Date: Sat, 25 Jul 2009 19:46:13 -0400
From: Matt W <matt10019@gmail.com>
Subject: Bred Slave - Part 9

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 11 - BACK TO SCHOOL

There were butterflies in my stomach as I waited patiently on the hard floor
of my bedroom, or cell, as Ryan now called it.  I was kneeling at attention
with my hands behind my back as the last droplets of water from my shower
evaporated from my body.  No sooner had I finished drying as much water off
of me as I could muster with the small bar towel did Ryan swoop into the
door-less bathroom, grab me by the arm, and drag me back into my room where
he threw me down on the floor to wait.

He walked over to my closet door, unlocked the large padlock that held it
closed for the last month and tossed it on the mattress where I slept.
Opening the door, I saw that my dresser had been pushed into the closet.
The hanging shirts and dress clothes that had once been stored within were
no where to be seen.  A few pairs of shoes were lined up on top of the
dresser.

There was extra life in his step as he pulled open the top sock drawer,
withdrew a bunched up pair of white ankle athletic socks and tossed them to
the floor in front of me.

"Don't touch anything until I tell you," Ryan warned, as he shut the drawer,
and pulled open the next one down.

"Yes, Sir," I acknowledged nervously, glancing at the socks.

I heard the ripping of plastic, and glanced up to see Ryan pulling a piece
of white fabric from its packaging.  It was a fresh white t-shirt that soon
landed on the floor at my feet.  I hadn't worn a stitch of clothing in
weeks, save for the jockstrap and socks I worked out in every morning.  It
was hard to imagine what the shirt would even feel like against my skin,
assuming that was his intention for it. I took immediate comfort in the fact
that I wouldn't be going back to school in the buff, not that I really
believed that was a possibility.

Yet, anything was in the realm of possibility where my slavery was
concerned.  I had already experienced so much in a short time that I could
never even have imagined experiencing.  So, maybe walking through the quad
naked wasn't as infeasible as it had once seemed.  Fraternity pledges did it
all the time.  I swallowed, feeling more nerves in my stomach as I let my
mind wander over the possibility.

Another drawer pulled, and a pair of worn jeans landed on the small pile of
clothing.  The drawer slammed shut, another opened.  A rumpled gray zip-up
hoody that I didn't recognize landed on top of the jeans.  Lastly, an old
pair of my sneakers that I often wore were taken from the top of the dresser
and thrown on top of the pile.  The closet door slammed shut.

"First things first," Ryan prefaced as he walked over to where I knelt.  "As
much as I'd like to keep this on you full time, it would only embarrass me
in the long run."  He bent over behind me and I felt a key scraping against
the lock in my steel collar.  There was a click and I felt the band loosen
against my throat.  Gently, he pulled the collar away from my neck.  It felt
so odd to have it gone.  I suddenly felt lighter than air.  "Hold out your
hands, palms up."

"Yes, Sir."  I complied.  He pulled out a tiny tube of lotion and squeezed a
generous amount into my left palm.

"Go ahead, massage your neck, but make it quick.  Your skin has gotten used
to the collar."

"Yes, Sir," I said, gratefully rubbing the lotion between my hands and
massaging it into my neck.  It felt so strange to touch my neck,
unfettered.  I winced.  The skin was indeed sensitive to the touch.  I
wasn't sure if there were visible abrasions, but even if there were, there
was nothing I could do about that at the moment.

"Enough.  Hands behind your back, eyes here," he ordered, pointing to his
crotch and squaring himself in front of me.  It was late in the morning, and
he was already dressed and ready for the first day back on campus.  He wore
a fresh pair of jeans and a white long-sleeve t-shirt with one of his maroon
fraternity t-shirts over top.  "Focus.  It's a big day for you.  Not only
are you going back to school, but more importantly, you will be stepping
back into the real world for the first time as a slave and we need to make
sure you're prepared."

"Yes, Sir."  I nodded cautiously.

"Do not forget, for one minute, that you are my slave.  I own you.  You
belong to me.  That doesn't change whether we are 5 feet from each other or
5 miles from each other," he began.  "What does that mean?  It means
standing orders are obeyed at all times.  Any tasks or orders I give you are
your first priority at all times.  My command supersedes the authority of
any fucking college professor, and it most certainly supersedes any social
activities you may be tempted with.  After all, don't forget who's allowing
you to go to school, let alone who's paying for it!"  He paused.  "Does this
mean that every minute of your day will be filled with orders on campus?
Hell no.  I have a life that does not revolve around you.  Your life,
however, does revolve around me, so you will just need to get used to
integrating your slavery into your student life.  Questions so far?"

"No, Sir."  I shook my head.  It was a little confusing, but I figured I
would get the gist.

"You will carry this cell phone on you at all times.  I may text you at
anytime and you must respond to any text from me within 5 minutes.  Failure
to do so will result in punishment.  Interrupting a class or lacking cell
service are not excuses I will accept.  They are not my problems; they are
your problems," he explained, holding up my old cell phone,.  "I was tempted
to wipe it clean, but decided to keep your current contacts in there.  You
are forbidden from deleting any messages, sent or received, and I will
review them, along with your call log, each day.  The log will be compared
with the data statement online each month and any discrepancies will be
result in severe punishment."  He emphasized the word, tossing the cell
phone on the pile of clothes.  "Heads up, your buddy Sean is going to be
pissed as hell you ignored all his messages and calls over break.  Looks
like he gave up trying after a week or so."

