Date: Sun, 15 Jun 2014 17:45:20 -0400
From: Matt W <matt10019@gmail.com>
Subject: Bred Slave - Part 17

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 22 - CONNOR GREY

The squeaking of rubber, athletic soles on the waxed, hardwood of the floor
echoed in the tall ceilings of the gym, intermixed with the rhythmic sound
of a basketball pounding against the wooden floor and the aggressive grunts
of four young men that struggled for dominance over the ball.  Surprisingly
enough, I was one of those young men zig-zagging in front of the basketball
net in our corner of the gym floor.

The day had started out like many other Saturdays.  Ryan slept in late
following a night of partying while I straightened up the house and got
some schoolwork done.  When he woke up, I made him some breakfast, and he
informed me that we would be joining Brent for a workout at the campus
fitness center.  These Saturday workouts had become somewhat routine, and I
found myself looking forward to them as an escape from the in-home gym in
Mr. Grey's basement, where my workouts were often driven under the threat
of a crop or the promise of a punishment.

Just as we had finished with our last circuit in the weight room, Brent
challenged Ryan to some one-on-one basketball.  Ryan eagerly agreed,
incapable of backing down from a challenge.  However, just as we were
exiting the fitness center into the main gym, we ran into their fraternity
brother Jason on his way in.  They exchanged some pleasantries, which
quickly turned to trash-talk that somehow resulted in Jason joining the
pickup game.

I could tell Ryan was perturbed and I had concluded weeks ago that Jason
was not his favorite person from the way they interacted. I had witnessed
it on several occasions, and although Ryan had not confided his feelings to
me, I could tell that Jason's growing friendship with Brent was the root of
the ire.  He didn't live in the frat house like Brent and Jason, and I knew
he felt disconnected in many ways from his brothers.  I would almost bet
that if things were different, he would choose to share a dingy room in
their frat house over the relative palatial conditions he currently enjoyed
at home. Plain and simply, Ryan didn't like to share his things, including
his friends.

Thus, it wasn't entirely a surprise when Ryan claimed me for his teammate
and declared that we would be playing two-on-two, first team to score fifty
points would win and the losing team would buy the winning team lunch.

"You better fucking bring your A-game," he hissed quietly into my ear as we
walked into the gym.  "I want to wipe the floor with these bitches."  I
knew he was serious, and I knew if we didn't win, I would be punished
hard.

A half hour later, things were getting tense on the court for all four of
us.  We found ourselves evenly matched, with the score suddenly tied at 48.

"Here, here, here!" Ryan called, darting back and forth on the opposite
side of the net from me, trying to make himself open to receive the ball
while Jason was all over him doing his best to intercept a pass.

I dribbled the ball defensively, keeping my back turned as best I could to
Brent as his arms flailed behind me, ready to do the same while keeping
Ryan in my periphery.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ryan's elbow slam into Jason's stomach
giving him the opportunity to make himself open just enough.  I cut right,
and then threw left to fake out Brent, sending the ball sailing into Ryan's
waiting hands.  With a squeak of his shoe, he pivoted and went for the
shot.  It was a smooth swish through the net.

"Game!" Ryan shouted, holding up his hands in triumph. "Oh yeah!"  In a
surprising move, he crossed over to me with his hands held up for a
celebratory double high-five that melded into a brotherly chest bump of
sorts.  It was as natural as if we had both momentarily forgotten the way
our relationship had changed over the past six months.

"Bull shit!" Jason interjected, interrupting the revelry.  He stormed in
between us, giving Ryan an aggressive shove.  "You fucking elbowed
me. That's a fucking foul."

"The hell I did!" Ryan retorted, turning to Jason and giving him a firm
two-handed shove in response. "Not my fault you fucking suck."

"Fuck you, Grey!" Jason snarled back, baiting Ryan again with another two
handed jab to his chest.

And then as if a fire had just ignited with a surge of testosterone and
adrenaline, the two began to go at each other with fists swinging, each
doing their best to hold the other off and drive their fists into each
other at the same time.  Brent and I exchanged a look and then darted into
action.

"Whoa, whoa, bro!  Chill!" Brent yelled, wrapping his arms around Ryan from
behind, while I did the same to Jason.  We did our best to hold their arms
down to their chests and pull them apart.  "It's just a fucking game."

We managed to pull them apart, but they were both still red faced and
practically snarling at each other.

"Get the fuck off me," Jason commanded, breaking free from my grasp with a
violent twisting of his body.  Fortunately, he didn't go in for another
round.  He threw up his hands in frustration, and turned to storm off in
the direction of the locker rooms. "I'm outta here."

"Sore fucking loser!" Ryan shouted after him, still trying to wriggle free
from Brent's grasp.

"Relax, dude," Brent ordered, still holding him back.

Jason held up his middle finger as he walked away. "Just go home to daddy,
you douche."

With that, Ryan broke free of Brent's grasp.

"Not cool, bro." Brent scolded him, with a quick shake of the head. "Not
cool."  He turned and jogged after Jason. "Wait up, man."

I waited tensely for Ryan to react.  He glared in the direction Brent
scampered off to, and I prayed silently that he wouldn't take his rage out
on me.  "Let's get the fuck out of here," he said quietly, giving me a
surprisingly friendly pat on the shoulder.

Following his lead, we filed into the locker room.  Brent and Jason had
left their bags out on a bench near the row of lockers we had selected
earlier.  We could hear the showers going on the other side of the room.
Silently, we retrieved our bags from our lockers.  Ryan fished around in
his bag, and pulled out a hoodie.  He slipped it over his head, pulling it
down over his sweat soaked t-shirt.  Clearly, he had no interest in
showering while Brent and Jason were still around.  I pulled my zip-up from
my backpack, and slipped it on over my shirt.  Ryan slammed the locker door
shut, and in a childish act of retaliation, he kicked Jason and Brent's
bags to the floor on his way out.

I trailed just behind him silently as we made our way out of the athletic
center and strolled across the main quad.  Spring was definitely in the
air, with many students taking advantage of the warmer weather, gathering
in small clusters to study, read, eat, and in some cases, sprawl out half
naked to catch some early rays.

"Well, that was some fucking bull shit," Ryan remarked suddenly, when we
were out of earshot of any other students.  It was clear that he was still
fuming over the game

"Yes, Sir," I agreed, keeping my voice low.  I wasn't entirely certain what
had happened or whether or not Ryan had actually fouled Jason or not, but
it didn't matter.  Ryan was never actually at fault, at least in my world.

"Lunch?" he asked, though I assumed it was less of a suggestion than a
mandate.

"Uhh, sure, Sir," I replied, cautiously.  I'd assumed that food would be
the last thing on his mind following the explosion at the gym.  I started
to turn right in the direction of the student center which housed the
dining hall.

"Nah, nah.  None of that reheated Saturday bull shit.  Off campus," he
directed, pointing his finger in the direction of the parking lot.

We hopped in Ryan's jeep and drove a short distance away to the main street
area of town where the bars and restaurants were mostly concentrated.
After parking, I followed him into a diner favored by the locals.  We had
barely slid into the worn pleather seats of a booth by the window when a
snappy, middle-aged waitress appeared in a grease-stained uniform sliding
ice waters in front of each of us.

"Know what you boys want, or do you need time?" she asked without really
looking at either of us.

"I think I'm good..." Ryan mused, scanning the sticky, plastic covered menu
in front of him with his eyes.  "Burger deluxe, cheddar, fries...oh, and a
chocolate shake."

"Yep, and for you?" the waitress snapped, without looking up from her pad.

I looked up from the menu at Ryan.  He gave me a nod, urging me to order.
"Whatever you want, bro. It's on me today."

"Uhh," I was taken aback to the point of not being able to focus on the
words of the menu.  "I'll just have the same, thanks."

"Yep," the waitress sighed, clicking her pen closed before turning to head
towards the kitchen.

"What service," Ryan exclaimed sarcastically, driving a straw into his
glass of water before taking a large sip.

I fiddled nervously with the legs of my gym shorts underneath the table,
glancing from Ryan to the rest of the patrons in the diner and then back,
unsure of what I was supposed to say or do.  It had been months since I'd
been in any sort of restaurant, since before my enslavement, and the
experience was jarring.  I felt as if the restaurant had come to a
standstill and every hushed conversation was suddenly about me.

"Hey!" Ryan snapped his fingers suddenly in front of my face focusing my
attention. "Relax.  Just fucking relax, okay?  I don't need..." he paused,
leaning over the table and lowering his voice to barely a whisper. "I don't
need a fucking slave right now, so just take a fucking break.  Eat, drink,
whatever.  Just be a normal dude for a minute.  Cool?"

"Uh, cool," I agreed, cautiously, taking the cue to take a sip of my water,
although I wasn't entirely sure of what to make of the mandate.  Normal was
not something I had embodied for quite some time and I wasn't sure that I
even knew how.  Observing his face for a minute, I could tell that he was
still lost in thought over the incident at the gym and the rift that seemed
to be widening between him and Brent.  He was right.  He didn't need a
slave, he needed a friend.

"Can't believe the semester is almost over," he observed suddenly, breaking
the awkward silence with an abrupt subject change.  "Haven't checked your
shit in awhile. How's macro econ coming along?"

I shrugged, thinking back to my latest exam, as I used my straw to play
with the ice floating in my glass of water.  "It's getting better,
I guess.  Definitely my hardest class."

"You can still show some respect and look at me when I'm speaking to you,"
Ryan chided, his voice low but a little more firm.  I felt my cheeks flush
slightly as if I'd been caught stealing from the cookie jar and looked up
at him.  He cleared his throat, shifting back into conversation. "Yeah,
well, I know those classes kind of suck, but you'll learn to appreciate it
down the road.  Dad's not gonna run the company forever and I'm gonna need
someone I can trust to help me run things some day."

I nodded in agreement, feeling a small sense of pride swelling in my
chest.  Regardless of the fact that my studies had been upended, and my
future placed in the hands of the men who now owned me, I couldn't help but
feel good that Ryan considered me to be a key part of his plans.  It
sounded almost as if he needed me, and whether or not his needs ranged from
me scrubbing his executive toilet or running a board meeting, it was
reassuring to know that he saw me as part of his life for some time to
come.

The waitress reappeared with a tray full of burgers and milkshakes,
plopping the dishes down unceremoniously in front of us.  "Let me know if I
can get you boys anything else," she remarked, without even stopping to
wait for an answer.

Remembering my manners, I waited for Ryan to start eating first before
sinking my teeth into the first cheeseburger I'd had since before my
enslavement.  The bite was nearly euphoric as I'd almost forgotten how
simple the pleasure of a greasy hot burger could be.  I couldn't suppress
the grin from my face as I stuffed my mouth with hot salty fries, washing
it all down with the sweet, icy shake.

"Good?" Ryan asked, with an amused smile.  He shook his head, unable to
contain a light chuckle at watching me eat like a kid set loose in a candy
store.  "Alright, boy, just don't get sick on me later."

