Date: Mon, 21 Feb 2011 05:11:03 -0500
From: Matt W <matt10019@gmail.com>
Subject: Bred Slave - Part 13

The following is a work of fiction.  All characters are over 18 years of
age.  There are depictions of sexual acts and homoerotic themes.  Please do
not read any further if you are not legally eligible or would be offended by
the material.

CHAPTER 15 - WORK OUT FOR THE WEEKEND

"How goes it, bro?" Brent asked, leaning casually against the brick wall in
the hallway outside the main entrance to the university's fitness center as
Ryan and I approached within ear shot, shifting the weight of his gym bag
from one shoulder to the next.

"Not bad. Not bad."  Ryan shrugged and exchanged an obligatory handshake
with Brent as I hung back a respectful pace behind.  "Ready to get your ass
kicked?"

"You wish," Brent smirked.

It was quiet in the athletic building as it was most Friday afternoons in
the hours just after most classes let out for the weekend and the majority
of students turned their attention to happy hour at the local bars or
grabbing a nap before a night full of partying.  Brent gave me a glance and
a cautious nod, still uncertain of how to regard me following the revelation
a week earlier.  I nodded quickly in acknowledgement, and diverted my eyes
back to the floor near their feet.

Ryan pushed through the heavy institutional door leading the way into the
gym.  The musty odor of stale sweat and rubber mats wafted hung in the air.
The workout floor was nearly vacant. Two girls were chatting inaudibly
amongst the cardio equipment as they seemingly raced each other on matching
exercise bikes.  Across the gym floor in the weight section, the light
clanging of metal weights could be heard as another guy adjusted the
settings on his pec fly machine.

Brent glanced around and lowered his voice, "So, how does this work?"

"What do you mean?" Ryan responded at a normal volume as he kept pace with
Brent along the edge of the gym floor towards the locker room hallway.  "I
mean, I know all those beers are starting to catch up to you, but you do
know how to work out, right?"  He prodded Brent jokingly in the ribs.

Brent swatted his hand away from his nearly perfect torso with a chuckle,
glancing over his shoulder at me.  "You know what I mean."

"Don't worry about it," Ryan responded nonchalantly, as he led the way to
the men's locker room.

I trailed behind casually, both my heavy backpack and Ryan's hefty gym bag
slung over my shoulders.  There was a slight sense of dread in the pit of my
stomach as I had know idea what he might have in store for me.  I knew it
would be pointless to ask for details when I'd received the text message
instructing me to meet Ryan outside the athletic building after class.  It
was safe to assume a workout of some sort might be involved, which I didn't
mind.  I was actually almost excited for the chance to workout in public
again like a normal guy.  Sure, Ryan could control my workout, but he
couldn't work me as harshly as he did in the private home gym, could he?
Regardless, I was surprised to learn Brent would be meeting us.

Ryan pushed through the two sets of doors to the locker room.  An
even mustier stench of stale sweat, mixed with lingering scents of various
deodorants, soaps and colognes, filled my nostrils as we walked through the
first row of bright red lockers.  He paused to listen, and hearing nothing
but silence, he motioned for Brent and I to follow.

We walked through a first row of lockers, and then turned left to the very
back corner of the locker room.  Ryan stopped and turned to face me.  "Put
the bags down on the bench and strip, everything but your socks."

I glanced to Brent, who cocked his head in curiosity, and then nodded
quickly.  "Yes, Sir."  Brent had already seen me in much worse condition,
and facing facts, there were much worse places to be caught naked than a
locker room.  Setting Ryan's bag gently on the long wooden bench, and my own
backpack on the floor, I quickly discarded my army green hoodie, white
t-shirt, shoes and worn jeans until I was left wearing nothing but socks
and my dog tags.  Fortunately, Ryan had deemed my initial ordeal with Brent
enough of a punishment and freed my dick shortly thereafter from the dreaded
chastity device.

"Kneel," Ryan commanded pointing at a nearby locker.  "Nose and knees
against the locker."

I paused, but knowing better than to protest, I slowly sank to my knees onto
the painted concrete floor and shuffled forward until I connected with the
nearest locker, pressing my nose against the cool metal.

"Alright man, let's get changed," Ryan prompted, as if nothing unusual had
just transpired.

"What about...?"  Brent questioned, a hint of nerves in his tone.

"Relax, dude. I said, don't worry about it," Ryan reassured him.  "No one is
even around."

I focused on breathing as I stared ahead into the red metal, listening to
the sounds of zippers and the rustling of clothing while the two changed
into their workout clothes.  A few minutes later, the locker a few down from
me creaked open, and then slammed shut, rattling the entire row.  Startled,
I pulled back from the locker.

Ryan swiftly whacked me across the back of my head.  "Saw that, boy.  Now
get up."

"Yes, Sir."  I pushed up to my feet and turned around timidly to face him.
They were both similarly dressed in mesh athletic shorts and old t-shirts.
Brent's was cut-off at the sleeves revealing his well developed shoulders
and considerable biceps.

Ryan grabbed me by the right arm and shoulder and guided me roughly towards
the bench.  Applying pressure between my shoulder blades, he shoved me
forward over the bench.  "All fours," he commanded.

Getting the idea, I fell forward over the bench so my stomach was pressed
against the wood, with my hands and feet planted firmly on the ground.
Blood rushed to my head as I looked under the bench to the space between my
feet.  Ryan kicked my legs further apart with his shoes, further exposing
the vulnerability of my bare ass.

"Uh, what are you doing?"  Brent questioned, his voice rising an octave.

"What does it look like?  Getting my slave ready for his workout."

