Date: Sat, 4 Sep 2010 10:18:28 -0700 (PDT)
From: don mumford <thinat20@yahoo.com>
Subject: BRIAN'S AMAZINGLY QUICK TRANSFORMATION 3        By Donny Mumford

Hello on this beautiful Saturday in Boston. This story is in the gay
authoritarian section. Hope you have a great Labor Day weekend. Thank you.

Donny Mumford

                          BRIAN'S AMAZINGLY QUICK    TRANSFORMATION

                              Chapter 3                   By Donny   Mumford


After experiencing that humiliating and painful Friday afternoon with the boys I
thought maybe I'd be treated a little deferentially at work today, but Junior
and Brett have done me no favors; I got the opposite from Brett  actually, he
assigned me to a shitty detail. First thing Monday morning and I'm outside
sweeping the parking lot and picking up trash with another guy. This detail will
take all morning and the  temperature is supposed to hit  ninety-five degrees by
noon. What a boring and distasteful job this is, so much so I daydream about
various subject matter through most of the morning, at  one point thinking about
Brett and Junior. Well, especially Brett, and I embarrassed myself by springing
a boner or two during my Brett reverie. Mostly I thought about the temperature,
and it has me wondering how hot it's going to  be in my bedroom tonight without
air-conditioning. I grew-up with air-conditioning goddammit! Last night I was
sweating my ass off in bed jerking-off. Yeah, and I've been having the best
climaxes lately! I love jerking off!

Well, picking-up trash in a parking lot is as far removed from jerking-off as
you can get. The nasty bright sun hitting the blacktop makes it seem like I'm in
a fucking oven, and I hate sweeping-up other peoples' trash! This really sucks,
and it's so unfair! Last summer at the country club I'd never have dreamed in my
wildest imaginings that I could fall this far... I mean, come on!  Picking-up
and sweeping trash in BJ's parking lot? Jesus!  No one in my family  has ever
been to this goofy wholesale club. Yeah, and it really pisses me off that Brett
has the gaul to put me on this detail,  especially after all I went through with
him Friday afternoon. I'm pissed at him alright, not that I have the balls to
show it. Finally the lunch bell sounds ending my misery. Me and my parking lot
partner, Bill  Jonas, are dripping with perspiration when we go inside for
lunch. First we both desperately need to clean-up in the lavatory, which leaves
us only fifteen minutes to eat. And just as I thought, neither Bill nor me
uttered a negative word about how unfair it is to assign dock workers, like us,
to a job that's actually a janitorial responsibility. But, you just don't bitch
about  anything if you work for Junior and Brett...  not if you want to keep
your  job.

We're having an easier afternoon inside the air-conditioned building stocking
shelves; another no-brainer assignment that allows me to let my mind wander
again. Mostly I'm thinking about the Knight boys and what will happen later this
afternoon in the playtime session. By now I've changed my mind and I'm not
pissed at Brett after all, I can't stay mad at him. Then, just like that, the
final bell sounds and, on boy... my   heartbeat really picks-up with
anticipation of the upcoming playtime session... it's mere minutes away. I'm
half nervous and half excited. Friday's playtime was shocking in so many ways
it's impossible to make sense of it. One thing's for sure, I groveled
submissively under Brett's dominant control, and of course it was very painful
for me at times too, but still, I like Brett. He  even kissed me goodbye Friday
which was as shocking as anything else that happened that day; shocking that he
did it and shocking that I think I liked him doing it. Mostly I'm confused about
everything; I've never been involved in, or even heard about, anything
comparable to the situation I find myself in with these so-called playtimes. I'm
having conflicting thoughts about everything, one minute I like that I'm
involved in this and think it's sexy, the next minute it's, "Hey! What the fuck
is wrong with me, this sucks!!"  Brett's been especially  hard  on me and very
demanding, but half the time I think it's for my own  good. I'll be thinking
he's the coolest kid one minute, and the next minute I want to hate him. Brett
intrigues me for many different reasons and, like I said, I'm still trying to
sort it all out. Anyway, as I may have mentioned, heh heh, I've been jerking off
a lot lately, so... ha ha, it ain't all bad. Great big wet climaxes thinking
about Brett, and Junior too... really  hot, so that's the good part of all
this.

In the locker room I  fiddle-around taking my time changing into regular
clothes, waiting for everyone to leave. When they all clear-out I lock the rear
door, like I was told to do,  and then quickly get completely naked; naked
except for my leather dog collar with it's metal-mesh leash. Dropping down to
all fours, and feeling foolish as hell, I begin  whispering to myself, "I'm
Junior and Brett's boy-toy,  I'm Junior and Brett's  boy-toy!"  Sure, Junior's
mantra is stupid, but it actually  helps get  me  into the proper frame of mind
for this bizarre situation. My frame of mind at the moment is  this:
I'm resigned to my fate, resigned to my bad fucking luck, and determined to make
the best of it. Establishing a goal is always good, so for this playtime my goal
is to avoid the spankings and the face  slaps of last  Friday. My plan is to
immediately do  everything I'm told and to hell with how dumb I feel while doing
it. This is the quickest way to move the playtime session along and get to parts
more interesting like my so-called reward sessions. In short, I intend on being
the perfect brown-nosing-doggie-boy-toy, or whatever the fuck Brett and Junior
want to call me.

Dragging my leash I crawl on all fours from  the locker room  to the gym only
to find it empty. Well fuck! What now? There isn't even anyone here to witness
me doing the doggie crawl from the locker room. Hmmm, Junior  did say Monday
was a play day, right?  Neither of them said anything about a change in plans,
so what should I do now? Another  concern:  what if someone other than Junior or
Brett walks in here and sees me naked, on all fours, wearing a dog  collar?
Damn, footsteps are approaching and all of a sudden I'm wondering if I should
be on all fours or standing at attention. Oh fuck! At the last second I decide
I'd better get   in the attention position so I quickly do that,  my leash
hanging down my back, my chin up. Brett walks in, glances at me, nods his head
officiously and locks the door behind him, mumbling, "Junior will be along
later, he's got his own key so I'm locking the door." As he's approaching me,
I'm thinking, "Thank God I decided to stand at attention!" Okay, I do manage to
get lucky once in a while. Brett's fully clothed of course,  still wearing the
BJ uniform  of cargo shorts, golf shirt, red vest, and sneakers. He comes right
up to me and exams my dog  collar to  see that it's on correctly.   Then he
takes a step back, and asks,  "How'd  you get  from the locker room to here?" I
look him in the eyes, and say, "On all fours, doggie style, Sir." Pursing his
lips,  he rubs around my dick with the back of his fingers, asking, "When did
this area get shaved?" I tell him, "Last night, Sir," He asks, "Same for your
legs and underarms?" and I reply, "Yes, Sir!" Everything is going perfectly so
far. Brett narrows his eyes as if he only half believes me, then takes my dick
in  his little fist, ordering, "Come  with me!"   and, using my cock as a leash,
he leads me out of the  gym and back into the locker room, "The door locked in
here?" and I say the same thing I say to all his questions, "Yes, Sir."