We began to talk more earnestly as the meal progressed, or at least he
talked and I actively listened.  I didn't have much news to contribute
since he was already well aware of how I spent nearly every hour of every
day, but I was happy to listen to him ramble on about classes that sucked,
and girls that were nothing but drama.  His most passionate rant,
unsurprisingly, revolved around the in-fighting at his frat, disappointment
in the newest pledge class, upcoming elections for the following year, and
not spending enough time at the house.

As he spoke, I genuinely sympathized and understood where he was coming
from.  He was displaying a rare moment of vulnerability, and for the first
time in months, I saw glimpses of the old Ryan again; the boy I grew up
with, not the man who had become my master.

"Want anything else?" he asked, abruptly pulling out his wallet and
fingering through a wad of cash.

"No, thank you."  It may have been a genuine question, but it was clear he
was ready to go.  Even if I had wanted anything else, I was unsure my
stomach could handle it.

He tossed enough cash to cover the food and a generous tip on the table,
before sliding out of the booth and nodding for me to follow.  "Let's get
out of here."

We continued to chat lightly on the drive back to the house, and I even
rode fairly normally in the passenger seat, glancing from time to time at
the passing scenery.

"Fuuuuck me," Ryan groaned suddenly, slowing the jeep to a crawl as we
began to climb the long driveway of the Grey's house.

I looked up through the windshield, following his eyes to an unfamiliar car
parked in the driveway by the garage.  It was a gleaming European sports
sedan, similar to Brent's but a much newer model, with license plates from
a neighboring state.  I didn't recognize the car, but apparently it meant
something to Ryan as he sighed loudly shifting the car into park.

"Take the bags and go directly into the house.  I'll be there in a bit," he
directed.

I nodded, opening the passenger side of the jeep to climb out.  He hopped
out, as I pulled the gym bags out of the trunk.

"Oh, and slave?" he added, getting my attention. "Party's over. Don't make
me have to remind you."

"Yes, Sir," I acknowledged, my heart dropping a bit as I was essentially
ordered back into slave mode.  I knew it was inevitable, but the afternoon
of friendship had been nice while it lasted.

Just as I was putting the key in the front door of the guest house, I heard
one of the garage doors rumble to life behind me and I couldn't help but
turn to look over my shoulder.  Ryan stopped in his tracks on his way into
the main house.

"I thought I heard a car pulling up," a jovial voice exclaimed that
belonged to the young man emerging from depths of the garage. "What up, cuz
?"

"Oh, hey. Sup, Connor?" Ryan responded with disingenuous enthusiasm,
turning to greet his older cousin with the same sort of handshake he
typically exchanged with his friends followed by a brotherly hug.

Connor was somewhere around 24 or 25 years old, a few years out of college,
and more or less the walking definition of a spoiled, pretentious
prick.  Though just a hair shorter than Ryan, he shared the Grey
family's tradition of handsome good looks.  His broad shoulders and well
built chest filled out his light blue oxford shirt, and his neatly trimmed
dark hair parted with a just a hint of a wave complimented his preppy
nature.  If it wasn't for his enviable square jaw accented with the hint of
a five o'clock shadow that set him apart, he could have easily passed as
Ryan's older brother.

I'd met him a few times over the years on a few holidays and special
occasions, but a feud between Mr. Grey and his brother, Connor's father,
over the direction of the family business had driven a longstanding wedge
in the family and a division of the family company into two separate
corporations.  Connor had managed to maintain an amicable relationship with
his uncle, having little to do with the feud, but the nature of his age in
relation to Ryan had sparked a fierce sense of familial competition.  Mr.
Grey would often regale us both with reports of Connor's accomplishments:
captain of his high school football team, graduation with honors,
acceptance to an Ivy League university, a prestigious internship, all
things that Ryan had been unable or unwilling to duplicate.

Connor had always been more than happy to play up his role as the prodigal
nephew and flaunt his accomplishments over Ryan's head on those varied
occasions.  Ryan had always brushed it off, but I knew that that deep down
he resented Connor for setting the bar too high, even if he would never
admit it.

"What brings you down here?" Ryan asked, glancing over his shoulder at me
still frozen a bit awkwardly by the door.

"Eh, you know. Had a free weekend, figured I'd make the drive. Take care of
a little business, say hello to my favorite uncle and little cuz," Connor
mused giving Ryan a playful jab to his ribs.  "Gonna invite me inside or
what?  Want to check out this new bachelor pad I've heard so much about."

"Uh, sure," Ryan acquiesced, turning to give me a nod to keep moving inside
the house.

>From what I could tell, Connor had done little more than glance in my
direction since he had stepped outside.  I secretly prayed that he would
continue to ignore me as I pushed open the door into the house and darted
inside with our gym bags unsure of what to do once inside.

"Not bad, not bad," Connor remarked with muted approval as he walked in
behind Ryan, taking in the remodeled decor of the first floor.

"Yeah, whatever, you've seen it before."  Ryan shrugged.

"Oh, right.  How could I forget that whole charade," Connor sighed with
disapproval.  "Glad that shit is finally over, huh?"  He gave Ryan a
reassuring pat on the back.

"Yep." Ryan agreed cautiously.

"Yeah, this place is pretty pimp," Connor observed, giving himself a quick
tour of the living room, poking at the couch as if he was inspecting the
authenticity of the leather.  "Not a bad place to chill until you're ready
to actually move away from home, anyway."

I glanced to see Ryan tense at the subtle dig.  "Yeah, well, the rooms at
the frat house are pretty shitty."

"I get it, dude.  I'm sure I'd have done the same if I stayed local."
Connor gave him a patronizing smile. "Besides, gotta have something to look
forward to, right?"

"Right," Ryan said curtly, brushing past him towards the kitchen.  "Want a
beer or something?"  He pulled open the refrigerator door.

"Thought you'd never ask," Connor chuckled.  "But what the fuck, man?
Isn't this little bitch your slave, or do I have my wires crossed?"

They both turned their attention to where I remained awkwardly standing by
the base of the stairs.  I glanced at Connor, catching his eyes as they
raked up and down my form and then looked to Ryan unsure of how he would
handle the situation.  I had already known that my slavery was not a secret
to Connor, but I was unsure to the extent he actually shared in the Grey
family's unique tradition of owning slaves.

"Yeah, and?" Ryan asked defensively, turning back to the fridge,
withdrawing two bottles of beer and popping the caps off along the edge of
counter top.

"Coulda fooled me."  Connor scoffed in mild disgust as he took me in,
before turning to accept his beer.  "Best believe that any slave of mine
woulda been the one serving these up."  He held up his beer in a mock toast
and then proceeded to take a long swig from the bottle neck.

Ryan shrugged. "Yeah, well, didn't want to make you uncomfortable.  I
haven't even gotten so much as a text from you since any of this went
down.  How am I supposed to know if you're cool with all this shit?"

Connor chuckled darkly. "Cool with this shit?  I've been domming slaves
since before I could even drive. Decided I didn't need to wait for my
daddy's permission to show a cunt who's boss."  He took another long swig
of his beer, before slamming it down on the counter.

"Congratulations?" Ryan offered, with a bit of a mocking tone. I could
sense Ryan was really tempering his frustration, but about to lose it. "So
how many slaves you own now then?  Must be a dozen by this point?"

Connor gave Ryan a long hard stare and then smirked as Ryan called up the
one and only thing he was able to hold over his head: me. "Let's just say
I'm currently in the market," Connor admitted with a sarcastic smile. "So
let's see what you got, then?"

"He's not for sale," Ryan stated abruptly.  I nearly lost my lunch at the
comment.

"Whoa, whoa.  Who said anything about that?" Connor held up his hands
defensively. "Just want to take a look.  Figured you'd want to show off
your property?  But wanna keep him all to yourself? Fine."

Ryan stared for a moment, and then shrugged, setting his beer down on the
counter.  "You wanna have a look?  Be my guest."  He snapped his fingers
and pointed at the floor in front of Connor.  "Present, boy."

"Yes, Sir," I said softly, swallowing my nerves.  Ryan, Mr. Grey, Brent,
Kara, Ali, Sean, and even Lucia, were all in my life before they knew me as
a slave.  Connor was a virtual stranger to me and the way he crossed his
arms and smirked at me as I took a few steps forward sent a chill down my
spine.  Keeping my eyes down, I squared my posture on the spot Ryan had
pointed to with my hands behind my back, and presented myself to Connor.

I could feel his eyes burning into me for several long moments, and then
suddenly without further invitation, he reached out and grabbed a hold of
my chin, turning my head side to side.

"Huh. Well, well.  Look at the pretty slaveboy, you got here," Connor
mused, as he twisted my head from side to side.  "Definitely not the
scrawny twerp I remember."

I grimaced as he jerked my neck in unnatural directions.  Out of the corner
of my eye, I could see Ryan shrug in response.

"Lose the clothes, boy," Connor commanded, letting go of my chin.  With a
quick swipe of his hand, he unzipped the front of my hoodie to emphasize
the order.

He stepped back to allow me space to strip, crossing his well muscled arms
across his chest again as he sighed with impatience.  As quickly as I
could, I shed the hoodie and my t-shirt, kicked off my sneakers before
hopping on one foot and then the other to peel off the gym socks.
Hesitating only slightly, I dropped my gym shorts and jock strap to my
ankles before kicking them off.

"Good, now let's see what we really got here," Connor mused, wasting no
time in slapping his open palms against my bare chest, before giving my
pecs a squeeze.  "Hands behind your head bitch, legs nice and wide."

I obeyed his commands, keeping my eyes down out of embarrassment as he
began to roughly explore my body with his hands..

"Your dad said you're a real natural.  Been trainin' him hard," he remarked
as he tested the density of my arm muscles.

"I guess," Ryan responded with a shrug.  I could feel him pass behind me on
his way into the living room, before plopping down on the leather couch, as
if to emphasize his disinterest in Connor's inspection.

"And what do we have here?" Connor asked curiously.  I felt the chain of my
dog tags tighten against the back of my neck as he picked up the tags to
examine the inscription. "R.D.G., well isn't that precious," he observed in
mocking, letting the tags fall back against my chest.

"Are you done?" Ryan asked impatiently, ignoring the comment.  I could just
imagine him rolling his eyes across the room.

"Done?  Just getting to the good stuff," Connor chuckled.  I felt his hands
move down my torso and drop to my helplessly exposed dick.  He swatted my
cock back and forth a few times, before roughly examining my balls as if he
were some sort of doctor.  I winced as he separated them with his fingers
and squeezed each one to the point of sending shock waves of pain through
my nervous system.  "Steady, boy," he coaxed, letting go of my balls before
weighing them together in the palm of his hand, bouncing them lightly up
and down.  "Nice package you got here, slave.  Bet you coulda been a real
stud out there if you had given yourself the chance."

I swallowed hard at the comment, feeling my face flush as he circled his
palm around the shaft of my dick and began to stroke it roughly to a near
immediate erection, which didn't take much when I was kept as horny as I
was.

"It's okay boy, nothing to be ashamed of.  I bet my cousin over there is
real proud to own this."  He continued to jack my cock roughly.  "Cat got
your tongue?"

I glanced up, realizing that I was supposed to respond to the
compliment. "Thank you, Sir."

He smirked, letting go of my cock and twirling his finger in the air.  "Now
turn around and show me what else you got."