I gulped, as I listened to the sound of rustling in the bag next to me on
the bench, and then the pop of a bottle cap.  A few moments later I felt a
cool, wet pressure against my exposed asshole.  Wincing, I gasped slightly
as whatever it was pushed unceremoniously pass my sphincter and into my
rectum.

"Relax, boy," Ryan prompted.  "Just a small plug, nice and flexible."

I exhaled slowly as I felt my sphincter clasp around the base of the plug.
Leaving me over the bench, I heard more rustling in the bag and a well-worn
jockstrap fell to the ground between my feet, followed quickly by a pair of
navy blue mesh shorts and a white tank-top t-shirt.

"Up," Ryan commanded, helping me to my feet as I pushed myself up from the
floor.  "Turn around, legs spread."

I turned to face him, moving my hands behind my back on instinct as he
squatted between my spread legs.  He looped a soft white cord around the
base of my cock and balls cinching it securely, not too tight, but I felt
it's presence as he let the string dangle between my legs.

"Jock first."  He kicked the small pile of clothes closer to my feet, and I
quickly bent down to retrieve the jock from the pile, fumbling with the
straps and waist band until I could get my feet through and worked the band
up around my waist, grateful for the opportunity to hide my exposed cock in
the white pouch.  When the jock was secured, Ryan grabbed my shoulders and
turned me around.  Reaching between my legs from behind, he fished his
fingers in the pouch of the jock feeling for the string and pulled it taught
back between my legs and up my ass crack.  I felt him tie it to the back of
my waist band, presumably as a means to secure the plug in my ass.  As Ryan
worked behind me, I couldn't help but glance abashedly up at Brent who was
watching with intense fascination in his eyes.  "Alright, get dressed," Ryan
prompted with a light shove to my lower back.

"Yes, Sir." I scrambled to pick up the mesh shorts which I recognized as old
JV practice shorts from our high school soccer days, the team mascot on the
thigh nearly faded completely from too many times through the wash.  I
wasn't sure if the pair had originally belonged to Ryan or myself, but
either way, we had both grown a few inches since JV and they were a snug
fit, hanging only to just below my mid-thigh.  I didn't even care.  I was
just grateful to be clothed somewhat normally.  Scooping up the small
wifebeater, I slipped it over my head and adjusted the slightly ribbed
fabric at my waistline.  It clung to my muscles like a second skin, but
again, I didn't care.  My sneakers landed on the ground with a thud behind
me.  I turned to scoop them up and instinctively lowered my ass to the bench
to put them on, wincing as the plug pushed further into my hole.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Ryan exclaimed angrily, shoving
me with enough force to send me flying off the side of the bench to the
floor with a thud.  In seconds, he had his fingers laced in my hair, pulling
me up to a sprawled kneel.  "Since when did I give you permission to sit
your slave ass down on a piece of furniture?  Especially on a bench meant
for superior men, and especially when your Master is standing?!"

I knew I fucked up.  "I...I'm sorry, Sir!"

"You will be sorry," he growled.  "You're embarrassing me, slave, in front
of my friend.  And, you're embarrassing yourself."

"Whoa, it's not a big deal," Brent interjected suddenly.

"Back off," Ryan snapped.  "You wanted to know how it works?  This is how it
works?  He fucks up, I make sure he fucking knows it."

"Okay, okay. I get it. Chill," Brent responded calmly.

Ryan looked down at me, giving my head a firm shake with the grasp on my
hair and then let me go.  "Put your shoes on," he ordered quietly, standing
up to pack up the gym bag before slamming it into another open locker.

I sat back on the ground and hurriedly pulled the shoes on.  Without being
told, I scrambled back up to my knees and waited respectfully.

"Let's go," Ryan commanded, solemnly.

Without a word, the three of us made our way out of the locker room and back
onto the gym floor.  I tried to walk as normally as possible, despite the
cylinder of rubber stuffed in my ass.  Brent and I followed as Ryan led the
way over to the treadmills in the cardio section of the gym.  The two girls
I noticed earlier paused in their conversation to watch the three of us as
we passed by the stationary bikes.  I couldn't help but glance up as the
brunette girl flashed a shy smile before turning back to the digital display
on her bike.

"Warm up?  10 minutes?"  Brent asked, hopping up onto one of the treadmills,
knowing their typical routine.

"Sure," Ryan agreed, stepping up onto the one next to him.  I started to
step up to the third, but Ryan shook his head as he began to program his own
machine.  "Not so fast."  Keeping his voice down, he nodded towards the
middle of the floor.  "Head to the center of the floor.  Full body stretch,
50 push ups, 25 jumping jacks, 50 more push ups.  Face this direction with
your eyes on the wall.  Those lovely ladies want a show?  How 'bout you give
them one."  He hit start on his machine and began walking into a jog as the
conveyor whirred to life.  "Go!"

I glanced over to Brent who shook his head slightly in slight awe of the
situation, and began to pace Ryan in his jog.  Nodding respectfully, I took
a breath and casually made my way to the center of the gym floor where there
was a large open area of rubber matting for the purposes of stretching and
calisthenics.  Taking a breath, I got to work stretching properly, starting
with my arms and shoulders.  I found it mildly humorous that Ryan had taken
great pains to drill me previously on the importance and methodology of
stretching before and after a workout, but he rarely did so himself.
Staring at the wall actually made it easier.  Though, I swore I could feel
the eyes of both girls boring into me from one side of the room, while Ryan
watched from in front of me.  I doubted Brent would care one way or the
other.

A small grunt escaped my lips in surprise as I dropped down to my ass,
forgetting momentarily about the plug.  My cheeks reddened and I hoped the
girls didn't notice anything unusual as I adjusted my weight and continued
to stretch.  Moments later, I adjusted myself on the ground into a plank
position, and then began to bang out my 50 push ups.  It had become almost
an easy warm up thanks to my extended hours in the gym lately, and it wasn't
until the upper 30s and 40s in the set that I began to feel it.

