Date: Mon, 27 Aug 2012 03:20:39 -0400
From: Matt W <matt10019@gmail.com>
Subject: Bred Slave - Part 16

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 21 - SPRING BREAK

DING DONG! DING DONG!

I trotted down the stairs of the guest house, well Ryan's house where I
lived once again, as the door chimed incessantly.  Naked and collared as I
was, I paused briefly to look through the peep hole.  We were expecting
Brent, but I was not going to risk flinging the door open and flashing some
unsuspecting mailman.

DING DONG!

"Get that fucking door!" Ryan yelled from upstairs.

I cringed, realizing he would be pissed for keeping Brent waiting outside.
Pulling the door open, I stepped back away from the doorway, hiding my
naked form behind the door.

"'Bout time, dude," Brent remarked with a friendly smile, sauntering past
me into the house.  He was dressed casually in loose fitting jeans, flip
flops, and a university hoodie pulled over a white polo shirt.  I could see
his dark hair was still damp peeking out from under his typical baseball
cap, and the wafting cloud of men's body spray and cologne indicated he had
taken a shower and ran out the door.

"Sorry, Sir," I responded, sheepishly, as I closed the door behind him.  He
was used to seeing me naked and enslaved by this point, or at least had
moved well past the point of shock, but it was still awkward as hell for
both of us.

"Kidding, Drew," he sighed, "C'mon, you know you don't have to do that shit
with me."

 "Yes, he does," Ryan interrupted as he bounded down the stairs carrying a
sports duffel bag over his shoulder.  "He would be in for a good
ass beating if he didn't show all men some basic respect, especially when
there are no secrets here.  Right, boy?"  He chucked the duffel bag towards
the front door.

"Yes, Sir," I agreed without much choice in the matter, taking a step to
the side of the entry foyer, and adopting a basic presentation position,
with my wrists behind my back with my head bowed slightly.

Brent sighed, "Right, whatever.  Anyway, spring break, dude!"  He raised
his hand to meet Ryan's in a high five.

"Hell yeah," Ryan agreed.

"So, uhh, you guys ready to roll?"  Brent asked, glancing between us.

"Yeah, just about."  Ryan turned to me and motioned for me to turn around.
I felt the jingle of the small padlock, and the buckle of the sturdy
leather collar behind my neck loosen before the strip of leather was swept
away.  In the next motion, he looped the chain holding my dog tags over my
head and let them drop against my chest.  "Alright, boy, run upstairs and
get dressed.  Left clothes on the floor and a backpack for you.  You've got
three minutes to be dressed and get your ass, that backpack, and my bag
into the driveway or you'll be spending the week chained up in the
dungeon."  He emphasized his command with a swat to my bare ass. "Go!"

"Yes, Sir!"  I sprinted up the stairs and into my room.  Sure enough, there
was a small pile of clothes.  I hopped on one foot, and then the other, as
I struggled to pull on a pair of worn jeans in rapid time.  Scooping up a
plain white t-shirt, I shook it out and pulled it over my head.  It was
snug against my chest, but not as obscenely tight as some of Ryan's
selections in the past.  The rumpled socks and well worn sneakers were the
hardest items to get on quickly.

Unaware of how much time I'd taken, I quickly snatched up the large
backpack waiting by the doorway, and bolted down the stairs. The door was
left open.  Scooping up Ryan's duffel with my other hand, I sprinted
outside through the doorway to find Ryan and Brent sauntering casually over
to Brent's car, an older-model European luxury sports coupe
that his parents had handed down to him when he turned 16.  Memories of his
first joy ride quickly flashed through my mind.  He and Ryan had allowed me
tag along while Brent gunned the engine at unsafe speeds across the hilly
roads of our sprawling, rural town.  After meeting up with some girls in a
remote park to celebrate the car with a case of beer, both he and Ryan had
gotten so drunk that I ended up driving all of us home at the age of
fifteen without so much as a learner's permit.

Hearing my hurried footsteps on the blacktop, Ryan glanced past me to the
house.  "Lock up the fucking house, dumbass!"

I stopped short, set the bags gently on the ground, and then jogged back to
the front door, clicked the lock on the inside of the doorknob, and then
pulled the door shut, testing it for security.  Satisfied, I returned to
the driveway, retrieving the bags where I'd left them.

Brent popped the trunk with his remote key, pushing it up with one hand.

"You sure you don't want the boy to drive us?" Ryan asked, motioning for me
to place the bags in the trunk.

"Nah, I got it," Brent assured him, slamming the trunk once the bags were
secure.  "Let's do this."

I followed Ryan to the passenger side of the two-door car, and opened heavy
door.  Ryan flipped the seat forward and pointed to the back.  Crawling
onto the worn black leather seat, I had barely managed to sit before he
flipped the seat back upright and climbed in.  With the whir of an
electronic motor, Ryan's seat began to slide backwards.  I shuffled my legs
as best I could, but the backward momentum of the passenger seat was
relentless, and soon my legs were twisted to the side and pinioned
uncomfortably in the narrow space of the back seat.

"Jesus, dude." Brent shook his head in disapproval, observing as he settled
into the driver's seat.

"Comfortable, boy?" Ryan asked, his smirk reflected in the side view
mirror.

"Yes, Sir." I responded, wriggling around in the cramped space to fish my
seat belt out from behind.

"Good.  Put these on."  He tossed a pair of large noise-canceling
headphones back to me, with the wire trailing to the front.  "Then keep
your head down and hands behind your back.  I don't want to hear anything
out of you until we get there unless it's an emergency, and I do mean a
fucking emergency.  Got it?"

"Yes, Sir," I agreed, adjusting the padded headphones over my head and ears
before moving my hands into place, wedging my arms uncomfortably behind
me.

I winced with an audible gasp as loud, heavy metal music suddenly
blared into my ears.  It was like jackhammers drilling into my head, and
had my hands not been trapped as they were behind me, I would have
instinctively ripped the phones off of my head.

Brent glanced over his shoulder, and then shot Ryan an angry look, giving
him a light shove to the arm.  I could tell from his facial expression that
whatever he was saying was in a sharp tone.  I saw Ryan shake his head, and
then following another shove from Brent, the volume miraculously lowered a
few decibels.  It was still impossible to hear what they were saying, but
Brent seemed somewhat satisfied with Ryan's act of compassion, and with a
turn of the key, I felt the engine roar to life, and we were off.

I glanced up from time to time as we drove, enjoying the scenery.  I hadn't
ventured much past the confines of my commute between the Grey house and
the university area since my enslavement, over three months ago now.  My
stomach was in knots as I saw signs for the airport begin to appear along
the highway.  Everything I knew about the spring break trip we were taking
I had essentially learned from overhearing conversations between Ryan,
Brent, and their other friends.  We were heading to the same beach resort
town that seventy-five percent of the student body from our school headed
to each year for a week of around the clock drinking and carefree
debauchery.  It was a tradition that I had always looked forward to
experiencing as I headed into my freshman year of college.  Of course, I
never imagined I'd experience it as Ryan's slave.

About an hour later, we pulled into the overnight parking garage attached
to the airport and secured parking on one of the upper levels.  Ryan killed
the music in my ears just as he and Brent hopped out of the car.  He moved
the seat up and let me out of the car while Brent was already pulling bags
out of the trunk.

"He'll carry those," Ryan announced, slamming the car door shut and pulling
the headphones off of my ears.

I hefted the backpack over my shoulders, and scooped up Ryan's duffel with
my right hand.  Brent scooped his own duffel up as I reached for it.

"I got it," he assured us both, with a slight sigh.  "Let's go before we
miss the flight."

I trailed them across a series of sky bridges and escalators into the
terminal to the check-in area.  Ryan had booked all of the flights, and our
bags were all small enough to carry-on, so he used his card to check us in
at one of the electronic kiosks.

"Here ya go, buddy."  Ryan smiled, handing Brent a printed ticket.

"First class?" Brent asked, smiling skeptically, taking the ticket.

"Yeah, man. Dad's treat," Ryan explained, turning to lead the way towards
the security check point.  "Here, boy."

I took the ticket that was presented to me and glanced at it.  My seat
assignment was a B seat in the low 30s, and I didn't have to even look at
the seating chart to realize Ryan had booked me in a middle seat as close
to the back of the plane as he could.

Ryan led the way into the security line which was particularly boisterous
with an overwhelming majority of college-aged guys and girls clamoring to
make their flights on time.  The airport security guards checked our IDs
and tickets, and I followed Ryan and Brent's lead as they shed their
phones, keys, watches, belts, and tossed them into a security bin, along
with their shoes.  They both walked through the metal detector without
incident.

"Hold up, son." The security guard in front of the detector held up his
hand to stop me.  He was 40 something, stocky, with a bit of a greying
military buzz cut.  "You're going to need to send those tags through as
well."  He pointed at the dog tags, just visible against the thing material
of the t-shirt clinging to my chest.

"Oh, sorry," I chuckled nervously, fishing the tags from around my neck and
tossing them into my bin.

"You military?" He asked, motioning for me to step through.

"No, uh, I'm not," I mumbled, taking a step forward, diverting my eyes.
Instantly, I realized that he was ex-military and would probably take
offense to some college punk wearing mock tags.

He frowned, eyes darkening, holding up his hand to stop me briefly.  "Those
aren't meant for dress up, college boy.  Have your daddy buy you some
new jewelry to play with," he grumbled with a harsh whisper in my ear,
before taking my arm and pushing me through the detector with an air of
disgust.

Ryan smirked as he observed the exchange from the other side of the
detector.  "What a disrespectful son of a bitch," he chuckled, shaking his
head.  He pointed to our bags and my bin on the conveyor belt, and lowered
his voice in my ear, "But you better get those tags back on in the next 5
seconds or else."

Moments later, we had gathered up all of our shoes, bags, and belongings
and were headed to find the gate.

"How long is the flight, anyway?" Brent asked.

 "Eh, a couple hours. Not too bad," Ryan responded, glancing over his
shoulder to me.  "As for you, standard rules apply.  I want you buckled in
your seat the entire flight.  No bathroom breaks.  No earphones to watch
the movie.  You can order water, no soda, no snacks.  And, you don't talk
to anyone unless they speak to you first.  Got it?"

"Yes, Sir," I acknowledged with a low whisper.

When we reached the gate, the agent was just announcing that first class
passengers were boarding.  Ryan grabbed his bag from my hand, and giving
Brent a pat on the back, they both charged ahead of the line and
disappeared down the jetway.  I looked at my ticket, not only was I at the
back of the plane, but I was designated as one of the last groups to
board.  I didn't really care.  I watched the line for general boarding
swell at the gate, chock full of guys and girls around my age, many of them
I recognized from around campus, and I actually looked forward to the
opportunity to pretend I was one of them, even if it would only be for a
couple hours.

After several minutes, it was finally my turn to board, and I found my seat
to be located literally in the last row of the plane.  My seat mates were
already there, and as if Ryan couldn't have planned it any better if he
tried, the window and aisle seats belonged to overweight girls that were
chattering away to each other about their plans for the upcoming week.

"Sorry, I uh, think I'm in the middle there," I apologized, after hefting
my backpack into the overhead bin.

The girls turned to me with looks of pure venom.  Clearly, they had booked
the last row together in hopes of gaining the extra real estate between
them for a more comfortable ride.  With an exasperated sigh, the girl in
the aisle seat did her best to shrink her large legs as I pushed up against
the seat in front of her to shimmy into the middle of the row.

"I thought this seat was supposed to be empty?" one of the girls whispered
to the other, as if I couldn't hear them.

My face reddened slightly as I wedged my body between their exposed,
flabby arms that spilled over the arm rests on either side of me.  I pulled
my arms in against my chest, making myself as small as possible as I
situated myself between them.  They exchanged several exasperated sighs as
they did their best to make room, until finally we were all settled.