"Yes, Sir." I began to turn, but apparently not quickly enough.  He grabbed
one of my elbows and spun me around.

"Spread em," he ordered, slapping my ass lightly.  "Grab your ankles."  He
urged me to comply with a firm push to my shoulder blades. "Down, down,
down...there ya go."

"Yes, Sir," I murmured between my spread legs, as the blood began to rush
down to my head.

He slapped at my ass a few times on each cheek before kneading them roughly
with his fingers.  After another few light slaps, he reached under my legs
and took hold of my cock and balls once again.  I grimaced as he began by
pulling them firmly back and up towards my ass much further than they were
intended to go.  Holding them back there, he fondled my balls individually
again before giving my cock a few more strokes.  Seemingly satisfied, he
let go, allowing them to swing freely once again.

I watched his knees bend until he was squatting down behind me, almost eye
level with my ass.  Once again, his hands were on my ass cheeks, but this
time spreading them wide apart.  I could feel my asshole pucker at the
sensation of air once fully exposed.

He took hold of my left hip to steady himself and pushed his right arm
up between my legs until two of his fingers were hovering at the level of
my mouth.  Jabbing lightly at my lips, he ordered simply, "Suck."  Before I
could respond, his index and pointer fingers were thrust deep into my
mouth.  "Get em wet, boy.  You know where they're going next."

It didn't take a genius to figure it out, and knowing that, I did my best
to coat his fingers with as much saliva as I could muster.  He wiggled his
fingers playfully as I whipped my tongue around them.  When he was
satisfied, he pulled the slick fingers out of my mouth, and stood back up
behind me.  With one hand, he pulled my left ass cheek aside and my anus
clamped shut at the first teasing touch of his finger.  He lightly traced
over the outline of my hole for several long seconds, pressing lightly from
time to time just a half fingernail past the quivering lips of my anus,
taunting me with the uncertainty of when he would choose to fully exert the
authority he had been given over my body simply because he was a superior.

I gasped when he suddenly thrust into me, slamming his finger in to what
must have been all the way to his knuckle.  Removing it just as quickly, he
pushed in again, adding a second finger.

"Hmm, tight pussy ya got here," Connor remarked, though I was unsure
whether he was directing his commentary to me or to Ryan.  "Must not be
getting much use...might want to look into changing that."  I grimaced and
grunted intermittently as he finger fucked me for well over a minute.  He
pulled them out just as suddenly with a light pop of air.  "Up. Display."

I felt dizzy as I let go of my ankles and rose to full height, my cheeks
flush with the blood that had rushed to my head.  He took hold of my left
elbow as I adjusted my hands behind my head and spun me around to face
him.  With his left hand, he reached behind my head and took hold of a
handful of hair, yanking my head back slightly before he hovered the two
glistening fingers he'd shoved in my ass over my face letting them linger
under my flaring nostrils long enough for me to detect the faint musk of my
asshole that still clung to his skin.

"Open wide," he commanded.  I had barely parted my lips before he plunged
his thick fingers deep into my mouth, pausing nearly at the back of my
throat, before sliding them forward along my left inner cheek.  Letting go
of his grip on my hair, he added two fingers from his left hand, in effect
forcing my mouth to stretch wider around both sets of digits as he
liberally explored the recesses of my mouth, tapping along my teeth and
gums.  I did my best to keep my tongue docile as it instinctively fought to
ward off the invading fingers.

I could just make out his smirk through the tears that welled in my eyes as
he pressed back deeply again, toying with my gag reflex.  Just before I was
nearly certain I would vomit, he withdrew and began to wipe his saliva
drenched fingers dry on my chest with an amused look on his face.  "Not
bad.  Not bad at all."

"Yep," Ryan responded flatly from across the room, still feigning complete
disinterest in Connor's inspection of me.  I heard the TV roar to life.

Connor chuckled lightly and then snapped his fingers in front of me,
pointing towards the floor. "Squat, boy," he commanded.  "Don't move."

"Yes, Sir."  I bent my knees, wobbling slightly as I settled into position
squatting up on my toes with my knees spread and my ass hovering over the
ground.  It was comfortable to start, but I knew it wouldn't be long before
my thighs would begin to burn from the stress.

I watched Connor as he picked up his beer and took another long swig,
crossing over to the couch where Ryan was still sprawled clicking aimlessly
through the channels.  "So, what goes on in this sleepy little town.
Anything in the works for tonight?"  The leather of the couch squeaked as
he settled onto the couch next to Ryan.

"Nope, nothing special."  Ryan sighed with little interest.

"Perfect, dude, cause I was kinda hopin' you and I could catch up, maybe
head into town, check out the local bar scene.  Still got that solid fake,
I'm sure?"

"Yeah, whatever, sure."  Ryan shrugged.

Connor chuckled, "Don't get too excited or anything."

"Just didn't realize you'd want to hang out with a bunch of college kids
and loser townies that wish they still were."

"Heh, nope. Just one college kid, and wouldn't mind meeting some of his hot
college chick friends."

Ryan chuckled at that. "Yeah, good luck old man."

"I've never needed luck," Connor shot back darkly.  He cleared his throat
and slapped his knees, before pushing up from the couch. "So, now that
that's settled, I think I'll head back to the main house and let you get on
with...whatever it is that you do."

He crossed back from the living to the kitchen to set his empty beer bottle
on the counter without regarding me in the process.  My legs were really
starting to burn now, and I grit my teeth struggling but determined to
maintain my balance squatting near the base of the stairs where he had left
me.

"So, I'll swing down into town around what, 9?  I'll text you."  Connor
started for the front door, and then paused, turning back to Ryan. "Hey,
actually, mind if I borrow the boy?"

I snapped to attention at the suggestion, glancing over to Ryan who quickly
muted the TV. "What?"

"C'mon, dude. Just for a couple hours," Connor coaxed. "Doesn't seem like
you got a whole lotta need for him around here.  Place is pretty spotless.
I, on the other hand, could definitely make use of him for a bit."

"There are other slaves," Ryan interjected.

"Yeah, right man, you know they are your dad's bitches, not to mention a
little old for my taste," Connor scoffed.  "Besides, I think it'd be good
for the boy, keep him on his toes, ya know?"

I swallowed, feeling the thick tension in the room, my legs really starting
to shake now as I struggled to maintain balance, shifting my weight from
side to side.  In that moment, I wanted nothing more than for Ryan to tell
his cousin to go fuck himself.  Although I knew very little about him, in
the short time since Connor's arrival, I learned one thing for sure and
that was that there was something about him that frightened me.  Silently,
I said a prayer, begging Ryan with my thoughts not to loan me out.

"Ehh, fine, whatever," Ryan begrudgingly agreed.  He stood up to walk
towards the kitchen, pushing me forward to my knees as he passed behind
me.  Gratefully, I collapsed to all fours, the cramped muscles in my legs
screaming for relief from the squatting.  Ryan walked around to the trunk
by the door where my shackles and collars were kept and leaned over to
rummage inside.  Circling back behind me, he whispered, "Up on your knees,
boy."

I sat up on my knees, moving my hands instinctively behind my back.
Leaning over me, he circled one of the thicker leather collars around my
neck, securing the strap by the buckle.  Purposefully, I imagine, he also
left his dog tags hanging around my neck.  He took a firm grip on the back
of my arms and helped me up to my feet.

Meanwhile, Connor had taken interest in the remainder of the gear in the
trunk, doing some rummaging of his own.  The jingle of chain could be heard
as he produced a short leash and something small and black in his other
hand.  "Thanks, man.  You're making the right decision.  I'll take good
care of him, don't worry."  He stepped in front of me and ordered me to
widen my stance with slaps to my inner thighs.

I obeyed, my pulse racing in anticipation of the afternoon to follow as he
bent forward in front of me and expertly fastened a leather strap around
the base of my cock and balls.  He attached the end of the leash to the
small D-ring protruding from the cock strap, before giving it a firm tug to
test it's security.

"Nothing better than having a boy by the balls, am I right?" Connor mused.

"Hey." Ryan stepped forward until he was practically in Connor's
face. "This is a favor, not a gift.  And he better not have one scratch on
him when he comes back.  Or I will fucking..." He stopped himself.

"You'll fucking what?" Connor pressed, challenging Ryan for a long tense
moment before taking a step back.  "Relax.  I said, don't worry. He'll be
fine, but I'm not going to pretend I won't to use him like the slave that
he is, and he better fucking show me respect or he will suffer the
consequences.  Ain't that right, boy?"  He asked, raising his voice at the
end to indicate that he expected an answer out of me.

"Yes, Sir," I said, clearly but quietly, hoping that Connor's definition of
respect didn't vary much from the rest of his family's.

"Just get out of here before I change my mind," Ryan urged, turning away
from Connor.  He gave me a light slap on the ass as Connor pulled me
forward with a firm tug to my balls. "Be good, boy."

"Yes, Sir," I agreed, having little choice as Connor pulled the leash
taught and urged me forward out the door with a tug of pressure on my balls.

I plodded awkwardly after him, struggling to keep pace as various bits of
gravel and debris bit into the bare soles of my feel as we traversed the
stretch of driveway to the side door to the main house.

"Now, crawl," Connor commanded as we crossed the threshold into the warmth
of the main house.  Obediently, I dropped to all fours on the hard tile of
the entry foyer.  He bent over and pulled the leash between my legs so that
he could pull my balls back behind me at will.  "After you, bitch.  Up the
stairs.  Guest room at the end of the hall."

"Yes, Sir," I muttered, as I began to crawl gingerly across the hard tiles
towards the back staircase.  He kept my balls pulled firmly towards my ass,
stopping my progress completely every few paces, while still urging me
forward by nudging my ass with the toe of his shoe.

I knew exactly where we were heading, though the length of the hallway felt
as long as two football fields as I struggled to crawl forward with my
balls pulled tightly behind me as if I was dragging Connor's entire weight
across the floor.  When we finally crossed into the guest bedroom, it was a
huge relief when I felt him squat down behind me and release the leash from
the strap around my balls.

"Get me unpacked," he ordered from behind, with a strong nudge to my left
ass cheek with the tip of his shoe.  "Shirts and pants hung, everything
else folded in the drawers, toiletries neatly displayed in the bathroom.
Go!"

An expensive looking, leather trimmed duffel dropped on the floor in front
of my face and I hurried to unzip it to start sorting through the contents.
 Another oxford, a polo, a pair of khakis, and some well worn jeans were
soon hanging neatly on four separate hangers in the closet, while I folded
two pairs of black boxer briefs, a couple pairs of socks, gym shorts, and a
few t-shirts as perfectly as I could into the chest of drawers.

I glanced over at Connor as I heard a rustle of clothing.  Without a word,
he shed the oxford he was wearing to reveal his broadly muscled chest and
stomach, coated with a very light layer of light brown hair.  He kicked off
his sneakers in my direction, before dropping his jeans down to his ankles
and kicking them off with a clink of his belt buckle.  He threw both the
jeans and shirt at me before plopping down on the bed on top of the covers.
 Sighing, he put his strong arms behind his head, resting back on the
pillows, with his legs spread just widely enough to reveal a significant
bulge in his boxer briefs.

