warned him. "I'm training you boy. I'm breaking you in,
but you have to want it too boy." His husky voice had an
exhilarating edge to it, and Bob was forced to suppress a
shiver. "You have to want it boy, and you're going to beg
me to punish you boy. You're going to beg! Beg for it
boy!"

     "Please Sir," Bob began breathlessly. "Please punish
me more Sir."

     The impact of the next stroke rang in his ears. His
Master had decided to employ the paddle this time.
Perhaps his hand was getting sore. Perhaps Bob should be
punished for that too.

     Thwack! Thwack! The steady rhythm continued as, in
between gasps, Bob begged, and pleaded, and cursed
himself for his transgressions: past and present. How he
loved his Master, he professed. How his Master was
everything to him, and how he was nothing without Him. He
might have begun to recite a Shakespearean sonnet. he
wasn't sure.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Between gasps and tears now, he
was begging, but finally the punishment was over.

     "There boy. You're finally worthy enough to take my
cum again." His Master's voice announced somewhere above
the clouds of pain and remorse. Somewhere in his mind,
Bob was grateful. "Well boy? What are you waiting for?"
Bob mustn't have heard the sound of his Master's pants
being undone, because all of a sudden, sitting in the
armchair in front of him was the most inviting piece of
Master-meat that he had ever paid witness to. "Down boy!"
His Master commanded. "Down and suck my cock like the dog
that you are!"

     Bob barely managed a mumbled "Yes Sir," before his
hungry lips gratefully enveloped his Masters throbbing
flesh, already anticipating the sweet, satisfying taste
of his Master's cum.

     His Master similarly expressed his growing pleasure,
groaning a "Yeah, good boy," here and an "Oh, that's
right boy," there. Bob tasted precum and felt his
Master's growing approval with his tongue. Safe in the
knowledge that he was pleasing his Master, Bob savoured
the taste of His salty cream and wanted more.

     Harder, harder, deeper, deeper, Bob pushed himself.
He had failed his Master and paid the price already. This
time would be different. He would not fail his Master
now. He would be a good boy for his Master. He would be a
good boy. The thought circulated through his mind as his
Master neared orgasm.

     A few trickles of precum at first, finally became a
flood as his Master's meat throbbed, pumping His
delicious cum into Bob's mouth and down his throat.
Swallowing appreciatively, Bob consumed every last drop
before lift his head away, cleaning with his tongue as he
went, and rested his head atop his Master's gently
heaving chest.

     "Good boy. That was very good boy. Did you enjoy
that?"

     Murmuring "Yes Sir," Bob let his eyes close,
drifting off into a deep, satisfied sleep.

     The rain was starting to really come down now. Bob
felt drenched to the skin. twenty-two, twenty-three.
winds that had previously chilled, now numbed him to the
bone. Wrapped in a blanket of his memories, Bob continued
toward his goal.

     He remembered smoke. Smoke and sweat and an alcohol
fuelled buzz. A warm, clammy hand rested on the thigh of
his jeans and a stupidly smiling face regarded him
happily.

     "Are you having a good time?" Neil asked him,
patting his thigh.

     "Uh, yeah. But it's pretty busy." Bob said. "I'm not
too comfortable around crowds."

     "Oh, well we could grab a few beers and head back to
my place." Neil wasn't exactly the most tactful of people
with a few pints on him.

     "I don't mind. Whatever you think." Bob answered,
also considerably less tactful with some beer to cloud
his brain.

     "OK. Let's go then." Bob wasn't sure he'd expected
this answer from Neil, but nevertheless, he had agreed to
it.

     Shuffling to their feet, they gathered their coats
and hastened out the door. Stopping by an off-license,
Neil picked up a dozen cans of beer and led Bob back to
his apartment in a more-than-half drunken stupor.

     There, through the drunken beer haze, Bob watched
Neil put on a kinky porn video and open a can of beer,
offering another to him, which Bob accepted gratefully.

     "Thanks Neil." He said slurring and collapsing onto
the sofa. Neil set down his can and removed his jacket,
throwing it over the arm of the sofa, and then his top.

     "It's warm in here." Neil answered weakly.

     Bob watched as Neil removed his pants and finally
all of his clothing, before sitting down calmly beside
him.

