Date: Wed, 1 Jul 2009 23:42:34 -0400 From: Matt W Subject: Bred Slave - Part 8 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 9 - GAME TIME DECISION "Slave!" Ryan's voice echoed up the stairway moments after the front door to the guest house slammed shut. I glanced at the digital clock on his vanity. It was just past 1:00 am, and I was scrubbing clean the last bit of the tile floor of his expansive master bathroom. I hadn't expected him home until well after the bars closed, if he even came home at all. "Slave!" He yelled again, "Get your bitch ass down here, right now!" I jumped, dropping the scrub brush where it was and scampered into the hallway and down the stairs. Except for my collar and chastity device, I was naked and unfettered. He had allowed me to work without my house chains for the last week or so. The shackles were now reserved for punishment and various other whims. "Sir?" I asked, dropping into a respectful kneel at the bottom of the stairs. Glancing up, I saw him wobbling a bit as he shucked his wallet and keys onto the kitchen counter. He was clearly intoxicated. "Fucking bitches," he murmured. "Get me a beer." "Yes, Sir," I nodded, pushing up to my feet as he strode into the living room. Quickly, I scavenged the fridge in the kitchen for a cold beer. Of course, it was only stocked with his favorite kind. I had been told that stocking it would soon become my responsibility, but while I was in training, I was confined to the property. The kitchen had been regularly restocked with groceries over the course of my training, and I could only assume that the other slaves, my parents, had stocked it at various times while I was otherwise occupied. Strategically, I had not seen my parents since the day I submitted. Although I was never given a formal explanation as to why, I could only assume that my Masters feared it would interrupt the course of my training, and they were probably right. I still wasn't sure how I felt about my parents giving their lives over to slavery, yet the deeper I got, the more I understood in some deep set way how it could be fulfilling. Despite the humiliation, despite the pain, despite the degradation, I found myself wanting to live up to the expectations that Ryan had for me. My goal became more and more to exceed them. "Where's that beer, boy?" he called from the living room. I trotted lightly across the floor to where he was sprawled casually on the massive leather cough. He was just pulling his gray university hoody over his head leaving a disheveled striped button down shirt underneath, unbuttoned enough for his white wifebeater to be seen. It looked like he'd gotten something started wherever he was, but it didn't get very far. "Your beer, Sir." I knelt down beside the coffee table, and held the bottle up for him. Glancing at me, he groaned and swung his legs around so he was seated upright in front of me. He snatched the bottle, and motioned for my neck. I put my hands behind my back, and leaned my chest forward, tilting my head back. Ryan liked to open his bottles using the ring attached to my metal collar. I winced a bit as he scraped the tin cap against the ring several times, praying he wouldn't slip and cut my neck. Had he been sober it would have been a little easier for him. "Fuuuuck," he remarked in frustration at his failed attempts. Reaching forward to brace my collar with his left hand, another attempt resulted in the light hiss of carbonation as the lid rolled down my chest and bounced off my thigh. "Cheers." He held the bottle up to my, and then clinked the base of it against my collar. He took a long swig, and I waited respectfully bowing my head to either be dismissed or given something else to do. "Do something with my shoes," he remarked casually, as he picked up the remote off the couch and the huge flat screen TV illuminated to life. "Yes, Sir." I pulled off his right sneaker, and then his left. They were relatively new, expensive, the kind designed to be worn out and not to the gym. His white ankle socks were a bit damp. "And this..." he ordered, tossing his rumpled sweatshirt to me. "Yes, Sir," I murmured, as I picked up the shoes and the sweatshirt and walked them over to the entryway. Placing the shoes neatly by the door, I hung the sweatshirt on one of the coat hooks neatly by the tag inside the collar. "Get your ass back here. I need a footstool," he observed, without looking away from the TV as he blindly channel surfed. "Yes, Sir." I swallowed, and reluctantly knelt back down in front of him, dropping to all fours. Moments later his stocking feet her crossed on my bare back, his heel digging into the space between my shoulder blades. He let out a long sigh of frustration. "Fuckin' bitches," he repeated, as if talking to no one in particular. "Some fucking skank ass bitch...nerve to go calling me a loser townie?! ME?! She has no fucking idea who she's talking to. We practically fucking own this town..." I stared down at the space between my