After adding the discarded shirt and jeans to additional hangers in the
closet, I scooped his toiletry kit out of the bag and stepped quietly into
the bathroom to line up his toothbrush, deodorant, shaving supplies and
hair pomade neatly along the counter.  When I was satisfied I had
everything laid out, I returned the empty kit to his bag, and placed the
whole thing neatly on the floor of the closet, before setting his shoes
next to the bag, and gently closing the closet door.

"Took you long enough," Connor remarked from the bed with half-closed eyes,
before opening one eye to regard me.  "Been a long drive, and I've got a
serious case of blue balls, boy.  Why don't you crawl up here and get my
dick in your mouth.  Wanna give you a sense of what real Grey men taste
like."

"Yes, Sir," I agreed, quietly, crawling forward up the length of the bed on
hands and knees between his spread legs.  I swallowed slightly, as we
worked together to pull his underwear down one leg and then the other,
revealing the largest cock I'd seen on any of the men I'd sucked off so far
resting casually on a plump set of full balls surrounded by a dark forest
of pubic hair.

Without any further instruction, I leaned forward, bracing myself on both
hands, parting my mouth slightly as I used my tongue and lips to envelop
his stirring erection into my mouth.  The scent of ball sweat and precum
radiated into my nostrils as he sighed with a satisfied grunt of approval
as his cock stiffened quickly, soon filling my entire mouth and poking
alarmingly at the back of my throat.

"Well, you're good for something," he remarked, opening his eyes briefly to
peer down the length of his rippled torso at the boy slurping at his cock.
 I returned the glance, only to be greeted with a light slap to my left
cheek. "Keep your eyes on the prize, bitch!  Hands behind your back."

My face stung as I lowered my gaze to what I could see of his crotch,
moving my hands behind my back, which forced me to rely on my core for
balance as I bobbed up and down on his dick, gagging every so often from
the sheer girth.  Sweat was forming on my hairline, and I could tell my
cheeks were growing more flushed by the second as I slurped and licked and
sucked, praying silently for a quick release.

"That's it, bitch.  Nice and wet..." he remarked, his breaths quickening.
 I could sense his body was tensing and preparing for an orgasm.

Without any further warning, he grunted, and the first rope of hot cum
rocketed against the back of my throat.  I coughed, as a second and third
followed quickly.

"Don't you dare spill a fucking drop," Connor barked quickly, leaning
forward to give me another light slap on the cheek, before falling back
against the bed to enjoy the remainder of his orgasm, as I struggled to
swallow down every drop of his cum, feeling the warm salty globs slide down
my throat.  Several moments later, when his cock had softened completely,
and I felt confident that I had sucked every last bit of cum from his
shaft, I pulled away gently with a light slurp, ensuring I wouldn't leave
any traces of saliva on his cock head.

After another long moment of relaxing, Connor stirred back to life with a
slightly groan, sitting upright.  "Good, boy."  He ran his hand roughly
through my hair for a second, and lifted his leg over me to roll out of the
bed.  With a strong hand on my collar, he pulled me roughly after him and I
had to scamper on hands and knees until I hit the floor with a plop.  He
continued pulling me to the front right corner of the bed before releasing
his grasp.  "Stay."

I remained on my hands and knees while he shuffled across the room to the
side of the bed, pulling open the nightstand drawer. "Let's see here..." he
mused.  Being that it was the Grey's house, I had come to learn that most
rooms were discreetly stocked with at least minimal equipment and tools for
disciplining and controlling the slaves that roamed within, so it was no
surprise when I heard the familiar clink of chain link when he walked up
behind me.

"Nap time, boy," he remarked casually, as he squat down beside me and
pulled the ring in my collar sharply downwards towards the foot of the bed.
 Again, being that it was the Grey's house, there were metal rings set
discreetly in each of the bed's wooden feet, hidden by the bed skirt.  He
thread a think length of chain through the ring in my collar, and then the
ring in the bed, pulling the chain taught and joining the ends with a
padlock.  My neck was chained a mere three inches from the foot of the bed
making it impossible for me to rest my head on the floor or to kneel
upright.  I could only kneel prone on all fours, feeling the ache in my
back within seconds.

Satisfied with his work, he gave me another pat on the head before rising
to his feet. "Make yourself comfortable. I'm exhausted, but planning to go
hard tonight."  The room darkened suddenly as he pulled the drapes closed
and flipped off the light.  I winced as the bed shook when he plopped down
again, burying himself under the covers atop the pillow-soft mattress.

He was out in no time, his breaths slow and steady, with the occasional
snore.  I could do nothing but attempt an endless variety of different
positions to ease the stress in my back and legs as I was held helplessly,
hovering inches over the floor, ever so careful not to make too much noise
as I carefully took turns stretching my legs behind me and shifting my
weight from side to side.  The wiry threads of the decorative carpet that
pressed into my knees and hands had never looked so soft or comfortable as
it taunted me.  I would have given anything to lower my head to the ground,
where droplets of sweat from my forehead formed small damp puddles on the
fabric.

I wondered what Ryan was doing and how he was filling the rest of his day.
 Was he glad to be rid of me for awhile?  Was he nervous about what Connor
was going to do to me?  Did he really not care, or was he just playing
indifferent for the sake of his image?

When Connor's phone sprang to life suddenly with the ringing of his alarm,
I jerked with surprise, wincing at the strain on my neck.  He snoozed once,
and on the second alarm, I heard him stir to the point of rolling out of
bed.  I anxiously awaited to be freed from the foot of the bed, but no such
luck as Connor plodded past me without a word and into the bathroom.  He
left the door open as a strong stream of piss hit the toilet water and went
on for what felt like an hour.  Moments later, the shower roared to life
and he took his sweet time enjoying it while each passing moment was
another eternity for me and my back.

Finally, he emerged, plodding around the room with a towel wrapped around
his waist, collecting items from the dresser and then the closet before
returning to the bathroom.  I heard the hair dryer go for a bit and some
tinkering with his various products.  At long last, I felt him step up
behind me, squatting down with a cloud of fresh soap and musky cologne to
tinker with the chain that leashed me to the bed.  "Have a good rest, boy?"
 He asked with disinterest.

"Yes, Sir," I lied, wincing as I pushed up ever so slowly to my full height
on my knees, my back screaming with relief as it was allowed to fully
extend and stretch.  I glanced up at him, he was freshly dressed in the
other oxford shirt and the same jeans, his hair slightly damp but once
again parted neatly.  He looked down at me with a mixed expression of pity
and amusement.

"On your feet.  We're going out," he informed me, nonchalantly.  It was a
welcome relief to rise to my feet and I seized the opportunity to stretch
my muscles quickly before assuming a casual presenting position with my
hands behind me back.  "You are well trained," he remarked, running his
finger down my stomach, and casually flicking my cock.  "Now, how do we
make a bitch like you presentable for these piece of shit townie bars?  I
guess you're just about my size..."

Twenty minutes later, I was carefully navigating his expensive car down the
familiar streets into town  I was dressed in Connor's older pair of jeans,
which fit me rather well despite sagging a bit at my waist, and wore his
beat up pair of gym shoes that he kept stashed in his trunk.  Of course,
he'd denied me underwear and kept the strap cinched around my balls, but
allowed me the use of his belt to hold the jeans up at my waist.  I was
also given an old college t-shirt of his to wear, maroon and faded from
years of washing, the name of his university was now proudly emblazoned
across my chest as if further marking me as his property for the night.
 Fortunately, he'd removed the collar, but kept Ryan's dog tags around my
neck.

"I assume you remember how to at least pretend you're a normal dude in
public?" Connor asked, keeping his voice low, as we walked towards the
strip of college-oriented bars from where we had found parking a few
streets away.

"Yes, Sir," I responded quietly, feeling my cheeks flush in the dusk.

"Good.  Just don't forget, you're my bitch tonight, so keep your attention
where it belongs," he warned as we came up on the bar most frequented by
Ryan and his fraternity brothers.

Though I realized suddenly that my wallet was locked safely at Ryan's, I
relaxed as Connor slid the bouncer twenty bucks to ensure my entry without
issues.  With a firm hand on my back, he ushered me inside ahead of him
into the dimly lit bar, already crowded with students and townies ready to
get wasted and hookup.  Despite having never set foot in the place before,
or at least never that I knew of, I was impressed with the way Connor
commanded the room, sauntering up to the bar as if he'd owned it, quickly
securing a draft beer for himself and a club soda with lime for me.

"Keep this at least half-full," he whispered quietly, handing it to me.
"I'm not tipping that dumb ass bartender all night to keep a drink in your
hand."

I nodded in agreement, taking a quick sip of the soda water, letting the
tingle of bubbles soothe my parched throat.

"Well look what the cat dragged in."

I coughed on the soda hearing the unmistakable voice behind me.  It was
Kara.

"Didn't know they allowed pets in here," she hissed in my left ear,
slithering up to the bar beside me.

I felt my face flush at once, glancing to Connor on my right who turned
with interest at Kara's arrival.  Turning my glance then quickly to my
left, I decided to greet her like a human, as I'd been instructed. "Hi,
Kara."

She smirked. "Who's your friend?"  She smiled seductively as she proceeded
to look beyond me as if I wasn't there. "Haven't seen you around before."

"You certainly haven't," Connor confirmed, reaching by me with his hand
extended to take hers. "Connor."

"Kara." She smiled in a way that I'd never seen her smile before. It was
almost, sweet. "So, Connor, how do you know our friend here?"

He smiled. "He lives with my cousin, Ryan. Ryan Grey?  Guessing you
probably know him?"

She giggled darkly. "Oh, I know him."  Lowering her voice and leaning
forward, giving me a slight glance. "I know everything."  She gave him a
wink and I saw Connor nod with understanding out of the corner of my eye.
"So, what brings you to this boring old town?"  I watched her take a
seductive sip of her vodka soda through the tiny straw as she more or less
elbowed me out of the way.

Connor shrugged. "Eh, you know, just visiting the fam, taking in the local
culture, maybe a little window shopping."  He gave my shoulder a brotherly
squeeze with enough force to make me wince.

"And, see anything you like?" she asked, with a seductive whisper evident
in her voice.

Connor smiled broadly and then leaned forward so his voice was low but
audible over the blaring rock music. "Nope."

I watched with muted amusement as her face fell, twisting from shock at the
apparent rejection into immediate anger.  Her eyes narrowed as she
recovered quickly. "Yep. Definitely related to Ryan, asshole. Too bad the
only pussy either one of you will ever get is this boy cunt."  She gave me
a rough shove on my shoulder as she spun around to storm towards the front
of the bar.

Connor and I exchanged glances, as I tried to suppress my smile.  "C'mon,
boy," he urged, taking a strong hand to my back and moving us away from the
bar in the opposite direction.

I followed as he pushed further into the bar, keeping my head down from the
wandering eyes of the various patrons that came in all shapes and sizes.
 As with any social setting I'd been dragged to since my enslavement, I
always wondered if people could tell, as if the front of my t-shirt said
SLAVE instead of the name of Connor's school.  We stopped short just before
the pool table as the crowd seemed to part on cue to reveal Ryan and Brent
already presiding over the table.  There were half empty pints of beer
along the edge.  Ryan smirked, glancing between us as he casually chalked
the end of his pool cue.