I did my best to rest, nodding off several times as we suffered through an
endless wait on the tarmac before finally taking off, but every time one of
the girls shifted, I was immediately jostled awake.

When we finally landed, I had never been so happy to leave a plane,
practically bolting up the jetway.  At the gate area, I found Ryan
and Brent lounging in chairs with their heads buried in their cell phones,
undoubtedly catching up on all they had missed while they were in flight.
I stood nearby, a few paces away from Ryan, waiting respectfully for him to
look up and acknowledge my presence.

Of course, Brent noticed me first.  "Good flight, dude?"

"Yeah, it was alright."  I shrugged.

Ryan snickered, barely glancing up from the text message he was composing.
"Grab my bag and follow us to the cab line."

I swooped Ryan's duffel off of the chair beside him, and waited patiently
until he decided to get up and lead the way through the bustling airport,
past the baggage claim, and out to the cab line.

The heat and humidity of the outside air enveloped us immediately as we
exited the air conditioned terminal.

"Hot as fuck out here," Brent exclaimed as we took our place in line.  He
immediately pulled off his hat, and slipped the hoodie he'd been wearing
over his head, his polo shirt riding up several inches to reveal his
rippled stomach in the process.

"Only supposed to get hotter, dude," Ryan remarked, pulling his sunglasses
out of the side pocket of the bag I was carrying and sliding them on.  "But
that's what spring break is all about, right?"

They exchanged idle chatter as we were directed into the next cab.  I
helped the driver pile the bags into the trunk, and then climbed into the
backseat of the car.  Of course, Ryan waited outside the door so that I
could assume my rightful place in the middle seat of the bench seat between
them.

The ride to the hotel was fairly quiet, as Brent and Ryan spent the
majority of the short trip taking in the surroundings of the resort town as
we inched down the main avenue.  Outside of the car was a different story
as the place was already crawling with spring breakers, some hanging out of
over packed convertibles, others jay-walking across the busy street with
their arms full of coolers and cases of beer, and more shouting and
cheering from motel balconies that lined the street.

Ten minutes later, we were parked in the driveway of a bustling, pastel
colored, beachfront hotel.  I trailed Ryan and Brent into the air
conditioned lobby, lugging the bags, as Ryan strode straight to the front
desk to check in.  Glancing around the lobby, which smelled like a mixture
of mildew and chlorine from a small water fall that cascaded down one of
the walls into a cheesy pond filled with tropical flowers and fake plastic
birds, I was a bit surprised at the peeling paint and scuffed tile floors.
Typically, when I'd vacationed with the Greys in the past, the hotels were
top notch, elegant, and pristine.  Then a group of squealing girls
clutching plastic cups, not so discreetly concealing alcohol, stumbled by
me and I was reminded that we, well Ryan and Brent anyway, were here to
party and they weren't going to care about the thread count of the sheets.

"This is going to be awesome," Brent mused as he gleefully watched the
girls strut by.

"Time to get the party started," Ryan added, as he triumphantly held up a
small envelop of room keys.

Moments later, I followed Ryan and Brent into our room, located on the
fourth and top floor of the building.  There were two beds draped with
sun-faded bedspreads, wearing at the seams.  The carpet was worn and
stained in many places from too many spilled drinks and who knows what
else.  Two small sitting chairs with visible cigarette burns were situated
off to the side around a sticky-looking wooden table.  There was a TV that
looked as though it was made in the mid-1990s resting on top of a
dilapidated dresser, with a missing drawer.

"This place is fucking disgusting, dude," Ryan exclaimed as he gave himself
a quick tour of the room.  He peeked into the bathroom and sighed loudly.

"Eh, who cares?" Brent shrugged, throwing his bag down on one of the beds.
"All the guys are staying here, and it's not like we're planning on
spending much time in the room anyway, right?"  He walked to the opposite
end of the room and flung back the drapes shielding a sliding glass door
and balcony.  "Aww, shit.  Nice view though!"  He flung open the slider and
stepped outside to take in the ocean view.

Ryan joined Brent on the balcony while I awkwardly set Ryan's bag down on
the other bed, and my own on the floor.  It occurred to me that there
wasn't so much as a small sofa in the room and I would undoubtedly be
relegated to sleep on the floor, but in comparison to the cold concrete of
the dungeon cell where I'd slept in the past, the stained carpet was
nothing to be afraid of.

"Lose the clothes, slave," Ryan ordered casually as he sauntered back into
the room, Brent trailing behind him.

"Yes, Sir."  I peeled the t-shirt up and over my head, my skin slightly
damp from the heat and humidity of the climate.  Folding the t-shirt in
half, I tossed it on the bed, and then kicked off my shoes and pulled down
my jeans.  I pulled my socks off, setting them aside with my shoes, and
then tossed the jeans next to my t-shirt.  Unsure of what to do, I stood at
attention near the foot of Ryan's bed, with my hands behind my back.

Ryan casually swept my clothing from the bed into a rumpled pile on the
floor, and began digging in his suitcase.  Brent followed suit on the other
bed, as they both began pulling out their belongings and showering their
beds with t-shirts, shorts, shoes and toiletries.

I watched Brent snatch a pair of navy board shorts from his pile before
trotting into the bathroom.  Meanwhile, Ryan fished his own pair of light
blue trunks from the depths of his duffel.  As if I wasn't there, he
quickly shed his shirt, and slipped his jeans and boxers off, kicking them
to the side, before pulling the trunks up to his hips.

Moments later, Brent emerged shirtless, tying the draw string to his
shorts.  "Ready, dude?"

"Just about," Ryan muttered as he typed away on his cell phone.  "Yeah,
look," he held up his phone, vibrating with a succession of text messages,
"All of the guys are already down there.  Have a spot staked out on the
beach."

"Perfect. Let's bounce."  Brent adjusted his ballcap back on his head, and
slid into some flip flops.

Ryan stepped over to me as he shoved his phone and a t-shirt into a small
drawstring, nylon knapsack. "Just texted you a shopping list of everything
we're going to need while we're here.  Get dressed, find a store, get
everything on the list, and then get your ass back here.  Then I want all
of our stuff unpacked, folded, and put away neatly.  Toiletries in the
bathroom.  But, don't you dare open up your backpack without
permission. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good.  You can eat anything on the list if you're hungry, but just keep it
in check.  This is vacation, after all," he chuckled darkly.  "If you're in
this room, you're naked unless otherwise instructed.  TV is fine when we're
not here, but the minute I walk in, you're on your knees and ready to
serve."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good boy. Open," Ryan commanded, holding up a plastic room key.  I opened
my mouth and he placed the key in between my teeth.  "And one last
thing..."  He trailed, as he stepped past me to the closet positioned just
outside the bathroom door.  Sliding one half of the mirrored doors back, he
glanced inside the dark interior, shrugging his shoulders in approval. "You
sleep in here."  He reached up to the top shelf of the closet and pulled
down the spare blanket and pillow, depositing them on the floor of the
closet before slamming the glass door shut.

He gave me a light pat on the cheek, before ushering Brent out the door,
letting it slam behind them.  I took the key out of my mouth and tossed it
on the dresser, fishing in my pants for my cell phone.  Scrolling quickly
through the text message list, it all seemed fairly straightforward.
Protein bars, pretzels, fruit, sun block, three cases of bottled water.  I
flushed at the realization that I didn't have a car, didn't have any cash
for a cab, and hauling three cases of water was going to require at least
two, if not three trips.  Quickly, I used my phone to search the area for
the nearest store.  There was a national drug store chain located about 4
blocks away, which was the closest I could seem to find.  Reluctantly, I
pulled my clothes back on, slipped the key in my pocket, and headed out
into the steamy weather to make my first trip to the store.

*

An hour later, I was breathing heavily as I kicked open the door to the
hotel room, letting the third and final case of water drop from my shoulder
to the ground, kicking it in frustration towards the table where the other
two cases were resting.  The store had nothing but 35-counts of water,
making it impossible to carry more than one at a time.  Even then, it was
an awkward, dead weight that was virtually impossible to balance, short of
lifting it directly over my head.  Each block from the store to the hotel
was an eternity as the midday sun beat down on me from above, baked the
concrete sidewalk below, and mixed with the mist from the ocean to create
an unrelenting steam bath of humidity.

After chugging a bottle of water from the case I'd already opened, I
gratefully peeled the sweat-soaked t-shirt off of my body, and slipped out
of the jeans, moist with sweat.  I had never been as happy to shed my
clothes as I wandered over to the air conditioning vent to let the cool
air blow over me for several minutes.

When the sweat finally stopped pouring out of me, I set about unpacking the
rest of Ryan's bag, laying everything out on the bed first, and then neatly
folding all of his shirts, shorts, and boxers as I had been taught to do
for him at home.  After placing everything in the dresser drawers, I moved
his bag of toiletries to the bathroom, and lined up his toothbrush,
deodorant, cologne and other items on the counter.  Returning to the room,
I moved to put away Brent's things in the same manner, though I'm sure he
would have preferred that I didn't had Ryan given him the choice.

After the bags were unpacked and tidied away, I put together a makeshift
sleeping bag for myself on the floor of the closet with the extra blanket.
Wandering around the room, I casually made my way towards the balcony to
peek out, the door left shrouded in a sheer drape.  I frowned as I could
just make out the beach below.  What seemed like hundreds of college
students were already all over the beach, tanning, tossing footballs,
frolicking in the waves.  Frowning, I turned back to the dreary hotel room
with little to do but wait for my master to return.

*

Several hours later, I was half dozing in one of the arm chairs with the
ancient television crackling with waves of static over a basketball game in
the background, when the door burst open and Ryan and Brent returned,
laughing like schoolboys.  The door slammed behind them, and I jolted
awake, scrambling to turn off the TV and drop to my knees next to the bed
at the same time.  Their bodies were both glowing slightly with a
healthy mix of sun tan and sun burn.

"What time are we meeting them?" Brent asked.

"I dunno, like 45 minutes?" Ryan responded, heading straight for the
dresser to search for his things.

"Well shit, do you wanna shower first?"

"Nah, you go ahead," Ryan suggested.  "I gotta make a call anyway."

"Cool, I'll be quick."  Brent followed suit in looking through the dresser
for his clothes, while Ryan made his way to the balcony with his phone
pressed to his ear, without so much at glancing in my direction.

Brent piled some clothes over his shoulder and nodded sheepishly in my
direction on his way to the bathroom.  "Thanks for putting my shit away,
man."

"No problem, Sir," I responded without much thought.  I knew Brent didn't
exactly like the formalities of my slavery that Ryan insisted on,
but thinking of Brent as another master-figure helped to diffuse the
awkward nature of the situation and served as a reminder to both of us as
to why I was naked and kneeling in the corner of his hotel room.

The bathroom door closed, and moments later I heard the shower running.
Several minutes later, Brent emerged in a cloud of steam, dressed freshly
in khakis and a polo, his hair damp and side swept casually across his
forehead.  He headed for the balcony, banged on the glass door, and
gestured for Ryan to take his turn in the shower.

"Yeah, yeah," Ryan muttered, as he made his way back inside, stuffed some
clothes under his arm, and headed into the bathroom while Brent stepped out
on the balcony to make some calls of his own.

When Ryan was finished showering, he popped out of the bathroom freshly
dressed in a similar fashion.  "Fuck, the sun burn is starting to itch," he
exclaimed to Brent, adjusting the fabric of his polo over his shoulders.
"Sunblock tomorrow, for sure."

"Yeah, okay.  Alright, let's get out of here," Brent urged, looking at his
watch.

"Don't wait up," Ryan instructed without so much as looking at me on his
way out the door, letting it slam behind him.

