Date: Fri, 28 Aug 2020 12:54:53 -0400 From: Matt W Subject: Bred Slave - Part 19 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 25 - CRUEL SUMMER It was barely noon and the day was already blistering hot. Without a cloud for miles in the perfect midsummer sky, there was nothing to prevent the sun from scorching our idyllic little corner of the earth with blistering rays. I wiped sweat from my brow quickly with the back of my hand as I leaned over the glistening surface of the Grey's swimming pool clutching a long metal pole with a net at the end. I winced one eye closed as the sun reflected off of the shimmering water making it even more difficult to capture the one pesky leaf that kept evading my net. I glanced up across the curvy expanse of the pool to the other side where Ryan was sprawled casually on one of the cushioned loungers working on his tan. His bare chest and abs were glistening with a light sheen of sweat and suntan lotion. He was dressed in board shorts with his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses making it impossible for me to know precisely whether he was watching me work or taking a nap. Popular music blared from several speakers disguised as rocks that populated the landscaping around the perimeter of the fenced in pool and hot tub. I didn't mind as it was something to distract me from the mind-numbing task of keeping the pool free from any speck of errant leaves or insects that dared to fall into the water. It was particularly torturous to watch and listen to the refreshing waves of water as they lapped against the side of the pool while the sun beat down relentlessly on my bare back and shoulders. Alas, taking a dip in the pool was strictly forbidden without explicit permission from my master. Ryan's phone rang loudly and he sprang to life to answer the call. With determination, I finally captured the leaf that had been taunting me and carefully flung it over the fence to the large backyard. In the distance, I could just make out the silhouette of my father pushing a lawnmower up one of the gently rolling hills that led to the edge of the woods. Turning back to the pool to look for any leaves I might have missed, I glanced up just as Ryan snapped his fingers high in the air and gestured for me to come to him. I carefully placed the pool net back on the fence where it lived and plodded around the pool deck. When I was serving at the pool, my uniform typically consisted of an obscenely small brief-style swimsuit that protected my junk from the sun but left little to the imagination, and rubber slide sandals to protect the bottoms of my feet from the scorching hot surface of the pool deck. On particularly sunny days, like today, I was given a ball cap to protect my head and provide minimal shade to my face while I worked. I was rarely collared when working outside, except, of course, for the dog tags I almost always wore. A proper collar would have resulted in a quite obvious tan line around my neck that could have potentially caused problems for Ryan's master summer plan Furthermore, even though it wasn't exactly a public space, the Grey's pool was a popular destination for Ryan's friends that spent their summers in town, and I suspect he didn't relish the idea of having to explain my slavery to any surprise visitors in the same way that Brent had caught him off guard several months ago. Brent popping in at all these days, however, was far less frequent of an occurrence than it had once been. Following the incident with Connor, he had avoided the house entirely for the remainder of the semester. It became clear from the inordinate amount of time Ryan was spending around the house alone, and the lack of Brent's presence, that their friendship had been strained. Brent had certainly taken his time to get over it, but he did make an appearance at Ryan's Fourth of July pool party, and I'd seen him a few more times since. I was sure he would forgive Ryan eventually, but I doubted that he would merely be able to forget about the night he spent as a slave. On the up side, for me at least, Ryan kept his word to Connor and didn't go to any extreme lengths to punish me in retaliation for winning the game of pool and thereby sentencing him to a night of slavery to his cousin. That's not to say he gave up on his responsibility in owning me either. In fact, with Brent's noticeable absence, he seemed to double down on his dominant side. He became more strict and demanding of perfection when he was in a training mood, and equally more caring, and even friendly, when he just felt like hanging out. As summer neared, he worked both of us harder in the gym, and when it was time to buckle down for finals, he suspended nearly all of my slave training to focus on my exams. My final grades exceeded his expectations in nearly every class with the exception of one where I barely passed. Ryan took out his disappointment on my ass with his frat paddle until I was raw, purple and crying. "Yep, yep, short notice is no problem. We can have someone right over," Ryan nodded as he yammered into the phone. As I approached, he motioned for me to be silent and kneel on the rubber mat beside his chair that was placed almost entirely for the purpose of protecting my knees. I knelt at attention with my hands behind my back to wait for him to finish his call. "Sweet, yeah, one p.m. is perfect. Yep, everything is provided. Completely full service and professional. We are cash only though; that a problem?" He raised his eyebrows over the rims of his sunglasses and smiled a bit mischievously as he spoke. "Okay, great. I think I remember where, yeah, but just text me the address to be sure. No, no, thank you. Great, okay, bye." Ryan ended the call and sat up slightly in the lounge chair still preoccupied with the screen of his phone. The chime of a text message coming in rang out followed by the whooshing sound as another went out. When he was finished, he tossed his phone on the small table beside his chair and sat fully upright. With a light groan, he swung his bare legs around so that he straddled my kneeling form. He studied me for a moment, and then quickly whipped the ball cap from my head and tossed it to the ground. "Better," he mused as he made a slight show of combing my sweat-soaked hair into a neat part with his fingers. My hair had been kept short enough that it rarely had a chance to fall too much out of place, but long enough that he had something to grab onto when he felt he needed to. "Good news, boy. Just booked you another job. The client wants you right away, so why don't you go ahead and grab yourself a quick slave smoothie from the fridge for lunch and get yourself changed. I just texted you the address, but it's not far from here." "Yes, Sir." I nodded, trying my best to disguise the fact that I'd much rather spend the afternoon plucking leaves from the pool than what Ryan had arranged for me. "Fuck, it's hot today." He reached for his glass of water and took a sip. Lowering the cup from his lips, he frowned and then, without warning, splashed the remaining liquid into my face. I gasped and sputtered in surprise as the water cascaded down my face and dripped down my chin and over my shoulders. "Scratch that. First, you're going to fucking get me some ice-cold water, and then you go." He slammed the heavy glass back down on the table, and snapped, "Turn around and squat. Hands behind your head." "Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir." I complied and rotated on my knees in a half circle until my back was to him, careful not to knock his legs in the process. I picked myself up into a low squat with my feet perched under me and laced my fingers behind my head. "Good, Now, let's