hands, unsure of whether I was supposed to respond or not. "I...uh...I'm sorry, Sir...?" "Fuck, Drew. She's the one who should be sorry, in fact," his voice trailed ominously, "when school's back, me and my bros will make her sorry if she ever brings her beat face around me again..." He kept rattling on in his drunken tirade about this girl who rejected him, but I lost complete focus. I was completely taken off guard. He called me Drew. I hadn't heard my name in weeks now. I'd become slave, bitch, boy, cunt, and a million other degrading names, but never my own. I wasn't sure if it was the beer talking or what. "Earth to Drew..?" Ryan's slightly slurred voice interrupted my thoughts. "Sir?" I shook my head, coming into focus. "I said I'm bored," he repeated, taking his feet off my back. "Let's play something. Football." He motioned to the video game system sitting under the TV. "Get it going." "Uhh, yes Sir," I said cautiously, crawling over a few paces to the entertainment system and firing up the game console. His favorite game was already inside. I picked up a controller and stood up to give it to him. "We're both playing," he said flatly, taking his controller. Again, I was taken aback as I watched him select two players on the menu screen. "Yes...Sir." Cautiously, I picked up the second controller and took a few steps back towards the couch, glancing skeptically over my shoulder. Without looking up from the screen, he snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor to his right. "Knees." I knelt, knowingly, taking up the controller between my spread thighs. "This is how it works," he continued. "You give me two push ups for every point I score. For every point you score, you give me one push up for disrespecting me, but don't even think about purposely letting me win or you'll be doing push ups until your arm falls off while I whip your ass along the way. I know you're good at this game, so I'll know." I swallowed. "Yes, Sir." "Kick off!" Ryan practically shouted, and we both began to madly click away at the buttons on the controller. Almost an hour and 56 push ups later, we were just starting the fourth quarter of the game. Ryan was ahead, 21 to 14 and we had already paused twice for me to refresh him with additional beers. I glanced over my shoulder, as his team suddenly seemed to miss an easy interception. His eyes were glazed over and his eyelids were fluttering as he stared at the large screen. Remembering my orders not to go easy on him, I continued my team's advance down the digital field and scored another touchdown, followed quickly by an extra point to tie the game. I clenched my fist in momentary celebration, forgetting for a moment where I was, and who I was. Before I got scolded, I quickly paused the game, and pushed forward into a push up position. "1 Sir, 2 Sir, 3 Sir, 4 Sir, 5 Sir..." I pounded out the push ups. Usually by this point, he was correcting me in one way or another. Criticizing my form. Reminding me to go all the way down, but there was nothing. "6 Sir...7 Sir. Sir?" Pushing back up to my knees, I glanced over my shoulder. "Ryan?" He had completely passed out, his head resting on the back of the couch cushion, the controller resting loosely in his hands. His chest was rising in long slow breaths, and his mouth was parted just slightly. I stared at him for a long moment. He looked so innocent, almost angelic, a far cry from the domineering Master he had revealed himself to be over the past several weeks. I glanced at the game, swallowing. It had been fun, the distraction, but it was clearly short lived. Gently, I took the control from his limp fingers, and turned off the TV, putting the game console away. I looked back to him, debating for a long moment whether to wake him for bed, or to leave him on the couch. I decided finally to let him sleep on the couch. Quietly, I went to the hall closet and pulled out an extra pillow and blanket. Crouching down in front of the couch, I ever so gently lifted his feet from the carpet and swung them up onto the couch, allowing him to fall groggily onto his side on the waiting pillow I placed beside the arm rest. He murmured some gibberish as he rolled over onto the pillow, pulling his knees toward his chest as he sank into the leather cushions. I draped the blanket lightly over him. Swallowing loudly in the silent room, I looked around, unsure of what I should do. I hadn't been dismissed, put to bed, or given any other direction. It hit me that I had a decision to make, something I hadn't had to do in quite some while. Stay nearby, perhaps curl up on the floor for the night? Go up to my room, and await the dreaded alarm? Flipping off the light switch to darken the room, I finally decided to retreat to my room. Surely, I would be punished should I miss the call for my morning run. About a week ago, I had earned the privilege of waking myself and letting myself into the basement fitness room of the main house. Ryan had quickly grown weary of the 4:00am