Hopping up to my feet, I glanced at Ryan and Brent as they jogged steadily
side by side, their sneakers pounding the treadmill in rhythm.  Ryan gave me
a subtle nod as if to urge me into my jumping jacks.

Taking the cue, I began to jump, remembering to fully extend my arms over my
head and leap wide in perfect form to maximize each of the jumping jacks.
What I didn't anticipate was the massive discomfort the plug in my ass would
cause, and I nearly stumbled forward on my second jump.  To make matters
worse, the string holding the plug in place, tugged viciously at my balls
and rubbed roughly in the crack of my ass.  Taking a deep breath through my
nose, I did my best to maintain my composure, gritting my teeth a bit as I
struggled through the jumping jacks, hoping to appear as normal as
possible.  I swore the girls were giggling at me, as I could just make their
figures out in my periphery.  After all, what kind of college guy still did
jumping jacks?

It was almost a relief to drop back down into my second set of 50 push ups
after the ordeal of the jumping jacks.  At least by keeping good form on the
push ups I was able to minimize the discomfort in my ass and focus on my
reps.  By the 50th push up, I had definitely worked up the start of a
sweat.  I pushed myself up and rose to my feet, a bit uncertain about what
to do next.  Fortunately, Ryan and Brent were just slowing down their
machines, and they hopped off.

Without being told specifically, I followed them over to the weight section
of the room.  The other guy I had noticed earlier was still busy
circuit-training in his own world while we stopped over by the free weights.

"Alright boys, let's do this," Ryan stated with a rare twinge of enthusiasm.
It struck me that he equated both Brent and I as 'boys', though Brent didn't
seem to notice as he fiddled with the bar on the bench press.  "We'll keep
it simple.  I'll go, Brent will go.  The boy will spot, and then will be
required to perform at least one more full rep than either of us max out
on.  Got it?"

"Uhh, sure," Brent shrugged.  "Just want to knock this out so we can get our
drink on tonight."

I nodded that I understood, and Ryan gestured to the plates of free weights
on the nearby rack.  Taking the hint, I began to load up the bar on either
side until Ryan was satisfied he could bench the weight.  He slid onto the
padded bench, I took hold of the bar and helped him lower it to his chest,
and he was off and running.

Almost surprisingly, the workout from that point on was rather uneventful.
To the others in the gym, we probably just looked like three guys getting
pumped up for the weekend.  Almost an hour later, I was just finishing up a
set of squats holding heavy dumbbells over my shoulders, hoping they would
be the last.

"And, 11," Brent counted aloud, as I rose up from the last squat.  He and
Ryan had each done 10 on the final set.  "Nice work, dude," he complimented
with a friendly pat to my lower back, the tank top damp with sweat.

"Put the weights away," Ryan commanded.

I nodded and plodded over to the weight rack where I had retrieved the
dumbbells.  Turning back to Ryan and Brent I nearly leaped out of my skin
coming face to face with the brunette girl from the treadmill.

"Oh, whoa, sorry," she giggled.  "My bad.  Didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh...oh, no.  It's cool," I managed with a shrug, glancing over her
shoulder at Ryan and Brent who took immediate notice of the situation
unfolding.

"Nice workout."  She smiled, and held out her hand without waiting for a
reply.  "I'm Vanessa, and my friend is Laura."  Vanessa nodded over her left
shoulder as her blond friend joined her.

"Uh, Drew," I responded with a slight nod.  Shaking Vanessa's hand, and then
Laura's.  "Nice to meet you."

By this point, Ryan made his way to my side, Brent trailing him slightly.

"So I, well we," Vanessa giggled, "were wondering if you had heard about
the big party at the Gamma house tonight?  Wanted to officially invite you,
if you aren't already going?"

"And, of course, your friends can come too," Laura chimed in with a sweet
smile, glancing to Ryan and Brent.

"Oh, this is..." I began.

"Ryan," he interjected, extending his hand in front of me to take Laura's,
and then Vanessa's. "And, that's Brent."

Brent gave them a polite smile and a nod from behind Ryan, while I held my
breath, unsure which direction Ryan was planning on steering the
conversation.  It was almost a relief, however, to have him step in and save
me from having to craft some sort of excuse on the spot as to why I wouldn't
be able to make the hottest sorority party on campus.

"Nice to meet you guys."  Vanessa smiled sweetly and then turned back to
me.  "So...will we see you there?"

"Hell yeah. Count us in," Ryan stated, putting his arm around my shoulder
like we were best friends.  I felt like he had punched me in the stomach
instead.

"Okay, well, great," she responded, masking a slightly confused look.  "I
guess we'll see you all tonight then."

"Sure, will."  Ryan confirmed, giving me a firm pat on my back.  "Good
running into you, ladies."

"Later, boys," Laura almost sang, as the two girls turned to make their way
towards the locker room.

"Let's hit the showers," Ryan commanded, when the girls were out of earshot.

"Gamma party?" Brent asked with a raised eyebrow as we walked back to the
locker room.  "I mean I figured we were already going, but what about...I
mean, what was that?"

"What?  The girls clearly wanted our boy Drew here at their party, and I'm
not about to let him disappoint them."  Ryan chuckled slightly.  "Besides,
he's owed the college experience.  It's in his contract, so might as well
give him the real deal."

"Well, a Gamma party would definitely be that," Brent agreed pushing into
the locker room.

The room was still blessedly empty.  We made our way to our back corner of
lockers.

"Strip. Everything but your socks," Ryan commanded, as he began to work on
his combination lock.