see here." Just as quickly, his tone softened dramatically, and I heard him stretch again for the table. A moment later, I felt a cool mist of aerosol sunscreen spray tracing its way up and down my back and across my shoulders. When I was sufficiently coated with a fresh layer of the oily substance, he tossed the bottle aside and began to massage the lotion into my skin. "You can reapply the rest yourself. Remember, I want you shirtless unless the client requests otherwise. Got it?" "Yes, Sir." Despite the growing pain in my thighs from the stress of the squat, the light massage was heavenly on my overworked back "And don't forget, it's cash only. No excuses, and every penny comes back to me, including tips. Are we clear?" "Yes, Sir." "Good." He clapped his bare hands against my shoulder blades and swung his legs back to recline on the chair. "You are dismissed. Grab me that water and get going." * Less than an hour later, I brought Ryan's jeep to a near halt at the base of a long driveway and double-checked the address on my phone. It was the right place. The gates that protected the driveway were already open, so I guided the jeep and the trailer hitched behind it carefully up the long driveway. At the top of the hill, I parked in the shadow of a stately brick home, similar in size to Mr. Grey's, that also loomed over a large sprawling lawn of gently rolling green hills. I shut off the engine and hopped out of the car to make my way to the front door. Meeting new clients for the first time always made me a bit nervous as I never knew who might be behind the door. I removed the ball cap from my head and gave my hair a quick pat down before I rang the doorbell. Moments later, the large door pulled open. "Hey... oh! I know you... Drew, right?" A tall, blond boy about my age smiled slyly as he crossed his arms over his t-shirt which proudly proclaimed that he rowed crew at his Ivy League university. I knew him too. It was Tommy Ward from high school, Thomas Calvert Ward III to be specific. Tommy had made a name for himself in high school for being both the richest kid in Ryan's class, and the first out and proud gay student our conservative high school had probably ever seen. Sure, a few of the homophobic jocks gave him a hard time now and then when no one else was looking, but for the most part, his confidence and sense of humor made him one of the most popular kids in school. It didn't hurt that he was also genetically blessed with thick blond hair, bright blue eyes, a lean muscular physique, and a killer smile. "Oh, yeah. Hey, Tommy," I managed, a bit shyly. I was surprised he knew who I was, as I was a year younger and we didn't exactly run in the same social circles. "I completely forgot you were friends with Ryan, but now that I'm seeing you, it totally makes sense. The ad and all." Tommy shrugged, and then leaned against the door frame. It may have been my imagination, but the way his eyes ran up and down my form, I would have sworn he was undressing me with his eyes. The uniform Ryan had designed for me consisted of a tight white t-shirt he'd had printed with a small logo on the left side of the chest that read 'RG & Co. Lawn and Aquatic', blue running shorts that came to my mid-thigh, athletic crew socks pulled up over my calves, and old running shoes that were now stained heavily with grass and soil. I chuckled awkwardly. "Right, the ad..." Mr. Grey had mandated that Ryan needed to find a summer job, but he stopped short of requiring specifics, allowing his son to get creative. The idea to pimp me out for lawn mowing and pool boy services was more or less a no-brainer for him the first time I was tasked with mowing the Grey's lawn in the late spring. I already existed to labor for Ryan and Mr. Grey for free, so why not everyone else in town? Ryan concocted a half-baked business plan with a professional sounding name, snapped a few faceless pics of me pushing a lawnmower shirtless across their lawn, and posted the ads Tommy mentioned on bulletin boards around town and across his various social media platforms. Given the competition in the area with other companies and college-aged guys that had been at it for years, it was shocking that the ads had barely been up a day before the phone started ringing and the first job came in, and then another, and another. Before long, I was mowing at least one lawn a day, sometimes two or three. Several of the clients quickly became regulars. Most of the client base consisted of cougar-like housewives who loved to flirt while their husbands were at the office and their kids were off at camp or grown and out of the house. Ryan favored booking me with them as they were much more generous with their tips, oftentimes as much as doubling the base fee. "Yeah, I should have figured Ryan Grey wouldn't be the one showing up to mow our lawn," Tommy chuckled at the notion. "So what's up, man? I haven't seen you since what, Ryan's graduation party, I guess? You still living with the Greys? College?" I shrugged. "Yeah, local. Same as Ryan, but it's not bad. School is school, I'm sure... You?" He smiled and glanced down to give his t-shirt a little tug. "Oh right, very cool. You like it?" I feigned polite interest in his superior education opportunity. "It's okay. I mean, it's a shit ton of work, but the New England boys are cute." Tommy shrugged a bit flirtatiously. "Not awful to be home for the summer though. The hometown boys are a lot hotter than I remember." I could feel the intensity of his eyes on me as the conversation grew more awkward. "So, uh, I should probably get started? Is there anything particular I should know?" "Right, right." Tommy nodded as if waking from a day dream. "Uh, no, I'd just start in the front and work your way around to the back. My parents are having a cocktail thing tonight and our normal landscaper is sick or something, so I guess it's our lucky day that you were available on such short notice." He winked. "I'll leave you to it, but let me know if you need anything. I'll be around." "Cool, thanks." I waited for him to retreat inside and moved back to the driveway to free the large industrial looking push-mower from the trailer at the back of the jeep. The mower, t-shirts, gas and trailer were the only investments that Ryan needed to make in the venture, and when the only employee he needed to pay was himself, he was already riding high on pure profit. I pushed the mower to the edge where the lawn met the driveway and leaned over to start the mower. When it roared to life, I hesitated before removing my t-shirt given the way Tommy had already been looking at me, but rules were rules. I peeled the white fabric over my head, and tucked it into the back waistband of my shorts. I knew it wouldn't be long in this heat before it would double as a sweat rag. I readjusted the ball cap on my head and pulled the brim low to shield my eyes as much as possible from the sun. Lowering the blade until I heard the first familiar crunch of grass being sawed in half, I set out to make my first pass over the green expanse. The first swipe at a fresh, uncut lawn always felt like the longest. It was a lone stripe in an endless sea of bright summer green, but it wasn't long before I found my rhythm and got lost in the task. Pass after pass, the cut grass began to dominate the expanse of the lawn. By the time I finished the front yard, I was already drenched in sweat. Rounding the side of the large house, my heart sank a bit as I got my first real look at the back. It was a second endless sea of green that ran for what looked like several acres to an edge of woods offering the Wards a secluded country paradise. Closer to the house, there was a glittering pool set directly