wake up calls, and with good reason. As I ascended the stairs quietly, I could hear the sound of his heavy breathing intermixed with quiet murmurings. I knew that whatever decision I made would somehow be the wrong one, but there was nothing I could do about it. Such was the life of a slave. *** CHAPTER 10 - FINAL EXAM "Medium..Sir!" ZAP! "Wrong!" "AGHN!" I screamed, as a sharp jolt of electricity stung my ass. "Medium-rare! I mean, medium-rare, SIR!" "And, my coffee?" Ryan demanded. "Black, Sir," I responded. Even though I knew it was the right answer, I fearfully braced for another jolt of electricity against my tortured skin. Every muscle in my body was tense and trembling as I stood in the center of the dungeon displayed before not only Ryan, but Mr. Grey, as they both circled around me. My body was completely coated in a sheen of sweat, both from nerves and exhaustion. My legs were spread wide, held apart by an extra long steel bar locked to both of my ankles. Although the chastity device remained firmly locked into place, an additional cord had been tied around the base of my balls and then looped around the center of the spreader bar, forcing me to keep my knees bent slightly. Any attempt to straighten my legs completely would yank my balls painfully downwards. The burning sensation in my thighs was unreal. To make matters worse, vicious alligator clamps were biting down hard on each of my nipples. The clamps were joined by a thin chain on either end that was locked to the rigid set of handcuffs that were adjoining my wrists in front of me. The cuffs were unforgiving and allowed little movement for my elbows, nor could I put my arms down completely. The slack in the chain between the nipple clamps was just enough that I was forced to hold my arms out in order to avoid letting the chain sag which would ultimately add additional weight to the clamps and additional pain for me. Though, the way the muscles in my arms were burning from holding them out, I wasn't sure what was worse. And, as if that wasn't enough, a full sized dildo was lodged firmly in my ass, vibrating intermittently. Over the course of the last month, I had graduated to larger and larger butt plugs, then through a series of vibrators and dildos, and now my ass held what I had been told was an approximate replica of Ryan's cock. Despite the size, it was a mild nuisance in comparison to the other current trials of physical and mental endurance. There was little I could do to relieve the various torments. Straighten my knees, and I'd yank on my balls. Lower my arms and I'd yank on my nipples. No option was a good option. "How many cars do I own, slave?" Mr. Grey interjected. "4, Sir!" I shouted clearly, between trembling breaths. "Slaves?" "3, Sir..." "Good boy," he slapped my cheek lightly, as if to give me encouragement. "Maybe that'll change soon." I swallowed hard, unsure what he meant by that. My chest heaved, and I winced involuntarily as I fought to keep my stamina up through the interrogation. The rapid-fire questions actually helped to give me focus, distract me from the pain. The day had started like any other, at least the way my days had been starting for the last month. Yet, I had barely finished my five mile run on the treadmill when both Ryan and Mr. Grey swept into the basement and whisked me swiftly into the dungeon room. I was stripped of the sweaty jock and locked up as I was now. Then, the pop quiz began, one question after the next, from both of them. They tested me on everything I had been taught, learned, observed, since my enslavement. Each wrong answer was corrected with the tap of a violet wand somewhere against my bare skin. It was a stick like device that emitted a small spark of electricity on contact. It was enough to hurt like hell, with the unfortunate side-effect of causing me to lose my physical focus, thus setting off a chain reaction of pain in my balls and nipples. Correct answers were barely acknowledged. The drilling had commenced what felt like an hour ago, and I wasn't sure how much more I could take without passing out. "He's getting weak," Mr. Grey observed, lifting my chin lightly. "Nah," Ryan disagreed. "Just lazy." ZAP! "GAHHHHN!" I lurched forward as pain flooded my nerves in all directions, gasping for breath between involuntary sobs. "Enough, son," Mr. Grey commanded, holding out his hand for Ryan to back away. He crouched down and untied my balls from the spreader bar. "Inflicting pain alone will not give you the sense of control you seek. It's time you took total ownership of your property. Help me here." "Whatever," Ryan muttered, as he walked around in front of me. He glared at me, and took hold of the chain between my nipple clamps. Yanking hard, the clamps slipped from my nipples leaving behind an indescribable sting as the blood rush back into my tortured tits. "AGHN!" I cried out. Ryan was unfazed as he took the key from his pocket and unlocked my cuffs. I wasn't sure if his contempt was directed