Stumbling after  him into the locker room, with my cock firming up, I'm
wondering, "What now?". Brett holds on to my dick as he opens a cabinet and
grabs a roll of thick cotton twine and a pair of scissors. "Clasp your hands
behind you," he commands, and when  I do, he  walks me over to the  middle of
the room, still pulling me by my dick, and sits on a bench. Positioning me to
stand in front of him he strokes my cock a few times and I can feel myself
falling into that totally dominated, submissive trance  already, which is extra
weird since Brett's only been here about a minute. It has something to do with
the way he's so sure of himself... yeah, super sure of himself while doing the
most outrageously humiliating things to me, and he does these things without a
single concern about what I think about it. Letting go of my dick, Brett ties a
loop at the end of the string,   then cuts off about a yard. The loose end of
the string goes  through the  loop and he slips my scrotum through the circle of
string and pulls the slip knot very tightly  just  at the top of my nuts, near
the bottom of my scrotum. It's so  tight I  go, "Ahhh!". He gives me a stern
look and I stifle another groan. Brett strokes my cock a half dozen times
getting it semi-hard and lifting up and away from my nuts slightly. With my cock
out of the way he returns to my tied-up nuts. The string encircles my scrotum
right  above my balls as he loops  another strand around my  scrotum  below the
first one and pulls it tight,  it crunches my balls against the  bottom of my
scrotum even more. Another loop below the second one and my nuts ache. One
 final loop still lower and I'm bending forward, moaning, "Please, that hurts!"
Brett snaps, "Stand up straight! Stop your whining!" and he smacks the side of
my thigh, then another hard slap on the same spot and the stinging gets my
attention away from my nuts for a few seconds. He ties off  the bottom string
and  cuts off the excess. My nuts are  tightly packaged at  the very bottom of
my scrotum and feel very heavy for some reason. The skin covering my nuts is so
tightly  stretched it's shiny. Brett stands-up in  my space, like he always
does, and grabs my tightly packaged balls in his fist... I'm holding my breath.
We're almost touching as he lightly  squeezes my scrotum and I stifle a scream
of pain. "Oh for Chrissakes,  don't be such a baby," he says, snickering and
acting quite pleased with himself. Backing away from me,  he flicks my now
flaccid  cock up so that it lifts and  then flops down against my balls... I
grunt at the pain. He explains, "We're doing an  experiment to see if this will
keep you from having an orgasm. You know, the string will prevent your nuts
from traveling up to the  base of your cock and therefore prevent your balls
from firing cum up to your dick. God knows, you're always getting  boned-up,
plus you had those two big creamy orgasms Friday, so we'll see if this slows ya
up at all. You had that first big climax when I milked you, and then the second,
even larger one, when I  fucked your throat." I blush and bite the inside of my
cheek, thinking, "Yeah, how come I got so aroused when he fucked my throat? I'm
not gay!"

Brett's holding my packaged nuts again, groping himself as he studies his
handiwork, then he says, "No offense, but have you ever checked with your doctor
as to why you're so poorly endowed? You have the  smallest balls  I've ever seen
and your penis is a joke." I blush, then take a deep breath trying to get used
to the pain. Brett says, "Keep your  hands clasped behind you, tiny dick, or
you'll get a good hard spanking! I reclasped my hands, and mutter, "Yes, Sir,"
as Brett reaches up to flip his finger under my top lip, then he holds it
inside-out against my nostrils, and say, "Open!" I open my mouth without the
slightest idea what he's up to now, but knowing it'll be something demeaning to
me; something to demonstrate his power and dominance over me. "Bend at your
waist, please," he's using a phony tone of voice, like a doctor during a
physical exam might use. I bend forward until my head is at Brett's level, my
mouth still open wide. Brett leans over and peers in, saying, "Take a big breath
for me. " When I inhale, he says, "Hold it." After thirty seconds I start seeing
black dots in my vision and can feel my face getting red and hot. To tease me,
Brett blows a stream of air at me through a small "O" he's made with his lips,
his breath smells like bubble gum. Finally, "Okay, small balls, let  it out,"
and with him getting his face close to mine, I exhale my long-held breath. Brett
makes a face, and exclaims, "Offensive! You're breath's offensive.  Open wider,"
which I try to do, and his dirty fingers are in my mouth pinching my tongue and
pulling on it. Then his middle finger moves to my gag reflex at the top of my
throat and presses there getting me to gag and almost throw-up, then he presses
again, and the third time he does it he can't help but blurt out a laugh. I can
tell he was trying to hold it in. He blurted out this laugh and a moist mist of
bubble gum breath dampens my face. Getting his laughter under  control, he tries
acting angry, "Stop messing around!" as if I did the laugh. "Stick your tongue
out further, goddammit! Now lift  it, move it to the left...  now the right." He
makes me do this until my tongue is aching. "Keep your tongue out. I want you to
exercise your tongue so you can suck cock better. This will serve you well in
the future since you'll undoubtedly be sucking a lot of cock during your
lifetime. Oh, also... use lots of mouthwash before beginning playtime in the
future. In fact, bring a toothbrush for your locker; I want you brushing and
gargling with mouthwash before you leave work each day, not just our playtime
days... everyday!" I relax my tongue, blow out some air, and quietly say, "Yes,
Sir." There's no end to the ridiculous things Brett can think up, and each one
adds to the growing list of things I need to stay on top of, and Brett will
check... I know that for sure.

"Attention!" I get back up as straight as I can be. Brett, standing in front of
me, reaches around with both hands and gooses my bare ass while staring up into
my eyes, wordlessly challenging me to complain. No way am I  complaining, in
fact I like when  he touches me, if it doesn't cause a lot of pain. Brett's easy
to look at too; he might be the best looking boy I've ever laid eyes on, but
then, that evaluation might be partly a result of my brainwashing, or whatever
they've done to my brain. Brett makes a face at me, like, "Here we go!" his
eyebrows raised and his eyes big... he's mocking me of course. With a giggle
he pushes the tip of his finger inside my ass, it burns going in without
lubrication. I grunt, and Brett casually asks, "What? Don't pretend you aren't
enjoying this prostate exam. We take care of our boy toys." He pulls his finger
out and then pops it right back in. I grunt quietly again, biting my bottom lip.
As the finger goes in slowly, Brett conversationally says, "Oh, FYI... Junior's
tied balls the way I tie yours a couple of times, so you're not the first. The
last boy-toy Junior tied was Arnie, who was even  older than you by the way.
Unlike  you though, Arnie's legitimately straight, and so was the first boy
Junior did it too." Brett chuckles, remembering something, then says, "It's
funny, the first time Junior did it, he left the string around the boy's ball
too long and almost castrated the lad. Oh god! That was a big mistake. Anyway,
with Arnie's balls tied like yours, no matter what we did to him, he wasn't able
to produce much spunk.  We milked him for almost twenty minutes too, all we got
were dribbles of a watery precum. But, Jesus, was he ever moaning from the need
to climax, pathetic actually. Junior's string-strangulation of the boy's balls
was so effective the poor boy was unable to have any kind of orgasm until the
string was unwound from his scrotum. Straight boys are the most fun actually."
Brett's finger is up my asshole a good inch-and-a-half now, then he pulls it out
and says, "Open up!" Nothing surprises me  anymore, so I reluctantly open my
mouth again and in goes the finger. Disgusting! I suck his shitty-smelling
finger as he's busy with his other hand pinching closed my nostrils, smirking at
me, and saying, "Suck my finger clean, Mr. big shot college senior. I'll hold
your nose shut so ya won't need to smell your own shit. Ha ha ha!" After a
minute he pulls his finger out, smells it, and says, "Brush your teeth and use
mouthwash before Wednesday's session or you'll be paddle-spanked!" He barely
gets that out before getting into another one of his giggling fits. The boys
controlled their giggling much better in my initial interview, since then
they've been outwardly having fun playing with my body and mind, laughing and
mocking me openly. Turning away from me, it's like he's  giving himself a high
five for inventive humiliation. He's probably disappointed Junior's not here to
witness his actions, although I have no doubt Junior will eventually hear every
detail.