into the lawn like a small private lake. The pool was lined with a short row of plush lounge chairs. Tommy was sprawled on one. He'd removed his shirt and slipped into very short swimming trunks that rode almost all the way up his thighs. His hair was damp and slightly curled as if he'd just come up from a dip. I had never been so jealous. "Drew!" Tommy called, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Hey! Drew!" When I was just finishing up with the back lawn, I looked up to see Tommy waving me over to where he was lounging. Flipping off the engine of the mower, I set the brake, and plodded through the freshly cut grass towards the pool. "What's up?" I asked, resting my hands on my knees to catch my breath. Sweat was running over my body in small rivers. The blue gym shorts were dark. My white socks were stained with dirt and green streaks of grass. "Nice work, man. Figured you could use this." He pulled a cold bottle of water out of a small cooler beside the chair and offered it to me. Gratefully, I accepted the water and downed it in nearly one gulp. Tommy smiled with amusement. "Hot, huh? Care for a dip?" I glanced at the glistening pool. Water had never looked so inviting, but I knew Ryan would be pissed if I returned not reeking of sweat and freshly cut grass. I shrugged and shook my head slightly. "Oh, thanks, but I should probably settle up and get out of your hair. The Greys have a pool too," I added. "Of course." Tommy shrugged and nodded, with a hint of obvious disappointment behind his large shades. He stood up from the lounger so that we were face to face. "My dad left me with the cash, but..." his voice trailed and I could feel his eyes raking over me from the other side of the darkened lenses. "I'd like to give you an extra tip, if that's okay?" I raised an eyebrow. "Uh, that's really not necessary," I started. "I think it is," Tommy repeated, quietly. He peeled his sunglasses off and tossed them aside. "I mean. It's really fucking hot out here and you've been working your ass off while I've just been sitting here chillin. I'm sure you'd rather be at the lake or something with your... girlfriend?" He raised an eyebrow. I shook my head more quickly than I should have. "Nope. I mean, nah, no girlfriend." I shrugged nonchalantly. "I hear that. I like to keep my options open too." He chuckled and suddenly grabbed my dog tags. He ran them between his fingers before letting them flop back against my chest. "Cute," he remarked. "Uh, thanks." I shrugged again and exhaled a silent sigh of relief that he didn't look more closely at them. With surprising confidence, Tommy jabbed his index finger into the valley between my slick pecs and slid his finger down my abdomen to the waistband of my shorts. "And sweaty," he observed with a coy smile. Feeling my throat go dry, I followed his finger as it trailed down my torso and froze. "Uh, yeah?" "Fucking hot," he murmured as he dropped to his knees in the soft grass. He brought both hands to the waistband of my shorts and looked up at me with a seductive, mischievous glint in his eyes as he slowly slid my shorts down to my knees. His eyes widened with amusement at the sweaty jockstrap beneath. "Nice," he added, as he began to peel down the waist of the jock. My hands moved instantly to my waist. "Whoa, man. What are you doing?" "What do you think I'm doing?" Tommy retorted, cooly. "I'm going to suck your dick." He yanked the pouch of my jockstrap down and my sweaty, hairless balls and neglected dick spilled out into the open air. Tommy's eyes widened. "Now, that's a surprise." He chuckled. I took a defensive step backwards, feeling the heat of alarm rising on the back of my neck. "Uh, yeah...the summer heat," I stammered for an explanation for my hairless crotch. "Look, I'm flattered and all, but..." "But you're not gay and blah blahbity blah," Tommy interjected, cutting me off. "I don't give a fuck, and neither should you. I don't know you well, but I know you well enough to know you're not going to go all homophobe fratboy on me, so stop pretending you're the only eighteen year old jock in America that doesn't like getting his dick sucked." "Well, no, but..." I jolted as Tommy grabbed my limp dick and slurped it expertly into his mouth. It felt incredible. My knees buckled almost instantly as he began to suck on my cock. It stiffened almost instantly in the warmth of his mouth. His tongue swirled around the head, and slid along the shaft. He wrapped his hands around the back of my legs to steady himself and glanced up with a gleam in his eye as he bobbed on my dick like a pro. "Holy fuck," I muttered, feeling my balls tightening after only a few moments. Tommy slipped off of me with a light slurp of saliva and grinned. Flirtatiously, he rose and took a gentle grip on my dick. "Looks like you're liking it just fine." He walked me a few paces and then pushed me onto one of the cushioned loungers. "So just relax and enjoy. You earned it." A second later, he was kneeling on the lounger between my legs, lapping hungrily at my raging erection. I fell back into the plush cushion of the chair. A thousand thoughts fleeted quickly through my mind, namely of all the blowjobs I'd given to Ryan, to Mr. Grey, to Connor, and even to Brent, yet no one had sucked my dick since Ali. I couldn't even be sure that she wanted to. When it came to my relationship with Ali, I wasn't sure any of it had been real. This, however, was very real, and even more shockingly, it seemed like Tommy was enjoying himself just as much as I was. "Oh god... I'm gonna." My eyes popped open, and before I could get the words out, my dick began to spasm and an orgasm erupted with an explosion of cum into Tommy's mouth. He chortled, choking at first in surprise. Cum and saliva cascaded down his chin as he took a quick breath of air. Hungrily, he returned to slurp the remaining expulsion straight into his stomach. When I could feel that the orgasm had subsided and my dick began to soften, he pulled away leaving my dick clean and slick with his saliva. A coy smile formed on his face and he flicked his tongue over his top lip. "Jesus. The look on your face," Tommy teased, as he snapped the waistbands of my jock and shorts playfully against my skin. "Relax. You're not going to start shitting rainbows because you let another dude suck your dick." He sighed and rolled off of the lounger. "Fucking straight boys. You're all the same." I clearly looked anything but relaxed, but it wasn't for the reasons that Tommy thought. The moment the orgasmic-haze passed, I realized instantly that I had majorly fucked up. If Ryan ever found out I let another guy suck my dick - his dick - I knew I would be in deep shit. I stumbled off of the lounge chair and clumsily pulled my pants up. "It's cool. Just... just please don't tell anyone about this. Okay?" "Our little secret." Tommy zipped his fingers over his cum slicked lips. He brushed by me to a bag beside his lounger and fished a white envelope filled with cash from inside. "Great work on the lawn, by the way. And I'm not just saying that." He chuckled, and slapped the envelope against my chest. "Thanks." I accepted the envelope and took a quick glance inside before shoving it into the damp pockets of my shorts. My t-shirt had fallen to the ground, and I leaned over to swipe it up. Tucking it back into my shorts, I started back to the mower. "Oh, and Drew?" Tommy called, stopping me in my tracks. "Take my advice and get out of this town, man. There's a much bigger world out there; trust me. You don't want to get trapped here forever." He winked and slipped his sunglasses back onto his face. I smiled politely and offered a thoughtful nod before turning my back to him. If