"So, decided to slum it after all?" Ryan asked sarcastically over the music
blaring from the scratchy, overhead speakers. "Wasn't sure if you'd show."

Connor chuckled darkly and looked around, taking in the bar. "Bottle
service is a rip-off anyway, what can I say?  The place has character.
 I'll give you that."

"Yeah, whatever," Ryan sighed, setting down his stick to take a swig of his
beer. He motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. "This is Brent."

Brent extended his hand for a firm handshake. "What's up, dude? You must be
the infamous cousin I've heard so much about."

"All good things, I'm sure," Connor chuckled with a bit of a sinister
smile. "Connor."

"Up for it?"  Ryan interrupted the greeting with a gesture to the table,
the balls were already racked and ready to play.

Connor smirked. "I'm game. Me and the kid versus you and your butt buddy
here?" He nodded towards Brent, before taking an amused sip of his beer.

"Hey, fuck you," Brent shot back at the unexpected insult, taking an
aggressive step towards Connor, but Ryan extended his arm to stop him.

"Relax, buddy. He's just trying to throw you off your game. We're all
gentlemen here, well, most of us."  Ryan glanced in my direction, before
lowering his arm, to crack his knuckles.  "So, gentlemen, care to make it
interesting?"

"Won't be much of a contest, I'm afraid, but now you're speaking my
language."  Connor emanated arrogance, smiling darkly as the three of them
stepped in to a closer huddle. "What? Can't go one night without..." he
stopped himself short, glancing to me and then Brent as if suddenly unsure
how much he might have known about my unique relationship with Ryan.

"The boy?" Ryan finished the sentence. "Relax, Brent knows all about the
bitch. But why the fuck would I wager to win something I already own?"

"You wouldn't," Connor agreed. "Besides, why would I wager to win something
you already lent to me?  Though, I will say, cuz, you got yourself a fine
piece of cock-sucking ass here."

I felt my face flush instantly as they discussed wagering me like the piece
of meat that I'd become.

Ryan's face darkened. "How about your cock-sucking ass?"

"Come again?" Connor raised an eyebrow, taking a curious sip of his beer.

"Your cocky ass up for grabs," Ryan continued, lowering his voice even
further. "Winners own losers for the rest of the night.  Unless, of course,
you don't have the balls."

"Whoa, whoa," Brent interjected, glancing between Connor and Ryan, and
lowering his voice to barely a whisper. "What if we lose, bro?  I don't
want to be this dude's, what, slave or whatever for the night!?"

"Looks like your friend here is the one without the balls," Connor
interjected, chiding Brent.

"He's got the balls," Ryan declared firmly, giving Brent a reassuring
squeeze on the shoulder. "Don't you, buddy?"

Brent shrugged, fighting an internal battle of pride and nerves.  He was
dressed as he typically was, in jeans, a button down, and his trademark
backwards baseball cap.  It could have been my mind playing tricks, but I
could have sworn I saw his cock twitch in the crotch of his jeans. He
steeled himself, allowing his naturally competitive nature to get the best
of him. "Yeah, can't wait to wipe the floor with these bitches, and then
literally wipe the floor with them later."

Connor smirked. "So it's settled then. Winner takes all."  He looked down
at his expensive watch. "Shall we say till nine tomorrow morning?"

"Fine," Ryan agreed, speaking for both of them. The three held up their
beers and clinked glasses to seal the bet.  "And don't worry, cuz, I'll
spare you my cock, not into all that. Got plenty of other ways to make you
my bitch." He laughed, gesturing to Brent.  "Can't speak for my friend
here, though. He's gettin' pretty good at using my boy."

"Spare me the details," Connor sighed. "You break. I'll give ya home team
advantage."

"Your funeral." Ryan gave Brent an enthusiastic high five. "Let's do this."

Connor stepped back to watch Ryan break, whispering quietly to me. "Don't
fuck this up or I will take it out on your balls."

"Solids!" Ryan called, watching gleefully as two solids eased their way
into the side pockets of the table.  He pocketed another on his next shot,
before missing the fourth, and nearly spinning the eight ball into the
corner pocket.

"Close call," Connor remarked, taking up his stick, and handing me his beer
to hold.  I watched in amusement as he proceeded to nearly run the table.
 With the expertise of some amateur pool shark, striped ball after striped
ball slammed into various pockets. "Fuck!" he exclaimed with frustration as
his latest attempt just missed the side pocket, leaving the striped ball
spinning on the table.

I could sense tensions had suddenly flared, especially between our
opponents.  Brent chugged down the remainder of his beer in a few quick
gulps before slamming the empty pint glass down on the table.  He anxiously
took up his cue stick.  I could see his hands shaking, indicating that he
was clearly off his game under this kind of pressure.

"Relax, man, just take your time," Ryan coached, keeping his eyes nervously
on the table.  Brent took a deep breath and managed to knock his first
solid right in.

"Yes!" They both exclaimed, nearly in unison, as Brent lined up his next
shot.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, as the cue ball bounced off the wall, missing the
next solid.

"It's alright, it's alright," Ryan tried to assure him as Connor pushed me
forward to take up the cue."This cunt can't shoot pool for shit."

I was no pool shark, but I had a natural knack for most sports and games
and Brent had left me with a cake shot, my striped target hovering just
outside a corner pocket.  Clearing my head of the anxious leering eyes of
all three of them, I leaned forward and took my shot, smiling as the ball
slammed into the pocket.

"That's right, boy. Good job. One more," Connor coached intently.

All eyes were now on the eight ball which hovered just beyond another
corner pocket.  It wasn't a sure shot, but it was one I was fairly
confident I could make.  I looked up as I lined up my shot, catching Ryan
as he glared at me from behind the corner pocket, his face illuminated by
the overhead light in the otherwise dim bar, as if daring me to make the
shot.  I didn't care.  He had traded me, lent me out, given me away for the
night.  In that moment, I wanted him punished. I wanted him to suffer for
once, if only for a moment.

"Eight ball, corner pocket," I called, indicating my target.  The room
seemed to go silent as I pulled back my cue, and let the ball sail across
the table.  Almost as if in slow motion, the cue ball slammed into the side
of the black ball, and it rolled tauntingly slow until it dropped quietly
into the corner pocket.  I was silent and still, afraid to look up or revel
in my victory.

"Good game, boys," Connor spoke at once with sarcastic enthusiasm dripping
from his voice, breaking the silence.  I set the cue stick down, and slunk
back next to him as he raised his glass to toast the losing team.

"C'mon, Connor, man," Ryan started immediately, trying to backpedal.  "That
was so quick. Gotta at least make it two out of three, right?"

"Wrong," Connor disagreed. "I knew you were a lot of things, little cousin,
but I didn't realize you were such a chicken shit pussy. Nope. Too late,
you made the bet, and now you better fucking believe I'm going to cash in
on both of your lazy good-for-nothing asses," he sneered quietly, making
sure Brent was aware that he was not getting off the hook either.

"Fine," Ryan spat back, looking around to make sure no one was listening
in. "But not here."

Connor smirked. "I'll be giving the orders for the rest of the night, so
better get used to it right away."  He wiped the remaining balls from the
table.  "Empty your pockets, both of you. Wallet, keys, phone, everything.
Now!"

I watched Brent and Ryan exchanged apologetic glances, before angrily
emptying their pockets onto the table.  I'd learned months ago that the
first way to subjugate a man was to make him completely dependent.  Connor
stuffed Brent's items into his own pockets, and handed me Ryan's wallet and
phone to do the same.

"Good boys," Connor exclaimed in mocking. "Now let's get the fuck out of
this shit hole. Turns out there's fun to be had in this town after all."

***

CHAPTER 23 - ALPHA SLAVE

The four of us walked in near silence the few blocks to the quiet street
where Connor's car had been parked.  Ryan and Brent trailed slightly
behind, their heads down, shuffling their feet a bit.  I glanced back over
my shoulder, feeling a sudden twinge of guilt and pity as I saw the looks
on their faces.  Honestly, I had been surprised that Ryan hadn't put up
more of an objection once his fate for the night was sealed, yet another
part of me was proud of him for manning up and honoring his own bet.

With a loud beep and flash of taillights, the trunk of Connor's car popped
open.

"We're not fucking riding in the trunk," Ryan started in right away.

"Oh, you're not?" Connor challenged, raising his eyebrow. "Very well.  Then
you don't ride at all."  His face darkened. "Strip to your boxers and
sneakers.  Shirts, jeans, in the trunk. Now!" he commanded, swiping Brent's
baseball cap off his head for emphasis, before throwing it in the empty
trunk.

"I'm going to kill you for this," Brent muttered under his breath, giving
Ryan a frustrated shove, as they both started unbuttoning their almost
matching striped shirts, and loosening their belts and jeans.

"Slaves don't speak without permission," Connor interjected, helping them
along by ripping Brent's unbuttoned shirt off his back and throwing it in
the trunk.  "Need me to gag you already, boy?"

"No." Brent shook his head sheepishly, pushing his jeans down to his knees.

"No, SIR," Connor corrected him.

"No, Sir," Brent muttered, as he stepped out of his sneakers temporarily to
remove his jeans.

Ryan stripped quietly, refusing to even glance in my direction.  When his
shirt and jeans had been tossed in the trunk, they both leaned over to
retie their sneakers.  When they were finished, Connor slammed the trunk
shut and turned around to look at his new toys for the night, both hugging
their bare arms over their naked torsos in the chilly late spring air.
 Their boxers hung loosely around their upper thighs, while their dark
athletic socks rested casually halfway up their calves from the depths of
their sneakers.

Connor paced casually in front of them. "Too good for the trunk, eh?  No
worries, no worries.  You can both go ahead and jog back to the house. No
sweat off my back." He shrugged.

"But that's over five miles!" Ryan protested immediately.

Connor smirked before backhanding his cousin without warning. "That's over
five miles, SIR," he corrected him. "You better get moving then.  And take
the streets, we'll be right behind you."  He gestured up the street ahead
of the car. "What are you waiting for? Get moving bitches!"

Begrudgingly, both Brent and Ryan sprang into a light jog in the proper
direction.  It wouldn't be the craziest thing the town had ever seen if
they'd been spotted, a few fraternity pledges jogging in their underwear,
though the streets were typically quiet this time of night in the sleepy
town.

Connor tossed me his keys and we both climbed in.  I started the car and
flipped on the headlights, finding the boys halfway up the street already
at a slow pace.  I pitied them both as I began to creep up the street at a
slow pace after them, their backs already glistening with sweat in the
headlights of the car as their legs pounded the pavement in unison.

They ran admirably for the first mile or so, given the fact that I'm sure
they were a few beers ahead of us when we'd arrived, but I suppose betting
one's freedom away for a night would have quiet a sobering effect.  The run
would be mostly uphill, so I knew it was only a matter of time before they
would be panting and out of breath.

HONK! HONK!