I hastily shed my shoes, pulled the flimsy sweat-soaked t-shirt over my
head, and dropped the shorts, leaving the jock.  Without missing a beat,
Ryan grabbed me and shoved me chest first against a locker, working quickly
to untie the string that was tied to the back of my waistband, securing the
plug.  When he was done, I pulled the jock down until the only things left
were my damp socks, string around my cock and balls, the wretched plug up my
ass, and of course, my dog tags.

In a surprising move, Ryan pulled my wrists roughly behind my back, and
bound them together with the damp tank top.  I guessed it was meant to
be more symbolic than inescapable.  "On your knees," he commanded, his tone
shifting to full master mode.  "Face me."

I dropped down to face him, uncertain of what to expect, the constant fear
of someone walking into the locker room weighed heavily on my shoulders.
Brent seemed equally nervous, pacing slightly as he pretended to split his
focus between the contents of his locker and the scene beside him.

"Thirsty, slave?"  Ryan asked?

"Yes, Sir," I nodded.  It was the truth.  I'd been allowed only two water
fountain breaks during the workout, while Ryan and Brent sipped from
expensive bottled water Ryan had provided.

"Fair enough," he agreed, pulling another bottle of water from his locker.
"Head back, open wide."

I obeyed, humiliated at the way I must have looked there on the floor of the
locker room, naked and bound, practically begging for water.  I heard Ryan
break the seal of the bottle cap as I waited anxiously for the water to be
poured in my mouth.  Instead, I heard a glug as Ryan took a swig, followed
by the alarming sounds of a swish and a gargle.  He stepped over me
menacingly, his cheeks bulging slightly, and then leaned down until our
noses were practically touching.  I winced as inevitably, Ryan puckered his
lips and let a generous gulp of water warmed with his saliva cascade into my
gaping mouth.  The water fell onto the back of my throat, forcing me to
cough and sputter, some of it splashing over the sides of my lips and chin.

"Don't fucking spill a drop!" Ryan demanded.  "Now, swallow."  I did.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, dude," Brent interjected.

"Shut up," Ryan warned, turning his attention back to me.  "Open..."

He deposited two more large mouthfuls of water into my waiting mouth, and as
disgusting as he made it for me, my body was happy for the nourishment.
After screwing the bottle cap back on, he bent down slightly and peeled his
own sweaty gym socks off his feet, before dangling them over my face.
Roughly, Ryan wiped the escaped droplets of water from my chin and neck
before stuffing both socks into my gaping mouth.  Before I could even
pretend to protest, he was busy fitting the jock strap over my
face, covering my eyes and nose with the rank white fabric.  The straps were
secured somehow behind my head, and I was left sufficiently gagged and
blindfolded with a combination of our sweaty clothes.

"Up," Ryan commanded, helping my to my feet.  I stood awkwardly still for a
moment, trying not to imagine what I looked like, and then Ryan was pushing
me forward.  "Whup, watch your step," he muttered, as I felt a hand guide my
ankle up a few inches and then forward until one foot was resting on cool,
smooth metal, and then the other.  He pushed down slightly on my head, then
my shoulders and pushed me further forward.  I was being shoved into a
locker.  When his hands left me, I quickly tested the confined dark space,
just large enough to hold me, as I could feel metal pressing against the top
of my head, right shoulder, left elbow.  Smooth, blunt metal hooks were
digging uncomfortably into my back and chest, depending on which direction I
tried to lean.

"Whoa, c'mon man, is that really necessary?" Brent asked.

"Would you rather I left him on the bench while we shower?" Ryan countered,
as he slammed the door shut.  I winced as the slam clanged with a loud echo
all around me.  As surprised as I was by the locker, the thought of being
left out in the open as I currently was had not even crossed my mind, and
Ryan was right.

"Well, no..." Brent agreed from the other side of the locker door as Ryan
snapped the combination lock into place. "And, I take it, he's not going to
shower?"

"Nope.  He showered this morning, so no need to waste more water on him,"
Ryan explained through the door.  "Sweat dries."

"Whatever," Brent muttered.  "So, this party, really happening?"

Their voices faded from muffled to nonexistent as I presumed they made their
way to the showers.  I took the opportunity to make myself as comfortable as
I possibly could.  The height and width of the locker forced me to maintain
a partial squat at my knees while keeping my head bowed forward, adding
pressure to the back of my neck.  To make matters worse, almost every
movement I attempted resulted in a clang of metal as I banged against the
flimsy walls and ceiling.  Finding it best not to move at all, I did my best
to focus on my breathing, in and out through my nose, each breath drawing
the musty, dank scent of the jock into my lungs.

The minutes passed slowly as my ears strained in for the hint of any sound
outside the locker.  I figured that Ryan and Brent would shower quickly, but
knowing Ryan, he might easily take his time on purpose.

I froze suddenly at the sound of footsteps and the loud thud of a gym bag
against the bench somewhere outside my locker.  Inhaling quickly, I strained
to listen, hoping for the sound of Ryan or Brent's voice.  There was a clang
of metal, and my temporary cage rattled around me.  I prayed it was Brent a
few lockers down.  The sound of zippers followed, and the faint sound of
clothes and shoes being tossed about.  Anxiously, I waited for the lock
outside my door to be opened, but Ryan was taking his sweet time.  Stealing
another quick breath as quietly as I could, I tensed at the sound of a
ringing cell phone.

"Hello?" a male voice echoed lightly through the open locker into mine
belonging to neither Ryan or Brent.  My stomach twisted into a knot as my
current worst fear was realized.  "Oh, hey, what's up?"  The guy continued.
"Yeah, I just got to the gym...wait, what?"  He continued, between pauses.
"Oh shit, what time is it? Fuck! Ok, fuck, fuck.  Give me ten minutes and
I'll be right there."

I exhaled a silent sigh of relief, as I heard more sounds of zippers and the
rustle of clothing being stuffed into a bag.