at me or his father. Mr. Grey was just releasing my ankles from the spreader bar, and he saw my knees giving out just before they actually did. As I collapsed forward, they both leaped to catch me, setting me gently down on my hands and knees, the dildo still protruding from my ass. I trembled violently for several long moments as the muscles in my body spasmed with relief and confusion. "His mind is sharp. You've taught him well to listen and observe," My Grey continued, stroking the back of my head lightly as he spoke, still crouched down beside me. "And his body, of course, is near physical perfection. Respectful, obedient..." "He obeys every command," Ryan added. "Because he wants to? Or, because he's afraid not to?" Mr. Grey challenged. Ryan hesitated, then responded. "He chooses to, which means he wants to." "Oh?" "Fuck yeah. There's a million times he could have taken a swing at me, maybe even run off if he changed his mind, but he didn't. He's taken it. All of it." "Why do you think?" "Because he's a fucking bred slave, born to be owned," Ryan reiterated. "We established this already." "Well, we hoped," Mr. Grey agreed. "And now that we know, it's time to take full ownership of your property." "I have..." Ryan disagreed. "You haven't," his father stated. "Take him. Take his ass. No chains, no whips, no electricity. Raw dominance. Master and slave. He will beg you for it." "Yes..." Ryan agreed, a hint of excitement and confidence in his voice. "He will." "I'll leave you to it," Mr. Grey said, opening the dungeon door. "Bring him to me when you are done. There is further business to attend to." The dungeon door slammed shut, and I glanced up timidly towards Ryan, still collecting myself from the grueling interrogation. "That true, boy?" Ryan asked, nudging my bare side with the tip of his sneaker. "You gonna beg me for it?" "Sir?" I looked up at him, my voice shaky, still trembling involuntarily. "Bet your ass is tired of this fake shit," he remarked as he leaned over and pulled the protruding dildo from my ass. My sphincter clamped shut as soon as it was gone. Then he barked suddenly, "Cum dump!" Wearily, I scrambled to lift myself up from all fours until I was kneeling properly, holding my hands behind my back, and presenting my open mouth to him as he circled slowly around me. He was wearing his favorite loose fitting sweat pants, an old t-shirt and his soccer slide flip flops. Pulling the t-shirt over his head, he discarded it in the corner, kicking off the sandals and squaring himself in front of me so that my mouth was at crotch level. Slipping the sweatpants and boxers quickly to his feet, he kicked them off to the side, his semi-hard dick swinging in my face. "Get me hard," he murmured. Using what he had already taught me about the proper way to suck a dick, I went to work with my mouth and tongue, sucking gently at his balls, nibbling at his shaft, and gradually working my way up to the tip, feeling it harden to its full enviable size as soon as I wrapped my lips around the head. It took what only felt like moments, and somewhere deep down, despite the pain I was in, despite the humiliation that I fought to ignore, I felt an odd sense of pride in my accomplishment. He pulled out, a trail of saliva dangling from his bobbing erection. "How many holes does a male slave have to offer his Master?" "2...Sir," I answered timidly. "Louder, cunt!" He shouted, slapping me lightly across the face. "This is game time. Let me hear you when I ask a question." "2, Sir!" "How many have I used?" "1...Sir!" "What else can you offer me, slave?" "My ass, Sir," I answered, firmly but nervously. "Show me." I swallowed, and started to push up to my feet to display my ass as I had been taught before. A firm foot to my stomach pushed me back to the ground. "Stay down," Ryan snapped. "This time, you're not just showing me your ass, you're presenting it for use. Stay on your knees, turn around, put your chest down to the floor and then display your hole." "Yes, Sir." Timidly, I shuffled around on my knees, lowered my chest to the ground awkwardly, which forced my ass up high behind me. Turning my head to the side to rest my left cheek on the ground, I reached behind with my free arms and pulled my ass cheeks apart. I had never felt like such a slut. "Good," he remarked as he squatted down and ran his warm hand over my bare ass, pausing to tease my quivering hole with the tip of his finger. "Of course, you're not really much use to me down here. I'm not getting down on a fucking cement floor to fuck a slave." He emphasized his comment by pushing his probing finger unexpectedly into my hole. I gasped. "But, I can tell you're ready for it. You're practically shaking with excitement." His finger slid out of my ass, and I exhaled. Then, he grabbed my left arm and my collar with both hands, and pulled me up roughly to my feet. I stumbled to catch my balance as he half pushed and half dragged me across the dungeon to a dark corner that had