Sadly, I looked down at the phone.  I had nearly forgotten about my lack of
communication with the outside world.  Being a townie and consumed with my
relationship with Ali, I hadn't made too many new friends my first semester,
and I had already lost touch with most of my high school buddies, so it was
likely that Sean was the only one that had been trying to reach me.  A slap
to the face got my attention.

"Your attention is here!"  Ryan snapped, pointing again to his crotch.
"Now, on that note, I have no intention of forbidding you to interact with
others socially on campus.  It's unrealistic to expect that.  Besides, I
don't want a complete social outcast for a slave.  Want your mind to stay
sharp and current.  You will, however, need to keep your mind on any
standing orders or current assignments I may have given you.  As always,
your Master comes first.  Got it?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good.  On your feet.  Display," he ordered.

I obeyed, pushing up to my feet, spreading my legs, straightening my posture
and locking my hands behind my head.  "Yes, Sir."

"It's going to be a challenge for you, you know," Ryan began, as he circled
me.  "Like my father said yesterday, this part is easy.  Naked, exposed,
nothing to hide and no where to hide it.  Today that will change.  You will
be out in the open, hiding what you really are from the outside world.  You
will face temptation to have the things you can no longer have.  You will
have the same wants and needs as your peers, but you won't have the right to
fulfill them.  You will likely experience a range of emotions.
Jealousy...anger and resentment over your status.  But, at the end of the
day, you will remember that you made a choice.  You chose to be owned, and
what does that make you, boy?"

I swallowed, listening carefully.  "A slave, Sir."

"Good boy," he smirked, clearing his throat.  "Standing orders.  Repeat each
after me so that I am sure that you understand.  When we are together on
campus, you will walk casually a few paces behind me, never side by side.
If others happen to be present, you will stand back slightly, casually grip
one wrist with your opposite hand behind your back, and make sure your legs
are squared naturally shoulder width apart.  Repeat."

"I will walk casually behind you on campus, and stand back slightly with my
legs open and hands casually behind my back if I'm around you and your
friends, Sir."

"Good.  And, by the way, all of this is to look natural, not awkward.  The
idea is to remain respectful in a public setting, not rigid.  Think of it as
casual protocol," he advised.

"Yes, Sir."

"Second thing," he continued. "Never ever start a conversation with anyone.
You will wait until you are addressed before talking.  This is with or
without me present."

"Yes, Sir.  I won't speak until spoken to."

"Right.  Third, never cross your arms or legs, sitting, standing, anytime.
Your body is always open and on display for whoever wants to look at it.
Doesn't matter whether you're clothed or not.  Repeat."

"Yes, Sir," I nodded, absorbing all of this new information as best I
could.  "I won't cross my arms or legs."

"Your downtime between classes should be productive.  I expect that you will
spend it studying in the library.  You may not snack, nap, or lounge in the
student centers.  I will allow physical activity.  Extra workouts in the
campus gym, or pickup games of frisbee, basketball, whatever, are fine.
I'll find creative ways for you to occupy any long breaks between classes."
He smiled devilishly.  "If you are ever unsure about what to do with your
time, text me, and go wait in the nearest bathroom stall for a response."

"Yes, Sir," I agreed, a bit nervously thinking about what types of creative
ways he might come up with to occupy my time.  "I will spend downtime
productively."

"Speaking of bathrooms, you may not piss or shit without explicit
permission.  Text to ask permission.  If it's granted, use the nearest stall
and sit directly on the rim, just as you do here.  Repeat that.  Very
important stuff, cunt."

"Yes, Sir.  I will not use the bathroom without permission.  When I do, I
will sit on the rim of the toilet."

"It goes without saying that the obvious already apply.  No touching
yourself.  No flirting, kissing or physical contact of any kind with the
opposite sex.  Remember, college girls would have no interest in a slave and
it would be deceptive to lead them on.  A slave should never attempt to
deceive his betters."

"Yes, Sir," I repeated, a bit distantly.

"However, as a slave, you should feel free to make yourself generally useful
to your superiors when the opportunity arises.  Offer to hold doors open,
carry heavy objects, stuff like that," he advised.

"Yes, Sir.  I will try to make myself useful around campus," I suggested.

"You won't try," he snapped, slapping my face.  "You will."

"Yes, Sir!" I yelped, wincing at the sting.  "I will, Sir."

"You may eat lunch in any of the student dining halls.  There is money on
your student ID card.  However, you must make healthy selections and may
drink only water.  I will monitor your purchases online and will order
adjustments if necessary.  If worse comes to worst, you will be taking your
slave smoothies with you to campus.  Repeat."

"I will eat healthy lunches and drink only water, Sir."  So far, nothing was
terribly unmanageable.  It was all just a bit restrictive in comparison to
what I'd been used to.

"Should be enough to get us started.  You should expect random texts
throughout the day and be prepared to make yourself available for random
inspections.  Got it, bitch?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good, and lastly, you may use my name in public settings, but only if
others are in ear shot.  At all other times, you will address me as Sir."

"Yes, Sir."