Brett gets his giggling under control again, turns back around, and says, "Okay,
here's what it is.  Brett's straight boys couldn't cum when their nuts were tied
so we wanna see what happens when the same experiment is carried out on a gay
boy-toy." Grinning, he squeezes my balls, and I screech, "Nooo, please!" Brett
chuckles and drops my nuts, as I'm asking myself, "Why does  he keep saying I'm
gay?"  I begin bouncing lightly from one foot to the other trying to keep from
whining about my throbbing, aching nuts. Brett immediately  gets an annoyed
expression on his  face, he reaches up and swats the side of my head, demanding,
"Stand still and pay attention! Forget your nuts and listen to what I'm telling
you. You're suppose to be looking at me, alert for any change of demeanor or
expression that might indicate that I want you to react differently. Unless I
specifically say to avert your eyes, concentrate on my face and my body
language. Learn to pick-up on the fact I'm upset with you and immediate change
whatever it is that you're doing. Change it until you can tell that you've
pleased me. When I'm not pleased unpleasant things happen, like this..." and he
swings his arm around from left field giving my face a slap to remember. It
caught me completely off guard and left me with rapidly blinking eyes, a hot
stinging face, and ringing in my ears. Tears form in my eyes so I lift my hand
to wipe the tears, but another fast hard slap connect with the same side of my
face and I'm seeing stars. He's so quick! "You're not looking at me! Expect
you're going to be slapped, forget about that. When you're  slapped take it as a
warning sign to increase your  awareness of my expression so you can avoid
another slap." I'm staring intently at him now, doing exactly what he just said.
He confidently and smugly looks back  at me as I feel the tears roll down my
cheeks. He can completely break me down so easily, and instead of being
pissed-off at him, I'm crazily  thinking that  I've never  admired another
person as much as I admire Brett. That's insane of course, but there it is. He
actually smiles at the way I'm intensely looking at him, then he quietly says,
"That's the way to do it, dickless. See, you can learn when you pay attention.
Lean over here." I lean into him and he does a nice hug around my waist with the
side of his face pressed against my chest. "His hair smells like Vitalis hair
tonic," is what I'm thinking, as I hug him back. It's such a tender hug more
tears roll down my cheeks; tears of relief that he's hugging, not slapping.
Brett's the most awesome person! I can't even grasp how awesome he is. He
quietly says, "You'll learn. Don't be discouraged, this is only your second
session. Give it a few weeks and you'll know how to reach the level of
submissiveness you need to reach." Swallowing hard, I forget about my urge to
beg for relief for my aching nuts. Instead I become even more docile for Brett,
mumbling,  "Yes, Sir." He's very hard on me, but I still think he's the coolest
fifteen year old I've ever met, the coolest kid of any age I've ever met.

After a few seconds, Brett pats my head, then gets back to being a stern master
and commands that I stand-up  straight again. He then examines my tied up balls
once  more, moving my cock  to  the side to study his handiwork. After a careful
evaluation, he says, "Your tiny nuts are becoming a bit swollen which should
tightens the package, which is good. Junior will be impressed. We're only in the
earliest stages of studying your body and  obviously we need to know how much
spunk you produce. That's pretty fucking basic. Okay?"  He asks "okay?" as if he
needs my approval. He's smiling now and squeezing my  shoulder to let me know
everything is okay. I'm intently watching him and see a questioning expression
on his face, raised  eyebrows and so forth, and it hits me right then that he's
waiting for me to  respond to his rhetorical  "Okay?" question. I mumble, "Yes,
Sir, I understand," and it hits me right then that I've just avoided another
face slap by picking-up on his body language. If I hadn't responded to his
questioning look... BAM! another smack across my face. He says, "Good, you're
learning!"  Brett's got tremendous leadership and teaching skills, and he's got
that compassionate side to him too. Another thing: Brett's got me concentrating
so much on his every move, I haven't even noticed the  ache in my balls.  My
pain in my balls has reduced to just a dull ache... so, if no one  else squeezes
them, I'll be  okay. Brett got me through the pain in my balls effectively, and
where Brett's concerned, I'm starting to think of one word: "genius" ... I
wonder if he realizes he's a genius?

"Get on all fours!" he orders, and I quickly get down, keeping my head
positioned so I can see his face at all times. I'm pleased with my frame of mind
at the moment... I'm keeping things on a positive keel! I've been vacillating
from positive to negative thoughts ever since being hijacked by these two, but I
want the positive outlook to be prevalent so I'm concentrating on that today.
I'm also thinking about how Brett always looks so  cool, and there real beauty
in his face as well; actually he's kind of beautiful, or is this more of the
brainwashing taking over my brain?  Brett gives me a swift kick in my bare  ass,
then yanks on my leash leading me back into the gym. Oops, my mind wondered
there for a second and I missed one of Brett's body language signals, I guess.
Walking on all fours, my bags of nuts feels real heavy as it swings under me and
I  need to stifle little, "Ow!" sounds  each time the tight package bounces off
one of my thighs. Junior's   re-locking the door as we come into the gym. Over
his shoulder, he asks Brett, "Ya get his balls  tied up yet?" Brett goes, "Yeah,
no problem. He's docile for the most  part, he knows to do what he's told... a
few slaps across his face to get his attention, but nothing major. He's not like
Victor after all, this one is more of a pussy, crybaby." Junior comes  over to
pet my head, then,  "Yeah,  he is. Guess we made our point with him Friday
afternoon. Didn't we college boy? You get the message who's in charge here?" I
mumble, "Yes, Sir." He smirks in my face, then says to Brett, "You did a great
job  breaking him down. Our boy here gets the message to cooperate or suffer
discipline." Then, Junior wanting to get a better look at my tied-up  balls,
tells me, "Roll over on your back, big shot! Paws up. Let's see  how Brett did."
On the hardwood gym floor, I roll onto my back with my arms and legs in the air.
Brett immediately  reaches down and slaps me hard under my  thigh, leaving a
hand print in white,  saying, "When you're in the paws-up  position you're to
automatically spread your legs wide  for inspection." Then  another hard  slap
on the  same spot, and I grunt, "Oww!" as I spread my legs  exposing my cock and
balls. Junior kneels down and moves my cock to the side to get a better look.
"Woooeee, Brett! Good job here, very neat." Naturally, he squeezes the   tight
package and I bite my lip groaning quietly at the pain. "Okay," he   says to me,
"You do as your told, dawg, or one of us will give you a hard squeeze down
here." I say, "Yes, Sir." That's going to be my  response to  everything... it's
easy to remember. I know when I'm beaten, and I know I don't have a chance
against these two. Junior goes, "He's your dog, Brett. Should we get him tied-up
now, and do that extra discipline you talked about?" Brett's like, "Yep, that's
my plan. Lots of discipline in the early weeks will result in a very compliant
boy-toy." Junior's nodding his approval, asking,  "After that, maybe you can
reward him by letting him suck us off before training lessons begin. What do ya
think?" Brett  says, "Ya  read  my mind bro." That's just swell! I'm  thinking,
"Not more  discipline... that's exactly what I was trying to avoid. I had two
goals for today: One, eliminate the face slaps, and two, avoid the paddling and
within ten minutes both of those goals has blown up in my face! Fuck!"

I almost make the mistake of asking why I'm getting  disciplined, but my
training enables me to catch myself in time. I'm not in a position to question
anything; just do  what I'm told. And, ya know, I hate the discipline, but the
thought of sucking their cocks isn't worrying me all that much anymore. After I
did it Friday, what's the big deal?  Every day millions of people suck off
somebody.  Junior pulls on the leash, he's choking me to get me up on my feet.
Then he informs me, "When I pull up like this, you're  to immediately stand.
You'll be trained  to  know what command I'm giving just by the way the collar
chokes you. Some of  your  training will be conducted  with a slip collar which
allows me much more control of the degree of tightness I want on your throat. Of
course  if you're a slow learner we'll use the shock collar." Then he tugs on my
leash, saying, "Over here." Confused with all the collar talk, I  follow
docilely.  Brett continues his dissertation, "Junior  trained our last boy-toy,
Victor, with the slip collar and that boy passed-out unconscious at least a half
dozen times  from lack of oxygen; he was a feisty one alright. You're more of a
pussy so I expect you'll probably obey  quicker, but  still you're sure to lose
consciousness a couple of times during the training." We've walked over to the
corner of the gym where Brett orders me to lean over a PVC pipe that's there.
The main section of  the pipe comes up from  the floor and goes right up to the
ceiling. About three-and-a-half feet up, at a ninety degree angle, an extension
connects to the main pipe and runs over to the wall about four feet away. This
is the pipe I lean over. It's a five inch drain pipe  left  exposed when this
unused area of the warehouse was converted into a gym.  The pipe feels
surprisingly cold on my bare belly when I'm doubled over the horizontal section
of pipe. The boys chuckle among themselves as they tie my  wrists to my ankles:
left wrist to right ankle and  crisscross my arms to tie my right wrist to my
left ankle. I swing there a bit because my feet don't touch the floor when my
ankles are tied to my wrists. This is very uncomfortable!  My tight ball sac  is
almost touching the pipe so if I move  just a little it'll get crunched. I'm
concentrating on  being very still.