been shrouded in shadows. He pushed me forward until my stomach came into contact with something firm, and the pressure on my collar bent me forward at the waist. He released his grasp on my arm and collar, and I remained bent over on some sort of wood and leather horse-like contraption. "Spread your legs," he barked, flipping on a light switch that illuminated the bare bulb above us so he could see what he was doing. Squatting behind me, he secured each of my ankles to the opposite legs of the table with leather cuffs, keeping my legs spread wide. It wasn't uncomfortable as much as awkward. I was completely helpless as my head dangled a bit over the edge of the table, my stomach and chest flat against the leather-padded surface. My arms dangled freely in front of me, the tips of my fingers barely touching the ground. I heard him behind me. The snap of a plastic cap. The familiar sound of wet lube sliding between his hand and his cock. My body trembled involuntarily out of nerves. I had trouble discerning between my emotions. Fear, anxiousness, excitement, even accomplishment. So many times over the past several weeks I had questioned my decision. So many times I had wanted to run away, beg it to be undone. Yet, so many times I chose to obey, each and every command. So many times I allowed myself to be humiliated, manipulated, punished. And, for what? For this. To complete my training. To find myself. Flashes of my former life sped through my mind, mixed with the images of what I'd seen on Ali's computer that fateful night of my birthday. I remembered the odd sense of excitement I felt as I had just scratched the surface of what it meant to be a slave. And now, I was finding out for real. I had surrendered my freedom voluntarily, and now, I was about to be truly owned. "Take a deep breath," Ryan suggested. And with that, I felt his slippery warm cock head probe briefly at my hole, and then he was in with a triumphant grunt. My eyes popped open and I gasped. It didn't hurt too much, the graduating sizes of dildos and plugs had trained my ass well, but the shock of having another man inside was the bigger shock to absorb. He braced his hands on the table on either side of me as he pulled almost all the way out, and then pushed back in with another grunt. His weight behind me ground my torso into the leather padding off the table. Then, he fucked me. Hard. His grunts got increasingly louder, as he drilled into me over and over. It was different than a stagnant dildo. More raw. More real. I took several short and gasping breaths, grunting along with him at points, wincing from time to time. We were both sweating after a few minutes. "Fuuuuuuck!" Ryan exclaimed suddenly, between his shortened breaths as I felt a sudden vibration in my ass, followed by an explosion of hot cum coating my guts. He leaned on top of me for a long moment after he came, grinding my ass a few extra times for good measure, and then pulled out quickly. I gasped to catch my breath as I could feel a river of escaped cum running down the back of my thighs. "Ah, ah," he remarked, still catching his breath. "Wanna keep that in there for a while." A moment later, I felt something firm at my quivering hole, and then a medium sized butt plug forced its way into my rectum, trapping the rest of Ryan's cum inside. I glanced up at him a bit abashedly as he circled in front of me, his softening dick bouncing lightly in front of my face. "Clean it up," he ordered coldly, but quietly pushing his dickhead between my lips. Without thinking, I instinctively took it in as far as it would go, and ran my tongue around the semi-hard dick, tasting the rest of his leaking cum and faint remains of lube along my tongue before it mixed with my saliva and slid down my throat. I was grateful at that moment for the daily enema in my ass, fearing what it may have tasted like otherwise. When he was satisfied that I had licked him clean, he pulled out. "Good, slut," he remarked, giving me a playful slap on the cheek. Without another word, he left me there for several long minutes as he went casually about the dungeon, redressing himself as if nothing had just happened. I wondered for the first time what must have been going through Ryan's mind. Flashing back to my initial inspection and enslavement, I remembered him being timid when it came to inspecting my ass. Mr. Grey had to coax him through it. Ryan wasn't gay, neither of us were, but the raw domination of Master taking slave was so inherent to the relationship. It was the ultimate sense of ownership and power exchange. I understood that now. I couldn't help but wonder if he did. Eventually, he squatted down behind me, and began to unlock my ankles from the legs of the table. "We have an appointment upstairs." "Yes, Sir," I acknowledged, remembering what Mr. Grey had said. Ryan took hold of my arm, and helped me to stand upright. I was a bit shaky on my feet. "Follow me." "Yes, Sir." I moved my arms behind me back, and respectfully