He fished in his pocket and took out a small key.  I recognized it
immediately as the key to my chastity device, which he then began to
unlock.  "Another little test for you.  Can you avoid touching your pathetic
slave cock without the aid of this thing?  Sure, hope so."  He pulled the
device away from my cock and released the ring around my balls, however, he
quickly replaced it with a sizable metal cock ring much like the one I'd
worn before I'd been put into chastity.  "Just a little reminder of who this
belongs to."

"Yes, Sir," I said, glancing down at my crotch.  My cock sprang to life at
his touch.  Even though I had finally cum the night before, I was certainly
ready to go again.

"Gonna be a tough day for you if you can't get that thing under control,"
Ryan taunted, flicking my bobbing cock.  "Last but not least," he began,
reaching into his pocket again and pulling forth a dangling metal necklace.
"Dog tags."

He held them up for me to see one at a time.  The first spelled out "R.D.G."
which I knew immediately stood for Ryan Daniel Grey.  The second was a 10
digit number.  My eyes blurred, but once focused, I recognized the
sequence as Ryan's cell phone number.  He looped the necklace over my head,
and let the tags fall against my chest.

"Let's just call this your public collar.  Now, get dressed," he nudged the
pile of clothes on the floor with his shoe.  "You have 60 seconds."

I jumped at the sudden command, looking down at the clothes.  "Yes, Sir."  I
leaned over and fished the t-shirt out of the pile.  It was a made
of cotton, size small.  I usually wore medium and I knew as soon as I pulled
my head through the neck hole that it was going to be a tight fit.  It felt
so strange to feel the soft fabric against my chest and stomach, almost
foreign after being shirtless for so long.  It barely came to my waist and
clung to every muscle that I'd been forced to exercise.

Next, the jeans.  I fumbled with the leg holes, nearly tripping as I hopped
to put them on quickly.  It was obvious that underwear was not going to be
an option.  The jeans were new as well, but felt well worn.  I could tell
they weren't mine from the tighter fit, especially in the crotch area as I
stuffed my semi-erect dick into the waist band and carefully zipped the
fly.  The jeans still appeared masculine, but it didn't take a mirror to
know they were cut to fit tighter around the ass and crotch.

Ryan commented on the jeans as I pulled them on.  "My father's female
slave," also known as my mother, "did all of the shopping.  You'll find a
lot of your new wardrobe to be second hand.  Wanted to give you peace of
mind knowing that some other dude's junk has lived and sweat in those jeans
before."  A fact that made me all the more conscious of my lack of underwear
as I felt my own semi-hard cock press against the denim prison.

I dropped to the floor and pulled the socks quickly over my feet, followed
by the sneakers, tying each one quickly.  I'd become an expert at that
during my morning workout routine.  As I stood up, I grabbed the sweatshirt
by the hood and shook it out.  It was a plain heather gray gym zip-up,
cheap, like it had been purchased at some discount chain store, also size
small.  Not having time to worry about it, I pushed my arms into the
sleeves, and quickly brought the zipper together, zipping it up the front
till it reached mid-chest height.  It was snug, much like the t-shirt,
leaving little to the imagination in terms of what kind of shape my body was
in.  Lastly, I bent over and picked up my cell phone, slipping it into my
pocket.  It was tight against my thigh.

"Stand at attention, hands at your sides, eyes straight ahead," Ryan
ordered.  "Let's have a look."  He circled me, tugging at my sweatshirt at
different places, testing the tightness of the jeans, giving my crotch a
squeeze through the denim.  "Yeah, this will do."  He ran his fingers
roughly through my barely damp hair for a moment, mussing it up a bit.  I'd
almost forgotten about my hair.  It had grown out to just about an inch and
a half since Ryan had buzzed it short, but it was nothing close to the
stylish mess I'd had maintained before.  "Just how a slave in public should
look...unassuming.  Attractive, sure, but plain.  Bland.  Nobody."

"Yes, Sir," I agreed, a bit sadly.

"By the way, bitch, it took you 74 seconds to get dressed.  I gave you 60.
14 push ups," he snapped, pointing at the floor.  "All the down, all the way
up.  Count them out loud, then meet me by the front door."

"Yes, Sir," I sighed slightly, as I dropped down to the floor into a push up
position.  He left the room as I began to count.  "1...Sir, 2...Sir,
3...Sir, 4..."

After fourteen push ups, I hopped up to my feet and hurried down the stairs,
not wanting to risk the consequences for dawdling.  Ryan was by the front
door, slipping one of his many university sweatshirts over his head.  We
were fortunate in our climate to have cool winters, but never freezing
ones.  The temperature rarely dropped below 50 on the coldest days, and 40
on the coldest nights.  I waited respectfully at the edge of the entry foyer
clasping my wrist lightly behind my back while he checked himself out in the
mirror by the door, testing out the new public protocol I'd just been given.

"Good, just relax your shoulders a bit," Ryan remarked casually, as he
glanced at my reflection in the mirror.  "Remember, look natural."

"Yes, Sir."