Looking from my upside-down position I see  Brett going back into the locker
room and a minute later he returns carrying what looks like a jockstrap. "I
found this in the trash,  Junior. One of the guys threw it out." He  smells it
and goes, "Eeewwww! That's gross." Junior  laughs and laughs, then says,
"Perfect!" He  takes it and kneels down a little to get a hand on my forehead
pulling my head up slightly, and commands, "Open wide. This jockstrap will be
your gag during the discipline. Today there are garden center people unloading
outside which is why we locked the door.  We don't want you yelling and
attracting attention, so we'll use a gag." Then to Brett, "If he  doesn't
cooperate, squeeze  his nuts." Oh no! I open my mouth as wide as I can and
Junior stuffs in the jockstrap. It's an extra large jockstrap and I can only
imagine the huge cock and balls that rested in it. There are a number of pubic
hairs from the jock that stick to my lips as Junior works that big smelly thing
inside my mouth. When he's done, every part of my mouth is totally full of
smelly jockstrap; my tongue  is plastered to the bottom of my jaw with a  little
bit of it pushed back to invade the  gag reflex area making for an extremely
uncomfortable situation. Sweat breaks  out on my  forehead as  I fight off the
urge to throw-up. I can't utter a  single syllable, sweat burns my eyes. Through
the  burning I see   Junior take two ping pong paddles out of the
closet; goddamned paddling again! My buttocks  twitches as I nervously  breathe
through my nose, dreading the next few minutes.

Standing on either side of me, the boys paddle my ass, some of the  whacks miss
my buttocks and hit the back of my thighs as tears flowed from my eyes joining
sweat that drooles into my short hair from my forehead; mucus is soon running
from my nose joining  the sweat. The paddling is very painful but I stayed still
through each "Smack!!" so that my balls at least don't get crushed along with
my ass. Except for muffled throat sounds, I make no noise because the gag
prevents it. If I could have, I'd scream like a wild banshee, and beg for
mercy. In my mind I was screaming, but even so, when it's Brett whacking my ass
with the paddle my dick has a weirdly pleasant  tingling to go  alone with the
painful stinging on my buttocks. The boys swing their  arms  around and up
getting the flesh on my buttocks or the back of my thighs on the upswing which
drags everything upward with each painful strike. They did it like a
competition: who can make the perfect strike against my ass cheek. There was
some mock cheering from both playful boys, but they really worked at it and both
boys were perspiring by the time my discipline was completed.

When the spanking ends my face, from my mouth to my forehead, is wet with sweat,
tears, mucus, and saliva. Junior's spraying the pain-relief spray on my ass and
the back of my thighs as the boys argue about who won the competition of best
paddler. They're very competitive. The spay went a long way towards alleviating
the lingering pain, but the spanking had been a hard thing to endure while  it
was going  on. Brett's declared the winner finally and he does some kind of
goofy  touchdown dance that gets Junior laughing. I'm feeling weak from the
brutal discipline, but the boys are really enjoying themselves.  When Junior's
done spraying the pain relief stuff on me, Brett says, "By the way, marble nuts,
after a few weeks we won't be using the spray, so expect your discipline to stay
with you for awhile longer." Then he uses pliers to take out my gag, saying,
"I'm not touching that disgusting thing with my fingers ever again!" What  a
great  feeling to have that smelly jockstrap pulled out  of my mouth and I move
my tongue all around getting the saliva spread to the dry spots. Brett carries
the jock in the jaws of the pliers to the trash barrel, holding it away from his
body like it's toxic. Junior thinks that's a riot and laughs as they exchange
inane comments. It's got me wondering if these boys are using the poppers 'cause
this stuff just ain't that funny. Or, maybe it's just not that funny to  me.

A bit later, while  untying  my wrists and ankles, Brett explains that he'd
called for this discipline himself because I'd been acting too somber. He
explains that it's  fine  being docile, but I need to be more animated as well.
This extra discipline was needed to insure that I not forget that it's
necessary for me to be docile, but, at the same time, also excited about
playtime and thrilled to see Brett and Junior. "Let your excitement at being our
boy-toy show. Show us your proud of that!" Standing now, dizzy from having the
blood rush to my head during the spanking, and still whimpering a bit, I manage
to nod my head excitedly. My face is dripping with tears, sweat and mucus but I
don't dare wipe at it. Instead I process this new information: I'm to be docile
while excited and thrilled at the same time. What could be simpler? Fuck it!
I'll do it: opening my eyes wide and  putting on an excited  expression, I
listen intently to every word either  of them says, and at the  same  time
stupidly nod  my head in agreement. Junior notices my phony expression, "That's
a little better. Focus all  your attention on us... nothing else  matters in
your life during playtime except me and, especially   Brett."

Brett's  behind me checking things out back there, he goes,  "There a lot of
bruising on the back of his thighs.  Hmmm, lay  back over the pipe again,
Brian... I'll get some cream for these bruises,  it'll help them heal quicker.
We may have gone overboard here a bit. He chuckles, "Heh, heh, heh!" then adds,
"Yeah, we're overly aggressive at times, but we're compassionate with our
boy-toys too... this cream will help." See, I gotta give Brett credit... he's
looking out for me again; taking care of me.  He's hard on me with the training,
but I know he likes me too. My ass is numb from the spray, but the cream sounds
like a good idea so I move my  head  excitedly before laying my belly on the
pipe again, my torso and  arms hanging over the other side. Junior says to
Brett, "Hell, it'll be easier if I just do   a quick retie. It'll keep him in
place  while we do what we gotta do," and he reties my wrists to my ankles as
Brett's goes off somewhere for the cream. I don't know where Junior went, but
neither of them reappeared  for twenty minutes or so and it was tremendously
uncomfortable in  this position for that length of time!  Blood again flooding
my head, and it's really hard  on my stomach too. The twenty minutes seemed much
longer. Finally, walking across  the gym floor whistling, Brett's comes up to me
and puts his foot on the back of my head giving me a push, I swing back and
forth on the pipe a couple of times further hurting my aching belly. He says, "I
had to buy this in the Pharmacy section, couldn't find the other tube." As if I
care! Doesn't he realize how terrible it is being  helpless like  this? Not that
I complained out-loud, but I'd let myself get pissed-off again and that doesn't
really help matters... be grateful it's almost over and can be put behind me.
Doubled over this  fucking PVC pipe is convenient for Brett because my ass and
the back of my thighs are right there for him to easily apply the cream, so he
leaves me gasping is this position as he covers both cheeks with the cream. I
can feel his hands on me, but my buttocks are mostly numb, then I feel a cool
slippery finger slide into my asshole, which isn't numb past my anus. The finger
felt real good with the cream acting as a lube. Brett asks, "How's that feel,
girlie-boy?" I grunt, "Nice, Sir." Pulling his finger out and spreading the
cream down to the back  of  my thighs, he says, "We'll start dildo play in a few
days to prepare your pussy for our big cocks. You'll get it all before we're
through, and I'm betting you're gonna love it all too."  For the record, I
never had any doubts they'd eventually  be  putting more than a finger up my
ass; I'm not  so naive as to think I'll escape that indignation.