only he knew that trapped didn't even begin to describe my situation. * An hour later I was kneeling in the entryway of the guest house. Of course, I'd stripped myself naked. My uniform was beside me in a small pile destined for the next round of laundry, and the envelope full of cash was resting in my outstretched palms. Despite the fact that the air conditioning was set to an uncomfortably cool temperature, per Ryan's preference, I was still sweating bullets. I'd checked the pool first to see if he was still there, but only ran into my mother who was busying herself collecting dishes from a patio table. Apparently either Ryan or Mr. Grey had opted for lunch by the pool, possibly both. Returning to the guest house, I heard the shower running upstairs in Ryan's bathroom and had no choice but to wait for him to finish. I was desperate to rinse off, but I'd made the mistake once of helping myself to a midday shower without permission. My punishment was ice cold showers for a week. The water cut off and a few minutes later Ryan came bounding jovially down the stairs. He was shirtless and wearing an old pair of sweatpants that had been cut off mid-thigh into shorts. His skin was glowing with a golden summer tan and just a hint of pink on the tops of his shoulders. He ran his hand through his messy, towel-dried hair, which he'd recently cut a bit shorter for the summer. "Thought I heard you come in. What do we got?" he asked rhetorically, as he whipped the envelope from my palms. Grateful to give my arms a rest, I moved my hands behind my back to wait as Ryan rifled through the envelope. He whistled. "Damn, boy. Must've given Tommy one hell of a show." He chuckled while I held my breath. Pulling the cash out of the envelope, he fanned it open for the full effect. "Whatever you did, that's one sick fucking tip. Keep up the good work, boy." "Thank you, Sir." I winced as Ryan bopped me lightly on the head with the wad of cash. "I never really liked that kid, but I do like his daddy's money." Ryan chuckled again, and tossed the cash onto the nearby kitchen counter. "Any problems I should know about?" I shook my head and swallowed. "No, Sir." "Good." Ryan nodded, looking pleased as he leaned down beside me to fish my collar out of the storage compartment in the bench seat beside the door. "Head up," he muttered, as if I needed reminding of what came next. He pulled off my dog tags, and the smooth leather strap of the collar slid around the back of my neck. "Fuck. I really hope the Wards become a regular client. That job alone is almost as much as we made all of last week." "Yes, Sir," I agreed, but I could sense that my voice was noticeably shaky and distant. Lying and deception had never been my specialty, and I don't know what made me think that I would be able to hide something from Ryan, my master, for long. Ryan locked the collar into place and squatted down to face me. "Hey? Is something wrong? You're acting weird." "No.. I mean, I don't..." I could feel my heart racing and my stomach knotting. "Bullshit. You're fucking shaking." Ryan cupped my face in his hands. "Drew, look at me. What's wrong? It's like zero degrees in here and you're sweating like a fucking pig. Are you sick?" I shook my head slightly in his hands and tried to look away, but he gave my head a shake. "Look at me, boy," he barked. His tone softened again. "Okay, so you're not sick. Then just tell me what's wrong." He took a breath, and even offered half of a concerned smile. "I promise not to get mad. Whatever it is, we'll figure it out. Cool?" I half nodded. "Okay, so just tell me what's up. Did something happen on the job?" I nodded again. "Okay... did Tommy say something to you? Do something to you?" "Kind of," I managed, letting my head droop in his hands. "Dude. I'm not a fucking mind reader." He sighed in frustration. "Just tell me what happened and we'll deal with it." I took a deep breath. "He wanted to give me an extra tip..." "Okay? Yeah, I saw the fucking wad of cash. What's wrong with that?" Ryan started. "No." I cut him off. "I mean...it wasn't just the cash." I swallowed. "He wanted to suck my dick." I let the words hang in the air before lifting my eyes to meet Ryan's. "And I let him." Ryan's hands dropped from my face and his expression darkened. "I'm sorry, Sir! It just sort of happened before I even knew what was happening. I..." Ryan cut me off by raising his palm to my face. He took a deep, measured breath. "I'm glad you told me the truth," he said finally. I could tell he had chosen his words carefully and it had taken all of his self control not to slap me then and there. I remained silent, watching him intently as he pushed up from where he'd been squatting and began to pace around the small area between the entryway and the kitchen counter. He paused at the edge of the counter, silently lost in thought for an endlessly long moment. Suddenly, the loud clang of metal rattling against the hard tile floor filled the room as he kicked my dog bowl full of water clear across the kitchen. I winced as it rattled against the fridge. "Fucking hell, Drew. What the fuck were you thinking?" He paced back towards me. "Here I am, trying to think up some kind of nice reward for you like some kind of fucking idiot, and now I have to fucking punish you instead. Is that what you wanted? Have I been too fucking easy on you lately?" "No, Sir," I offered, sheepishly. "Is that all that happened?" Ryan squatted back down to get into my face. "Did he fuck you too? Did you suck his dick? Did you fuck him?!" He laced his fingers in my sweaty locks of hair and jerked my head towards him. "Did you?!" "No, Sir!" I affirmed. "Nothing else happened. I swear!" His eyes searched my face for a long moment. "I believe you," he finally agreed before letting my hair go with a shake. "Of course that fucking faggot would want to suck your dick," Ryan scoffed angrily, as he stood back up. "Only problem is, it's not your dick, is it?" I shook my head, looking back down. "No, Sir." "Whose dick is it?" Ryan challenged. For emphasis, he planted the ball of his right foot on my cock and balls and applied pressure between my spread thighs. "Yours, Sir," I acquiesced. "Mine, huh. And you thought I'd be cool with this?" "No, Sir. I just..." "You just what?!" He glowered down at me. His face was painted with disappointment. "I made a mistake, Sir." I looked down. Ryan took several deep breaths while maintaining pressure on my dick. "Did you enjoy it?" he asked quietly. Caught off guard by the question, I looked up. "Yes, Sir," I whispered, feeling my cheeks flush from the honesty. "Good." He released the pressure from my crotch. "Because that's the last orgasm you're going to have for a very, very long time. You know that right, boy?" "Yes, Sir." I bowed my head, accepting the inevitable that I already knew was coming. "Get up. Spread your legs," he commanded suddenly, jabbing me in the inner thigh with his toe. "Present your cock. You know the drill." I scrambled up to my feet and spread my legs before thrusting my hips forward. Ryan went fishing inside the storage bench and a few moments later, he was stuffing my dick roughly into a familiar chastity device. Of course, I had spent a good amount of time in chastity at various points in my training, but I got the impression early on that Ryan didn't particularly like having me locked up. He liked the mental discipline it took to obey the rules and not touch myself without permission. "You know I hate these things," he confirmed as he clicked a small padlock shut. "But you aren't giving me a choice. How am I supposed to trust you when you pull a stunt like this?" It was a valid question that stabbed me right in the gut. I