He turned around and bent over to pick up a black backpack.  It appeared
full and heavy.  Unzipping the front pocket, he showed me the contents.  "1
pen, 1 pencil, 1 calculator, 1 notebook.  All you should need," he remarked,
zipping the front pocket, and then unzipping the main section to show me.
"Your course books have been purchased for you, and they're all here.  You
will carry all of them with you at all times.  Doesn't matter if you need
them or not, doesn't matter if that class is scheduled that day or not.
Your education is a privilege now, not a right.  You will need to shoulder
the burden, literally and figuratively."

"Yes, Sir," I said, looking down nervously at the heavy bag as it landed at
my feet with a loud thud.  I could only imagine how heavy it would be
carrying all of my books around.

"You'll also need this," he said, holding up a folded piece of white paper.
Stepping forward, he stuffed the paper in the pocket of my sweatshirt.
"Class schedule.  By the way, I've taken the liberty of changing your
major.  No more of that pansy liberal arts psychology bull shit.  Now you're
studying business and finance.  Skills that will benefit me and the family
business after I take over."

I lost focus at that, looking directly at him.  My mouth dropped open a bit
and I could tell my eyes were wide in surprise.

"Don't act so surprised, slave.  Your job is to make yourself useful, not
psycho-analyze me.  A business degree will make you useful," Ryan snapped,
picking up his own significantly lighter backpack.  "Now pick up that bag.
We're leaving."

"Yes, Sir," I said dejectedly, as I bent over and hefted up the heavy
backpack.  It weighed even more than I imagined as I fed my arms through the
straps and let the weight rest on my back.

He opened the front door and motioned for me to lead the way.  Locking the
door behind us, he took casual hold of the backpack, and half guided, half
pulled me across the courtyard to the main driveway and the four car
garage.  Ryan entered the key code, and the last garage door lifted
revealing his jeep.

"Put your shit in the backseat.  You're riding shotgun today.  Consider it a
privilege, because it definitely won't always be the case," he ordered, as
he opened the backdoor on his side and tossed his bag in, while I went
around to the passenger side.  We both climbed into the front seats of the
jeep.  Ryan spoke as he buckled his seat belt.  "First buckle-up, then
spread your legs as wide as you can, keep your feet flat on the floor.
Hands behind your back."

"Yes, Sir," I said, complying with the commands.

He started the engine.  "Keep your head down while we drive.  You should be
staring at your slave crotch or the space between your knees, not the
scenery.  I'll worry about the road."

"Yes, Sir."  I bent my head slightly, taking my eyes completely off the
windshield.

With that, he flipped on the radio and loud rock music flooded the cabin of
the vehicle.  I knew the song well, but it almost hurt my head to hear it
now after so many weeks of virtual radio silence.  The noise was so
foreign.  In fact, it felt completely foreign to be back in the jeep
period.  I could feel the shocks bounce along the gravelly roads as we left
the driveway and the Grey's gated community, but realized quickly I had no
idea where we were exactly.  I could feel the jeep slow to stops, and turn
left or right.  I also knew the general route to campus, which took about 25
minutes, but nevertheless, I could have been blindfolded and the effect
would have been the same.

Suddenly, Ryan's cell phone sprang to life in his cup holder.  He cut the
music, and flipped open the phone.

"Dude!  What's up?"  he paused.  "Yeah, yeah...just pulling in now.  Where
are you?"  I felt the jeep slow, and we turned onto a much more gravelly
surface.  Obviously one of the student parking lots.  "Alright bro, I'll see
you in a sec.  Got some time before my first class.  K, be right there."
Click.

We cruised into a parking spot, and I felt the engine cut out.  I took a
deep breath, realizing suddenly that I was nervous.  Really nervous.

"Last thing," Ryan began, unbuckling his seat belt and fishing something out
of his pocket.  It was a small black leather wallet.  He flipped it open to
show me the contents.  "Your license, student ID, health insurance
card.  Hundred-dollar bill and a credit card for emergencies, and I do mean
fucking emergencies.  If you EVER charge anything to this card or spend this
cash without explicit permission, you will be in for a world of hurt.  Got
it?"

"Yes, Sir," I agreed, taking the wallet from him.

"Alright, this is it, boy.  Out," he commanded, hopping out of the driver's
seat and grabbing his backpack from the backseat.  I did the same, hefting
the weighty bag once again.  "Remember your orders, and follow me."

He turned and started heading towards the main quad outside the student
union.  I knew the spot where he was headed.  There was a specific set of
benches on the main patio where his frat brothers liked to congregate
between classes.

I followed casually behind him, just holding back a few paces.  Students
were buzzing by all around us in the quad, laughing, exchanging high-fives,
chatting on their cell phones over morning cups of coffee.  The campus was
definitely alive, and I never felt more out of place.  The noise and the
visuals were putting me into sensory overload.  I'd been so cut off from the
outside world for such a concentrated period of time, that I felt almost
like I'd just landed in some foreign country.

"There he is!" a voice suddenly exclaimed.  I stopped abruptly behind Ryan
as he exchanged an elaborate handshake with one of his frat brothers, a
generic looking jock with short cropped dark hair and broad features.
Quickly, I casually grasped my left wrist with my right hand under
my backpack.  "What's up, Grey?"

"What's up, dude?"  Ryan jovially asked, patting him on the back.  "Psyched
to be back?"

"Hell no!  Fuck this class shit," the other guy exclaimed with a smile.
"Got some sick parties lined up already though."