I looked up in sudden surprise, as Connor reached over in front of me and
blared the horn.  Ryan had paused for a second to catch his breath, but
Connor was having none of it, urging them forward as we crept painfully
slowly up the long winding hill that led into the suburban enclave where
the Grey's resided.

Minutes later, an aggressive jeep came blaring up behind us flashing high
beams to urge me to drive faster.  I had turned the hazard lights on, and
indicated they should go around.  They eventually did, and I watched with
pity as they slowed to taunt Brent and Ryan on their run as they drove by,
cat-calling out the windows, before speeding away up the hill.  I could
only imagine how red their faces were, and not just from the workout.

While we drove, I noticed Connor take out his phone to place a call.

"Hi, it's me. Oh yeah, everything's totally cool, just wondering if you'd
mind if I had use of the wine cellar tonight?"  There was a pause, but I
could only surmise he was speaking with Mr. Grey. "Haha, yep yep, exactly.
 Okay cool, well we'll try not to disturb you then..  Yep, yep, brunch
before I leave sounds great.  See you in the am. Have a great night."  He
clicked the cell phone off.  I wondered if he or Ryan would ever have any
idea that I wasn't necessarily the one Connor requested use of the dungeon
for.

Several more honks of the horn, and who knows how long later, we finally
reached the bottom of the Grey's long driveway.  I'm sure it was with glee,
that Brent and Ryan started their final ascent up the steep drive.  I kept
Connor's car trailing close behind them with our headlights trained on the
boys.

When we reached the top of the drive, I pulled the car outside the garage
to where it had been parked earlier, and switched off the engine.  We both
climbed out, and walked around to the middle of the driveway where Ryan and
Brent were both doubled over with their hands on their knees in the light
of the flood lights that illuminated the top of the driveway, panting
heavily to the point of gasping to catch their breath.

"Good little workout, boys," Connor congratulated them with a slight
chuckle, running his finger along Brent's sweat-soaked back. "Now, that's
how I like my slaveboys. Nice and sweaty and obedient."

He let them catch their breath for another few minutes, allowing them to
pace around the driveway, stretching their muscles and aching feet until
their faces were no longer contorted and they appeared to be able to breath
somewhat normally.

"Thirsty?" Connor asked, with a dark smile. "C'mon slaves, lets get you
inside.  Back staircase, you know the way."

Ryan led the way reluctantly down the back staircase to the basement door,
and let himself in, trailed by Brent, then Connor then me.

"Fancy some wine, boys?" Ryan teased, as he put a head on each of their
slick necks and marched them briskly through the basement rec room to the
dungeon entrance disguised as a wine cellar. "Open it," he ordered, shoving
Ryan forward.

Ryan opened the door, and we all proceeded into the dungeon room.  I
observed as Brent looked around in silent horror as the overhead bare bulbs
illuminated the stark, cold space to reveal the vast collection of BDSM
equipment neatly displayed alongside dangling chains and of course the cell
doors set in the concrete walls.  It was obvious that he had never seen
anything like it, and any number of horrifying possibilities were running
through his mind as he wondered what Connor might have in store for them.

"First things first," Connor began, shoving them both forward towards the
center of the dungeon, releasing his grasp on their necks. "Lose the rest
of your clothes. Now."  Ryan took the lead, and began to shuck his shoes
and socks, glaring up occasionally in Connor's direction, while Brent
reluctantly followed suit.  "Don't be shy, boys. Doubt either one of you
have anything to be ashamed of."  He chuckled, crossing his arms to wait
for their boxers to drop.

I watched in amazement as Ryan locked his thumbs in his waistband, and
shoved the sweat-soaked boxers down to his ankles, before kicking them off
to the side.  Again, Brent followed his lead, hesitating for what seemed
like an eternity before dropping his boxers and kicking them gently aside.
 Immediately, they both cupped their crotches with their hands, diverting
their eyes in embarrassment.

Connor just smirked. "Yeah. That's really going to fly."  He gave me an
unexpected shove. "You too, boy. Show them how it's done. Display for us."

I swallowed hard as I quickly shed my clothing, and in the spot that Connor
pointed to, I assumed a proper display position, spreading my legs wide
with my hands clasped behind me head.

"Simon says display, boys," Connor almost sang with amusement as he started
pacing in front of them. "Let me see what I own for the night."

I recognized the anger and frustration well in their faces as it mixed with
the humiliation of their predicament as Ryan and Brent both reluctantly
assumed similar, though less practiced, versions of the display position.
 It was a feeling I knew all too well.  They were completely exposed from
head to toe, their skin still slick with profuse amounts of sweat generated
by the run, emphasizing their gym toned physiques.  Their cocks and balls
hung freely between their thighs.  Of course, I had seen both before, and
could tell they were both a bit shrunken from a mix of the exercise and
likely fear.

"Well this visit got a whole lot more interesting, didn't it?" Connor mused
to himself as he circled Ryan and Brent slowly.  With no particular method,
he began to run his hands over Brent and Ryan's bodies, squeezing muscles
here and there.  "Thought I might be bored out of my mind, and here I find
myself with not one, but three toys to play with."  He took a hold of
Brent's chin and lifted his head to take a closer look at him.  "Good
looking boy. Shame it's just for tonight. Could be a damn fine slave,
here."  Brent jerked his head back defiantly but miraculously held his
display position. "Watch it, boy," Connor warned, giving him a light slap
on the cheek.

"Let's just get this over with," Ryan barked suddenly with growing
impatience.  I couldn't help but wonder if he was heroically attempting to
draw Connor's attention away from Brent or he was just arrogant enough to
incite his cousin's wrath.

I winced as Connor slammed his fist into Ryan's gut, watching as he doubled
over wheezing in pain.  He waited a minute before lacing his fingers in
Ryan's wet hair to pull him back upright. "Sounds like this slave needs a
lesson in patience, let alone manners. Display!" he barked, waiting for
Ryan to move back into position.

Ryan continued to glare daggers as Connor took the opportunity to weigh his
balls and give his cock a few playful strokes.

"Don't worry, cuz, I'll spare you my cock. Not into all that." Connor
smirked as he imitated Ryan's words from the bar. "But that doesn't mean I
won't give you a whole new appreciation for yours."  He let go of Ryan's
junk and moved to inspect Brent's package. "Uh oh," Connor mused suddenly.
"Looks like someone might be liking all of this a little more than he
thought he would."

We all turned in time to see Brent flush a bright crimson as he cock
unwillingly began to stiffen in Connor's hand.

"I... I haven't had a chance to jerk off in days," Brent sputtered
sheepishly in his defense.

Connor gave his balls a firm squeeze, eliciting a guttural groan from
Brent. "Didn't ask for an explanation boy. Just keep your mouth shut and
let your body do the talking. You're not in control anymore."  He let go of
Brent's dick and stepped behind both of them towards one of the work
benches lined with equipment.  "Get on your knees, all of you, hands behind
your backs. Time to make this official."

We all obeyed, nearly in unison, kneeling against the cool cement floor
with our hands behind our backs as Connor selected some items from the
bench and returned to stand behind Brent.  Unceremoniously, he whipped a
thick, black leather training collar around his neck and cinched the buckle
tight in the back before securing it with a small padlock.  Moving to Ryan,
he secured a similar collar around his neck, spinning it so that the d-ring
was positioned in front.

"Looking good slaves."  He stepped back to the shelves, returning moments
later. "And, as promised..." Connor announced, setting a metal dog bowl
down in front of them.  He pulled the garden hose that was rigged to the
side of the dungeon wall and gently filled the bowl with cold water.  "Not
what you're used to, but hey, it's wet.  Go ahead, drink up, but keep those
hands behind you."  He gave them both encouraging swats to the back of
their heads, urging their faces forward.

It was a sight for sure, like something out of a dream or fantasy I might
have had at some point over the past few months.  Ryan and Brent at first
took polite turns slurping and lapping at the water bowl before the true
extent of their thirst from the run took over and then began to bump heads,
bucking each other for laps of water until as much of it was gone as they
could achieve.  Connor ensured they were done by kicking the bowl across
the dungeon floor with a clang, spilling water traces of water the boys had
not succeeded at lapping with their tongues.

"You're my alpha today, boy," Connor announced suddenly, scratching the
back of my head like a dog. "Always a slave, but we've got two bitchboys
that need some serious training, and you're gonna help. On your feet. I
want these boys strung up."

Connor and I worked together, or at least I followed his commands, to help
Brent and Ryan to their feet, locking leather cuffs around each of their
wrists, and then locking their arms high above their heads to two of the
many adjustable chains and rings that hung from the system of pulleys
rigged in the exposed beams of the ceiling until they were standing side by
side.  Connor experimented with the switches that operated the pulley
system until he found the ones he wanted and pulled the chains higher above
both of their heads under they were stretched up to the point of standing
on the balls of their feet.

"You're a couple of sweaty pigs," Connor remarked, picking the garden hose
back up. "Time for a shower."

Without further warning, Brent yelped as the the spray of cold water
erupted over his naked form dousing him unrelentingly with cold water,
before moving over to Ryan in order to garner the same reaction.  I knew
the razor-like feeling of the cold water well as I watched both of them
yelp and writhe against their bonds overhead as Connor cruelly zig-zagged
the spray of the hose up and down their helplessly exposed bodies, circling
them slightly to make sure he gave equal attention to all of their cracks
and crevices.

After what seemed like ten minutes, Connor finally turned off the hose and
allowed them relief as puddles of water ran down their goose-bump covered
skin and pooled over the drain in the middle of the floor a few paces from
their feet.  I almost felt sorry for them as they shivered uncontrollably,
unable to do anything about the rivers of water running down their faces
from their wet heads, dripping into their eyes and off their chins.

"Think you sluts could use a little break to cool off," Connor mused
walking back to the work bench.  He tossed me a metal O-ring gag and walked
over to Ryan. "But can't have you ladies hanging here gossiping while I'm
gone, now can we? Open."  He smirked as he wedged the metal ring behind
Ryan's teeth, forcing his mouth wide open before moving behind him to strap
the gag behind his head.  I followed his lead and did the same to Brent.
 He looked at me almost pleadingly as I gently helped the metal ring into
his mouth, apologizing silently with my eyes for Ryan's actions that landed
him in this situation.

When I was finished securing Brent's gag, Connor took me by the arm and
pulled me swiftly across the room to the outside of one of the cells.
 Snapping open a pair of simple handcuffs, he thread the chain link through
the handle bar on the outside of the door and closed the cuffs around my
wrists securing me to the door. "Can't risk having you get all sympathetic
and helping these bitches out while I'm gone," he explained. "I'm thirsty.
Back in a few."

While Connor was gone, I watched with morbid curiosity as Ryan and Brent
dealt silently with their predicament.  Unable to speak audibly, they
occasionally grunted as they shifted their weight from side to side in an
attempt to lessen the increasing strain on their bodies as they dangled
side by side with their feet just touching the floor.  They breathed
heavily through their open mouths and noses, occasionally slurping at the
streams of saliva that began to run from their mouths and down their chins.
 Most interestingly, I noticed that they kept their eyes down for the most
part, as if refusing to acknowledge each other, let alone my presence.
 They couldn't speak.  They couldn't help each other.  They had nothing to
do but wait as they continued to drip dry with their mouths forced wide
open.  They were slaves, at least for tonight.