Finished spreading the  cream, his finger slides up inside me again, much deeper
this time and, oh my god, it feels so good! As he finger fucks me Brett's breath
is coming out in short wheezing burst. He settles in massaging my prostate and
this activity quickly gets my  tightly wrapped nuts churning spunk and my  dick
is  definitely chubbing-up; not boner-hard, just chubby, but I'm thinking, "Oh
fuck, rubbing inside my asshole right at that spot... it feels like I'm going to
cum, and I'll probably get spanked again if I do." But the  string wrapped
around my nuts prevented that from  happening, it's the  strangest feeling to
know you're going to have an orgasm, yet you never have it. That great feeling
that precedes orgasm just keeps going indefinitely;  it's not a bad feeling at
all, but I imagine the  longer it went on, and the need to climax grew and grew,
it might get to be an unbearably frustrating situation... one of high anxiety.
Pulling his finger out, he says, "Okay, crybaby...  that should do the trick for
now." Then he finally unties me and let's me stand-up. I'm really dizzy this
time, then as I get my balance and I'm stretching out some of the kinks from
being bent over that pipe so long I notice my cock's firm enough from the
finger fucking to lift away from my body and that would be embarrassing a week
or so ago. Not now though, I  don't  even  think about things like that anymore;
I'm used to being naked and aroused in front of the boys, it comes with the
territory.  The boys are still getting a kick out of it though, Junior points at
my chubbed cock shaking his head and holding his fingers about three inches
apart getting a good laugh from Brett. My dick can't compare to the Knight
brother's cocks, but it's longer than that! The brothers have a good laugh
mocking me, and when the hilarity runs-down Brett calls me to attention again. I
stand there as the boys use wet paper towels to wash my face of the dried mucus,
sweat, and tears resulting from the paddling. The do it like I'm a six year old
just getting over a crying jag. Brett's holds a dry paper towel to my nose, a
finger on either side of my nostrils, "Blow hard, crybaby!" and when I do,
Junior says, "Jesus, what a wuss  you are, O'Rielly!" Brett scrubs my face hard
then and finally dries it and then does his hugging thing, showing  me  there's
no hard feelings about me screwing-up. It's like, I did the crime and now I've
done the time, so all's forgiven... as if it's me who needs forgiving! But, it
definitely does feels better to be hugged than  spanked and couple of grateful
tears of relief  roll down my cheeks, which I manage to wipe away with the  back
of my hand before Brett sees  them.  I'm feeling this strange kind of closeness
to the Knight brothers now,  especially little Brett. Yes, they discipline me,
but they take care of me too. As much as I know it's crazy, I'm grateful the
boys  are being kind to me and I hug them both back,  whispering,  "Thank  you,
Sirs." To that, Brett reaches up and pinches my cheek painfully... Jesus, he's
strong. He snarls, "Don't be so fucking wimpy! And, call me Master from now on,
same for Junior. I think we've brought you to the point where we'll allow you to
address us that way, and I know you'll feel comfortable using that respectful
word. Won't you. pussy?" He's just putting-on this tough act to balance the kind
one, so I don't take offense. I just say, "Yes, Master," and using that word
made my dick to chub-up a little more so that now it's now poking Brett's
stomach as we finish our hug. Brett backs off, points to it, and the brothers
share a mocking laugh at that too. My face got hot and my eyes got damp... they
have this mean streak in them, which hurts, but overall I'm staying positive.
I'm concentrating on the positives.

It's disappointed when Brett  finally lets up  on the hug that he felt he needed
to mock me, but the positive in this situation is that his little  body had felt
so good in my arms during the hug... that's what I'll concentrate on. Junior's
got my  leash now, he says, "Get down, dickless," and I get on all fours, ready
to go with one of my masters. He leads me over to the  little desk where he
moves the desk chair next to the side chair, explaining, "Brett's agreed to let
you  suck both our cocks. You suck one for a couple of   minutes,  then the
other...  and if you do it good you get  to  do it until we both spunk down your
throat, or in your face, whatever. How's that sound?" Remembering I'm now
supposed to get excited about everything, on my hands and knees I'm  visualizing
a dog wagging  it's  tail and I shake my body, hopping up and down off my knees,
excitedly saying, "Oh  thank you, Master!" Brett's like, "Calm down brown-noser,
you don't need to overdo it," and he smacks the back of my head. The two chairs
are a couple feet apart with Junior's the only one seated. Brett goes, "Okay,
let's see if you remember the proper way to get to our cocks." Since Junior's
the only one sitting, I doggie walk in between his legs, then raise up on my
knees. Then, as Brett sits down in his side chair to  observe me, I lean over
and unbutton Junior's shorts. Right after that I nestle my nose in his lap
getting a good hold, between my front teeth, of the zipper's tab. Remembering
Junior's warning that  I'll  get five paddles if the tab  slips out of  my
teeth, like it did Friday afternoon, I carefully keep my jaws tightly closed on
that little  piece of  metal and slowly pull it down,  opening his  fly.  Then,
using both paws, er, I mean both hands, I spread apart his shorts and reach
inside to extract his big cock. Next, his bag of nuts get pulled   out as I
inhale his crotch aroma, wondering, "How's it possible I'm captivated by the
animal  smell of the boy's crotches?"  But ya know, it's almost as if I've been
waiting to do this since... since when? Since Frank Barns? Is that possible? Oh
man, I'm so fucked-up! I don't understand any of this, but I do like that smelly
crotch, and okay, I don't really mind sucking their cocks all  that much either.
Dammit! I gotta admit to myself it's true.

Looking up at  Junior for his command, he goes, " Do the kiss hello, college
boy."  I lean down,  inhaling deeply, feeling my dick swell  again. I give the
urine-smelling  head of his cock a really good kiss, lasting maybe two seconds,
then sloppy wet kisses for each of   his hairy balls, then look back up to
Junior for more instructions. And maybe praise. Junior says, "You did that okay,
so here," and he  holds out his hand, in the palm is a small dog biscuit shaped
like a tiny bone, about the size of a jelly bean, "Here's your treat." I
hesitate, but  quickly think better of it and lick the doggy treat from his
hand and  crunch it between my teeth  moving my head and shoulders like I'm
excited about this awesome doggie treat. He goes, "What a dork," but chuckles
and then pats my head. "Now do your master's lap." The dog biscuit taste  like
cardboard. I repeat the zipper  procedure and the other stuff perfectly for
Brett too,  and  get a head rub and a, "Good doggie!" for my efforts. Then, "You
can kiss it and then take a taste." Between the two boys, as I've said, I'm
attached to Brett the most, after all, he is my main master. He's also much
stricter with me, but I think that's  because he feels the responsibility of
training me properly... he's awesome most of the time. I do a  long kiss on his
cock... he roughly pulls the short hairs at the front of my head. I let an
"Ouch!" slip out which gets Brett yanking harder at the hairs. Then he's rubbing
his fingers together dislodging a half dozen short hairs he'd pulled out by the
roots as I'm seeing red in my vision 'cause that hurt! As if nothing happened,
he casually asks, "You like the smell of your master's crotch?" Ignoring the
hair pulling now, I lean over to inhale deeply once more, then murmur, "Yes,
Master," and he says, "Well, I've got a  surprise for you, prep school grad.
You're to take my shorts off and get your whole face in my  crotch." He stands
up then, and orders, "Do it, girlie/boy!" I  do some head bobbing to imitate a
dog anxious to obey, then pull his pants  down and get them off over his
sneakers... next his boxer shorts come off and there it was: his whole  naked
crotch. Brett's limp cock looks huge hanging from his  slim frame, same for his
balls,  but the amount of pubic hair grabs most of my attention. Sitting back
down, he goes, "Lick my  balls now,  get underneath them, all around. Do it,
Fido!" I do exaggerated panting then dive into his crotch with my face.