shrugged my shoulders uncomfortably. "I... I don't know, Sir." "Neither do I." Ryan turned and swiped a thick red marker off of the kitchen counter. He uncapped the marker and grabbed a fistful of my bangs to lift my head up. With his other hand, he ran the felt tip over my forehead. He capped the marker and cleared his throat. "Until further notice, all of your hard earned privileges are revoked. You will not eat, sleep, piss, shit, or walk through that fucking door without explicit permission. Am I clear?" "Yes, Sir," I muttered. With little warning, Ryan's right hand clapped against the left side of my face. "Speak up. None of this feeling sorry for yourself bullshit. You fuck up, you get punished. Isn't that right, slave?" "Yes, Sir!" I spoke from my diaphragm. "Better." Ryan went back into the depths of the bench and there was an unmistakable rattle of metal. He dropped my house chains into a sloppy pile with a loud clang on the floor in front of me. Sighing, he went down to one knee and shackled my left ankle. Urging my feet closer together, he circled my right ankle with the thick metal cuff. "Wrists." I presented my wrists in front of me and watched sullenly as he locked my wrists in metal cuffs with a length of chain weighing heavily between them. It had been months since I'd worn my house chains. Ryan inspected his work, and then with the hint of a mischievous smirk, he used another small padlock to link the center of my wrist chain to the chastity cage. I'd still have limited mobility for my hands, but it would be hard to reach any higher than my chest, and I certainly wouldn't be able to go more than two seconds without remembering my locked cock. "When you get upstairs, strip your bed and throw the linens into the hamper. Bath towel, too. I'll let you know when you've earned them back...if you earn them back," he informed me as he moved to the utility panel beside the fridge. I didn't even need to watch to know what he was doing. "Something tells me you're going to appreciate these cold showers real soon," he mused as he turned the valve, cutting off the flow of hot water to the guest bathroom. "Yes, Sir," I agreed, stifling as much disappointment as I could. "Speaking of which, time for you to get your ass upstairs and rinse off. When you're dry, stand in the corner of my room and wait for me. You know the one," Ryan ordered. "Yes, Sir." With my head bowed, I started towards the stairs and he gave me a firm slap on my ass. Once upstairs, I stripped my mattress bare and dumped the sheets and thin blanket into the laundry hamper. I'd hated sleeping on the bare mattress at the start of my training and did not look forward to the scratchy material irritating my skin. It wasn't until I reached the bathroom that I finally caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. In bold red letters, Ryan had inscribed the word 'SLUT' on my forehead. * Three hours later, or at least what felt like three hours later, I was still standing in the corner of Ryan's room. I had long since dripped-dry from the freezing cold shower. Washing myself in the chains had been a struggle, and washing my face or shampooing my hair was downright impossible, but I'd managed the best that I could to rinse off under the circumstances. My feet were aching, my back hurt, and the boredom was a special kind of torture. There was nothing but an endless amount of time for me to relive what had happened at the Ward house. Why had I given in so easily to Tommy's seduction? How could I have been so foolish? So weak? The day could have gone so differently. I couldn't help but wonder what sort of reward Ryan may have been planning for my hard work. In all likelihood, I may have been allowed to cum anyway, or at the very least, wouldn't be suffering punishment. After Connor's visit some months back, my relationship with Ryan had grown stronger in unexpected ways. He seemed to emerge from his humbling, albeit brief, experience as a slave with an unexpected maturity as a master. It wasn't that he went easier on me. In fact, he worked me harder than ever before, but his orders had more purpose and more direction. He took the time to praise my work, and not just to punish me when he was displeased. Making him happy started to make me happy, and somewhere along the way, my slavery finally made sense. I had already accepted that the need to serve was in my blood, but it wasn't just about fulfilling some fucked up destiny anymore. It was also about Ryan. Serving him was my job, but pleasing him had become my purpose, and I couldn't believe how willfully I had betrayed his trust. I deserved all of his wrath, and more. My ears perked at every sound I could hear coming from the floor below. I could just make out the din of the TV at times. It sounded like he was watching a loud movie, or perhaps playing a video game. At one point, there was some banging around in the kitchen. Ryan never cooked on his own, but perhaps he made himself a sandwich. I could have made it for him. I would have loved to have made it for him. The sun began to fade through the blinds, and it wasn't long before Ryan's room was shrouded in the darkness of the evening. I began to wonder if he merely intended to leave me in the corner all night, waiting for a reckoning that would never actually come. Finally, I heard the faint sound of footsteps that grew louder as Ryan clomped up the stairs. I could feel my heart racing with anticipation as he breezed into the room and flipped on the lights. I winced as the bright glow filled the room, but I didn't dare turn around until he chose to acknowledge my presence. The water in his bathroom sink began to run, and a moment later, the sound of his electric toothbrush filled the room. When he finished brushing his teeth and washing his face, he took a long, loud piss, and then exited the bathroom. I heard him flop heavily onto his sprawling bed, and listened as he fluffed the pillows around him. A few moments later, the sound of porn began to emanate from a small speaker, probably his phone. It was girl on girl, from the sound of it, but even more prominent was the unmistakable sound of Ryan jerking off. The audible pumps of his fist up and down the length of his shaft, mixed with the accompanying sounds of his heavy breathing and occasional grunts of pleasure, were a painful reminder that he could have easily used my mouth or my hole to get off. He chose not to. Ryan stifled a groan of pleasure as he came. I knew his tells well enough by now, and I'd recognize the masculine aroma of his musk that filled the room anywhere. The sound of several tissues being pulled from a box confirmed my theory. A few moments later, I felt a feather-light tap between my shoulder blades, followed shortly by another against my right ass cheek. I looked down as a third crumpled ball of cum-filled tissue bounced off of my shoulder and rolled down my chest to land between my feet. "Get out of my room, boy." He finally spoke, and I wanted to cry at the words. "Crawl!" "Yes, Sir," I agreed, stifling my emotions. Backing away from the corner, I shrunk down to the floor and started towards the door, only stealing a small glance in Ryan's direction. I'd never been so happy to be on my hands and knees after standing for so long. "Uhh, are you just going to leave those dirty fucking tissues on my fucking floor?" he questioned with a sharp edge to his voice. "No, Sir. Sorry, Sir," I apologized, as I spun around back towards the corner. Whether he wanted me to or not, I collected the three balls of tissue into my mouth. The papery substance melted into sludge against my tongue, but at least I could taste the cold remnants of Ryan's load. "I don't want any more of your fucking