"Fuck!" the guy exclaimed aloud to the empty locker room and slammed his
locker door shut with aggressive force before stomping out of earshot.  I
winced tightly as the metal clang rattled inside my head, nearly piercing my
ear drums.

Moments later, the unmistakable sound of Ryan and Brent's chatter appeared
outside the locker door.  I couldn't make out much of their idle chat, as
their backs must have been to me as they changed, but I could hear the now
familiar rustle of clothing and gym bags, in addition to another locker
opening and closing.

BANG!  Another locker door slammed shut and rang in my eardrums.

"Oh, shit," Brent remarked.  "I completely forgot about..."

"It's okay," Ryan assured him, now just outside my door.  BANG! BANG! BANG!
He banged his fist against the door three times for effect.  "It's good for
him."

"Would you just let him out already?"

"Fuck, you're no fun," Ryan remarked with a sigh.  Fortunately, he set to
work on the combination lock.  The door creaked open, and I felt a strong
hand on my left arm. "Out."

With Ryan's help, I stepped carefully out of the locker until I felt the
cool cement of the locker room floor under my toes, grateful to extend
upright again.  Spinning me around briskly, I was shoved against another
locker, and felt the t-shirt loosen around my wrists.  The jock was pulled
off of my head in one swift movement.  As I was turned back around, my eyes
adjusted in the fluorescent light of the room.  Ryan and Brent were fully
dressed in their street clothes, their hair lightly damp, smelling of fresh
soap and musky deodorant.  On the contrary, I could feel that my hair was
still matted with sweat and couldn't imagine that I smelled very fresh.

"Take out the socks and get dressed," Ryan ordered, dumping my street
clothes on the floor in front of me.

Gratefully, I fished the socks out of my mouth, stretching my aching jaw as
soon as they cleared my teeth.  They were damp with saliva.  The string
still dangled from my balls and the plug was still lodged firmly in my ass,
but I knew better than to ask for their removal as I pulled my worn jeans up
to my waist.  Quickly, I slipped the t-shirt back over my head, and then
pulled on the hoodie.  Lastly, I remembered my lesson from earlier, and sat
down on the floor to tie my shoes back on my feet.

"Good, now let's get the fuck out of here."  Ryan picked up his gym bag, and
threw it down at me where it landed with a thud between my stomach and
crotch.  My backpack landed just next to my feet.  "We have to get ready for
the party tonight."

He grinned almost wickedly before turning his back on me to lead us out of
the locker room.

***

CHAPTER 16 - THE COLLEGE EXPERIENCE

I shivered from where I was lying, belly down in the trunk of Ryan's jeep.
It wasn't just the cool winter wind blowing outside the dormant vehicle
parked in the driveway outside the guest house, but my stomach knotted with
nervous anticipation of the sorority party Ryan would eventually be taking
me too.  After we left the gym, we returned home to get ready, only Ryan
decided that I was ready to go as I was.  Under ordinary circumstances, I
would have disagreed having just worked out and denied a shower, let alone
soap and deodorant.  But, as I knew well by now, my circumstances were
anything but ordinary, and I'd just have to hope I didn't reek too much,
should I even be allowed to come in contact with others at the party.

When we had arrived back at the house, Ryan decided my service wasn't needed
inside, so he chose to have me wait in the trunk of his jeep.  I had been
ordered onto my stomach, and using a spare set of basic handcuffs and leg
irons he kept in the trunk for such occasions, my wrists were cuffed behind
me, and the leg irons looped over the chain between my cuffs and locked
around my ankles, effectively hogtying me.  For added effect, Ryan fished my
used jock strap out of the gym bag and stuffed it, pouch first, into my
mouth, as if I had planned to scream out for help.  I wasn't sure how long
he had been gone, but the floor of the trunk became increasingly
uncomfortable.  It was cramped, and the rubber mat under me was ridged and
quite hard.  I shifted several times to try and make myself more
comfortable, but achieved no real success.

Finally, after what could have easily been three hours, a loud beep of the
car alarm turning off rang in my ears while the overhead lights flooded the
dark car from above.  Moments later, the trunk door flew open and a cold
rush of the winter night rushed into the car.  Without much of a word, Ryan
carefully unlocked the irons from my ankles and the handcuffs from my
wrists.

"Out, slave," he commanded, grabbing my left arm and helping me shakily out
of the trunk and down to the driveway.  "Easy, boy," he coaxed, as my legs
were a bit like jelly, waiting for the blood to flow properly again to all
four of my limbs. When I had regained my footing, he reached up and pulled
the jock gag out of my mouth, tossing it into the trunk.  "What do you say,
boy?"

"Thank you, Sir," I managed, lowering my eyes respectfully.

"How do I look?" Ryan asked, his voice hinting at actual concern.

I looked him over quickly in the dim light provided by the flood lights hung
near the driveway and the interior lights of the jeep.  He was dressed in
his typical going-out attire, dark jeans, a crisp white button down shirt
with thin navy stripes, new fashionable sneakers and freshly styled hair.
"You look good, Sir," I said, with sincerity.

"And?"

"And...any girl would be lucky to have you, Sir," I added, thinking quickly.

"Thanks, boy."  He patted me lightly on my left cheek.  "Get in."

Moments later, we were off and driving back down towards campus.  I was in
the passenger seat as usual with my hands tucked behind my back, focusing my
gaze down towards my knees while Ryan drove.

Ryan turned the radio off.  "In terms of the party, slave..."

"Yes, Sir?"  I perked up, both anticipating and dreading what he might have
in mind for me.

"Standard campus rules will apply.  Except, I don't want you following me
around like some clingy lost puppy.  Mix, mingle, meet some people, I don't
care who.  Appear casual, but maintain respect for your betters.  If I need
you, you'll know," Ryan continued.