followed him out of the dungeon, through the basement, and up the stairs to the main house. As we walked down the main corridor, I couldn't help but glance into the room where I'd made my fateful decision weeks ago. We continued, and I swore I could feel Ryan's cum sliding around in my ass, trapped above the hefty plug. I followed Ryan all the way to the more formal living room where Mr. Grey was waiting patiently for us. "Well?" Mr. Grey inquired, raising an eyebrow over the morning paper he was reading from his seat in a large arm chair. "It's done," Ryan informed him, flatly. He gestured for me to stop walking, and I stepped to his side, squaring my legs apart as I'd been taught to do. "Good." Mr. Grey smiled slightly, just containing a hint of pride in his son. "Get that thing off him," he said, gesturing towards my crotch. I glanced down as Ryan fished a key out of the pocket of his sweatpants, and grabbed hold of the chastity device that kept my cock securely caged. It had been taken off several times since he first introduced it for cleaning purposes. And each time, it was torturous to get my dick soft enough to lock back up. He seemed to find that icing my balls was the most effective method. For each time the device was removed, my cock literally sprang free to a raging erection. I hadn't cum in so long, and despite everything that had kept me distracted, I had begun to think about little more than doing absolutely anything for the privilege to cum. This time was no exception. "That slave has got a serious case of blue balls," Mr. Grey chuckled. Ryan flicked my rock hard erection for good measure. "That right, boy? You wanna cum?" I glanced to Ryan at the question a bit nervously, and then back to Mr. Grey. "Uh...yes, yes Sir." He smirked slightly and stood up, tossing the paper aside. Circling behind the massive wooden coffee table that stood between us, he reached into his pocket and took out a handful of something which he tossed haphazardly onto the surface of the large table. Hundreds of hard little grains of uncooked rice bounced and scattered across the surface. "Present, kneeling," Mr. Grey ordered sharply, with a snap of his fingers he pointed to the top of the coffee table. I glanced cautiously at the scattered rice on the hard wooden surface as I took a step forward. Carefully, I lifted one knee onto the surface of the table, wincing immediately as the grains of rice cut uncomfortably into my hard knee caps and shins. Grunting slightly in pain, I lifted the other knee onto the table and shuffled forward a half foot, squaring my body to face them. As I'd been taught, I spread my knees, put my chest out, shoulders back, and held my hands behind my back, bowing my head slightly. "You've done well, slave. I'm impressed with your progress in such a short time," Mr. Grey began, patting his son firmly on the back. "Your Master has done an excellent job teaching you who you really are." I tried to maintain my composure as my legs began to shake from the pain of kneeling on the rice and focus on what he was saying. "The initial phase of your training has come to an end, but keep in mind that a slave is always in training. There is always more he can learn and more he can do to better serve his Master. Understood?" "Yes, Sir." I acknowledged firmly, biting back deep breaths of pain. "This part has been easy," My. Grey continued. I couldn't help but glance up at the ludicrous statement. "Tomorrow, your real test begins. You will reenter society for the first time, and you must remember that you are no longer Andrew the plucky college freshman, you are Andrew the slave. You have the privilege of receiving an education for the benefit of your Masters. Your orders are to earn a college degree. And even though you may be free of your shackles and out of your Masters' sight, you are not free. Am I clear?" "Yes, Sir..." I nodded, hesitantly, absorbing the notion. I couldn't believe the entire semester break had gone by already. The idea of going back into the real world and back to school had been lodged in the back of my mind, but I had barely considered what it would actually mean for me. "Your Master, Ryan, will instruct you further tomorrow, but for now, there is other business to attend," Mr. Grey remarked, as he swept the portion of the exposed coffee table in front of my knees clean of the rice. Ryan handed him a black portfolio, and Mr. Grey carefully laid out several pieces of what looked like legal documents, each with a signature line clearly highlighted. "Each of these documents requires your signature, slave. While your Masters should be able to sign on your behalf, as you well know, your slavery is voluntary and I want each legality to be equally voluntary." I glanced down nervously as the sea of paperwork, taking a deep breath to absorb some more of the pain beneath my legs. Mr. Grey began to point to each document, explaining briefly what they were. "This is your new medical insurance, full coverage... let's