     The hand was back on his thigh.

     "You shouldn't need that top here Bob. It's very hot
in here." Bob wasn't sure whether of not Neil was
flattering himself, but his hand did feel very good as it
slid up his thigh and caressed his crotch. "Why don't you
take it off and make yourself comfortable, like me?" At
this, Bob's cheeks reddened visibly. "What's the matter
Bob? Your Master doesn't have to find out. Besides,
there's nothing wrong with being naked around a friend.
He's wouldn't mind. Come on Bob. Make yourself at home."

     Fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, Bob watched
as Neil undressed him until finally, as the last article
of clothing fell away, Bob was standing naked before him
and shivering slightly.

     "Come here. Let me warm you up." Neil said
invitingly as Bob lowered himself onto the sofa beside
him. Neil reached over and pulled Bob into an embrace,
kissing him deeply. Bob felt his hot breath, fetid with
the smell of too much beer, as Neil kissed Bob all over,
his sweaty hands rubbing over Bob's shivering body.
Finally Bob placed a tentative hand on Neil's chest, and
allowed himself to be pulled forward into a deep,
passionate kiss.
     About a half hour later, Bob was retching over the
toilet bowl. Waves of guilt and nausea washed over him as
he emptied the contents of his stomach into the white
enamelled bowl, watching the churning of the mixture of
water, bile and dinner as he pulled feebly on the handle.

     Standing, he wiped his face with a facecloth, and
fought back the urge to vomit again. Staring into the
shaving mirror, Bob wasn't sure he recognised the face
staring back. His Master's obedient boy was gone,
replaced by this treacherous interloper. He felt sick.

     Bob shuddered. Not all memories were happy ones. The
rain was coming down in sheets now, and he took his next
numb steps. The warm glow of the hallway was reassuring,
offering him a better life inside. An existence with
meaning, with purpose. a second chance. twenty-seven,
twenty-eight.

     Not all memories were happy ones.

     "You've betrayed me for the last time boy!" He
Master shouted angrily. "I can't believe that I put my
trust in you and you went behind my back like this. What
were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?"

     Bob knew that he deserved this tirade. For what he
had done, there was no excuse, no forgiveness. No amount
of punishment could ever absolve him. "I'm sorry Sir. I
wasn't thinking. I was drunk and I made a mistake Sir."

     "A mistake? Forgetting to put on clean underwear is
a mistake. Leaving the fridge door open is a mistake.
What you did was nothing short of treason. You know what
they did to traitors in feudal times, don't you boy? Why
should I be any easier on a treacherous scumbag like
you?"

     "Because I love You Sir. I need You Sir." Bob
pleaded.

     His Master choked back a derisive laugh. "You've
shown me exactly how much you love me boy. I don't need
that kind of love. Now get out! Get out before I throw
you out."

     There was nothing left for Bob to do. There was
nothing he could say that would have changed his Master's
mind. Bob wasn't even sure if he deserved a second
chance. Faced with the knowledge that the last two years
of his life had been an expensive lesson in loyalty, Bob
had no other choice but to pay the price of failure.

     A year passed and Bob never saw Him again.

     Bob suddenly realised that he was standing in front
of the doorway.  Rain lashed down from the sky, as If
trying to beat him to his knees and somewhere in the
distance he could hear a low peal of thunder.

     "I have suffered the consequences, I have paid my
price, and I have walked my lonely road for long enough."
Bob chanted inaudibly "Now I have a second chance. One
that I don't deserve, one that I shouldn't have, but I
will take it. My time in purgatory is over, and now I
will reclaim my life. I will be happy." Bob finished his
silent mantra and reached up a numb arm to push the
button for the doorbell. "I will be happy."

     A ringing sound reached his ears, a pure sound, and
the sound of his salvation. Footsteps followed and the
door swing open slowly, letting a warm golden glow spill
out onto his shivering, rain soaked form. Almost weeping
with joy, Bob let himself be led into the hallway, where
he was warm, and dry, and happy.


NOTE: the author of these stories has been instructed to
write based on his personal experience. He is a young
submissive, in a serious long-term ownership. The stories
are not completely autobiographical, but they include
some experience.
                              Master Greg