*

I don't know when they returned from their night out partying, but I know I
had tossed and turned on the floor of the cramped closet space for several
hours after 11pm when I first tried to put myself to bed.  I had shut the
closet door in an attempt to drown out the sound of their arrival in the
event I made it into a deep sleep, and it apparently worked.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The shrieking sound of my cell phone alarm jolted me awake, illuminating
the dark closet space in a blue glow.  I shot upright, banging into the
wall on one side, feeling around for the phone to silence it.  My eyes took
a moment to adjust before I could focus on the alarm that I didn't recall
setting.  It came with a message attached.

"BAREFOOT RUN ON THE BEACH. 30 MINS DOWN AND 30 BACK. GYM SHORTS ONLY. GO!"

It was 6:00am.  I sighed, shaking the sleep from my head, and quietly slid
open the closet door before crawling out.  Sure enough, my old gym shorts
from JV soccer had been left in a ball by the closet door.  Given the scent
of stale beer in the room and the heavy breathing emanating from Brent and
Ryan as they slept sprawled across their respective beds, I wasn't sure how
Ryan had been coherent enough to remember to pull out my shorts.

Nonetheless, I slipped them on, and crept into the bathroom for a morning
piss.  Grabbing the hotel key on my way out of the room, I glanced at Ryan
still soundly asleep.  It was rare that I saw him looking so peaceful and
so innocent, his lips parted slightly in almost a smile, his right hand up
over his head and his left resting casually on his firm chest.  I shook my
head wondering for the billionth time how I had gotten myself into this
situation before slipping quietly out of the room.

I noted that the beach was nearly deserted as I made my way out of the
hotel lobby and out over the dunes to the sandy turf below.  The sun was
just starting to rise, painting the sky in peaceful shades of pink and
blue, and the ocean seemed calm and inviting as the waves gently lapped
onto the sand.  Fortunately, it was warm but not suffocating like the
previous afternoon, with a nice sea breeze blowing in from the coast.

Taking to the sand, I began to jog, slowly at first as it took time to
adjust to the feeling of my soles pressing into the gritty terrain, but I
had spent enough time barefoot in the course of my slavery that it wasn't
long before I was running with ease, flying by a series of sand dunes,
hotels, and bars situated along a board walk.  Having left my phone in the
hotel room, I did my best to time myself, circling around after what felt
like a half hour, and jogging back in the direction of the hotel.

When I arrived back to the door of our room, although most of the hotel
remained quiet, I could hear the dull murmur of morning television news
coming from inside.  Pushing back through the door, sure enough, I found
Ryan and Brent propped up in their beds fixated on the television like
zombies, clutching bottles of water.  Now that they were awake, they looked
much less peaceful, more like they were doing all they could to avoid
throwing up.

"Good run, boy?" Ryan asked hoarsely, taking a long sip of water.

"Yes, Sir," I responded truthfully, still catching my breath.

"Grab a water, but don't bother showering." He glanced over, taking in my
sweaty torso and legs with bits of salt and sand clinging to my skin. "Your
shuttle leaves at 7:45 from the hotel lobby."

"Shuttle, Sir?" I asked, my voice rising slightly with concern, having no
idea what he was talking about.

"I've taken the liberty of signing you up for a volunteer work program."
He shrugged.  "I don't really need you to help me with my tan, so figured
you'd spend the week making yourself useful with a bunch of other
goody-two-shoes types, building houses for poor people or some shit like
that."

At that, Brent chuckled, shaking his head from the other bed.  "You really
are a son of a bitch."

Ryan smirked, taking it as a compliment.  He looked back over to me.  "Got
something to say, boy?"

"No, Sir...I mean, okay, Sir," I managed, a little dumbfounded by the
revelation.  I'm not sure why I should have been surprised at that point by
anything Ryan threw at me, yet I was caught completely off guard by his
latest plan.

"Your clothes are over there," he informed me, nodding to a small pile next
to the closet.  "Get dressed, and get your ass downstairs.  If you miss
that shuttle you will seriously regret it."  We both looked at the clock on
the nightstand.  It was 7:35.  I'd run almost a half hour longer than I
needed to and didn't even realize it.  "Yeah, you're also late, boy, but
I'm too tired to punish you.  I'm on vacation."

He turned back to the TV while I dressed in one of my pairs of
well-worn jeans, a tight fitting white tank-top t-shirt, socks, and brown
leather work boots, distressed from wear and tear by whoever owned them
before they were purchased second hand at some thrift shop.

Ryan yawned loudly, stretching his arms up over his head.  "Make us proud,
boy.  And drink plenty of water," he snickered.  "They say it's going to be
another scorcher out there."

"Yes, Sir," I agreed, dishearteningly, as I opened the door and slipped out
of the room.

I hurried down the steps to the lobby, not wanting to risk waiting for the
elevator, and trotted out to the hotel's drive, having no idea what or who
I was looking for.  Sure enough, there was a blue, fifteen-passenger van
waiting in front of the doors, with the engine running.

"Ah, you must be...Andrew?" asked a well-built guy in his late twenties
holding up a clipboard.  He was dressed in a white polo shirt with some
company logo sewn over the left side of his chest and a blue baseball cap
pulled low over his forehead, black sporty sunglasses shading his eyes
underneath.

"Uh, yeah. Drew," I responded, accepting his outstretched hand in a
handshake.

"Drew, then.  I'm Dave.  Thanks for volunteering.  Gonna be a great
week!"  Dave exclaimed with a startling amount of enthusiasm for what I
assumed would be nothing but unpaid manual labor.  "Wanna hop in, and we'll
get going?"

"Cool, sure, thanks," I muttered, opening the back door to the van.

Dave pulled his sunglasses down to the brim of his nose, he gave me a once
over. I could still feel myself sweating from the run, despite the dry
clothes. "Partying hard last night?" he asked, chuckling, as he opened the
driver's door.  "Don't worry, bro.  I know it's early, but it's really cool
that you guys are donating your time and giving back to those in need."

I could barely contain my sigh as I considered the irony of his statement.
I wasn't giving back; I was just giving more.

"Everyone say hi to Drew, if you don't already know each other?" Dave
instructed from the front seat as the van rumbled to life.

I took a seat in the front row, taking a quick glance over my shoulder as
the rest of the group mumbled a series of cautious hellos.  There were 10
of us staggered throughout the four rows of bench seats.  Six rather plain
looking girls of varying sizes, ranging from a little curvy to quite large,
were all devoid of makeup, with their hair tied back in some form of a
ponytail.  The three other guys were slim, and a bit gawky.  They could
have been poster-children for diversity, one black, one Asian, and a white
guy who I could tell was gay from the way he said hello.

"What's up, guys?" I managed, trying to muster a friendly hello, as I
turned back to face forward as we lurched into motion.  The silence behind
me was deafening as the others had cut their conversation from the moment I
stepped inside.  They were clearly part of a service club of some sort, and
couldn't figure out why some random dude like me was crashing their party.

While we drove, sensing the awkward silence in the back, Dave began
chatting away from the front seat about the housing project we had signed
up for.  Some impoverished family had lost their home in a storm the
previous summer, and while other groups of volunteers had already erected
the frame of a new house for them, there was still tons of work that needed
to be done inside.  Putting up drywall, laying down tile, painting walls,
tacking in carpet, planting the yard, and the list went on.  He kept
describing the plight of the family and reiterating that we had no idea how
much our spirit of volunteerism meant to them.

Eventually Dave stopped chatting, and turned up the radio, allowing the
girls in the back seats to resume their conversation in hushed tones. The
drive was a solid forty five minutes inland.  Looking out the windows, it
was clear that we had left the touristy resort district, and were deep
inside a much more economically depressed area.

Several minutes later, we pulled into a gravelly driveway of a modest house
that appeared to be newly constructed as Dave had described.  There was a
dumpster in the front yard, and another couple of pickup trucks parked
around the house, with their beds filled with lumber, dry wall, and other
construction supplies.

"This is us!"  Dave declared, shutting down the engine and hopping out of
the van.  He enthusiastically greeted a middle-aged guy with a large gut
and a bushy beard that appeared to be the foreman of the site as we all
filed out of the van and circled up behind them.

"So, these must be the new recruits?" the foreman asked with a bit of a
drawl, giving us the once over.  His eyes were kind but skeptical, almost
a little disappointed.  "Anyone got any experience with construction?"  His
expression changed instantly when his eyes came to rest on me.  Everyone in
the group followed his eyes, and I looked down uncomfortably, realizing
instantly that unlike the rest of the motley crew of eager-but-flabby
nerds, I looked like I could pick up a hammer and know what do with it.
"What about you, son?"

Realizing he was talking to me, I shook my head slightly and shrugged.
"No, sorry.  Just here to help like everyone else."

"Not to worry, we'll put all that time in the gym to good use," the foreman
chuckled, shaking his head slightly.  I felt my cheeks flush.  "Seriously,
kids, we're glad to have y'all here.  I'm Jack, and over there, that's
Scotty, and Darrell.  We'll keep it simple, show ya how to do something,
and then let you go have fun with it, but we'll be here to help and provide
guidance along the way so don't hesitate to ask if you're not sure how to
do something.  If something don't seem right in your mind, then it's
probably not. Gotta think safety at all times, right?"  Everyone murmured
in agreement.  "Alright then, let's get started and have some fun...Mr.
Tank-Top, why don't you help Darrell over there load off that dry wall, and
why don't you other boys head inside with Scotty and start sweeping out the
saw dust.  And, girls, let's head up to the second floor and start priming
the walls in the master bedroom."

Dave gave me an encouraging pat on the back as I walked over to one of the
pickup trucks to meet Darrell and start hauling in some large pieces of dry
wall.  The morning sun was already started to climb higher into the sky,
heating up the humidity in the air.  He grunted something that resembled a
hello, and I realized that he was not a chatty one.

After several hours of hauling sheets of dry wall, measuring them over saw
horses, and cutting the pieces to specification, we finally broke for
lunch.  Dave handed out boxes from a cooler in the back of the van,
containing some basic deli sandwiches, an apple and a bag of chips.  The
group of us filed inside the house and spread out in the various rooms of
the first floor.

I settled onto the floor in a quiet corner of the room in front of a large,
industrial size fan that provided minimal relief from the sweltering
interior of the house.  Halfway through my first bite, I glanced up at the
sound of steps approaching.  It was the tall, skinny guy that I had pegged
as gay in the van.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

I shrugged, and gestured to the floor.

"Cool, thanks.  Just wanted to get in on some of that fan action."  He
smiled slightly, settling to the floor with his box of food a few paces to
my right.  "I'm Jeremy, by the way."

"Drew," I responded, taking his hand in an obligatory handshake.  He had
short brown hair flecked with frosted blond highlights, bright eyes, and
wiry limbs with a hint of muscle attributed more to the absence of body fat
than time spent at the gym.  His slim fitting grey t-shirt was soaked with
sweat.

"Nice to meet you."  Turning his attention to the boxed lunch, he picked at
his sandwich, tearing small bites from the bread and popping them in his
mouth.  After several awkward moments, he smiled slyly. "Not a big talker,
are you?"

I shrugged.  "Sorry...guess not?"

"It's cool."  He shrugged, and then cleared his throat.  "So, can I ask...
I mean, we're all kind of wondering...what frat are you pledging?"

I looked at him in confusion. "Uhh, I'm not..."

"Sure, sure," Jeremy responded with a false sense of innocence, holding up
his hands in mock defeat.  "I mean, I get it, secret rituals, 'hazing
doesn't really exist', and whatever."

"No, seriously.  I'm not in a frat," I reiterated.

"Oh, oh I get it.  Mandatory community service?  Academic probation or
something?"