"That's what I'm talking about," Ryan agreed, exchanging another handshake
with his friend.  "Yo, have you seen Brent yet?"

"No, man.  He might have an early class or something..." the jock stopped
short.  "Hey, who's that?"  He asked, nodding over Ryan's shoulder at me.

Ryan turned around to glance at me.  He half smiled, seeing me in proper
form.  I took the smile as a sign that I looked casual enough.  "Oh, this is
Drew.  He lives with me.  Parents work for my father, practically grew up
together.  Right, Drew?"  Ryan gave me a firm pat on my shoulder.

"Uhh...yes, I mean, yeah, right," I stammered slightly, my nerves getting
the best of me.

"Oh yeah, sweet place you got up there," the guy responded.

"Yeah, it's alright," Ryan agreed with a shrug.  "Actually just moved into
the guest house, totally tricked it out.  I'm gonna have a housewarming soon
I think."

"Sweet," the guy smiled.  He extended his hand to me suddenly, stepping past
Ryan.  "I'm Jason, by the way."

I looked awkwardly to Ryan, and then remembering to act natural, I unclasped
my wrist and took his handshake.  "Drew," was all I said.

"Yeah, nice to meet you dude," Jason said. "You a freshman?  Thinking about
pledging this semester?"

"Oh, I dunno," Ryan quickly interrupted, putting his hand on my shoulder,
giving it a light squeeze as if to indicate I should return my hand to where
it was.  "Drew's not really the frat type.  Are you, buddy?"

I swallowed, "No, sss.. I mean," I cleared my throat, catching myself at an
almost fatal error.  "No, I'm sure I'd never get a bid."

"Ah, well, think about it," Jason said, turning back to Ryan.  "So, we
getting breakfast, or what?"

"Yeah, yeah," Ryan agreed.  "Drew has to get to class anyway, I think.
Don't you?"

I looked at him a bit uncertainly, but nodded my head.  "Yeah."

"In fact," Ryan began, his voice suddenly concerned as he looked down at his
expensive sports watch.  "Didn't you say your first class was in Gilbert
Hall?  10:30?  That's like in 5 minutes."

My face flushed, suddenly.  Gilbert Hall was practically on the other side
of campus.  I hadn't even had a chance to look at my schedule, let alone
know where I had to be and when.

"Shit, dude," Jason interjected.  "That's on the other side of campus.
Better run."

"Yeah," Ryan agreed, giving me a look.  "Better run.  You don't want to be
late."

I nodded.  "Yeah, I...uh, I'll see you guys."  Taking a few deep breaths, I
brushed past them to jog up the steps to the student union.  There was a
shortcut to the other side of campus.

As soon as I pushed through the glass doors of the student center, I felt
lost as students rushed by all around me.  I looked back over my shoulder
through the glass doors to see Ryan laughing heartily at something Jason
said.  I couldn't believe I was just walking away from him, alone.  No
chains, no bars, no locks.  It was the simplest of everyday things, and yet
I felt extremely uncomfortable, like I was lost and drowning.  Then
suddenly, I slammed into something hard that felt like a brick wall, only it
was moving.

"Hey!" a loud angry male voice rang out, following the crash.  "Watch where
you're going, faggot!"  A large football jock glowered in my direction as he
gave me a hard shove, and kept on walking.

"I...I'm sorry," I stammered after him, swallowing hard.  I looked around
nervously, wondering if anyone else noticed the encounter.  No one seemed to
be paying a bit of attention.  Collecting myself, I hurried down the busy
hallway and out the opposite doors that led to the other side of campus.

When I was back outside, I did my best to jog lightly across the tree lined
pathways towards Gilbert Hall with the heavy pack pulling down on my
shoulders.  I pulled the folded schedule out of my pocket to check the class
schedule.  Principles of Finance, Room 303. It was true.  Ryan had changed
my schedule of classes.

I pushed into the lobby of the bustling academic building, and bolted for
the stairs.  Jogging up the series of steps to the third floor was no picnic
with the extra weight on my back.  Pushing into the hallway, I nearly
knocked someone over with the door, making light apologies as I rushed
towards the room labeled 303.  The door was closed.  I swallowed, pulling
out my cell phone to check the time.  It was 10:34.

Keeping my head low, I pushed through the door as quietly as I could,
stepping into the medium-sized lecture hall, with stadium style rows of
desks.  A hundred set of eyes all turned in my direction as the door creaked
a bit, and then closed.  I was a deer in head lights.

"Young man," the professor commanding the front of the room suddenly paused
his introduction to the course, looking in my direction.  He snapped and
pointed to an open desk in the front row.  "Take a seat quickly.  Much to
do."

I nodded slightly, my cheeks flushing red, and hurried to the seat that was
selected for me.  It felt oddly familiar to be sitting back in a desk, and
yet foreign at the same time.  I hadn't done much in the way of sitting at
all since I'd started my slave training.  Opening my backpack quietly, I
pulled out the notebook and pen I'd been given, and did my best to tune into
the lecture.

The professor, an average looking academic man in his late 50s, haphazardly
placed a syllabus packet on my desk as he continued to drone on about
expectations for the semester and his various objectives.  It was extremely
difficult to focus on what his was saying.  I swore I could still feel the
hundreds of eyes behind me drilling into the back of my head.  They knew.
They knew I was wearing a cock ring.  They knew I was wearing dog tags with
my Master's initials around my neck.  They knew I was a slave.