Prior to last week, I'd  be like, "Eeeewwww!"   if made to do this, but now it's
more like, "Okay, here I go!" My face presses into his pubes, my head and tongue
in constant motion lapping the pubic hairs flat against his belly. The aroma is
so strong, and since the boys have brainwashed me into thinking it's a sexy
oder, my cock totally firms-up. When his pubes are plastered to  his skin I
start licking all  around his nuts. My nose slipping over the wet pubes inhales
the aroma there in bursts as my tongue does none-stop lapping. There's saliva's
dripping from my chin, and shortly from Brett's nuts. My  neck is straining now,
lapping under his scrotum and  beyond. Finally, as Brett scrunches forward in
the chair using his forearms on the arms of the chair to lift his ass off the
seat, my  tongue is able to flick the edge of his bum hole leaving an  acrid
shit-taste on my tongue; the second time I've tasted shit today. There's a ring
of hair  surrounding his  hole, which isn't surprising with all that hair around
his dick, but  I don't really care that he's hairy 'cause I've developed a
growing attraction for him lately. Maybe that's just an offshoot of me being in
this helpless situation, but the attraction seems real enough to me. Brett's
getting to be like my  idol or something. Lifting his ass off the seat gets me
straining my neck even further and my tongue reaches all the way across his
hole, then again and the very idea of licking  Brett's asshole sends a thrill
chill racing around my groin. I lap the asshole hairs flat and then begin
licking his hole clean. A real dog couldn't lap his ass any better than I'm
doing. The taste is offensive of course, just like the taste of my shit off
Brett's finger a little while ago, but it fades as I swallow and continue
licking. Brett's grunting quietly, then breathing  noisily through his nose in
little bursts, and I'm soon doing the same thing.  After a few minutes of
licking his asshole, Brett breathlessly says, "More   tongue!". My tongue is
aching now and as I lick his anus with long laps my tongue is sticking out of my
mouth further than I would have thought possible. I keep visualizing how a dog
laps at something and try to imitate that. Exhausted from the effort, I move
backward a few inches to lick his nuts again, a much less strenuous endeavor.
Then, as the reality of what I've just done registers in my brain, my heart
starts pounding hard and it's scary, "Oh my god, I just licked Brett's ass!!"
 His big cock is very hard now, rubbing across my face as I suck his nuts.
Pushing the big boner aside I get one of his balls in my mouth, then realize
there might be a problem. His balls appear to  be too big to get  both in my
mouth at the same time... uh oh. He wants them both in though, so using my
fingers I try shoving the second one in and when the first one is hanging
partially down my throat I  actually  succeed, but I'm gagging again. That
goddamn gag reflex problem is such a pain in the ass! I fight it off, sucking
and licking his hairy nuts the best I can with such a mouthful. Brett's long
boner is beside my nose extending above my forehead now. He  pulls up his
t-shirt and I press his boner away from my face, against  his belly... the big
knob-head extends maybe three inches past his belly button. My master is really
hung!

In  almost a bored monotone, Junior says, "Hey, prep school fag,  you got
another master over here, remember?"  Brett's huffing and puffing as he smacks
my face, and yells, "Ease up for a second with that tongue of yours! I don't
want to blow my load too soon. Look up at me!" My eyes are at the top of their
sockets as I look into Brett's eyes, my mouth and throat stuffed with his balls.
All of a sudden I feel so scummy, what am I doing? Brett says, "Don't fucking
swallow my nuts, homo! Gently, pull them  out of your mouth and give  them back
to me." A chuckle from Junior and another light smack on my face from Brett as
the brothers look at each other and laugh at the slut they've turned me into.
Junior's like, "Holy shit, we never recruited a true homo before and I'm not
sure if it's more fun this way or more fun to see the straight boys during the
sex sessions." Brett says, "The straight boys are more fun if ya ask me. Seeing
the humiliation they're feeling is awesome!" Then to me, "You're alright too,
dickhead, don't pout," and they both laugh a mocking laugh at me, which I'm
getting used to. The problem is I'm just realizing how ridiculously carried away
I got with the balls sucking and asshole licking. What the fuck have they done
to my brain? My face is turning scarlet as I very slowly pull my head back, and
little by little Brett's nuts slip out of my mouth with a string of saliva
connecting from his hairy  sac  to my tongue, then the string breaks and the
thin thread of  spit mixed with precum lazily falls down my  chin, and then onto
my neck.  My cock is like a wooden pole, it's sticking straight out from my
belly, slowly dripping precum. My balls are slightly swollen and completely numb
from the scrotum string strangulation. Still, precum made it's way from
someplace so maybe I'm going to be able to have a messy climax after all.

"Get over here, ya Brown University faggot!" snaps Junior. In a daze, I take one
last look at Brett's package, wondering, "Why did I think licking his ass was so
hot? No idea, but it was."  Walking to Junior's chair on my hands and knees, I'm
trying  to pluck some  of Brett's pubic hairs from my mouth until Brett yells,
"Stop! You've gotta swallow whatever  you  get from  my body! Keep swallowing
until your mouth is clear." Wow, swallowing these curly pubic hairs  is easier
said than done. They're stuck  inside my  mouth and hard to dislodge with just
my tongue, but I work at it and get most of the crisp curly things swallowed, or
at least back near my throat. In between Junior's knees I'm remembering to
maintain  this happily excited expression with lots of head nods and shoulder
shakes as though I'm wicked excited about  all this. Finally, impatient, Junior
says, "Okay, ass-wipe, open up, let me see!" I open wide and he peers in, then
puts his fingers in my mouth to feel around; the second set of fingers in my
mouth today. His fingers taste like cardboard, just like the doggie treat. We'd
unloaded cardboard boxes all  afternoon and, like Brett, he probably hasn't
gotten around to washing his hands yet. He  says, "Okay, that's good enough. Get
to it, college senior, lick my sweaty nuts." I hate when they remind me of how
much older I am than them; it makes what I'm doing even more humiliating, but
that's probably the point, right?

What fills my mind when I lean into Junior's crotch is the aroma. Junior's
cock and balls smells very similar to Brett's and I try to convince myself that
I don't really think it's a sexy smell, but lying to myself does me no good. I
like the smell of both crotches, but I prefer Brett's. He's obviously
brainwashed me into idolizing everything about him. Following the same  pattern
of licking and sucking of Junior's balls as I did for Brett, except I can only
reach some of his pubic area because he didn't take his shorts off.  My boner
never  went down while sucking off Junior so it's not like Junior has no  effect
on me, it's just not as pronounced as Brett's. Okay, I need a reality check
here:  is it possible Frank Barns indoctrinated me into this type behavior ten
years ago?  And if he did, should I be grateful or ripping mad about it. I
hesitate to call it  homosexual behavior  because I  don't feel I'm gay, but how
else to explain my boners and climaxes? It's something I need to really think
about  and try  analyzing sometime soon. Perhaps it's like the cross-dresser
anomaly  where cross dressing men have the fetish of dressing  like woman, yet
most of them aren't  gay. Maybe my  fetish is simply that I'm sexually aroused
by dominant boys... or maybe I actually am gay, although I'll be surprised if
that's the case. In other words, it will surprise me if I'm  looking to suck
boys cocks when  I'm not being forced to do so, but then again, maybe I'm
fooling myself there 'cause Brett knows much more about this than me, and he
says I'll be sucking cock all my life. Hmmmm, what to think? To say the boys
have me totally fuck-up in the head is an understatement. I contradict myself
repeatedly trying to understand my behavior, both my conscious and my
subconscious behavior. All I can do is struggle along until I see the light at
the end of the tunnel, and, in the meantime, why not let myself go and try
enjoying whatever I can out of this whole disastrous  situation?