"No," I snapped, slightly insulted.  But as soon I spoke, I bit my tongue,
wishing I hadn't.  It would've been a passable excuse.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, searching my face for truth.  "Okay...so
then, if no one is forcing you, what are you doing here?  I mean, you're
not in the service club with the rest of us, so like, not to be rude or
anything, but why aren't you at the beach with the rest of the school?
Please don't tell me it's out of the goodness of your heart or some shit
like that."

I shrugged, feeling my pulse quicken a bit.  "I mean, yeah, not really sure
what you want me to say.  Just into giving back, I guess."

"Sure..." he agreed skeptically, taking a larger bite of his sandwich.
"Well, whatever.  If that's the case, then that's pretty cool I guess.  You
should maybe think about joining the club then?  You know we get credit for
logging enough service hours..."

"Yeah, maybe," I muttered distantly.  I knew the only credit I would ever
get for my service hours would be more service hours.

"Alright then, well, hopefully you'll think about it."  Jeremy deposited
the uneaten half of his sandwich in his box, and stood up, brushing crumbs
from his jeans.  "Back to work, I guess."

I smiled politely, and went back to finishing my lunch, still ravenous from
the morning of manual labor.  Even though Jeremy confirmed what I knew the
others had been thinking, in that I stuck out from the group like a sore
thumb, at least the ice had been broken.

When we all returned to work in the afternoon, I moved inside the house, to
help Darrell hang the cut pieces of dry wall, and gradually, the others
joined in.  Awkward chit chat turned to more fluid conversation as the day
wore on, and by the time we were all piling back in the van at the end of
the day, it was like we were old friends.  Despite the involuntary manual
labor, it was the most like my old self that I'd felt in a very long time.

The sun was already nearly set as we were pulling into the driveway of the
hotel.  I looked up at some guys hanging over one of the balconies, beers
in hand, flirting with some girls a few balconies down.  The weight of my
return to reality settled immediately on my shoulders as we exited the van.

"Alright, guys.  Awesome first day.  Get some rest, have some fun...but not
too much fun!"  Dave joked, poking his head out of the driver door.  "See
you bright and early tomorrow morning."

As the van pulled away, we all turned to file into the hotel.  The wall of
air conditioning in the lobby provided blessed relief from the heat and
humidity we had battled all day.  Our clothes were all drenched with sweat
and stuck to our bodies like a second skin.

"Ugh, I can't wait to take a shower," Jeremy exclaimed in disgust at his
appearance as the group began to dissipate to different elevator banks.
"Anyone want to meet back down here for dinner, drinks?"  A few of the
girls and the other guys mumbled in agreement.  "Drew? Wanna join us?"

I swallowed uncomfortably, knowing full well that I would not be able to.
"Eh, sorry guys, I...have plans already."

Jeremy shrugged.  "No big deal, maybe another time this week."

"Yeah, sure, maybe," I managed.  "But, I'll see you guys tomorrow morning
for sure."

"Cool," Jeremy agreed, following me into the elevator.  "What floor you
on?"  He asked, pushing three."

"Four."  I nodded politely stepping to one side of the elevator as the door
began to slide closed.

"Hold that!" someone commanded, sticking a fist between the doors.  The
doors jerked back open to reveal Ryan with Brent standing next to him.
Ryan grinned devilishly.  "Well, well, look who it is."

"Hey..." I offered cautiously, taking another step backwards into the
corner, making room for them.

They had apparently just come in from a day at the beach, still shirtless
in their board shorts, with towels draped over their shoulders.  They
smelled like a mix of suntan lotion and alcohol, still a little red around
their shoulders from the day before, grains of sand clinging to the skin of
their legs and feet.

"What's up?" Brent added, pulling off his hat to run his fingers through
his hair, before pulling it backwards over his head.  "How was the, uh,
thing?"

"Yeah, how was it?" Ryan reiterated, with more of a demanding tone as the
doors slid shut.

"It was cool."  I shrugged slightly, trying to curtail the conversation as
quickly as possible, as the elevator lurched into motion, climbing upwards
at a snail's pace.

"Yeah, it was really cool. Good first day," Jeremy suddenly interjected,
with a friendly smile, glancing between the three of us.

An awkward silence fell over the elevator as Ryan and Brent turned in
surprise to look at Jeremy.

"Oh, and who is this?"  Ryan asked me, though directed the question towards
Jeremy.

I winced inside as he gave a little effeminate wave to Ryan and Brent. "Hi,
I'm Jeremy.  You must be Drew's friends?"

Ryan looked over to me with a slight smirk, and then turned to Jeremy.  "I
guess we must be?" he answered in mocking, taking a step to drape his arm
around Jeremy's shoulders like they were longtime friends.  "This your new
boyfriend, Drew?"  Ryan suddenly took a firmer grasp on Jeremy's shoulders
and gave him a patronizing shake.  "Aww, what a pretty little boy you got
here."

Jeremy looked up at me.  He looked suddenly petrified.

I felt my throat tighten and my blood pressure rise as I feared for Jeremy
in the moment, but felt helpless to protest.  "We...we're not," I managed.

"You're not...what?  Not fucking yet?" Ryan pressed, giving Jeremy another
rough shake in his grasp.  "But you want him to fuck you, don't you,
buddy?" he chuckled, giving a nod in my direction.

"N...no, I don't," Jeremy asserted, regaining a bit of his composure and
trying to push away from Ryan's grasp.  "Get the hell off of me."

Ryan held tight.  "No?  Oh, duh, I get it.  You want to fuck him..."

"No!" Jeremy barked, attempting another escape.

"What do you think, Brent?"  Ryan asked, releasing his grasp on Jeremy and
giving him a playful shove that sent him stumbling across the elevator and
crashing into Brent's bare chest.

"Get this fag off me, dude!"  Brent recoiled and I watched in horror as he
instinctively shoved Jeremy off of him, much harder than I'm sure he
intended, sending him stumbling backwards until he lost his balance and
fell hard on his ass by my feet.

"Hey!" I barked, angrily, losing complete control of my better sense.

"Hey, what?" Ryan challenged, in mocking as the elevator dinged and the
doors opened to reveal the third floor.

Ignoring him, I helped Jeremy back up to his feet.  "Sorry," I offered
softly, but I knew it was little more than a trivial condolence after Ryan
and Brent had humiliated him and tossed him around the elevator like a rag
doll.

Jeremy looked at me with an expression of anger and hurt, his eyes watering
and lip quivering enough that I could tell he was trying to hold back
tears.  "Yeah," was all he could manage before slipping out of the
elevator, refusing to look back.

"Bye, boyfriend!" Ryan called after him in mocking as the elevator doors
came back together.

"Kind of a dick move, dude," Brent scolded lightly.

Ryan ignored him, much more focused on me.  "The only dick move I see is
this cunt thinking he can tell us what to do."

I swallowed nervously as the elevator doors opened, and Ryan shoved me
forward out of the elevator.  We walked silently down the corridor and
around to our room.  Brent keyed us in.

Ryan pushed me forward into the room. "Strip."

"Yes, Sir." I hurried to shed my clothing, literally peeling the
damp tank-top and jeans from my body until I was stark naked, shivering
slightly from the cool temperature of the air conditioned room.

"Display!" Ryan barked, throwing his towel on one of the chairs.

I snapped into position with my hands behind my head and legs spread apart,
feeling extra exposed with Brent watching curiously from the other side of
the room, placing his own towel on the other chair.  My chest was heaving
with nerves as Ryan circled me slowly.  I kept my eyes forward, not daring
to look directly at him, but I could sense his anger and intensity.

Without warning, he drove his fist into my gut.  I groaned, doubling over
in pain, but he grabbed my hair and yanked me back up right.  "I said,
display," he reminded me venomously in my ear. "And don't you fucking move."

"Yes, Sir," I agreed, quietly, gulping air as I struggled to regain my
faculties after having the wind knocked out of me.

He stepped in front of me, and drew his head back, then forward, launching
a large wad of saliva directly at my face.  I winced as it connected with
the side of my nose, and began to slide down my left cheek, resting at the
corner of my mouth.

"Think you've forgotten your place, boy," he speculated, pacing again.
"That right?"

"No, Sir..."

"No?  Then what the fuck makes you think you have the right to shout at
me?  And embarrass me in front of my friend?"

"I...I don't, Sir."

"But, you did, didn't you cunt?"

I exhaled slowly.  "Yes, Sir.  Sorry, Sir."

"Sorry isn't going to cut it, boy.  I let you out of my sight for one
fucking day, and this is what happens?  You waltz back here thinking you
suddenly have the right to disrespect me?"

"No, Sir..."

"Yeah, well it seems to me you could use a good fucking reminder that
you're nothing more than a sniveling little slave," he sneered.
"I don't care how many twinky fags you have lining up to suck your
worthless dick."  He swatted my dangling cock and balls for emphasis.
"Don't forget who it belongs to...and here's a clue," he paused to knock on
my forehead with a clenched fist.  "It's not you."

I swallowed.  "Yes, Sir."

He glared at me for a moment, and then stormed off to another side of the
room.  I heard the zipper of my backpack behind me, some rustling in the
bag, and then he plodded back over.  Without a word, he squat down between
my legs, and expertly lassoed one side of a long length of thin white rope
around the base of my balls.  I winced as he made several passes around the
base of my sack, trapping my balls painfully at the other end, before tying
the noose off tightly.

"Move," he commanded with a firm tug to the rope leashed to my balls.
"Hands behind your back."

I winced, following the pull of the leash towards the closet where I slept
and moving my hands to the small of my back.  Ryan slid open the closet
door and pushed me forward so that I was facing the wall.  He looped the
other end of the rope tied to my balls over the clothing rod that ran the
length of the closet, and then pulled it down slowly until the slack began
to tighten and pull against my balls.  As he pulled the rope down further,
my balls were pulled out from between my legs and up in the direction of
the bar.  I took a half step to try to compensate, but the leash to the
clothing rod grew tighter and I couldn't move without an intense tug on my
balls.

Ryan pushed my head forward, and I felt the remaining length of the rope
fall down my bare back and dangle between my legs.  With skill, he began to
circle the rope around my wrists.  He lifted my arms so that my hands were
uncomfortably high against my back, before finishing off his knots.  When
he finished, he checked his work on both ends, and stepped back from the
closet.

Effectively, I was left in a predicament situation where I could relieve
the tension in my arms and shoulders by relaxing my elbows, but any effort
to lower my arms would only pull my balls harder, and on other hand, the
only way I could lessen the tension on my balls would be to hold my arms
even higher behind me.

"This should keep you plenty occupied this evening," Ryan mused, as he spun
me around to face him.  He gingerly moved the taught rope to be in line
with my right shoulder so that it wasn't pressing against my cheek and
forehead as it had been.  "Just remember that you brought this on yourself,
slave."

Before I had a chance to respond, the closet door slammed shut, and I was
left in darkness within the cramped space, unable to sit, kneel, or so much
as stand comfortably.  I had fucked up trying to defend Jeremy in the
elevator, at least in Ryan's eyes, and I acknowledged that, but it had been
a nearly impossible predicament to be in.  In some ways, I was actually
glad that I still had enough empathy in me to react in defense of an
innocent bystander like Jeremy even knowing it would be to my own detriment.

I struggled in vain to get comfortable over the next hour while I listened
to Ryan and Brent bang around the room getting themselves together for
another evening of partying.  One of them turned on the TV, blasting some
sports highlights at high volume, which provided some minimal distraction
as I could just make out the sportcasters' commentary through the door of
the closet.  Eventually, the shower stopped running, the TV cut out, and
the door to the room slammed shut.