Suddenly, my stream of thoughts were interrupted by a strong vibration
against my thigh.  I knew it was a text message, and I knew who it was
from.  Almost in a panic, I glanced up to see the professor pacing in front
of his podium on the other side of the room.  Why did I have to sit in the
front row?  Why did Ryan have to text me now?

As subtly as I could, I slid the phone out of my pocket with my finger and
thumb, resting it on my thigh under the shadow of the desk.  Keeping my eyes
in the general direction of the professor, I carefully unfolded the phone,
and clicked the button to open the next text message.  I glanced down, "MEET
ME IN S HALL BASEMENT AFTER CLASS."

Glancing around quickly to see if anyone noticed, I began to slowly type out
my response.  S Hall, as everyone referred to it in short for some long
unpronounceable last name of a long-deceased founder, was on yet another far
end of campus from where I was now.

"YES SIR" I sent the typed response, and casually returned the cell phone to
my pocket, trying to focus in on what the professor was saying about the
state of the economy.

The next hour crawled by painfully slow.  Sitting in the front row, I had
little choice but to pay strict attention, as the professor seemed to glance
at me every five seconds to watch me taking notes.  The hard chair growing
more and more uncomfortable, I rolled my shoulders a bit, and stretched my
legs out, crossing my ankles casually.

Suddenly, I sat upright with a start, the realization hitting me that I
wasn't supposed to cross my legs.  I looked around with a sudden wave of
guilt washing over me as if I'd been caught cheating.  Of course, Ryan was
no where in sight, and no one else was paying a bit of attention to me.  I
exhaled quietly, wondering how quickly I would fuck up again.  It was so
easy to let my mind slip when I had other things to focus on.

"Okay.  Next class, chapters 1 through 3.  Dismissed," the professor
abruptly changed course from his lecture, glancing at his watch.

Everyone around me started to gather their belongings, and made their way to
the door.  I was just hefting my backpack onto my shoulders when I felt a
light touch on my right arm.  Whirling around in almost a knee-jerk
reaction, I was face to face with a girl I recognized from one of my
classes last semester.  She was my age or maybe a year older, average
height, slender, long blond hair, incredibly hot.

"Hey...sorry," she giggled slightly.  "Just wanted to say hi.  We had psych
together last fall, remember?  It's Drew, right?"

"Uh, yeah." I nodded, a bit uncomfortably as I adjusted the pack on my
back.  "You're...uh..."

"Jen."

"Jen, right," I said, glancing over my shoulder at the door.

"So, how was your break?" she continued casually, leaning against the desk.
"Get up to anything fun?"

"Not really.  I just, I...uh, just hung out around the house mostly," I said
flatly.  "You?"  I looked back to her quickly, and then over my shoulder
again at the door.

"Yeah?  Did a lot of that myself...went skiing, saw some old friends.  Glad
to be back though," she paused, glancing towards the door herself.  "Oh, you
probably have to go?  Sorry, I'm just excited to see everyone.  Glad I know
someone in this class, too.  Sounds like it's going to be brutal!  Did you
see the syllabus?"

"Oh, yeah," I said with disinterest, turning towards the door.

She started alongside me.  "Hey, maybe we can study together sometime?  Get
coffee?"

I stopped short.  It hit me suddenly that this girl was completely into me
and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.  So much of me wanted
to say, "How about right now?"  So much of me wanted to blow Ryan off. At
that moment, so much of me just wanted to be normal again.  But normal was
no longer an option.

"Coffee...yeah, maybe," I muttered.  "Look, sorry, I gotta, uh..."  I
motioned with my thumb over my shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, it's cool," she said, forcing a smile but clearly
disappointed.  "Guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah, definitely," I said, returning a slight smile before turning to bolt
out the door and down the steps.  Class had now ended 5 minutes ago, and I
knew Ryan was probably timing me on my arrival.

S Hall was one of the original buildings on campus, and was so old and out
of date that it was barely used anymore.  Professors hated teaching in a
building that lacked modern heating and cooling systems, not to mention
proper ventilation.  A lot of clubs held meetings there in the evenings, but
otherwise it was reserved for overflow space, recitations and study groups.

I jogged across campus as quickly as I could, the heavy backpack weighing on
my shoulders, pounding my lower back with each stride.  It made jogging
awkward, but I knew it was necessary.  When I arrived at the main entrance,
I pushed into the dimly lit lobby, the smell of must filling my nostrils.
Looking around for the stairs, I made my way slowly down to the basement
level.

It was eerily quiet in the building, almost like a library.  There was no
bustle of students coming and going between classes.  Really, I hadn't seen
any students at all on the main level.

"What took you so long?" Ryan demanded the second I exited the stairwell on
the basement level.  He was sprawled lounging on a bench between two
classroom doors playing with some game on his cell phone.

I froze in my tracks, looking quickly around nervously.

"We're alone," he assured me, pushing up to his feet.  "No one uses this
building much, especially the basement.  I asked you a question, slave."

"Yes, Sir.  Nothing, Sir.  Class..."

"Mmhmm," he agreed, skeptically.  Snapping his fingers, he pointed to the
first classroom door by the stairwell.  "Inside."