apologies. I want you to do better," Ryan barked. He took a deep, calming breath. "You need to eat. Go lick your bowl clean before bed." He leaned over to flip off the lights. "Shut the door on your way out." "Mmeph, Phir," I mumbled with my mouth full of dirty tissues, and proceeded to crawl out the door. * "Aw shit. What'd you do this time?" Brent sighed with the hint of an amused smirk on his face as he strode into the guest house as if he lived there. It was actually nice that he was making himself at home again. He was wearing board shorts, a sleeveless muscle tee, and a backwards baseball cap. Presumably, he'd swung by to hang by the pool with Ryan. I looked up from where I was scrubbing the kitchen floor on my hands and knees. My chains were rattling loudly as they scraped across the hard tile. With each thrust of my arms, the cock cage jerked against the base of my balls. My alarm had gone off at the usual ungodly hour of the morning, but I'd barely slept at all. Between the chains and the bare mattress, I could hardly get comfortable. Even worse, my thoughts would not stop racing over what I had done and how disappointed Ryan was in me. After I rolled out of bed, I took a piss and made my way downstairs. It hit me that I couldn't do my morning workout in chains, nor did I have permission to leave the guest house, so I had no real choice but to simply wait for Ryan to wake up. I brewed a pot of coffee, and prepped what I could to make his breakfast. Of course, I wanted it to be fresh when he was ready to eat. He had left me a bowl of soggy cereal, drowned in water, for dinner the night before. I didn't dare presume to make myself any sort of breakfast without explicit permission to eat. When he finally emerged from his room, he found me waiting patiently on my knees at the base of the stairs. I served him a simple breakfast of a bagel and cut fruit. He claimed he wasn't that hungry, but I think he knew cooking could be a dangerous challenge and wasn't ready to unlock my shackles from my cock cage. I ate his scraps from my bowl. After breakfast, he put me right to work with a list of chores a mile long. It was abundantly clear that he didn't just want me to tidy, either. He wanted a deep clean in every room. "More like who did he do," Ryan answered for me, as he trotted down the stairs. He was dressed in similar board shorts and a loose fitting tank top. "The little slut thought it would be okay for Tommy Ward to suck his pathetic slave dick. Isn't that right, boy?" Both of them turned their eyes towards me. "Yes, Sir," I confirmed, feeling my cheeks flush with shame. The ink was probably already fading on my sweaty forehead, but I'm confident the word 'SLUT' was still legible. "Tommy Ward? No, shit," Brent chuckled. "Well, that's certainly not a shocker. He was always chasing dick, and half the varsity football team was happy to give it to him. Lacrosse team too." "Ward can suck as much dick as he wants, as long as it's not my slave's," Ryan retorted with a shrug. "Hey. Cock whore. We have a guest." Taking the cue, I put the rag I was using back into the bucket of soapy water, and crawled briskly towards the entryway with a loud clatter of chain. I rose up to my knees, but there was little I could do with my hands, chained as they were. "Good morning, Sir. Can I get you anything?" It was hard to believe there was a time when the idea of Brent seeing me as a slave had been incredibly humiliating. These days, I was happy to serve him. I was happy to do anything that pleased Ryan. "Nah, I'm good. Maybe I'll grab a drink by the pool later." Brent shrugged. I turned to Ryan. "May I get you anything, Sir?" It felt wrong not to ask my master the same question. "Yeah." Ryan swiped a leather strap he had been brandishing all morning. "Get your face on Brent's shoe and your ass in the air. Now!" "Yes, Sir!" I scrambled to get into position. Leaning down into Brent's well-worn sneaker, I pressed my forehead and nose into the mesh and canvas and lifted my ass. I was sure that it was already shades of pink and purple from the sporadic beatings I had already taken. Aside from the intense bursts of pain, I didn't entirely mind. I much preferred the strap over being ignored. CRACK! CRACK! Ryan wasted no time in cracking the strap against my bare ass cheeks. If Brent had an issue with me bracing against his foot, he thankfully didn't show it. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! "Gah! Ughn!" I yelped. After the first several swats, I could no longer stifle my grunts of pain as fiery welts formed on my already beaten ass. CRACK! CRACK! "Thank me, and then apologize to Brent for not greeting him sooner," Ryan ordered with an eerie calm to his voice. Catching my breath, I lifted back up to my knees and pivoted towards Ryan. "Thank you for punishing me, Sir." He half-nodded. I turned to face Brent. "I'm sorry for not greeting you sooner, Sir. Please forgive me, Sir." "It's really not a thing," Brent replied. I could sense he was giving Ryan a look, but he had long ago given up on intervening for leniency on my behalf. The more he tried to dissuade Ryan from degrading me in his presence, the more Ryan seemed to enjoy it. "You're right. It shouldn't be a problem," Ryan agreed. "I've been way too easy on him lately. I blame myself." He reached forward and laced his fingers in my hair. "This slave has clearly had way too much freedom this summer. Forgot who he is...what he is. But you won't forget again. Will you boy?" He gave my head a rough shake. "No, Sir," I affirmed. And, I meant it. "We'll see. Get back to work." Ryan pushed me back down to my hands and knees and gave my throbbing ass another crack of the strap for emphasis before tossing it back on the counter. He started towards the front door and then stopped to pivot back towards the kitchen. "One more thing." Walking past me, he swiped the coffee pot off of the counter. It was still half full of cool coffee that I hadn't washed out yet. Silently, he upturned the pot and drained the brown liquid all over the kitchen floor I had just cleaned. "Dude!" Brent interjected from across the room. "I think he gets it." Ryan ignored him and slid the pot towards the sink. He brushed by me again. "All set. Let's hit the pool." Putting his arm around Brent's shoulder, he ushered him towards the door. "Yes, finally." Brent sounded exasperated as he grabbed the door. "Bro, I have to tell you about this new chick I met last night that I honestly think would be perfect for y--" The door slammed behind them. I sighed and reached back into the bucket of soapy water. * As the summer began to fade over the next several weeks, I slowly earned back many of my so-called privileges. First the chains became a less frequent occurrence. I suspect the sound of me rattling around from room to room became more annoying to Ryan than my punishment was worth. A week later, I was taking lukewarm showers again, and by the next, sleeping on real sheets. My cock, however, remained locked up tight. It had been almost a month since the incident at the Wards. Ryan had reluctantly sent me back to mow their lawn, twice, finding the lucrative pay day to be too good to pass up. Of course, I was terrified that Tommy would try something again, but I think Ryan enjoyed the idea that I would have no choice but to deny any such advances. I got lucky and Tommy was terribly hungover the next time I saw him. The last thing he wanted in his mouth was my dick, and by my third visit to the Wards, Tommy had already gone back to school. I was just pulling back into the driveway from my latest lawn job when I noticed an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway in Ryan's usual spot. I swallowed. In