For the first several minutes after they left, as was often the case when I
was left alone in bondage, I was overcome with panic.  I pulled at both
ends of the rope, both from my bound wrists, and also my balls via my hips,
wincing in either direction, as I heard the bar rattling over my head.  I
felt the bar wiggle just enough from the cheap construction of the hotel
that I was somewhat relieved to know that in an absolute emergency, I would
probably be able to tear it down from enough force, however much my balls
might suffer in the process.  Knowing that I could at least free myself
from the closet if the room spontaneously combusted was enough to slow my
heart rate down, leaving me nothing else to do but wait.

The minutes dragged on, turning to hours.  My eyelids had grown quite heavy
as I struggled to stay awake from both the boredom and exhaustion from the
day, though the constant tug on my stretched balls was enough to shoot me
upright the moment I felt my knees start to buckle.  From time to time, I
could hear hotel doors opening and slamming shut along the outer hallways
of adjoining rooms, groups of girls giggling, and guys shouting and
rough-housing up and down the hall.  I thought of Jeremy and the crew from
the service project, hoping he could at least manage to drink away the
humiliation of the earlier incident.  Hopefully, he wouldn't hold it
against me tomorrow, but something told me by the time he was done
recounting the story to the rest of the group, I would find myself just as
ostracized as I had been in the morning.

Suddenly, I heard the door to our room burst open, a gush of air rattling
the closet door.  I stopped breathing, as the door closed and hurried
footsteps charged through the room.  The door to the closet slid open with
a crash, and I winced as the light from the outer room assaulted my eyes.

"Oh, motherfucking...fuck me!" Brent stammered in angry frustration as he
clenched his fists, rapidly assessing the situation.  As my eyes adjusted,
he took hold of the rope, and I could see the debate in his eyes.  "Fuck!"
he repeated.  "Okay, shit, look, sorry but I'm gonna have to leave you in
here.  I don't have a lot of time."

We both glanced out towards the hotel door at the sound of a soft knock and
a giggle coming from the other side.  I looked at him wide-eyed.

"You're bringing a chick in here?" I exclaimed, my voice rising with alarm.

"Shhh!" he hissed.  "One minute!  Coming!"  he called over his shoulder in
the direction of the door.  "Fuck!  What do you want me to say, dude?"
Brent threw up his hands in desperation, leaning over to sweep up the
sweaty tank-top off the floor that I had peeled off earlier.  "Sorry man,
can't risk you making any noise.  Open up," Brent commanded, stuffing the
white fabric into my mouth.

"Mmmph!?" I protested, trying to convey how bad of an idea this was, but
clearly he was only thinking with the lower half of his body at the moment.

"Shut up!" he ordered again in a harsh whisper.  "And fuck, just...don't
listen."

With that, he slammed the closet door shut.  "Coming! Coming!"  I heard him
repeat as he went back to the door.

"What the fuck took you so long?" some girl asked playfully, as she swept
into the room.  "Had to give the other girl time to hide in the closet?"

"No!" Brent countered, a little too sharply.  "I mean, sorry," he
apologized, chuckling at the joke.  "Nah, no other girl.  Coast is clear.
Just wanted to make sure the place wasn't completely disgusting.  My friend
is kind of a slob."

"Looks clean to me," she responded, flirtatiously.  "So this friend of
yours...is he as hot as you?"  I heard her voice lower seductively.
"Because if that's the case, I'm not entirely opposed to inviting him to
the party."

Brent laughed, "Ehh, I'd rather not."  I could tell from his tone that he
was definitely not comfortable with that idea.  "Besides, I'd much rather
have you all to myself."

I rolled my eyes at the exchange, but it seemed to work well enough,
because it wasn't long before I couldn't hear anything other than heavy
breathing and the sound of them sucking each others faces.  Soon there was
the unmistakable sound of a zipper and the rustle of clothes hitting the
floor followed by the creaking of the old bed as they fell on top of it.

"Ah, ah, ah," the girl cooed.  "Ladies first."

I wasn't sure what she meant, but it wasn't long before her heavy breathing
was replaced with moaning.  "Yes, yes, right there. Yes, you got it, oh my
God...keep going...yes, shit, you're good at this."

I admired the girl's style, and tried to imagine what she looked like.  She
must have been incredibly hot to get Brent to agree so readily to eating
her out.

"You okay?" he asked, suddenly.  "Wanna maybe take turns?"

"Don't stop!" she commanded, her voice higher pitched and near orgasmic.
"Don't stop!"  There was the sound of more heavy breathing, moaning, and
suddenly she squealed.  "Holy fuck!"

I held my breath as she came loudly, catching her own breath and moaning
lightly for several long moments in orgasmic bliss.

"Thanks, baby," she cooed after a few minutes.

"My pleasure," Brent responded flirtatiously.  "So..."

"So... yeah, I think I'm kind of spent for a minute," she responded.  I
heard the bed squeak as she pushed herself up.

"Uhh, what?" Brent asked, flatly.  "What do you mean, spent?"

"I mean you're hot and all but I'm not really in the mood to suck your dick
right now, after...well, you know," she explained, apologetically. "Sorry.
I mean, do you wanna watch a movie or something and see what happens?"

"A movie?  Are you fucking serious?" Brent snapped back at her.  "Then what
the fuck did I just do that for?"

"Well, that's a little rude," she exclaimed defensively.  "Do you know how
many guys I've blown without so much as a finger in my pussy?  Am I
supposed to feel sorry for you because I'm trying to enjoy my fucking
orgasm for five minutes?"

"Fuck you," he spat.  "Just get the fuck out."

"Yeah, gladly. Whatever, prick."

I heard a shuffling of feet and clothing, and then the door opened with a
rush of air, followed by an extra loud slam that shook the walls of the
closet.  Admittedly, I kind of felt bad for him.  More than anyone, I could
relate to the feeling of being used, but I was also more than happy to hear
her leave after fearing the whole time that her flirtatious curiosity would
lead her to explore the closet.

The water ran in the bathroom sink for several minutes, and then the toilet
flushed.  Moments later the door to the closet flew back open, and I winced
again in the light.

"So, I guess you fucking heard all of that?" Brent demanded.  He was in
nothing but white boxers.  His chin and the edges of his bangs were damp
from apparently having just washed his face.  His muscles tensed, and his
chest was heaving slightly, still riled up from his frustration with the
girl.

"Mmph mmph..." I nodded, unable to pretend I had not.

"Well that's a first.  Fucking bitches.  No wonder Ryan keeps you around to
suck his dick..."  He let his voice trail as we made awkward eye contact at
the notion of my cock sucking duties.

I could tell from the look in his eyes that the wheels were turning in his
head.  Rapidly, he shook his head and turned to storm across the room where
he flipped on the TV.  I exhaled a slight sigh of relief as I watched him
crack open a beer and plop down on one of the arm chairs to watch TV.  Two
minutes later, he suddenly pushed himself back up to his feet.

"No, you know what? Fuck this."  He upturned the can of beer and chugged
down the contents before crushing the empty can and tossing it on the
floor.

Before I knew what was happening, he was back at the closet.  I tensed as
he flipped open the foil-cutting blade of the wine opener that the hotel
provided on the dresser.  He set the blade to the tense length of rope near
my chest and began to saw at the cord.

"I'm not dealing with all that shit," he explained, motioning slightly to
my bound balls with the blade, "But, if you're just going to be fucking
standing around here, you might as well be fucking useful, right?"

I remained silent, gagged as I was as he sawed at the rope.  Moments later
it snapped and the relief was instantaneous, both for my back and
shoulders, as well as my stretched scrotum.  I exhaled a sigh of relief
through my nose, but Brent gave me little time to recover, keeping hold of
the end of the rope tied to my balls with one hand, and taking hold of my
left arm with the other, guiding me out of the closet.  He pulled me over
towards the edge of the bed, and let go of the rope.

Quickly, as if unsure of what to do, he checked to make sure the door was
securely closed, and turned up the volume a few notches on the TV.
Returning to the edge of the bed, he stepped back in front of me, a little
awkwardly.

"Okay, so, uh, this is how it's going to work.  I'm going to close my eyes,
drop trou, and you are going to get on your knees and do your thing and
never tell anyone about it.  Got it?"

"Mmph, mmph," I mumbled, nodding.

He whipped the tank-top from my mouth and tossed it on the ground.  "Good,
so uh, get to work then."

Brent dropped his boxers in a fluid motion, and settled back onto the edge
of the bed, laying back and reaching behind him to grab a pillow which he
stuffed under his head.  He spread his legs a little, his already
half-erect cock sprang to life.  It was a little shorter than Ryan's, but
thicker and bouncing on a heavier set of balls.

I sank carefully to my knees, my hands still bound behind my back, and
hovered reluctantly at Brent's crotch, licking at my dry lips to moisten
them.  This would be my third official cock, but the first that didn't
belong to the Grey family.  As I parted my mouth and let me tongue sweep
lightly under Brent's cock head, it occurred to me that Ryan might not
entirely approve of this, although he had offered my services to Brent in
the past, I wasn't sure if he expected that Brent would ever take him up on
it.

>From the way that Brent's body tensed, I could tell that he was struggling
internally with his decision to have me suck his dick, but after the first
minute or so as I expertly worked my tongue up and down his shaft, and
began to take his cock deep into my mouth as I had been trained to do, he
quickly loosened up. I listened for the cues of his breathing, and felt his
body relax as a few pleasureful moans escaped his lips

After several minutes of slurping at his junk, I heard the familiar sound
of tense breathing, and felt his cock and balls contract slightly.

"I'm close...I'm close...oh, fuck yeah!" he exclaimed suddenly, erupting
into my mouth.  He groaned, exhaling heavily, as he jerked his hips
slightly, letting the cum flow from his balls and into my mouth.  "Hell,
motherfuckin, yeah," he repeated, as his orgasm subsided.  "Fuck that dumb
bitch!"

He sat up suddenly and pushed my face away from his crotch with enough
force to nearly knock me off my knees as if he had suddenly just remembered
that I was the one getting him off.

"Shit, Drew, you really are a fucking good cocksucker. Maybe there's
something to this whole natural slave thing after all?" he mused, leaning
forward to pull up his boxers.

I swallowed the remainder of his cum that lingered on my tongue, though I
could feel some of it that ran out of the side of my mouth still trickling
down my chin.  Unsure of what to say in response, I shrugged slightly.

"Aren't you supposed to say something?" Brent questioned.

I raised an eyebrow in surprise, my heart racing slightly.  "What do you
mean?"

Brent cockily squared his jaw.  "I mean, I just let you suck my fucking
dick.  Do you think maybe Ryan would expect you to show a little more
appreciation?"

My heart sank.  Despite everything Brent had uncovered about my changed
relationship with Ryan, he had always played it cool with me,
even defending me from time to time when Ryan decided to be a complete
dick.  He had tried his best to steer clear of the slave thing, despite
Ryan waving it in his face whenever the three of us were alone, yet
suddenly, it seemed like Brent might be jumping on the bandwagon.

"Thank you." I cleared my throat, and added, "Sir."  I knew that he was
embarrassed and felt his masculinity had been compromised, both by the
rejection of the girl and having his dick sucked by another guy, but if he
was going to play master to assert his dominance, it was going to
be easiest for me to simply shift back into the same sort of slave mode I
would take up with Ryan.

"You're welcome, slaveboy," Brent chuckled, giving my hair a ruffle.  "Now
what the fuck do I do with you until Ry gets back?"

"Do you need help with anything, Sir?" I asked, more out of desperate hope
that he would free my hands and balls than a desire to actually do anything
else for him.

"Nah."  He thought for a minute.  "Fuck it, I'm just going to throw you
back in the closet, but I'll tell ya what, I'm not going to untie you, but
I'll let you stay on the ground so you can try to get some sleep.  I'd
think you've at least earned some relief for your feet and your balls."

"Yes, Sir.  Thank you, Sir."  The gratitude was actually genuine as I was
completely exhausted from both the day of manual labor and the punishment
I'd endured for several hours that evening.