"Yes, Sir."  I swallowed, a bit timid, as I pushed open the door into the
dank, musty classroom.  There were overhead fluorescent bulbs, but there was
enough daylight coming in from the slat windows up at ground level that you
could just see without turning on the lights.  The desks were kind of pushed
to the side, some of them stacked, like they were in storage.

He closed the door behind us, but I noticed there was no lock.  "Strip,
everything," he ordered, flatly.

I know I looked at him like he had grown two heads.

"Is there a problem, slave?  STRIP!" he barked.

"Yes, Sir!" I jumped at the command, and shucked off my backpack, and pulled
the sweatshirt and t-shirt over my head in one motion, before hopping from
foot to foot removing my shoes and socks.  Lastly, I pushed the jeans down
to my ankles and stepped out of them, leaving me in nothing more than the
cock ring and dog tags.  I stood awkwardly, glancing nervously towards the
door as if someone was sure to walk in any minute.

SLAP!  His hand connected with my right cheek.

"Don't look away from me when I'm talking to you," he barked, pointing to
the center of the room, "Display."

I shuffled a few paces to my left, and faced him, spreading my legs apart
and locking my hands behind my head.  He circled me slowly, poking and
prodding at my exposed body with no real rhyme or reason other than he
could.  "You've gone almost two hours now disguised as Joe College.  Don't
want you thinking that's normal, that you deserve to be clothed.  Do you,
boy?"

I swallowed.  "No, Sir."

"And, why is that?"

"Because, I'm a slave, Sir."

He bounced my dangling balls in his hand, adjusting the cock ring slightly.
"Get hard in class, slave?"

"No, Sir."  It was the truth.  I'd been far too nervous to even think about
being horny in class.

"No?  No hot chicas to get your juices flowing?" he asked, with a smirk, as
he released my balls and gave my cock a few playful strokes.

"No, Sir."  I shook my head.  As he stroked my dick, I felt it stiffen,
springing to a full erection very quickly.  I thought of Jen, wondering what
she would think if she saw me now.

Suddenly, he stopped stroking, grabbed a firm hold on my dick, and yanked it
downwards painfully.  I gasped, and he crouched to put his face close to
mine.  "Either you're fucking lying to me, or you really are the cockslut
I'm training you to be, and for your sake, I hope it's the cockslut because
you know what happens when you lie to me."

"Yes, Sir, no, Sir!"  I stammered. "I mean, not lying Sir."

He held my cock down for another long moment, and then released it so that
it sprang up and slapped me on the stomach.   I winced.

"Get down on your knees.  Back to the door," Ryan ordered coldly.  I was
grateful that he didn't press the lying issue, but I wasn't sure exactly
what he had in mind for me now as I turned around and lowered to my knees.
"Get your chest all the way down, cheek to the ground, ass up."

"Yes, Sir."  I said, as I lowered myself awkwardly, shuffling my knees a bit
to get my chest against the ground, turning my head to the right, lifting my
ass up.  Suddenly, I felt incredibly exposed.

"Good.  Put your hands behind you, pull your ass cheeks apart.  Display your
ass."

"Yes, Sir," I muttered into the ground, as I reached behind me and pulled my
cheeks apart, feeling air against my puckering hole.

I heard Ryan stepping around me.  There was a rustle of clothing as he
picked up my jeans.  I had a sudden wave of panic.  He was going to take my
clothes and leave me here.  Images of me running through the quad naked
suddenly returned.  He couldn't be that cruel.

Then, he stepped to where I could see his sneakers, and crouched down,
laying my cell phone gently by my head.  "Set the alarm for 20 minutes.
Stay just like this until it goes off.  Once it does, get yourself dressed
and get your ass to the dining hall before your next class.  Your lunch
allowance is five bucks."

"Yes, Sir," I said, swallowing hard at the fear of someone walking in and
seeing me like this.

"Don't worry, boy.  Like I said, no one uses this place, especially the
basement."  He gave my ass a playful slap as he stood up.  "But, tell ya
what.  If on some 1% chance someone does walk in here, you have permission
to tell them you're pledging a frat.  Cool?"

"Yes, Sir," I said, not really taking much comfort in that, but at least I
had a semi-plausible excuse at the ready.

"And while you're down there I want you think long and hard about me riding
that ass, turning you into the cockwhore that you were born to be," he
instructed.  "Too bad there's not a class for that!"

"Yes, Sir," I muttered into the floor.

"Later, bitch," he snickered, as he walked out the door, letting it slam
behind him.

I took a long deep breath when I heard the door close.  The cell phone
taunted me as it lay a few inches from my face.  20 minutes was a long time
to wait, and I was already uncomfortable to begin with, but I didn't dare
move a muscle.  For all I knew, Ryan could have been waiting on the other
side of the door, watching through the dusty glass window.  I almost prayed
that was the case.  It would be the only sure way of knowing that some
random stranger wasn't about to burst through the door and see me spreading
my ass open for the world to see.

Ten uncomfortable minutes later, I had calmed down a bit, as it remained
perfectly quiet in the room.  No voices or footsteps in earshot.  In truth,
I couldn't determine if this exercise was punishment for the suspected lie,
or just a general reminder of my status, even on campus.  It occurred to me,
that should it be a punishment, I might actually deserve it.  Not only did I
lie to Ryan about seeing a hot girl in class, but I crossed my legs in
class.  I hadn't been given the opportunity, but I'm pretty sure I would
have chosen not to report the infraction.