"Yes, Sir."

"You're allowed nothing but water.  No pretzels, no chips, no fucking carrot
sticks, and you sure as hell aren't allowed a single sip of beer or anything
else.  Got it?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And one last reminder for you, slave," he added, emphasizing my title, "You
aren't allowed sexual contact of any kind without explicit permission."

"Yes, Sir."

"Not that you would risk some nice girl discovering that plug up your ass or
that string around your balls, would you?"  Ryan taunted.

"No, Sir," I agreed, as if I could forget.

 "Good, boy."  He half-smiled in the dim glow of the dashboard lights and
cranked up the music.

Fifteen minutes later, we were parked on a dark tree-lined side street a few
minutes outside of campus in the first open space Ryan could find.  I
trailed slightly behind Ryan as we made our way several blocks down the
sidewalk along a picturesque row of stately looking sorority and fraternity
houses.  Most seemed all but deserted, save the occasional flicker of blue
television light in an otherwise dark window, or the faint rumble of heave
bass.  As we rounded the corner, it was clear where the party was that
night.

Even from the outside, the Vanessa and Laura's sorority house was pulsing
with energy.  I swallowed nervous as Ryan pushed through the heavy front
door.  We were both practically shoved forward into the foyer by a nervous
looking sorority pledge who quickly shut the door back behind us.

"Hey guys, thanks for coming.  Bar's in the back room to the left.  Have
fun," she rattled off anxiously, turning immediately back towards the small
window in the front door to await the next guests.

I followed Ryan through an open set of french doors into a main room packed
with students, most appearing to have a healthy head start on beer
consumption.  Frat guys were already grinding on sloppily drunk sorority
girls along to loud music, beer sloshing from red plastic cups.

"Grey!" a deep male voice penetrated the loud music suddenly.  "Grey!  Get
over here!"

We both looked towards the back of the room towards one of Ryan's fraternity
brothers, gesturing for Ryan to join them.

"This is where you get lost," Ryan muttered over his left shoulder, just
loud enough for me to hear.  Without looking back, he made his way through
the crowd to greet his friends with a series of high fives and hand shakes.

I watched them disappear into the swell of the crowd, and looked around
awkwardly at the sea of strangers that surrounded me.  All of their faces
blended together in the dim light.  Smirking frat boys squared off
against cocky jocks and casually cool hipster types as they clamored for the
attention of scantily clad sorority sisters dancing in tight huddles.

I winced as a high heel inadvertently pressed through the canvas of my
sneaker and onto the top of my foot.  The girl that stepped on me didn't
even seem to notice, as she continued to wriggle in a seductive dance,
mouthing the words to a popular song of the moment.

Beer splashed out of a cup suddenly over my right shoulder, just enough to
dampen my cheek and right shoulder.

"Sorry, dude," some frat guy muttered as he brushed passed me without
stopping to even notice how much he had spilled.

I wiped at the damp fabric on my shoulder as I retreated back from the
crowd, until I was literally against the wall helpless but to watch the
action.  I couldn't leave, I couldn't drink, and I didn't even feel capable
of blending in.  Ryan had successively devised a new kind of torture for me,
maybe the worst yet, in which I was forced to bear witness to the college
experience I had surrendered and unable to do anything about it.

In truth, I may have looked like half of the guys enjoying themselves around
me, but I had nothing in common with any of them any longer.  I wasn't in a
frat, couldn't play sports, barely understood the classes I was taking, and
had been completely removed from the social scene.  Ryan had become my
entire world.  Slavery had become my entire world.  I looked through the
crowd, almost desperately for a glimpse of Ryan.  At the moment, I would
have done anything, any amount of push ups or punishments he could throw at
me, to be back in the safety of my little cell.  He was no where to be seen.

"Hey man, how ya holding up?" a voice suddenly broke through my silent rant
of self pity near my left ear, a firm but friendly hand clamping down my
shoulder.  I turned to face Brent, who had somehow materialized from the
crowd.

"Oh, hey," I muttered, with a slight shrug.  "You know..."

"Yeah?  I know."  He chuckled slightly, "Well, actually I guess I don't
really know."

"Right, yeah..." I nodded, glancing away awkwardly

After an awkward pause, we both seemed to realize that it was the first
conversation I'd had with Brent, or anyone outside of Ryan's circle, since
being outed as a slave without Ryan over my shoulder.

"But, you're really okay, right?" Brent pressed, some genuine concern in his
voice.

"I'm fine," I snapped, a little more sharply then I intended.

"I mean, I'm just trying to get my head around all of this, you know?"

"Sorry, I know," I agreed with a slight nod, glancing around cautiously at
the nearby crowd of swelling coeds.  "It's just not something I think can
really be explained, you know?  Look, can we talk about something else?"

"Sure, sure," Brent nodded in agreement, taking a long sip of his beer.
"How's class?"

"Hard," I said flatly. "Really hard."

"Yeah, well, I guess that's college for you?"  He went to take another sip
of beer and then paused.  "Oh sorry dude, where's your beer?  Want some?"
He asked, offering the cup to me.

I shook my head. "No, thanks. Can't."

"Dude, it's a sorority party.  They're not exactly checking IDs at the
keg."

"I mean, I can't," I lowered my voice. "I'm not allowed..."

"Ah... got it. Wow, okay." Brent shook his head in muted disbelief.  "I
mean, what's the point of bringing you here then?  The whole point is to
drink beer and get some ass.  I mean, I get it, but you have to at least
relax a little sometimes?  Right?"

I shrugged slightly, not sure that I really knew the answer to that
question.

"Where is he, anyway?  Ryan?'  Brent asked suddenly, looking around.