"Cool, then go ahead and get your ass back in there.  Crawl!"  He was
getting into, picking up his discarded jeans from the floor, and snapping
them against my lower back as I shuffled on my knees back towards the
closet.

I had barely crossed the threshold of the sliding door's track when he
slammed the door behind me.

*

At some point in the night, I must have drifted off to sleep without
hearing Ryan come in, because the next thing I knew, I awoke to several
sharp jabs of Ryan's bare toes to my ribs.

"Wake up call, bitch," he croaked, before squatting down next to where I
was lying.

I groaned in pain, feeling the stiffness of my muscles and the dull ache in
my balls from the night spend in bondage.  Ryan yawned loudly, as he worked
to mercifully free my balls from the rope noose before rolling me onto my
stomach so that he could untie my hands.  Immediately, I began to rub the
circulation back into my wrists, but Ryan gave me little time to recover,
taking a hold on my hair, and pulling me out of the closet, shuffling on my
knees to keep up.

When we were out of the closet, he yanked my head back to take a closer
look at my face.  Smirking, he rubbed his thumb over my chin, flaking a bit
of Brent's dried cum out of the stubble on my jaw.

"Heard you earned your keep last night, cum slut," he mused. "Good to know
we finally got ya sucking cock like a champ."

"Yes, Sir," I agreed, hesitantly.

"Here."  He tossed my mesh gym shorts at my crotch.  "A good run will get
that blood circulating."  I followed his eyes as he glanced over his
shoulder at the clock.  "Better keep to time today or you'll really miss
that shuttle.  Go boy!"

He emphasized the order with a slap to my cheek, and I reluctantly pushed
myself up onto all fours, and then my feet, cringing from both exhaustion
and muscle fatigue was I found my balance.  Pulling the gym shorts up over
my hips, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the wall.  My chin
was indeed still flecked with flaky bits of dried cum.

"Please, Sir...may I wash my face before I go?" I asked quietly, keeping my
voice low in respect of Brent who still appeared to be sound asleep in his
bed.

"No," he responded flatly, swatting at my other cheek with his open palm
for insulting him with the question.  "You'll wear that man's cum with
pride, boy.  You want it off?  You better fucking run hard enough to sweat
it off.  Now, get the fuck out of here!"  He grabbed my arm and shoved me
towards the door.

Grabbing the key on my way out, I slipped out of the room quietly, grateful
at least to have the next hour to myself.

*

For the second day in a row, I barely made the shuttle, but Ryan had been
kind enough to allow me to shower and brush my teeth before dressing me for
the day.  He said that he didn't want to torture the rest of the work group
with my stench.

Although I had been looking forward to spending the day away from Ryan and
Brent, despite the manual labor in the heat of the day, things had taken an
expected icy turn after the incident on the elevator the night before.  The
shuttle was silent as soon as I boarded, and I could feel the glares of the
others boring into the back of my head for the entire ride to the work
site.

Over the course of the day, I tried to make several attempts to apologize
again to Jeremy for the actions of Ryan and Brent, but he purposely ignored
me.  Finally, I cornered him by the water cooler late in the afternoon.

"Hey," I started, not giving him a chance to walk away.  "I know what
happened sucked.  Those guy are dicks.  You know I'm not like that."

He finished filling his water bottle in silence.  "Yeah, well.  You might
not be pledging like I thought, but you are still just another fucking frat
hole."  He scoffed, screwing the cap back on the bottle.  "Why don't you
just go find a fucking keg party on the beach and leave us the hell alone."

I took the cue and left him alone.  In fact, I wanted nothing more than to
find a keg party on the beach, but I had no choice but to keep reporting
back to the work site.

*

The rest of the week dragged on much in the same way.  My mornings began
with a jog on the beach, my days filled with hard labor at the construction
site, and my evenings locked away in the hotel room suffering from the
worst torture of all, complete boredom.

On a few occasions, Ryan had used me as his errand boy.  I made a few more
trips to the store to replenish some of the snacks in the room.  One night
I had to go pick up a pizza for them to eat before going out.  When they'd
finished eating their fill, Ryan tied my hands behind my back and left me a
pile of the crusts to chew on while they took a shower.  Another night, I
was kicked awake at 3:00am and sent on a run to a 24-hour fast food
restaurant to pick up some greasy food required to soak up the beer and
tequila shots in their stomachs.

I woke up on Saturday morning, the last full day of the trip, unsure of
what to expect as the service project had concluded the day before.  Of
course, I had skipped out on the dinner and drinks celebration with the
rest of the group and spent the evening alone with a protein bar in the
hotel room.  Diligently, I took my morning jog and reported back to
the hotel room before Ryan and Brent had even begun the process of waking
up.  In fact, they were so soundly passed out from the night before that
neither of them even stirred until almost noon.

Unsure of what to do while I waited for them to wake up, I stripped naked,
and quietly relieved myself in the bathroom, before downing a protein bar
and a bottle of water for some sustenance.  Afterwards, having nothing else
to do but wait, I settled down on the floor of the room outside the closet,
leaned against the wall and hugged my knees to my chest.

Brent stretched and yawned loudly, waking up first.  He kicked the sheets
back, and practically rolled out of bed.  Almost as if he was
sleep-walking, his eyes still partially closed, he plodded into the
bathroom.  I couldn't help but notice his boxers were hanging halfway down
his ass, and he seemed oblivious to the morning wood tenting obscenely from
his crotch.  Moments later, there was a strong stream of piss splashing in
the toilet followed by a satisfied groan.

Ryan stirred awake abruptly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as Brent
exited the bathroom.  "Jesus, dude," he croaked in his morning voice.
"Want the bitch to take care of that?"

I followed Ryan's eyes to Brent's crotch.  His boxers were still
half-tented, despite his morning piss.

"Fuck off," Brent sighed, crashing face fist back onto his bed.

"Don't say I've never tried to do anything nice for you," Ryan chided.

"What's he doing here anyway?  Shouldn't he be building a house or
something?"  Brent mumbled, face down in his pillows.

"Program ended yesterday."  Ryan shrugged.  "But, that's a good question.
Not sure what the fuck am I am going to do with him today?"

I sat awkwardly by the wall while they chatted back and forth.

"Get over here, boy," Ryan commanded suddenly.

Jumping slightly, I pushed up to my feet, and took a few steps towards him,
positioning myself between the bed and taking up a casual presentation
stance, bowing my head slightly to look down at him.

He shot upright out of his sheets.  "Get the fuck on your knees!  How dare
you fucking stand over me?"

"Sorry, Sir," I mumbled, dropping to my knees.

"Better. You are just fucking up left and right on this trip, cunt.
Thought I'd give you a little vacation, but should have just left you in
the dungeon for the week."

"Yes, Sir."  It was pointless to do anything else but agree with him.

He settled back down on his back, stuffing an extra pillow under his head.
"It's tempting to just leave you strung up again in the closet all day.
Maybe leave the privacy sign off the door and let the maids find you.
Maybe that will help you remember your place?" he taunted.

"Yeah, or get us arrested," Brent sighed, rolling over onto his back.

"You're such a buzz kill," Ryan groaned, snapping one of his pillow across
the room, hitting Brent in the face.  "Fine," he sighed.  "Better yet,
you're coming to the beach with us."

"Yeah. That'll show him," Brent mused, sarcastically.

"He's not coming to work on his tan," Ryan snapped, turning to me with a
devious gleam in his eyes.  "He's coming to do what he does best.  Be our
little bitch."

 "Yeah, no thanks."  Brent held up his hands in defeat.  "You feel free to
have another dude following you around on a leash in front of everyone
else, but stay the hell away from me because I don't want any parts of it."

"Relax!  We're not going to make it obvious, duh," Ryan scolded.  "We'll
just have him on hand.  Whatever we need, he'll be happy to get.
Otherwise, he just sits there looking like a pathetic hanger-on."

"Fine, whatever," Brent agreed, pushing back up out of bed.  "But let's
fucking get down there, dude.  Last day and it's already after noon."

Fifteen minutes later, the three of us were dressed and in the elevator on
our way down to the beach.  Ryan's nylon knapsack was loaded up and strung
over my shoulders.  My arms were piled high with beach towels, and a cheap
styrofoam cooler they had acquired earlier in the week was slung over my
arm, weighted down with bottled water and large bottles of beer encased in
brown paper bags.

I followed them timidly through the hotel lobby and out the back door,
across the deck and down over the dune walk to the beach.  At this point in
the afternoon, the beach was already packed as far as the eye could see,
littered with colorful towels, umbrellas, and glistening, tanned
college-aged bodies.  Ryan had allowed me to wear the same mesh gym shorts
that I had worn for my morning runs.  I didn't exactly fit in compared to
the board shorts that most of the guys on the beach seemed to favor, but I
knew that it could have been worse.

I knew that my body, however, was nothing to be ashamed of, and I couldn't
help but notice the turning heads of several bikini-clad sorority girls as
the three of us strutted by.  It was a painful mix of flattery and
disappointment, knowing all too well that they were as off limits to me as
I was to them.

"We're over here," Ryan directed, pointing to a gathering of guys from Ryan
and Brent's frat intermingled with some girls that I recognized from
campus.  Cautiously, I set the cooler down first, and piled the towels on
top, unsure of what to do with them.

"Well, well, look who decided to show up.  Thought we were gonna have to
call the cops," one of the guys I had met before named Jason piped up,
glancing up over aviator style sunglasses from where he was sprawled on a
beach chair.

"Yeah, yeah," Brent sighed, swiping a towel from the cooler and plopping
down in the sand a few paces from Jason.  "Rough night, dude."

"I hear ya," Jason agreed, glancing over to me.  "Who the hell is that?"

I froze, feeling instantly uncomfortable.  Ryan gave me a reassuring pat on
the shoulder, with a little more force than would have been required.  "You
remember my roommate, Drew?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, right."  Jason nodded.  "Had no idea he was down
here. Good to see ya again, man.  Where ya been hiding all week?"

I swallowed, and shrugged.  "Uh, I dunno, I..."

"Oh you know," Ryan interjected.  "He had better shit to do than hang out
with me and my friends.  His people have all peaced out though, so invited
him to hang with us today.  Cool?"

Jason shrugged.  "Free country, dude.  The more the merrier."

"Oh shit," Ryan remarked, suddenly, nudging the cooler with the tip of his
toe.  "Totally forgot to fill the cooler with ice.  Drew, would you mind
running it back up to the ice machine?"

"Sure," I agreed, as if I had a choice in the matter.  Ryan swept his towel
off of the cooler and tossed it half-folded on the sand before taking a
seat to chat further with Brent and Jason.  Gingerly, I sat his backpack
down a few feet away on top of the last towel, and hauled the heavy cooler
back up to trudge back through the sand to the hotel.

Returning several minutes later was more of a challenge, the ice adding
several pounds of dead weight to the cooler.  I was already sweating a bit
in the hot sun as I walked back across the dune and down to the beach.

"Hey, whatcha got in the cooler?" one of the sunbathing girls called out
flirtatiously as I walked by.

I smiled sheepishly, and shrugged. "Just some water and stuff."

"Anything you can share?" she pressed, pulling her over-sized sunglasses
down over her nose, raking her eyes up and down my body.  She was gorgeous
from head to toe, with golden bronzed skin, long brunette hair streaked
with blond, and glittering blue eyes.

I glanced towards Ryan and the others several yards in front of me.  They
didn't seem to be paying attention.  Shrugging again, I nodded over my
shoulder casually. "Sorry, got a bunch of thirsty people waiting for this."

"Aww, well if you find yourself with anything extra, you know where to find
me."  She winked, and pushed her sunglasses back up over her eyes, tossing
her head back lightly.  The other girls turned to her and they began to
whisper and giggle quietly as I continued on my way to deliver the cooler
to Ryan and his friends.