My eyes blurred as I glared at the cell phone, willing the alarm to ring.
My arms were tired of holding my ass open, and I relaxed them a little bit.
My back and legs were cramping from kneeling awkwardly.  I was in hell. It
hit me suddenly that one of the main reasons I'd chosen enslavement was to
salvage my college education, and this is what I ended up with?  Classes
that I don't want to take, and a constant threat of public humiliation?

Beep-Beep-Beep.  Beep-Beep-Beep.

The alarm jolted me from my daydream, and I wasted no time in scrambling out
of the position and to my feet.  I was fully dressed in no time.  Grabbing
my backpack, I practically ran out of the room, wanting to leave no trace of
having occupied it.

Less than ten minutes later, I was making my way through the crowded dining
hall with a tray in my left hand.  I'd selected a basic turkey sandwich, an
apple and a bottle of water.  I assumed my five-dollar allowance allowance
would cover at least that much, and since I had had very little in the way
of solid food the past month, I didn't want to go overboard, however
tempting the cheeseburgers and pizza were.

I paid, and moved through the sea of tables filled with chattering students
and faculty members alike.  I'd never felt more alone.  Keeping my head low,
I made my way towards the back of the room, spotting an empty table near the
corner.  I threw my backpack into the empty chair next to me, and plopped my
tray on the table.

"Drew!"  Someone practically shouted in my ear.

I spun around to find myself face to face with Sean, the best friend I'd
made on campus over the first semester.  We had had an abnormal number of
classes together, and hit it off right away.  He was just a bit taller than
me, skinnier with a swimmers' build, and short, reddish blond hair that
curled slightly along the top of his forehead.

"Sean...hey," I managed, almost nervously.

"Hey?  Dude, what the fuck?  What happened to you?  Thought you might have
died or something," he exclaimed, pulling out the chair next to mine at the
table and setting a half empty bottle of soda down.

"Yeah...sorry about being so out of touch," I said, feeling a little awkward
as I sat down at the table.

"So, what's the deal then?  And, what the fuck did you do to your hair?  I
barely recognized you," Sean continued, relentless on the questions.

I ran my fingers casually through the short chop on my head.  "Yeah, I dunno
man, I just..."  I swallowed, my mind spinning.  "Ali broke up with me," I
spat out suddenly, turning to make eye contact with him for the first time.

"Dude...rough!  So sorry to hear that, man.  What happened?"  He asked, with
genuine concern.  "You guys were so great when we left for break."

"Yeah, I  know.  I dunno.  That's when she did it."

"On your birthday?!" he exclaimed.

I nodded.

"Bitch!  That's cold," he scoffed, crossing his arms.  "Real sorry.  No
wonder you've been so out of touch."

"Yeah."  I shrugged.  "Didn't really feel like talking to anyone."

"Yeah, sorry man.  Wish I coulda been there for you," Sean continued,
shaking his head in disbelief.  "At least you had Ryan, I guess."

I sat up suddenly, alarmed.  "What do you mean?"

He was a bit taken aback. "Ryan?  As in Ryan Grey...you know, just hoping he
was there for you.  Aren't you guys like practically brothers?"

I settled back in my chair, still a bit uncomfortably. "Yeah....yeah, I
guess you could say that."  I opened my bottle of water and took a long
swig, anxious to change the subject.  "So what about you?  How was your
break?"

"Kick ass!" Sean exclaimed, before he began to rattle on about a tropical
vacation, hooking up with some ex-girlfriends from high school, and who
knows what else.

I pretended to listen, and responded mechanically as I ate my sandwich and
apple.  Part of me seethed with jealousy.  Sean was living the college
experience that I had wanted so badly.  It wasn't that long ago that I was
living it alongside of him, and now, it was all so foreign to me.  So
unattainable.

"Oh!  And then New Year's...holy shit, you're never gonna believe who I got
a text from..." he rattled on.  Abruptly, I glanced at the clock on the wall
and scooted my chair back.  "Uhhh, you okay?"

"Yeah, sorry," I muttered, standing up.  "Don't mean to cut you off, just
gotta get to class."  I nodded toward the clock on the wall.  It was a
half-truth.  I still had enough time to get to the next class Ryan scheduled
for me, but I also couldn't stand to listen to him torture me with his
sexcapades any longer.

"Oh.  Yeah," he agreed, a little disheartened as he stood up as well.  "So,
I guess I'll see you around then?  Party this weekend?  Maybe shoot some
hoops between classes?"

"Sure, yeah," I nodded, not really sure what I was agreeing to.  "Ball
sounds good.  I'll catch you later."

"Later, man," Sean muttered as I walked away, undoubtedly leaving him a
little confused.

I quickened my pace as I slammed my garbage in the nearest can and exited
the student union.  There was a lump forming in the back of my throat, and
it took all of my will power to hold back a fresh round of tears as I
hurried across the quad towards my next class.  I glanced back over my
shoulder catching a glimpse of a large banner waving lightly in the wind
over the student union that read, "Welcome Back Students!"

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