my experience, that was never a good sign. Having no real choice, I parked the jeep, stored the mowing equipment into the garage, and made my way cautiously back into the guest house. "Well, well. It's about fucking time." It was Kara. I was dumbfounded as I quickly observed the scene to my left. Kara was perched on the arm of the living room couch with her legs crossed. She was dressed in a skimpy black bikini seemingly held together with a series of gold rings between her breasts and on either side of her hips. Some sort of silky, sheer black kimono was hanging loosely around her shoulders, and she wore dangerous looking black stilettos. Her dark hair was streaked with differing shades of blonde for the summer and hung in loose waves down her back. Ryan was leaning over the coffee table, refreshing two half-empty mimosas with champagne. He was dressed in navy blue gym shorts, and a plain white t-shirt. Kara and Ryan had always had a complicated relationship as long as I'd known her. Romantically, it was never going to work out, but as friends, occasionally with benefits, they clicked. As much as they loved to hate each other at times, they always seemed to find their way back into each other's lives. Even so, I hadn't seen her for months. "Don't just stand there, boy. Get out of that fucking costume. You're embarrassing me," Ryan chided. "Yes, Sir," I murmured as I hopped to stripping off my sweaty, grass-stained uniform. It was certainly nothing Kara hadn't seen before, and then some. When I was fully naked with my uniform in a neat pile beside me, I knelt at attention in the entryway and presented another envelope full of cash in my outstretched hands. "What's this?" Kara stood from where she was perched and took it upon herself to swipe the envelope from me. She quickly thumbed through the stack of cash inside. "And the rich get richer," she sighed, and tossed the envelope onto the kitchen counter with seeming disinterest. "Can we get this over with? I'd like to get to my tan before the fucking sun goes down." "Fine." Ryan smirked. "Where do you want him?" Kara slithered back into the living room, took a quick look around, and shrugged. She tapped a pointed toe on the leg of the coffee table. "Why not?" "Works for me," Ryan agreed. He quickly scooped the mimosa glasses from the table, and swiped the remaining items from the surface onto the floor, presumably for me to tidy up later. "Okay, boy. Up on the table. All fours." I looked over in confusion. Having no real choice in the matter, I reluctantly pushed up from where I was kneeling and paced over to the coffee table. Leaning over to brace my hands on the tabletop, I glanced between them with uncertainty and then crawled forward onto the table. It felt more than sturdy enough to hold my weight. "Head that way." Kara motioned towards the TV. "Chin up. Arch your back. Present that ass." Her cool, soft fingers slid down the sweaty arch of my spine. "That's a good boy." "Yes, Mistress." I complied with her instructions, feeling something like a show pony as I knelt between them. My pathetically caged cock was dangling between my legs. "He's sweaty. And, he smells like a lawnmower," Kara remarked flatly. The comment was obviously directed at Ryan. "It's almost like he's been mowing lawns all morning," Ryan retorted, his voice sharp with sarcasm. "Do you want him to rinse off first?" "No. Let's just get this going," she sighed. "Do you have what I asked for?" I heard Ryan rummaging in the storage bench. He crossed the room and a few moments later, there was the unmistakable sound of a latex glove snapping against skin. I tensed at the light thud of something being placed on the coffee table. Turning my head slightly, I could see a large bottle of lube in my periphery. Ryan's fingers laced into my hair and he turned my head back towards the TV. "Eyes forward." He let go of my hair and fished my dog tags over my head. A moment later, he replaced them with my leather collar. "Oh, how could I forget those precious little dog tags," Kara teased as she pumped the lube dispenser several times. A moment later, two slick, wet fingers were circling the ring of my anus. My ass cheeks clenched instinctively. I had no idea what I walked into when I arrived home, but I was beginning to piece it all together. "Gnn!" I grunted as Kara's slippery fingers suddenly forced their way into my asshole. "You've really never done this?" She asked, as she began to slowly finger fuck me. Her tone was far too casual for the question to be directed at me. "Nope. Haven't had to." I could see Ryan shrug in the reflection of the dark TV. "Never had to keep him locked up this long before, but talked to my dad about it the other day and he thinks it's time. And, I thought, who better?" Kara chuckled darkly. "I'm flattered." She continued to work her fingers in and out of my hole gently, almost too gently. Ryan sighed and slid onto the couch to watch. "How long is this going to take?" "As long as it takes," Kara retorted, with a bit of a bite. She pushed her fingers more forcefully into me. I could feel her fishing around and suddenly her fingers were on my prostate. "Ahh. There we are." I felt all of my muscles twitch at once and a small moan escaped from my throat. "Now, I'm just going to massage his prostate really gently," Kara explained, like she was teaching Ryan how to change a tire. "Too much stimulation and it becomes pleasurable, and that's not what we want, is it?" "Gah!" I yelped as Kara used her other hand to flick my dangling, painfully full balls from behind. "So, what's going on with you and what's-his-name? That drippy Kappa?" Ryan asked, plopping his feet up on the end of the coffee table. "Thought you guys were done?" "Sean," Kara corrected him, sharply. She began to lightly circle the tips of her fingers around the ring of my prostate. "We're back on, I think? It's complicated," she sighed. "You should know a thing or two about that." Ryan chortled. "He's not like us." "That's where you're wrong," Kara mused. "Not everyone grows up in a house full of secret slaves. He's finding his way, just like I did." "Whatever," Ryan groaned. "Boy. Get to work on my feet." He wiggled his toes beneath my chin. "That's okay, right?" "His prostate isn't going anywhere," she confirmed. "Might as well make him useful." I looked down at Ryan's feet beneath me and carefully bent my arms to lower my face to the tip of his right foot while Kara continued to lightly tease my prostate. My breaths were heavy and uncertain as I extended my tongue to swipe a long lick across the top of Ryan's foot. Of all the humiliations I had experienced as Ryan's slave, this portion of my endless punishment was already ranking near the top of the list. "And what does the girl think of your little boyfriend?" Ryan continued. My ears perked up at the mention of Ali while my lips were pressed against my master's feet. It was still hard to believe that Sean had somehow ended up in a relationship with Kara, of all people, and even more surprising to learn that he was into BDSM. Yet, as messed up as it was, there was a part of me that was glad he was there in Ali's life. My enslavement to Ryan had broken my friendship with Sean, most likely irrevocably, but I knew he was a good guy and I trusted him. I didn't know what he saw in Kara, but oddly, it made me think twice about her too. "She's happy to serve him," Kara affirmed while her fingers moved in small, gentle circles inside of me. "She's happy with anything that makes me happy. And, what about you and that girl I saw you with the other night? Never took you for the canoodling type." "I'm not," Ryan retorted sharply. "Well, whatever it was. It looked pretty serious