Forgetting about the self analysis I let myself mindlessly lick and suck
Junior's balls, my face is soon covered  in my own spit. Rubbing my head and
grunting from the sensations, Junior gasps, "Suck my big cock now, rich boy."
His cock is hard and leaking, just like mine and Brett's. When I guide his cock
inside my warm wet mouth an unexpected  moan slips from my throat, "Mmmmmm,
ahhhhh". I had no  idea I'd moan with pleasure like  that, but I'm done
analyzing the reasons behind everything that happens, this is a whole new world
for me and I'm back to going with the flow. For instance, why lie to myself, the
skin texture of the head and shaft on Junior's cock but feel awesome on my
tongue and I close my eyes to concentrate on the texture and taste. Sucking down
some precum, I think,"Uh oh, open your eyes, dummy!"  I had that thought a
fraction of a second too late as Brett smacks my  face  hard. "You're a slow
learner! Worship  Junior's cock! You  need your eyes open to do that." He'd
stepped over as soon as I closed my eyes to give me the slap; obviously Brett's
very conscientious about my training.  Stepping back to his chair he gives  my
bare ass a hard smack on the way, saying, "Energy! Pay attention!" That got me
bobbing up and down on Junior's boner, slobbering spit along the way. I've been
spending too much time trying to rationalize away the obvious fact that I'm
sexually aroused by sucking the boys balls and cock... rationalizing is a waste
of time. Suspend old values and embrace your new life, that's a survivalist's
philosophy; everything will go more smoothly if I can remember that.

Junior's cock is now steadily  dripping precum. I'm not allowed to swallow cum
until told to, but the precum's apparently okay to swallow; it's not all that
bad if you don't think about it too much.  Just in time I get my head in the
proper position to take  his cock into my throat, avoiding another smack across
my face... see, I'm learning!  Obviously, Brett's a  hard  disciplinarian, but
perhaps I'm learning more quickly because of that.. see, I'm gonna go with a
positive attitude from now on. And then, I avoid yet another potential slap by
massaging my own throat in preparation to take Junior's cock.  He grunts,
squirms, and then makes a  wheezing sound  sucking air in between his  lips,
approaching his climax. The head of his cock  slides against the  roof of my
mouth, then presses against the opening to my  throat...  and then is forced
past my gag  reflect area and is slowly pushed all the  way down my throat until
my nose buries in his bush. The bulbous knob leads the way, expanding my throat
as it goes; my hand feels the enormous bulge in my throat while precum begins
leaking in a thin stream from my cock; somehow it's a sexual turn-on for me to
be abused like this, so I'm going to enjoy it.  Junior pulls back, air  rushes
in through my nostrils, then that huge salami is pushed back down my throat
again   blocking my breathing passages and I feel like an explosion is about to
happen in my hard, crushed nuts. It's awkward and uncomfortable, but I'm also
aroused enough by it to feel stabs of pain jolting my nuts and then another
drizzle of cum slowly oozes from my boner. I stroke it twice and get a loud slap
across my face for my   trouble.   "Never touch yourself without asking
permission!" Junior orders. Well, I do  remember him  saying that before, but
how the fuck can I ask permission with his big cock down my throat? And another
thing: even from Junior that slap was   kinda  sexy and causes more creamy cum
to ooze from my boner... no big climaxes, but the oozing feels awesome too, and
lasts longer too.

I gotta face the facts here, I kinda like being abused. Junior begins a steady
fucking of my face, and it's getting to be the hottest time for me... electric
sensations twirl around my cock and balls, then a buzzing sensation  moves
outward to my belly; my whole body shudders with that awesome electric buzzing.
Junior squeals  unexpectedly, actually  squeals like a  girl as he's thrusting
his crotch forward to smash my nose against   his belly and then, making another
strange squeal, Junior fires his load into my throat coating it with creamy
boy-spunk, thick and sticky. He pulls his cock out of my throat for his second
blast and it hits the back of my mouth causing my dick to vibrate twice before a
splash of my own cum splatters my belly. I can't articulate how aroused I get
from him climaxing in my mouth, it's very, very hot though! Junior leaves his
cock in my mouth firing off some additional shots of spunk; thick, salty, tasty
boy-spunk. Can't articulate that taste either, other than to say it's a taste I
like. This time I'm able to save much more of his cum than I did Friday. Junior
finally pulls out, telling Brett, "Fuck! He's a good cocksucker!" I was proud
hearing Junior compliment me to my master. I patiently hold a mouthful of
Junior's cum, mostly on my tongue, waiting until he gives the "Show" order. Then
he says it, "Show me!" and out comes my cum-covered tongue. "Swallow!" is his
next command and I do so with two gulps. Like I  said, it tastes good to me now.
It's really creamy when it  first comes out of Junior's cock, but liquifies in
my mouth rather quickly. I find myself staring at his cock. Could it be I want
another taste?  He says, "Don't drool all over yourself looking at my penis, get
that dopey look off your face and do  your master now, dufus!" Remembering my
recent paddling, I   act doggie-excited about the thought of sucking off Brett,
and get another doggie treat for my trouble... I'm thinking a sarcastic,
yippee!" As I crunch the disgusting tasting dog biscuit into small pieces I
notice my cock's still dripping watery cum, but it's a much slower drip now that
I don't have a cock in my throat. Obviously the  slowness also has a lot to due
with my  balls' current tied-up, squashed situation too and I guess I'm okay
with that  because it's  causing my climax to drag-out into numerous smaller
ones   instead of  one big blast. Apparently Brett's tied those nuts of mine
perfectly! The little climaxes feel good.

Done the doggie treat, I doggie-walk to Brett's  chair and admitting to myself
that both boys are very fucking attractive as I go.  That makes all this a
little easier to swallow, so ta speak.  On all  fours, between Brett's legs,
without thinking, I stick my nose  into his pubes and get two surprises: One, my
saliva from earlier has dried on his pubic hairs making them  stiffer.  My
second surprise shouldn't have been a surprise, but it was... a stinging slap
across my face, followed immediately by another one. My eyes water as Brett
yells, "Back-up and get up on your  knees; I'll tell you when you can sniff my
balls. Bad doggie!" and a third hard, loud slap has me seeing stars again. That
one gets Junior's  chuckling, then  muttering, "Jesus, bro, you're tough!". He
is, but I let myself drift off into a daydream frame of mind and wasn't paying
attention. I've got to do better; Brett never slaps when I obey or do something
correctly, only when I screw-up. He's staring at me with a stern expression on
his cute face, looking about thirteen years old. His beautiful multi-tone blue
eyes are glaring at  me. I can't hold his stare though and look down feeling a
deep  submissiveness, and it's especially strong right  now because I've let him
down somehow. Silence for a minute, me feeling worthless but not wanting to
think about that, or anything else right now. Then Brett says, "Okay, get down
on  all fours and get your nose into my bush, but wait for my  instructions in
the future." I hurry to comply, quietly  saying, "Thank you, master." My nose
burrows into his pubic hair and he rubs my head, saying, "You'll learn one way
or another." The aroma of his crotch again stiffens my cock back up to full
boner status. I  lick around the base of his cock again and  this time Brett
arches his back and scoots his ass forward more than he did earlier giving me
full  access to  his asshole. His short legs actually go over my shoulders, one
on either side of my neck... I like the feel of his silky skin against my
back.