I'm not sure how long we waited before Connor finally returned.  Time had
taken on a sort of new meaning for me over the course of my enslavement.
 As I rarely had access to a clock or a watch, I had learned to stop
thinking so regularly in minutes and hours.  There were only blocks of
time: time to rest, time to serve, time to be disciplined, but the majority
was simply made of time to wait.  I took advantage of times like these to
mediate, to let my mind wander freely to other places and other times.

For Ryan and Brent, however, I knew that each passing minute would feel
like an hour to them so it was no surprise to me to witness the way they
perked up anxiously at the opening of the dungeon door.  I joined them in
watching Connor reenter.  He had changed while he was upstairs, replacing
his casual going out attire with nothing but his mesh gym shorts that
sagged slightly at the cuts of his hips.  He was fairly expressionless as
he paced slowly around his dangling slaves.  I noticed that his strong
masculine features and light coating of wiry chest hair made both Brent and
Ryan look all the more boyish as they twisted and grunted for breath with
their nearly hairless chests heaving.

"How we holding up?" Connor asked without any real interest in a response
as he casually raked his fingers over Brent's long torso before circling
behind to give him a light swat on his naked ass.  He continued around,
giving Ryan two similar swats, before circling back to face him.  Lightly,
he took hold of Ryan's chin relishing the glare in his cousin's eyes.
 Connor wiped some of the excess saliva clinging to Ryan's chin with his
thumb, and then wiped it clean against Ryan's bare chest.

"Time to have some fun," Connor mused as he left the boys and rummaged
around the work bench.  When he returned, he unceremoniously attached a
small clamp to each of their exposed nipples, grinning as they took turns
wincing and gasping from the sharp pain that shot through their chests.
"And just to make it interesting..." He fished in the pocket of his gym
shorts and produced four small teardrop shaped weights that he proceeded to
clip to the ring on each of the four clamps, again chuckling as the two
boys grunted with displeasure.

Again, I sympathized, as I watched their faces contort as they continue to
adjust the discomfort of the clamps, let alone the strain on their bodies
from the way they were strung up.  Connor circled back for more supplies,
and when he returned, turned both of the boys roughly 90 degrees until they
were facing each other. "Come on, boys, don't be shy. You're supposed to be
bros, right?"  With a strong hand on both of their lower backs, he forced
them to tip toe closer together until their chests were practically
touching.  I noticed that they both strained to keep their crotches far
apart.  Diligently, Connor reached between them, and attached a short
length of chain, maybe a foot long, between the rings in their two collars,
linking them together at the neck.

I couldn't imagine what they must have been thinking as they were
practically forced to look each other in the eye sharing in the pain and
humiliation of each other's position.  Out of the corner of my eye, I
watched Connor return to the wall once more, taking his time before
selecting a fairly basic flogger from the collection.  I held my breath as
I watched him quickly draw back his strong arm and crack the flogger with
little to no warning against Ryan's backside.

"Gaaaagh!" Ryan cried out, chortling through the open mouth gag, unable to
stop his body from slamming forward into Brent's.  The chains overhead
strained with the creak of metal, but held fast, holding both of them
upright as they wavered on their feet.

CRACK! CRACK!

Connor continued quickly with two more lashes of the flogger against Ryan's
lower back and upper thighs, before circling behind Brent to ensure he
shared in the pleasure of their first flogging.

CRACK!

"Gah!" I could see Brent's face contort in pain as he absorbed the first
blast of the flogger against his pristine skin, lurching forward,
practically hugging Ryan as he fell into his chest.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

I could see their cocks and balls bouncing between their legs and clearly
into each other's as they began to almost dance in circles as the chains
twisted and creaked above, trying their best to anticipate and avoid the
next lash of the flogger, but it was to no avail as Connor casually circled
them, mixing up his targets to keep them guessing while he ensured both of
his victims got an equal dose of the flogger.  Their guttural screams and
inaudible cursing made the flogging almost as painful to witness as I'm
sure it was to feel, and I continued to pity them, especially Brent who was
forced to suffer as an innocent accomplice to Ryan's arrogant wager.

When Connor was satisfied that they had suffered enough under the lash, he
tossed the flogger aside, and took turns running his bare hands over the
red and raw patches of skin that were now splattered over their backs and
asses while they hung catching their breath, covered with a new sheen of
nervous and strained sweat. "You know, cuz, I'm really glad you had the
balls the make that bet, as stupid as you were.  I've been wanting to beat
some sense into your cocky ass for a long, long time."  He taunted Ryan
while he took particular pleasure in eliciting groans of pain from his
cousin by massaging his battered ass.

After a playful slap to Ryan's cheek, he reached between their heads and
unclasped the chain that linked their collars together allowing them to
separate once again.  He turned them until they were standing shoulder to
shoulder, before sauntering over to me.  With skill, he unlocked the left
cuff, freeing the chain from the cell door before quickly wrenching both of
my arms behind my back and cuffing my wrists behind me.  "Get them hard,"
he spoke firmly in my ear, giving me a light shove towards Ryan and Brent.

I stumbled over catching my balancing. With another apologetic look to
Brent particularly, I sank to my knees between them, and craned my neck to
lick softly at Ryan's cock and balls, before gently enveloping his
stiffening cock in my mouth.  It was something I did often now and felt
only right that I would service my master first, even degraded as he was.
 I could almost feel Ryan's glare down on the top of my head as I licked
and sucked him to a full erection, knowing he was unable to control the
whims of his body.

"The other one," Connor commanded, giving me a light swat to the back of my
head.  I shifted slightly to my left and began to lick and slurp at Brent's
dick. Despite his condition, he stiffened remarkably quickly. Feeling
Connor's fingers lace in the back of hair, he pulled me off of Brent's dick
with a slurping noise and shoved me to the ground.

"Face each other," Connor barked, turning Ryan sharply by the shoulder, and
allowing Brent to follow suit on his own.  Again, they took a half step
backwards to avoid contact between their erect dicks. Moments later, the
pulleys churned overhead, and I noticed that Brent's overhead chain began
to give way. "On your knees, asswipe." The increasing slack allowed Brent
to crumple ever so slowly to his knees.  It didn't take a genius to see
what Connor's plan was.

When Brent was firmly on his knees, his propped open mouth mere inches from
Ryan's throbbing cock, Connor gave Ryan a firm smack to his red ass. "Don't
just stand there, cunt. Put your little dick in his mouth. He's just
kneeling there waiting to thank you for giving him the best night of his
life. Just look at him."  Connor taunted them both, as Brent's eyes widened
with fear and anticipation as he breathed heavily through his nose, his
tongue flicking rapidly through the hole of the O-ring, as if trying to
protest.  Connor gave Ryan a harder smack to his ass. "Put your cock in his
mouth. I'm not going to tell you again."

With that, I watched from my side near their feet as Ryan apologized with
his eyes before bucking his hips and guiding his erection through the
O-ring and into the gaping warmth of Brent's mouth.  Immediately, Brent
gagged loudly as his best friend's hard cock slid across his combative
tongue towards the back of his throat.

"Good," Connor observed with another encouraging spank. "Now fuck his
worthless face. Don't pretend you don't know how."  Ryan's breathing
increased through his nose, as he bucked his hips, sliding his cock in and
out of Brent's mouth as his friend coughed and gagged and struggled to
breathe through the invasion.  Connor watched his cousin's body intently,
observing it for signs of an impending orgasm.  When it was imminent,
Connor quickly clamped his hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Pull out, but don't
stop."  Ryan nodded rapidly as he withdrew from Brent's mouth, just as his
throbbing cock exploded with a gush of white hot cum that landed squarely
on Brent's chin.  Connor took hold of Ryan's cock, and directed the rest of
the ejaculation over Brent's chest and face, dotting the kneeling frat boy
with globs of sticky cum and wiping the last of Ryan's dribble against his
left cheek.  "Don't say I never did anything nice for you," Connor
suggested in mocking, giving the wincing, defeated Brent a light pat on the
right cheek.

"Lick him clean," Connor barked in my ear, pulling me back up on my knees
with a strong grip under my right arm. "And make sure he stays hard while
you're at it."

"Yes, Sir." Swallowing, I inched forward on my knees, and silently lapped
gently at all of the sticky spots I could find on Brent's chest and face. I
looked between his spread thighs and noticed he had gone a bit soft through
his ordeal, so I quietly leaned down and gently sucked him back to a full
erection.

Meanwhile, the overhead gears churned once again, and this time Ryan was on
his way down, until he collapsed without being told onto his knees.  He was
given even more slack than Brent, and I soon realized why.  "Out of the
way, slave," Connor instructed, nudging me away from Brent's cock with a
toe to my ass.  "You." He swatted the back of Ryan's head, "Get down on his
dick. And don't you dare fucking stop until his cum is down your throat."

Ryan nodded obediently, though he was reluctant I'm sure as he leaned
forward on his knees with just enough slack from the chain overhead to
reach Brent's erection with his open mouth.  Brent winced his eyes tightly
as his cock slid past the O-ring into Ryan's mouth as if trying to resist
the slightest bit of pleasure he surely felt as Ryan began to slurp and bob
on his dick.  Despite spending most of his life on the receiving end, Ryan
appeared to be somewhat of a natural cocksucker, or maybe he was just
desperate to get it over with, but he worked quickly fighting through the
discomfort and pain that was evident on his face as he fought the constant
throbbing in his nipples and sore backside to focus on the task at hand.

I watched with intrigue as Brent's breaths hastened, and I could see in his
flushed face that he was nearing orgasm. Ryan must have sensed it too as he
slurped harder just as Brent groaned from somewhere within and bucked his
hips lightly as his cock exploded into Ryan's mouth.  Without the full use
of his lips, it was impossible for Ryan to hold the excess cum in his
mouth, despite his best efforts at swallowing down the hot seed.  Pools of
Brent's cum poured out of Ryan's mouth, mixed with his saliva, and ran like
a small water fall down to the floor of the dungeon.

Connor chuckled, as he stepped over, giving me a light shove forward. "You
know what to do."  Reluctantly, I leaned forward, and lapped at the
slippery pool of cum and spit from the smooth cement floor of the dungeon.
 "Now that's what I like to see. Friends helping friends," Connor mused in
mocking as he stepped around in front of the two exhausted looking jocks.
"Hope you aren't spent already, boys. Got a long night ahead."  Reaching
forward, he unceremoniously pulled off their nipple clamps one at a time
eliciting gasps of pain from both of the boys as their blood rushed back to
their crushed nipples.

When he had removed all of the clamps, he squat down behind me and released
my wrists from the handcuffs before returning to the wall of equipment.
"Let's see..."  There was a rattle of chain, and he returned with two sets
of stainless steel leg irons, both with about a foot and a half of chain
between the thick ankle cuffs.  Handing one set to me, I followed his lead
on Brent as he fettered Ryan's ankles.  Once they were both shackled at the
feet, Connor stood to release Ryan's wrists from the overhead chain,
indicating that I should do the same for Brent. We left their leather wrist
cuffs on, but allowed them both a minute to stretch their arms and let the
blood start flowing normally again through their upper extremities.