"I haven't seen him since we walked in."  I also looked around, stretching
my neck to see if I could find him.

"Knowing him, he's probably rounding third base already with some slut."
Brent smirked to himself, taking another swig.   He licked a remainder of
foam off of his top lip and turned to me suddenly. "Hey, what happens if I
tell you to drink a beer?"

I was taken aback, cocking my head slightly to look at him.  "I...I would
have to do it."  I bowed my head slightly, diverting my eyes.

"Really?  Why?" he asked, pressing the issue.

"Because, I'm, you know, and you're...you know, not," I explained quickly,
stumbling nervously over the words.

"So, then, I override Ryan because I'm here and he's not?"

"Yes, well no," I struggled to explain, "I mean, I would still get in
trouble."

"How would he know?" Brent raised an eyebrow, clearly fascinated by all of
it.

"He just would.  I'd have to tell him if he asked, and I know he will."  I
shrugged.  It was just the way it was.

His eyes flashed mischievously and one side of his lip curled into a cocky
smile.  "I wanna see you do it.  Go on."  He nodded over his should toward
the keg.  "Grab a beer, bring it back and chug it."

I felt like he had just punched me in the stomach.  Was it all just an act?
A test?  Or was he just as dominant deep down as Ryan.

"Oh...Okay," I agreed quietly, seeing no other choice and started past him
towards the keg, a knot of despair already growing in my stomach knowing
what Ryan would do to me when he found out, or rather, not knowing.

Suddenly, I felt the fabric of my sweatshirt bunch around my neck and
stopped short.  Brent had caught hold of my hood and was pulling me back.

"Whoa, whoa, fuck," he chuckled.  "I wouldn't actually make you do something
just to get you in trouble.  What kind of bastard do you think I am?"

"Oh," I managed, a mix of relief and annoyance in my voice at the little
prank.

"Damn, he really does have you by the balls, doesn't he?"  Brent shook his
head, still in disbelief even after what he had already witnessed
first-hand.  He downed the rest of his beer.  "Well, I'm empty.  Catch ya
later.  I'd say have fun, but not really sure how that's possible?"

He gave me a reassuring pat on the back, and an odd look of mixed concern
and pity, before turning to push through the crowd towards the keg.  I
exhaled slowly suddenly aware that I was back to being a lone wallflower.
The chat with Brent had actually come as a welcome diversion, despite being
awkward, I was beginning to think of him as my only real ally anymore.  He
was the only one outside of the Greys' little circle that knew the full
story and had even tried to stand up to Ryan on my behalf, not that he had
succeeded, but still.

I checked my phone.  No messages from Ryan.  Growing bored of where I was
and feeling increasingly awkward, I figured I would explore the house a bit
to at least appear like I was looking for someone.  It wasn't long before I
turned my self-guided tour into a game.  I kept my head down and made my way
slowly through the rooms, as if I was looking for someone.  I'd spend a few
minutes in one area and then move to the next, continuously checking my
phone.

After about an hour, I'd noticed that several people had started to take the
party upstairs, despite the frazzled warnings of the unfortunate
sorority sisters designated to remain sober to stay downstairs.  I made my
way up a back staircase that led from the kitchen, pressing my back against
a wall to make way for a couple engaged in a sloppy makeout session as they
stumbled down the stairs.  It was odd that I hadn't heard anything from Ryan
or run into him even, or then again, maybe it wasn't.  I'm sure he was off
having a great time, possibly even avoiding me on purpose.

"So, there you are!"

Before I even had a chance to recognize her, Vanessa, the girl from the gym
who had invited us to the party, was tugging at my sleeves and pulling my up
the last of the steps to the upstairs hallway.

"Girls, this is Dan!" she exclaimed, in a drunken excitement, slurring her
words noticeably. "Dan from the gym!"

"Drew."  I corrected her quietly, smiling politely at her friends.

"That's what I said!"  She giggled, punching me lightly in the arm. "Where
have you been hiding?  Having fun?"

"Sure." I shrugged.  "You?"

She stumbled slightly, catching herself against me, forcing me against the
wall with a light thud.  "Whoopsie," she giggled, steadying herself.  "I'm
having fun, but I could be having more fun."

I glanced over her shoulder as her friends made their exit away from us with
sly smiles. Vanessa played lightly with the strings of my hoodie, and then
ran her hands over my chest without an invitation.

"Fuck, you're hot," she whispered seductively, practically breathing alcohol
as she lifted her face up to mine.

Without warning, she attacked my mouth with hers, locking her lips against
mine and shoving her tongue expertly into my mouth.

"Mmm....mmm!"  I tried to protest in surprise, hesitating to use much force
in pushing her away, but she remained aggressive in her pursuit.  For a long
moment, having no choice really, I let myself go and got into the kiss,
nearly enjoying it.

Just as suddenly, she pulled away.  "Let's take this down the hall. My
room."

Grabbing my arm, she began to pull me after her down the hall way as I began
to fumble out a futile protest. "Wait...I mean shouldn't we?  It's a
little..can't we just..."

We both stopped short as a small scene began to erupt at the other end of
the hallway over the hum of loud music from downstairs.

"Open up!  I know you're in there!" a guy was shouting to a closed door as
he pounded his fists against the thick wood.  "Open the fucking door!"

My eyes widened in surprise as I suddenly recognized both the voice and the
profile of the distraught guy.  It was Sean.

"Hey, what the fuck is going on here?" Vanessa tried to demand.

I gently stopped her, and pushed ahead through the small crowd that was
forming in the hall.  "Sean?  Everything okay?"

He turned, flushed with rage. "Not now, Drew."  He continued to bang on the
door.  "They're in there.  Together.  I fucking know it!"

"Who?  Who's in there?" I asked quietly, trying to calm him down.