I had barely had a chance to set the cooler down when Ryan was already
inside, pulling out one of his paper-clad bottles of beer.

"Thanks, buddy," he exclaimed with false kindness.  "Oh, fuck, look at
this."  He held up his bottle.  The brown paper was already damp and
disintegrating against the bottle from the melting ice in the cooler.
"Can't risk getting caught with this shit.  Would you mind running to the
store and grabbing us a few paper bags?"

"Uhh, sure," I agreed, once again having no choice.  As I took off back
across the beach, I couldn't help but wonder whether Ryan was purposeful in
planning these sorts of tasks, and if not, how he could have possibly
managed taking care of himself for the entire week at the beach.

I jogged lightly up the beach, taking a longer route to avoid the girls,
before cutting over to the small store in the lobby of the hotel that sold
postcards and sundries.  The store was manned by some thirty-something
local surfer type guy that never grew up, with leathery skin and fried,
shoulder length hair.  I had to practically beg him to spare a couple of
paper bags, but he eventually conceded, acknowledging that he had been in
our shoes before.  "Those beach patrol cops are a real drag, man," he
informed me handing over a small stack of bags.  "Don't do anything I
wouldn't do, bro!"

"Thank you!" I exclaimed, sincerely, before trotting back out to the beach
for the third time.

When I returned to Ryan's group, they had all vacated their towels and
chairs.

"Heads up!" someone exclaimed, as a football whooshed through the air and
collided with my abdomen.

I fell back hard in the sand, sending the stack of paper bags fluttering in
the breeze.  I wheezed in pain trying to catch my breath having the wind
knocked out of me, which had become an increasingly regular occurrence in
my life.

"Hey!  A little help?"  Ryan called from where he stood several yards away,
waiting impatiently for the football to be returned.

I nodded, and pushed up to my feet, staggering slightly off balance.  After
catching my footing, I scooped up the football, dusted off the sand, and
threw a perfect spiral to Ryan who caught it with ease.  As he tossed it in
turn to Brent, I turned to the sudden realization that that brown paper
bags were now twirling in all different directions.  I took over chasing
after them, completely aware of how foolish I looked.

"Hey! Watch it!" one of the girls nearby scolded me as I accidentally
kicked up sand in her direction as I as rushed by her to scoop up a paper
bag.

"Sorry!  Sorry!" I repeated several times, as I continued to churn up sand
on my wild goose chase after the bags.  Eventually, I had collected them
all and tucked them safely under the cooler.

"Hey, roommate!  Think fast!"  Jason called out suddenly.  I looked up just
in time to see the football flying back in my direction.  Fortunately, my
reflexes kicked in just in time to catch the call safely, cradling it
against my chest.  "Join in, dude."

I looked over to Ryan, who subtly nodded his approval.  Taking the cue, I
threw the ball back to Jason, and squared up with them on my own spot of
the beach to join in tossing the ball around.  I'm not sure how long we
played, but I enjoyed every minute of it.  I couldn't remember the last
time I felt so normal, especially in public.

"Go long," Ryan called out suddenly, gesturing for me to go further back.
"Longer!"  He waved his left hand, gripping the football in his right.  I
started trotting backwards, keeping one eye on Ryan and the other on the
beach behind me, careful not to kick sand in anyone's face.

Then without warning, Ryan chucked the ball in an impossible arc destined
to sail over my head.  Nonetheless, I sidestepped lightly as I zeroed in on
the ball, wincing in the sun as I tracked it, and then dove with my arms
outstretched.  The tips of my fingers tickled the skin of the ball as it
fell clumsily to the ground just as I crashed chest first onto the beach
spraying a big cloud of sand in multiple directions.

"Hey! What the fuck!" someone shouted.

"Sorry! Sorry!" I stuttered, as I pushed myself up from the sand, spitting
the grains from my lips.  The sand clung to my sweaty skin as I tried to
wipe it from my chest and stomach.

"Oh. It's you."  I knew instantly that it was Jeremy.

"Oh, hey.  Really, sorry...didn't mean it," I tried to apologize.

He stood up from where he was lounging on a towel, surrounded by the rest
of the girls and the other guys from the service group, and picked up the
football.  I held up my right arm, gesturing for him to throw it back to
me.  Gripping it with two hands, he tossed it underhanded in my general
direction, causing it to sputter in lopsided directions in the air.
Leaning forward I managed to catch it.

"Thanks.  Sorry again.  You guys okay?" I offered, glancing at the towels
and chairs that had been sprayed lightly with sand in my crash.

"We're fine," he quipped.  "Just keep your fucking football game over
there, or is it too much to ask you and your 'I'm-not-in-a-frat' friends to
give us five square feet of this beach to enjoy in peace?"  He made a
dramatic arm gesture around him.

"Yes, okay. I said I'm sorry," I repeated, biting my tongue to avoid
barking back at him.  Suddenly, I noticed him tense up, and I could feel
someone approaching over my left shoulder.

"Is there a problem here?" Ryan asked, innocently as ever, coming up
between us.

"No problem," Jeremy snapped, crossing his arms defiantly.

"Oh, it's you from the elevator."  Ryan grinned for a moment, and then
shook his head in disagreement.  "No, you know what?  There is a problem.
 I really owe you an apology, man.  What happened the other day was really
outta line.  You seem like a nice dude."

I raised an eyebrow, watching Jeremy for a reaction.  He shrugged.
"Whatever."

"No, no. I feel seriously bad.  It was completely meant to be a joke, and I
totally get that it wasn't funny.  Just giving my little bro here a hard
time, that's all," Ryan explained, elbowing me in the ribs.

"This is your brother?" Jeremy asked skeptically, directing the question at
me.

"Well, not yet..." Ryan answered for me, then lowered his voice.  "Here,
huddle up."  He pulled the three of us into a loose circle, placing his arm
around Jeremy.  "Drew, here, is pledging Delt.  You know what that means,
right?"

"Yeah," Jeremy said flatly, shooting me a look.  "Figured he was pledging
something, but said he wasn't.  Guess he lied...shocking."

"Yeah, well not his fault there.  We like to keep some things a little
secret. You get that?" Ryan explained.  Jeremy nodded.  "So anyway, like I
said, I do feel really bad, we both do," Ryan added, nodding over his
shoulder towards Brent who was waiting impatiently for the ball across the
beach.  "So how 'bout you let us make it up to you?"

"How?" Jeremy asked.  He was skeptical, but I could tell he was curious.
We both were.

"Well, part of being a good pledge means you gotta earn your place in the
family, start from the bottom and work your way up, so it's a lot of doing
things for the actives..."

"Things?"

"Yeah, you know.  Well, without giving any of our secrets away, it's things
like running errands, cleaning up the house, designated driving...generally
making our lives a little easier.  Frankly, doing all the shit we don't
wanna do."

"Yeah, and?" Jeremy challenged, glancing over at me with confusion.

"So, we're on vacation and I know you all worked really hard all week on
that house and could really use this last day to relax, so how about you
take Drew here for the rest of the day and think of him as your own
personal pledge."

My eyes widened, feeling my heart rate increase uncomfortably.  Ryan never
ceased to surprise me.

"Uhh," Jeremy started, glancing between us.  "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious," Ryan confirmed. He gave me a firm pat on the back to
emphasize his point.

"I dunno...I mean, no, it's okay really," he hesitated. "Thanks, but no
thanks."

"Dude, come on!" Ryan persisted.

Jeremy bit his lip lightly, letting his wheels turn.  I could tell he
didn't trust Ryan, and for good reason, but I could also sense that his
curiosity was getting the better of him.  "I mean, what would we even do
with him?" he asked, as if entertaining the idea.

"Whatever you want!" Ryan exclaimed, almost gleefully.  "That's the beauty
of it.  C'mon, you'd actually be doing my a favor.  Could use some time
with the brothers without the pledge hanging around.  Think of it as
babysitting for all I care, just don't hesitate to keep him busy.  What do
you say?"

Ryan gave me a little shove towards Jeremy, and I looked from one to the
other, trying to keep my face calm and free from panic.

"Yo! Grey!" Brent called from several yards away. "Are we playing here, or
what?!"

"One sec!" Ryan called back over his shoulder, then turned to Jeremy. "Last
chance, bro.  Take it or leave it offer..."

Jeremy looked to me shyly, and then shrugged nonchalantly.  "I mean, I
guess.  Sure, why not?"

"Great!  It's settled."  Ryan gave us both firm pats on the back.  "So,
Drew here will do anything you want him to do.  Just do me a favor and keep
it legal and safe.  I don't want to spend my last night of vacation bailing
his ass out of jail."  Ryan laughed at his own joke.

"Anything?" Jeremy challenged, his voice rising a bit.

"Yeah, man.  He's totally at your beck and call, butler, waiter, cabana
boy, whatever you need.  Isn't that right, Drew?"

I swallowed hard.  "Yes," I agreed, quietly.

"Yes, what, pledge?" Ryan asked firmly, to demonstrate how serious he was.

"Yes, Sir," I repeated, my face reddening.

"There ya have it." Ryan smiled, giving me another shove forward.  He
reached in the side pocket of my gym shorts and pulled the room key out and
handed it over to Jeremy.  "Be good, and have him back to his room by
dinner."  Ryan snatched the football from under my arm, and hurled it back
towards Brent's waiting grasp, before jogging back towards the others.

Jeremy and I stood awkwardly in front of each other.  He pocketed my hotel
key and then crossed and uncrossed his arms again a bit uncomfortably.

"So, this is a little weird," he started with a nervous chuckle, breaking
the silence.

"Yeah..." I agreed.

"Look, you don't really have to, you know, like be my servant or anything,"
he continued. "Just figured he might take it out on you if he didn't get
his way."

"That's probably true." I nodded, adding a nervous laugh of my own.

"But," he added quickly, looking up at me with a sudden mischievous twinkle
in his eye.  I felt my body tense in anticipation.  "I mean, since you're
here, and they're probably watching, I should probably have you do at least
a little something useful, right?"

"If you want, I mean, I guess that's the idea," I agreed, a little
nervously.  "What do you want me to do?"

He turned around and leaned over retrieving something from his beach bag
near his towel.  "I could use some more sunblock on my back."

Cautiously, I took the bottle of lotion from him.  Glancing around the
beach at all of the potential onlookers, I raised an eyebrow.  "Sure, but I
mean, right here?  Isn't that going to look a little..."

"Gay?" he asked, finishing my thought.  "Yeah, Drew, guess what?  I'm gay.
Don't worry, it isn't contagious," he spat with increasing venom in his
voice.  "Now, lotion me up."

He spun around, and leaned forward slightly with his hands on his hips,
just above the waist of his very short, purple swimsuit.  He was even
skinnier than I realized at the work site, his muscles and bones
practically protruding through his taught skin.  Reluctantly, I squeezed a
large dollop of white lotion onto my palm, set the bottle down in the sand,
and then casually warmed the lotion between my palms and began to rub it
over his firm back.

"Lower," he commanded, motioning to the recess of his lower back. "Don't
want to burn down there."

I worked the remaining lotion into his lower back, swiping gingerly at the
waistline of his swim suit, resting on top of his ass.

"Oh look, you survived," he observed sarcastically when I'd finished.  He
turned to face me, bending down to scoop up the bottle.  Raking his eyes up
and down my body like a piece of meat, he lightly flicked the tip of his
index finger at my chest, just above my left nipple, flaking bits of dry
sand off of my skin.  "You're still covered in sand.  Why don't you run
into the ocean for a minute and wash off?"

I started to brush it off of me with my palm.  "I mean, I'm fine, I can
just..."