to me," she pressed. I couldn't help but look up from Ryan's feet at the comment. I didn't know anything about Ryan dating any girl, let alone seriously. My only real exposure to his dating life involved listening to him have sex with some random hookups while I was locked in the closet, or being forced to suck his dick at the end of a bad date. Ryan looked extremely uncomfortable with the topic. "No big deal. It was just a date," Ryan dismissed the question. "No one told you to stop, boy," he scolded, quickly pivoting the attention back to me. He gave my chin a light prod of his big toe, and I went back to worshipping his feet. I wished Ryan had been more explicit in his answer to Kara's question, but I was far too focused on my own body to dwell on it. "What's happening now?" "Alright, slaveboy. Any day now," Kara coaxed under her breath. She reached between my legs and pulled my cage back to have a closer look. She emoted a small gasp of delight. "Ah. Now, we're getting somewhere." "No shit," Ryan mused. He pulled his feet off of the table, and moved to squat down beside me. Taking a hold of my caged cock from Kara, he took a closer look. "Nice. And, he's not even remotely hard." It was true. I wasn't. Despite my cock being locked up for an entire month without so much as an erection, the muted stimulation of my prostate did nothing in particular to arouse me. Shamefully, I could feel cum dribbling out of my cock, but it felt like nothing close to an orgasmic ejaculation. Ryan let go of my cock and I felt more cum leak out of my dick like a tiny squirt of piss. It oozed through the cage and dribbled down to the surface of the coffee table. "Wanna try?" Kara offered. "This could take a bit till he's empty." "Nah, you're on a roll." Ryan stood up and walked around the table. "So once he's drained, then he's good for what? Another month or so?" "That's what they say," Kara mused with a dark giggle as she continued to milk me. I grunted lightly, desperately craving some kind of greater sensation that would never come. My blood ran cold at the sudden realization that Ryan may intend to keep me locked up like this for weeks or months to come. "Mind if I get off?" Without warning, Ryan laced his fingers in my hair and yanked my head up. Kara laughed. "Nothing I haven't seen before." Ryan was already fishing his cock over the waistband of his shorts. "Open wide, cunt." I parted my lips just in time for him to shove his full erection all the way to the back of my throat. I made a retching sound as I struggled to accommodate the full length. "First you'll swallow my load, and then you'll lick up yours." His cum had never tasted so sweet. * "New books," Ryan informed me with a sigh as he dropped a heavy, overstuffed backpack on the floor in front of me with a thunderous thud. "New schedule." He held up a piece of printed paper for me to see, and then shoved it into the backpack. "And, new clothes." With a light flourish, he dropped a small pile of clothing to the floor. I was freshly showered and kneeling at attention on the floor of my room, naked except for my collar and cock cage. It was hard to believe that we had reached the end of the summer. On one hand, it felt like it had just started, but on the other hand, the last six weeks of chastity and punishment had felt among the longest of my life. Regardless, I was all too happy to be trading in my lawnmower for textbooks. Ryan looked fresh for the first day of his junior year. His jeans were crisp, his sneakers were brand new, and he even wore a collared shirt beneath his favorite fraternity sweatshirt. Beyond the clothing, I could sense a different air about him. He seemed almost excited to be going back to school, and as long as I'd known him, that just wasn't Ryan. "Do we need to go over your school rules again?" He raised an eyebrow and looked down at me. "No, Sir." After the last semester, I was confident I knew them well enough. "Are you sure?" He moved his sneaker between my legs and lightly applied pressure to my caged cock. "Yes, Sir." I nodded. Not only was I sure, I wanted the chance to prove to him that I had learned my lesson. What I wanted more than anything was for him to trust me again. "Alright then." He lifted his foot from my cock and balls. "Just know that I'm going to double your punishment next time you fuck up this big. Triple, if I feel like it." "Yes, Sir." I looked down contritely. "Speaking of which." Ryan's voice trailed and he extended his hand. "You have something for me?" "Yes, Sir." I looked over my shoulder and leaned back to retrieve a spiral notebook from the floor beside my bed. Cover to cover, the lined pages inside were filled with a single sentence that I'd written over and over until my hand felt like it was going to fall off: 'My cock does not belong to me.' He accepted the notebook and flipped through a few of the pages to ensure that they were overflowing with ink. Nodding with approval, he snapped the book shut. "Pop quiz. What sentence did you write in here?" I looked up with slight confusion. "My cock does not belong to me. Sir?" "Who does it belong to?" He pressed. "You, Sir." It was the easiest pop quiz I'd ever taken. "Good, fucking, boy." He reached forward and bopped me lightly on top of my head with the notebook before tossing it back to the ground for me to tidy away later. "And, are you going to forget that again?" "No, Sir!" Ryan smirked. "Yeah? I bet you won't." He went down to one knee in front of me and fished his right hand into the pocket of his jeans. "Okay, boy. I think you've earned this." I watched in near disbelief as he reached forward and began to fiddle with the small lock holding my cock cage in place. There was a small click as the lock released, and a moment later, he was pulling the cage gently away. My cock sprang immediately to life as he worked my balls through the ring, and I was suddenly sporting the stiffest erection I had ever had. "Holy shit, boy," Ryan chortled in amusement. He gave my cock a few firm strokes for his own amusement. I'm surprised I didn't explode right then and there. "Of course, just because it's free, doesn't mean you can play with it. Right, boy?" "Right, Sir," I agreed, with a hint of disappointment. "Good." Ryan smiled mischievously. "Now, get dressed." He reached over to the pile of clothes and fished out a pair of grey sweatpants with our university's logo displayed on the thigh and the price tag still dangling from the waistband. "Brand new, as promised." He held them up with the crotch near my face, and then smirked as he tossed them against my chest. "No underwear, of course. Okay, boy. Downstairs in two, ready to roll." He stood up to leave as I looked down in dismay at the sweatpants. How in the hell was I going to make it through the day without sporting an obvious erection. I was already leaking precum. "Oh, and Drew?" Ryan stopped in his tracks and spun back around. I looked up curiously. "Proud of you, boy. You killed it this summer." He extended his hand and ruffled my hair. "Keep it up." "Yes, Sir," I assured him, confidently. We exchanged a knowing smile and he left the room. *** To be continued. Comments and Feedback are encouraged: matt10019@gmail.com Author's Note: Once again, I dedicate this chapter to the extraordinary fans of 'Bred Slave' who continue to inspire me with your enthusiasm for the story. I know it has been a long wait, and I am humbled by your patience and your kind words. Please do not republish any parts of this story without consent of the author. Want more 'Bred Slave' and other great stories? Nifty needs your generous donations to provide this wonderful service free of charge. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html