"Oh, like you fucking care?  Where the hell have you been the last 2
months?" he spat, turning back to the door.  "OPEN UP!"

Brent suddenly emerged on the other side of the crowd.  We exchanged looks
and I got the sense immediately that he was somehow clued into what was
going on inside the room.

Sean raised his fists to beat on the door again just as it swung open
without warning.  My stomach flipped as Kara, of all people, appeared in the
doorway.

"Fuck, Sean, chill," she cooed, making the mistake of adjusting the straps
of her tight black dress.  She glanced over, seeing me next to Sean, and her
lips curled into a knowing smile. "I just needed to lie down a minute.  This
awful headache."

"Bull shit!  Where is he?"  Sean demanded, pushing past her into the room.

Brent and I looked at each other and rushed in after them.  My mind was
spinning as I tried to make sense of everything.  It didn't seem possible,
but it was the only thing that made sense at the moment.  Kara was the girl
that Sean had told me he had started dating?  And what did Brent have
to do with any of it?

"Sean, baby, listen. It's not what it looks like," Kara explained rapidly.

We all turned our attention to the guy buttoning his shirt casually next to
the bed. It was Ryan.

"Or, it's exactly what it looks like?" Ryan offered with an arrogant shrug.

"Son of a bitch!" Sean spat, rushing him.

In a blur Ryan and Sean clashed into a sloppy fist fight.  Brent rushed in
first, grabbing at Sean's swinging arms to hold him back.  I started forward
and then froze in uncertainty, not sure that I was really in a position to
restrain Ryan in any way.  There was a lot of grunting as Brent struggled to
restrain Sean, who kept trying to swing at Ryan.

"Ughn!" Brent grunted loudly, doubling over as Sean's elbow connected with
his stomach, freeing Sean to rush Ryan.

At that moment, some sort of primal instinct took over, and I rushed forward
in front of Ryan just in time to throw a right cross into Sean's face.

He grabbed his jaw and looked up at me like I had just killed his dog.
"Fuck you, Drew!  So that's how it is now?!" he yelled, escalating the
scene.  "Guess I should have known."

"Baby..." Kara tried to step in, touching Sean on the arm but he shook her
off.

"No, fuck you.  Fuck him, fuck all of you.  Especially you," he spat in my
direction.  "I thought you were my friend?  I'm outta here."  He turned and
shouldered his way past Brent on his way out of the room.

Kara looked around quickly at the scene and then leaned into Ryan until she
was just within earshot.  "He's going to pay for that," she snapped before
running out the door after Sean.

Ryan looked at me for a long moment, and then went back to buttoning his
shirt.  As was often the case since our relationship had changed, it was
difficult to read his emotion.

Before I could process what had just happened any further, Vanessa shoved
her way through the crowd outside the door quickly surveying the state of
the bedroom, specifically the rumpled linens half-ripped off of the
bed, overturned red cups scattered on the floor, and a condom wrapper left
obviously nearby. "What the fuck is going on in here?" she screeched.  "Get
out!!"  Losing her cool completely, she first shoved Brent out the door, and
then grabbed my arm.  "You too.  All of you. GET OUT!"

"Come on, let's go," Ryan commanded calmly, as if it was his idea, and put
his hand around my back, pushing me out the door before him.

Minutes later all three of us were in Ryan's jeep.  I was behind the wheel
since both of them were still fairly drunk, despite the sobering exit from
the party.

"What the fuck was that about?" Brent demanded suddenly from the back seat,
breaking the silence.  "Fucking another guy's girl?  I recognized that kid.
Drew's friend.  So, what?  You've already run out of things to do to Drew
and now you're going after his friends too?"

"She was all over me, dude," Ryan retorted.  "Took me upstairs and
everything.  How was I supposed to know she had some douchebag waiting for
her?"  He paused, glancing over to me.  "That girl is a wild one."

"Whatever you say, bro," Brent sighed.  I could see him shaking his head in
the rear view mirror.  "Just drop me off at the house."

We rode in silence for another block until we were parked outside of Ryan
and Brent's frat house.  Without much of a goodbye, Brent hopped out of the
jeep and jogged up to the house.

"Drive," Ryan commanded.  I put the jeep back into gear and we continued
through the dimly lit neighborhood.  "You did good tonight."

"Thank you, Sir," I said quietly, swallowing as the image of Sean's face
after I punched him came back into my head.

"I'm sure it wasn't easy?  To hit him."

"No, Sir."  I focused on the road ahead.

"Do you think you should be rewarded?" Ryan asked, turning to look at me.

I hesitated, wanting the answer to be yes, but knowing better.  "No, Sir."

"Of course not.  You defended your master.  Anything else would have been a
painful mistake for you..."

"Yes, Sir." If that hadn't been the case, I would have never stepped in.

"Pull over there," he ordered, pointing to a shadowy curb at the end of the
block we were on.  I slowed the jeep down and pulled it against the curb,
putting it into park.  He reached over and turned off the ignition.  "The
only problem is...your friend's little scene left me with some unfinished
business tonight."  Reaching down to his crotch in the darkness of the car,
I heard him fiddle with his belt buckle and then the unmistakable sound of a
zipper.  "And, you're going to finish me off."

"Yes, Sir," I reluctantly agreed, unbuckling my seat belt.

He grabbed the back of my head as I leaned down toward his crotch.  His cock
had already sprung to life as if it had been freed from captivity.  Closing
my eyes, I wrapped my lips around the tip, already wet with precum, and
bobbed down on it until I was practically gagging.

"Good boy, now nice and slow," he whispered with a satisfied groan.  "Looks
like you are getting a reward after all."

***
To be continued. Comments and Feedback are encouraged: matt10019@gmail.com