"It wasn't exactly a request," Jeremy interrupted, with a curt smile.  I
froze in mild shock, and then nodded sheepishly, taking a few steps past
him.  "I think I also said, run?"

Gritting my teeth slightly, I nodded again and took off jogging towards the
waves, dismayed at how quickly Jeremy was jumping into the role that Ryan
had given him.  I knew right away that he had decided then and there that
he was going to enjoy it.

The water was icy cold for the time of year as I waded in cautiously,
goosebumps instantly breaking out over my entire body.  Taking a deep
breath, I plunged beneath the first wave that rolled in, and as soon as I
was certain the sand had washed away, I was wading back into shore.  When I
reached the beach, I shook some of the excess water from my body, and
jogged wet and shivering back to Jeremy and his crew.  I could tell
instantly from the way they were huddled together, and Jeremy was casually
gesturing to me and in the direction of Ryan, that he was filling them in
on the situation.

"How was the water?" Jeremy mockingly, as I approached.

"Cold," I answered truthfully, crossing my arms for warmth as the water
began to evaporate from my skin.

"Sorry to hear that."  He shrugged, without actually caring.  "So, we were
just talking, and it looks like all of us could really use a new coat of
sunblock.  Sun seems really strong today, right?"  The others all murmured
in agreement.  "Here."  Jeremy tossed me another bottle of lotion.  "Who
wants to go first?"

One of the girls in the group raised her hand with a slight giggle, but
made no effort to get up from her towel.  I squatted down beside her as she
turned over on her stomach.  Casually, she reached behind and unclasped her
bikini top, bearing her full back to me as I began to work.  She moaned
slightly in enjoyment as I massaged her back with the sunblock.  "Oh, yeah,
right there. That feels amazing!" she cooed.  "Little more to the left."

Before I knew it, I was not only applying sunblock, but also giving
impromptu ten-minute massages as I worked my way through all six of the
girls.  The other two guys had declined my services, but by the time I
worked my way back to Jeremy, he was ready for another coat, declaring that
he felt left out from the massages the others had received.

"You're good at this," Jeremy sighed in satisfaction, his cheek pressed
against his towel as I massaged his upper back under the guise of applying
the sunblock.  "But why don't you run up to the beach bar and order us a
round of margaritas...with the extra shot.  I'm feeling festive!"

"I'm not 21," I informed him.

"So?!" He was incredulous that that would be a concern. "This is spring
break!  Seventy five percent of the people on this beach are underage.
Look, go to the bar, ask for Robbie...the cute one with the star tattoo on
his shoulder. Tell him Jeremy sent you.  He's been hooking us up all
morning.  You can charge it to room 304."

"Alright," I agreed, tepidly.

"And obviously, better just stick to a water for yourself.  Don't want to
take any chances since you're not 21," he added, the last part in complete
mocking.

I nodded pushing up to my feet and plodded up to the hotel's beach deck.
The bar was packed several bodies deep with both guys and girls clamoring
for overpriced drinks.  The plastic cups branded with the hotel logo were
the only drinks allowed on the beach, and only directly in front of the
hotel.  I spotted Robbie the bartender right away, an attractive, overly
muscled, overly tanned, dark haired guy in his mid-twenties.  He
was clearly gay, shirtless, and equally flirtatious with all the
customers.  I did my best to make eye contact and pushed my way to the bar.

"What can I get ya?" Robbie asked, leaning over the bar to zero in on me,
flashing a bright, white smile.

"Uhh, nine margaritas, please," I called, cupping my mouth.  "And an
ice-water."

Robbie laughed, "Are you fucking kidding, dude?"

"No?" I attempted, my face flushing a bit.

"Got ID?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I feigned looking for my wallet in my shorts, and shrugged innocently.  "I
don't have my wallet on me..."  Looking up at him, I did my best to make
eye contact and shoot him a flirtatious smile.  I motioned over my shoulder
towards the beach. "Jeremy sent me.  Honestly, I'm just drinking water."
It was the truth.

"So you're with Jeremy, eh?"  He stared at me for a minute and then cracked
a large, dimpled smile.  "I can't stomach the stuff either.  Nine
margaritas, coming up."  He began to line up plastic cups of ice, before
dumping some greenish, yellow mixture in each of them.  "What was the
room number again?"

"304. Thanks, man."  I was sincere, as he lined all of the cups up on
a plastic tray with a shallow rim.  "Oh, and he wants the extra shot."

"Figured!"  Robbie nodded, adding a small, plastic tube of tequila to each
of the cups.  "Think you got this?"  Robbie asked as he pushed the tray of
margaritas toward me.

"Yeah, I got it.  Thanks again!"  I tested the weight of the tray and then
lifted it off the bar, balancing it carefully with the edge braced against
my chest for balance.  I turned to head back down to the beach.

"Oh, wait. Your water!" Robbie called.

I spun around quickly without thinking just as some drunken frat guy pushed
away from the bar.  We collided with just enough force to flip up the tray
of margaritas, spilling them against my chest.  "Fuck! Shit!" I blabbered,
as the icy cold, sticky liquid gushed down my bare chest and rushed down my
legs, coating everything in between.

Everyone at the bar came to a standstill, turning their attention to me, as
I shivered and cursed quietly, holding the empty tray.

"Shit, sorry man," the frat guy offered, slinking away to run back down to
the beach.  "Watch where you're going next time?"

"Yeah."  I took a deep breath, making eye contact with Robbie.

He shook his head. "Oh man, I really wish that didn't just happen."

"You and me both," I said flatly, swatting an ice cube that somehow clung
to the waistband of my shorts.

"Fuck.  You just look so cute and pathetic right now, I'll tell ya what,"
Robbie continued, skirting around the bar.  He grabbed a mop and a dustpan
on a stick.  "You clean this up, and I'll remake the drinks on the house.
Deal?"

I swallowed, seeing no alternative, and nodded in agreement.  "Thanks," I
said quietly, taking the mop from him.

I flushed a deep shade of crimson as I carefully swept the empty cups,
straws and plastic tubes into the dustpan, and mopped at the sticky puddle
of spilled margaritas that saturated the beach deck.  There were murmurs
and giggles all around me as I worked.  One of the bitchier drunk girls
loudly suggested that I get a job at the bar.

Robbie stepped back around to the front of the bar to inspect my work.
Satisfied, he handed me a fresh tray of drinks, including my water, and
made sure I had a good grip before sending me off with a gentle caress on
my lower back. "Hey!  Let me know if things don't work out with you and
Jeremy."  He gave me a wink.

I opened my mouth to correct him, but thought better of it, and carefully
balanced the drinks the rest of the walk back to Jeremy and the group.

"What took you so long?" Jeremy asked, sitting up on his towel as my shadow
crept into his sunlight.  He looked me up and down.  "And what the fuck
happened to you?"

"Little spill.  Don't worry, you're only getting charged for one round," I
assured him as I squat down to set the tray gently on the beach.

"Better only be getting charged for one round!" Jeremy exclaimed.  "I'm on
financial aid!"

"It's all good," I repeated, handing him the first margarita.  I motioned
to the others that the drinks had arrived.

"Ah, ah...why don't you deliver them around so everyone doesn't have to
crawl over here?" Jeremy suggested, though it was clear I didn't have a
choice.

"Sure."  I nodded, and picked the tray back up.  I walked around to
everyone in the group, carefully squatting to deliver each margarita from
the tray until there was nothing left but my ice water.

"Think you better take another dip," Jeremy observed, his face twisting
into a mix of concern and disgust at the way the spilled margaritas had
soaked the front of my shorts and plastered the hair on my legs to my shins.

"Yeah," I agreed, dreading the water temperature but anxious to rinse off.

He giggled slightly and gave me a playful slap on the ass as I started down
to the water.  "And hurry up!"

The remainder of the afternoon was mercifully uneventful.  Jeremy quickly
ran out of things for me to do other than reapply his sunblock another time
and retrieve a final round of drinks from Robbie at the bar.  He had
enjoyed the first hour, testing the boundaries of what he could make me do,
but he clearly wasn't a dominant, and definitely not a sadist.  The others
had little to no interest in bothering with me at all.  They were much more
focused on enjoying their only beach day of the entire break.

I took advantage of the opportunity to sit around on the beach, soaking up
the last rays of the sun as I watched it slip away signaling a nearing end
to spring break.  The beach began to clear slowly but surely as the groups
of co-eds packed it in.  I had lost sight of Ryan and Brent hours ago, but
could only assume they were also long gone.  Eventually, Jeremy decided it
was time for us to do the same.  I returned their rented chairs to the
hotel kiosk, and then returned to help them pack up their beach bags, and
towels.  We walked back to the hotel lobby as a group.

"Well, I guess this is it?" Jeremy asked, holding out my hotel room key.
"Thanks for...well, hanging out with us today.  I mean, I know you
basically had no choice, but you know what I mean?"

I accepted the key.  "No, it was cool," I offered, somewhat sincerely.

"I know we had a little bit of a rocky week, but it really does seem like
you're one of the good ones.  Hope to see you around campus?"

"Sure, sure," I agreed.  "You too."  I extended my hand to shake his, but
he swatted it away playfully, pulling me in for a hug instead.  The embrace
was warm and firm, and I admit that it felt nice.  It was genuine, and the
nicest thing I'd felt physically in months.

"Have a good trip back," he whispered as he pulled out of the hug.  He
turned away quickly without making eye contact, and skipped across the
lobby to catch up with the others.

I headed upstairs and cautiously pushed back into the hotel room, unsure of
what state I would find Ryan and Brent in, or if they would even be there.
The glow of the TV answered my question.

"Get in here, boy," Ryan barked from where he was lounging on the bed.
"Lose the shorts."

I closed the door behind me, and slipped the shorts off, kicking them to
the side of the door.  He snapped and pointed to the floor by the foot of
the bed.  Snapping back to the reality of what had become my life, I sank
to my knees.  The bathroom door was closed and I could hear Brent in the
shower.

"How was the day, slave?" Ryan asked, keeping his eyes on the game he was
watching.

"Fine, Sir," I said, truthfully.

"Did that fag try to fuck you?  Make you suck his little dick?"

"No, Sir," I answered, rather pointedly.

"Ha, pathetic.  He was totally boned for you and didn't have the balls to
do anything about it."  He smirked to himself.  "Know why, boy?"

"No, Sir?"

"Because he has too much respect for you.  Has no idea what you really
are...what you really exist for."

I swallowed hard.

"He did get some use out of you, I hope?" he pressed, keeping his focus on
the TV.

"Yes, Sir."  I shifted uncomfortably on my knees, trying my best to hide my
annoyance at the way Ryan thought of Jeremy.

"Good," he mused, distantly.  "Then it's my turn."  He turned up the volume
on the TV and looked to me suddenly.  "Get up here on my dick.  And you
better make it fast before Brent's done in there."

"Yes, Sir."  Reluctantly, I crawled forward and up onto the bed.  He pushed
the sweatpants and boxers he was wearing down to his knees, and freed his
sweaty balls from between his thighs with a scoop of his hand.  Giving his
cock a few quick strokes to get it going, he closed his eyes and put his
hands behind his head, settling back on his pillow.  Wincing my own eyes
closed, I hovered over his crotch and took his growing erection into my
mouth, licking and sucking until he was moaning slightly with pleasure.

He really must have been horny because it didn't take him long at all to
explode into my mouth.  I did my best to gobble down what I could, the
excess falling from my lips to his thighs.

"Lick it up, boy," he demanded, his eyes popping open.  He grabbed the back
of my head, and used my tongue as a mop until his cock and thighs were
licked clean.  "Good."  He shoved me off of the bed with enough force to
send me tumbling to the floor on my side.  "Now, start folding and packing
up all our shit.  We have an early flight tomorrow."

"Yes, Sir."  Spring break had come to an end.

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