see, car insurance here, so that you can chauffeur any of the family vehicles. This one makes me the executor of your assets, followed by Ryan. This is to close your current bank account and transfers the money to your new emergency savings account. This one puts you on my company's payroll as an assistant. Each week your salary will be deposited into your emergency savings. Of course, you will have no regular access to money beyond what your Masters allow you, but should something unexpected happen, you will have a nest egg waiting for you," he paused. "Think that about does it." He held out a pen for me. "Yes, Sir," I acknowledged with a nod, taking the pen. My eyes blurred slightly as I tried to scan the sea of black and white that could have been all gibberish for all I cared at the moment. It all seemed legit. Good, even. I felt secure that these arrangements had even been considered. My hand trembling slightly, I began to scratch my signature across each of the marked lines. When i finished signing the last document, Mr. Grey snatched the pen from my hand and quickly scooped all of the papers into a pile, sliding them back into the leather portfolio. "Good boy," he remarked, handing the portfolio to Ryan. "Now, as you've learned well, a slave is rarely entitled to the pleasure of an orgasm. Sexual gratification is the right of a man and a privilege for a slave that must be earned. And I, for one, am prepared to grant you that privilege today as a reward for the hard work you have put into your training thus far. But," he paused, glancing to his son, "your trainer will decide whether you have earned that right." I swallowed, having returned my hands behind my back, I glanced quickly to Ryan. My cock was still rock hard and had begun to leak precum onto the surface of the coffee table without a single touch. It was excited enough just being free from the chastity device. "Maybe..." Ryan began as stepped forward, crossing his strong arms, a slight smirk on his lips as he stared down at me kneeling pathetically before him. "But, he'll have to beg me for it. Still wanna cum, boy?" "Yes, Sir," I answered automatically, almost desperately. He extended his right hand and flicked my throbbing cock. "Then, beg." "Yes, Sir. Please, Sir! I'm begging you to let me cum, Sir. I can't take it any longer. I'll do anything Sir! Please, Sir, please!" I began to sputter, looking up at him. I hoped the horny desperation that I felt in my gut translated to my expression. I felt utterly pathetic, but I didn't care. I just wanted to cum. "Pathetic." Ryan smirked. "Fine. I guess as long as my cum is still inside you, I don't mind so much if you shoot a load. Do it quickly. And, you better fucking use your other hand to catch it. We don't need a fucking cum shower in the living room." "Yes, Sir!" I almost shouted, as I grabbed hold of my throbbing dick with lightning speed. A storm of erotic sensations shot through my entire body. It felt so indescribably good. "Look at him go," Ryan taunted. "He's a young male," Mr. Grey remarked with a shrug. "He is wired to want to spread his seed as much as any other his age, only difference is, he's not allowed to." "Must really suck," Ryan snickered, sarcastically. "It is the burden of a slave," his father reminded both of us. The banter barely registered, as I winced my eyes closed. My breath increased quickly in pace as I ran my bare hand over my raging erection, savoring each jerk. Under any normal circumstances, the mere notion of jerking off in front of two other men would have been enough to send me flaccid, but now, I could have been in the middle of Times Square and wouldn't have cared. "Uh oh," Mr. Grey observed, nodding towards me. The muscles in my body began to tense all over. I felt my asshole clench hard around the plug in my rectum. My balls tightened against my body, and I cupped my left hand over the head of my cock just in time for the first volcanic eruption of cum. "Ahhhhh..." My groan was purely primal as cum began to spew from deep within my balls. All of the muscles in my legs began to spasm as I struggled to maintain balance on my knees while my orgasm vibrated throughout my tortured body. Mr. Grey and Ryan watched in complete silence and fascination as I spasmed until the flow began to trickle. A waterfall of cum was running down my cock, dripping from my hand, pooling on my thighs and the surface of the table. After several blissful moments, I swallowed hard, slumping forward, looking down at the mess I'd created, my cum covered hands, and feeling a rare moment of clarity wash over my mind, followed swiftly by a wave of panic and regret. What had I done? "Now, clean it up," Ryan barked. "Every drop goes right back in, down the hatch." I felt my lip quiver a bit and my eyes blur with uncertain tears as mixed emotions flooded my mind, but my emotions were irrelevant. I was a slave. "Yes, Sir." *** To be continued. Comments and Feedback are encouraged: matt10019@gmail.com