"Plank position, both of you," Connor barked, shoving them both forward
onto all fours with a firm hand to the back of their heads.  Ryan and Brent
both groaned through their gags, and walked their shackled legs back behind
them as they propped themselves up on their arms and braced their cores
until they were planking side by side.  Connor paced around them for a long
minute enjoying the sight of his two toys holding themselves up after an
already grueling evening. "Well, we already know this slut loves a good
competition or neither of you would be here right now," he began, nudging
Ryan in the side with his toe. "Not sure about you, but you look like
enough of a jock to know that first place is the only winner."  He directed
his comment at Brent as he squat down again in front of both of them.

I knelt at attention off to the side, watching as Connor pulled a medium
sized black butt plug out from behind his back.  It wasn't overly menacing,
but to a young man with a virgin asshole, I'm sure it looked a whole lot
scarier than it actually was.  Playfully, he inserted the tip of the plug
into Ryan's still-propped open mouth, letting him feel the plug on his
tongue.  He fucked it in and out of his mouth a few times before moving it
over to Brent in order for him to have a taste as he spoke. "Push-up time,
boys. First cunt to drop sleeps with this in his ass."  He rose to his
feet. "So get going.  All the way down and all the way up. Down. Up. One.
Down. Up. Two... Count 'em out for me, slave."

I took over counting as I watched Ryan and Brent push-up in near unison at
the pace Connor had set. "Three.  Four.  Five.  Six.  Seven...."  When they
reached the mid-thirties, their breathing had become audibly belabored as
they slurped in air through their open  mouths.  Both of their faces were
flush with exhaustion and beads of sweat were running down their cheeks and
pooling between their shoulder blades. "Forty-seven. Forty-eight.
Forty-nine..."

"Who's it going to be? Who.will.it.be?" Connor wondered aloud as he paced
back and forth in front of the grunting and sweating boys really showing
the strain of their workout.

"Fifty-six. Fifty-seven. Fifty-eight..."

"I'm impressed, really," Connor taunted as he squat down again to watch
them perform. "But what is it that's driving you now, huh? Wouldn't it be
so much easier just to drop? Rest? That afraid of the plug? Or just plain
afraid of being the lesser man?" He chuckled as I continued to count.

"Sixty-three. Sixty-four. Sixt...."

"Gaaagh!" Brent sputtered with frustration as he collapsed in a sweaty pool
against the cement floor, banging his fists in frustration against the
cement. His arms had completely given out.

I could sense Ryan's relief as he completed the sixty-fifth successive
push-up before allowing himself to also collapse his weary body against the
floor to rest.

"Gotta admit, I wasn't sure you had it in you, cuz," Connor remarked. "I
should shove this inside you anyway just for being such a dick. First you
wager your best friend's freedom, and then you aren't even man enough to
throw a little competition and spare his ass...still, a deal's a deal."  He
nudged Brent's limp body with his toe. "All fours, my friend. Time for your
consolation prize."

Brent's fear was palpable as he reluctantly pushed himself up to all fours,
his body visibly trembling with nerves as Connor squat down behind him.
"Lube, slave."  I scurried to the work bench and returned with a bottle,
depositing a generous amount into Connor's outstretched palm. "Hold his
cheeks open."  Gently, I took hold of Brent's clenching ass cheeks, and
pulled them apart to reveal a tightly clenched anus hiding among a light
smattering of dark wiry hair.

Connor greased up the plug with his lubed hand, and then used the remainder
on his fingers to lightly coat the edges of his puckering anus. "Deep
breaths, boy," he coached, as he pressed the slick tip of the plug against
Brent's hole. "Just think, this is nothing compared to what a real cock
feels like."

"Gaaahgh!" Brent grunted, throwing his head back and gasping through the
O-ring as the plug pushed up and into him, stretching his ass in a way that
he'd never felt before. Connor pushed firmly on the base as he waited for
the sphincter to clamp tight.

"You're okay," Connor reassured him with a gentle slap to his ass cheeks.
"But you won't let that fall out of you if you value your balls."

Grabbing me again by the hair, he took the bottle of lube from my hand and
pulled me stumbling on my knees roughly around until we were in front of
Ryan and Brent. "Up on your knees, both of you. Hands behind your backs." I
was wincing in visible pain as they both rose up on their knees, still
panting and sweating from the push-ups.  Brent appeared to be in particular
discomfort as he adjusted to the plug.

Connor pulled me up to my feet, with one hand on left arm to help. "Bend
over, slave. One hand on each of their shoulders," he instructed as he
shoved me forward.  I clamped a hand cautiously on Brent's left shoulder
and Ryan's right as I was now bent over with my head between them.  I
adjusted my balanced as Connor kicked my legs further apart.  His gym
shorts suddenly dropped into a pool of fabric on the floor beneath me, and
I heard the familiar pop of the plastic cap of the lube bottle.

"You boys don't get to have all the fun," Connor teased, as he took hold of
my left hip with one strong hand, using the other to guide his greased cock
into my quivering asshole.  I couldn't help myself from gasping as he
pushed into me, his cock was larger than Ryan's.  Connor grunted with
audible pleasure as he pushed all the way in, his balls slapping lightly
against my ass, before pulling almost all the way out and pushing in again.

I couldn't help but glance up at Ryan's face as Connor proceeded to fuck
the hell out of my ass, my arms tense as I braced myself against Brent and
Ryan so that they felt each thrust along with me.  Though he was helpless
to protest, and had already voluntarily lent me out for the night, I could
see the rage in his eyes, and for once, I knew deep down that it wasn't
directed at me.

Connor grunted with pleasure, bracing his hands on either side of my waist
to hold me against him as he exploded into me flooding my guts with a sack
full of his hot, sticky cum.  I let my head slump forward as I waited for
him to pull out.  "Clean it off," he breathlessly ordered, with a slap to
my ass as he pulled out.

"Yes, Sir."  Knowing my place, I let go of Ryan and Brent and turned to
kneel before slurping the remainder of cum that was still leaking out of
Connor's cock.  The rest of it, I could already feel pooling at my asshole,
some of it running down the back of my thighs.

When he was satisfied that he was clean, Connor pulled out of my mouth and
stepped back into his shorts.  "Now, there's a good slaveboy."  He gave me
a rough pet on the top of my head. "And as for you two sorry excuses, I
could use a break from your pathetic mugs."  Ryan and Brent exchanged a
look of hopeful relief, sensing that Connor might have grown bored now that
he'd came and their ordeal would be over.  "Oh no, don't get too excited.
 I own your asses till nine in the morning, and you're gonna be slaves
until the very last second."  Their faces dropped. "But, I will give you a
bit of a break."  He leaned forward and unbuckled the strap that held
Ryan's O-ring in place, nodding to me so that I would do the same with
Brent's.

Carefully, the metal rings were removed from behind their teeth, and Ryan
and Brent took a long moment to stretch their aching jaws and wet their
dried lips, though neither were in a hurry to speak.

Connor walked over to the closest cell door, and opened it with the creak
of rusted metal. "So what do you think, boys? Wanna spend the night
together or separate?"

"Separate," the both grunted in near unison, their voices hoarse.

"Together it is," Connor informed them, ignoring their preference.  We both
knew it would be much more amusing to imagine their heated conversation as
they sweat out the night together in the same cell.  He snapped his fingers
and gestured inside the cell. "What are you waiting for? Crawl in."

Ryan muttered under his breath as he took the lead, crawling across the
floor, the chain between his feet rattling along the cement until he
cleared the threshold of the cell.  Brent followed reluctantly behind him,
aided by the prompting of Connor's foot.

Brent leaned his back on one wall, wincing as he slid down into a seated
position, feeling the plug wedge further into his ass. Ryan settled on the
opposite wall.  There was enough room for each to extend their legs side by
side, but not much else. There were chains dangling down on all sides of
the cell, perfect for restraining slaves in any manner of positions.

"Looks cozy in here," Connor remarked in mocking as he reappeared at the
doorway holding two padlocks in his hand.  He took hold of Brent's right
arm first, and secured the ring in his right leather cuff to one of the
chains behind him, before lifting his left arm to link his wrists together
overhead.  Taking up Ryan's arms, he did the same, giving them both enough
slack to sit, kneel, or stand, but not enough to lie down. "That should do
it... oh, and look, my uncle was thoughtful enough to include a drain if
you have to piss."  He chuckled darkly, indicating the open drain in the
floor of the cell where I'd had no choice but to empty my own bladder in
the past. "Sleep tight, bitches. See you when I feel like it."

I will never forget the looks on both of their faces of hatred and
frustration just before the cell door slammed shut sealing them in the
darkness of the cold cell for the night.

Connor turned to me with an amused expression on his face. "C'mon boy, time
for bed.  Bet you'll really appreciate that carpet on the floor tonight,
won't you?"  He gave me a light slap on the ass and urged me ahead of him
out of the dungeon door.

I stopped cold in my tracks as Connor closed the door behind me just as Mr.
Grey passed through the rec room dressed for a late night work out.
 Immediately, I dropped to my knees in a presenting position.

"Keeping our boy out of trouble?" Mr. Grey asked, with an amused smile on
his face.  He directed the question to Connor, of course, but indicated
that I should feel free to rise with a gesture of his hand.

Connor laughed politely. "You could say that. Good boy, you got here."  He
ruffled my hair as I stood.

"That we do.  Care to join me for a few sets?" Mr. Grey asked, thumbing
over his shoulder in the direction of the home gym, taking a closer glance
at his nephew's shirtless physique. "Not that you look like you need it."

Connor shrugged. "Nah, I'll pass if that's alright. Thanks though. Was just
going to turn in."

"All good. Rest up," Mr. Grey said, starting back in the direction of the
gym. He stopped short and looked over his shoulder. "Hey, you haven't seen
my delinquent son around, have you?  Haven't heard his jeep yet. Usually as
loud as a garbage truck when he rolls back in here at all hours."

"Ah, saw him out at the bars earlier but he was pretty distracted by some
biiii...I mean, some nice, wholesome girl."  They both chuckled. "I
wouldn't worry. Sure he's safe and sound," Connor assured him with the calm
of a pathological liar.

"I'm sure," Mr. Grey agreed, almost a little too earnestly.  I wondered if
he even had the slightest idea his son was chained up in the dungeon mere
paces away and what he would do if he ever found out.  "Good to have you
around, Connor. Too bad you're not down this way more often. Ryan could
really learn a lot from your example."

"I'll do my best to visit more often," Connor offered in response. "Kind of
like it around here."  He gave me a squeeze on my shoulder, and urged me
ahead of him towards the steps. "But if you don't mind..."

"Yes, yes, of course. Sleep well. See you at brunch, then?  Hopefully Ryan
will manage to drag himself back here before then to at least say goodbye."
Mr. Grey sighed and turned back towards the gym.

Connor smirked. "I'm sure he wouldn't miss it.

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

Author's Note: This part is dedicated to the faithful fans of 'Bred Slave',
new and old, who have encouraged the continuation of this story despite the
long wait since the last chapter.  Thank you for your patience, loyalty and
motivation.

Please do not republish any parts of this story without consent of the
author.

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