Now that I'm admitting it to myself that I kinda like  sucking cocks, I need to
deal with an even more astonishing realization: I kinda like sucking Brett's
asshole too. It's beyond comprehension, but there it is! I admit it! I like
licking his asshole! My tongue laps over the rosy-red lips of his anus once more
flattening the hairs that  surround it. Allowing myself to totally enjoy the
experience, my nose is in his ass crack, my eyes closed with my lips pressing
against his buttocks. I kiss his asshole with lots of tongue and his anus
quivers. Brett's making a hissing noise between  his teeth as he lowers his body
some from his hold on the arms of the chair. His thin biceps are showing
proportioned definition looking hard as metal as he holds himself off the chair
and adjusts his legs on my shoulders giving me more exposure to his  hole. Ya
know, some things are so mysterious there's no sense trying to make  sense of it
and that's the way it is with me  sucking and kissing and  licking  Brett's ass.
It's arousing to inhale the mixed smells down here too: his crotch smell is
strong, and there's a hint of shit, and a touch of BO as well. Brett's ass-crack
BO, after working all day on the hot docks, is a heavy smell of something musty
and sickeningly sweet, yet sexy. Getting into ass licking again, I do a long lap
up his ass crack, then do the same thing two more times  before sucking on his
asshole with a lot of tongue action. I'd  cleaned his anus with my tongue
earlier so no shitty taste now, just a touch of the lingering smells that I
mentioned. When  I spread his buttocks apart with my thumbs, stretching his hole
sideways, it allows me to get  the tip my tongue inside him and then, once
again, I do experience that familiar  acrid shitty  taste. Somehow it makes me
want more so I keep working my  tongue into his hole. In the background I hear
Brett doing his hissing sounds, breathing heavily like he's in heat, while
Junior's excitedly saying muffled things I can't make out. My cock is  sopping
wet with precum, it's coated  from knob to root. Brett's huge  boner has been
rubbing my forehead and hair as my head moves with my licking and sucking. His
cock is as wet as mine and precum has been rubbed into my hair, some has even
drooled onto my face. Brett's squirming and humping his hips now but all I'm
interested in is getting my tongue further up his asshole. Constant taste of
shit on my  tongue; there can't be a more submissive thing to do for your master
than this!

Half my tongue is  inside Brett's ass when he yells, "Fuck!! Oh shiiiiittttt!"
He humps a violent hip thrust and I feel a big glob of wet hit low down on my
bare back, then  two quick smaller splashes followed by a wet spray. Preceding
each wet spot on my back was a hip thrust and a pleasurable groan from Brett.
The picture in my head of Brett's spunk shooting over my head and  landing on my
back has got me thrusting my own hips and then shooting spit ball  size cum
shots, my balls come back to  life enough to ache with  each shot. My tongue
comes out of Brett's asshole and I bite down on my  thumb to keep from doing my
own girlie scream; it felt  awesome firing those cum spit balls, my boner's
alive with sensations. Brett pushes me away and strokes his dripping boner. He's
got bright pink splotches on each of his cheek  bones as he grits his teeth and
strokes his long fat boner. His small hand barely fitting all the way around
that swollen organ, moving so fast it's a blur. Junior's staring at us,
grinning and groping his crotch. Then he says to me, "Nice rimming, college
boy!" That's  how I discover what licking and kissing a boy's asshole is
called... "rimming". It's not so bad, really.

After cleaning Brett's cock of random spunk with my tongue, he leads me into the
lavatory to clean me up with wet paper towels. Most of the remaining playtime
today is then used training me to be more  dog-like. Brett tells me
there's slave training  too, but he's starting me with the easy stuff for now.
Well, it  doesn't seem so easy to me when he ties me up again. Just like last
Friday afternoon Brett painfully ties my ankles up against the back of my
thighs. The difference  is today  he also walks me around the gym, me on  hands
and knees, but it's like I have no legs below my knees. The circulation to my
calves, ankles, and feet is cut-off and everything goes numb. Walking on the
center of my knees,  instead of the bottom part, like a normal crawl, is
torturous.  Brett  smacked my face when I whined that it's killing my knees and
then softened-up to assure me I'll get used to walking this way soon enough. As
a matter of fact, in a couple of weeks when I'm walking fine on my
re-worked hind legs,  the same idea will be  played-out for my front legs. He'll
tie my wrists to my upper arm so I'll need to walk on my elbows and knees
imitating a four-legged dog. It's almost impossible to believe I'll be able to
do that, and I'm not looking forward to it, but I'm taking one day at a time;
that's all I can handle.

This first training  period is all about the proper way  of walking next to my
master; on all fours, that is. It called heeling. Sadly  I   didn't learn it
fast enough to please Brett so he changed my  collar to the shock  collar and
when I do the heeling incorrectly he pushes a button giving me a electric shock
that has me yelping with every jolt, and the yelping eventually got on Brett's
nerves so he paddled me again for  that. It was a tough forty-five minutes with
Junior calling out instructions to Brett from time to time. The boys got into
these laughing fits and everything stops until they get it together again...
they're having a good time.  All the previous doggie-boy-toys have been trained
by Junior, by the way. I'm Brett's first so I think he's being especially hard
on me to compete with his  brother. What the hell, I'd like to do well for
Brett, but these goddamn shocks from my collar have me so distracted  I've been
screwing-up even more than usual. To heel, by the  way, is when I'm pinned to
Bretts  left leg when we walk or stop; which means I'm to be close to his left
leg, but a tic behind, and no touching. My knees ache from pounding the   hard
wood floors and my neck and  shoulders ache from taking the brunt  of the
electric shocks. Once in a while Junior would sneak up behind Brett and reach
around him to press the shock button even when I was doing everything correctly.
Those shocks took me by surprise and I'd yelp and jump a couple inches off the
floor and the boys would laugh their asses off.

There's a list of things I'll  be  trained to do. All together it's known
as Obedience  training and it's intended to train me how to reliably respond to
these commands: "sit" "stay" "down" and "come!"  The advanced course, when I'm
trained on the basics, consist of these commands: "speak" "fetch" "drop it"
"give" "back up" and "stand"!  Brett, with a straight face, tells me it's a
challenging program and that I've got a lot of hard work ahead of me. I used
whatever will power I have left not  to roll my eyes at that ridiculous
statement. We're looking at each other and after a couple seconds, he couldn't
hold back the snickers. The boys just want to have fun, ya know... at my
expense. By the end of todays training, I'm not having fun. I'm hurting,  to say
the least. In addition to my  knees,  shoulders, and neck problems, my ass
stings something terrible from the frequent disciplinary paddlings I've
received. Brett finally leads me into the showers, takes off my collar and gives
me a good bath. Then he unties my nuts and ankles and I lay on the mat as he
massages feeling back  into  my calves and feet. He can be so nice and tender
and caring when he wants to be. You know, the contrast of the hurtful things he
does to me and then the tenderness he can show is so striking! Somehow it makes
the tenderness seem real powerful and I fall for it every time. We did some
hugging and it's really quite a pleasant part of the sessions and makes me
forget about a lot of the awfulness. Brett claims I'll become very attached  to
him in time; like a real dog gets attached to his master. Frankly, all the
negative things he does to me notwithstanding, I can already see that's happened
to some degree. It seems the harder he is on me the more I'm drawn to him, and I
think that's because he ends the sessions with this sweet tenderness, and by the
end of the playtime sessions I really need some of that.

When my legs, ass, and   balls are more or less back to  normal, and we're done
the hugging, he kisses me on the lips  again; me up on my knees and Brett
standing.  That's our positions  during the tender hugging periods because Brett
wants to be taller than me. He's a good kisser for a fifteen year old and my
dick gets hard again by the time he's done. He says this kind of affection is an
important part of proper BDSM boy-toy training,  especially if one's going to
follow with slave training. Junior's the brains behind the training programs of
course, but Brett's seen Junior go through the  procedure a number of times with
other boy-toys. Even with the tender periods, by the time these sessions are
over I don't know if I'm coming or going. Monday ended on a good note though,
first the kindness Brett showed to me, and lastly I  received a favorable
evaluation of B- which is a relief because a grade of C or lower requires
educational discipline. In the end, I was dismissed with a pat on my sore ass.

First thing I do in the parking lot is light up a cigarette, and boy did that
taste good. Driving home I'm shaking my head  trying to grasp everything that
happened today. There was a lot of discipline and pain, but some hot climaxes
and pleasure too. I'd never in a million years have   thought that a slap across
my face could get my dick squirming, but when Brett does it that's  what
sometimes happens. God, I've got this mysterious affection for him... it's grown
to such a degree that my cock's firming-up from just thinking about him! How can
this be? Well, he is hot, dominant, and awesome... and only fifteen years old!
Jesus, how hot will he be when he's Junior's age? This constant speculating on
why I feel this or that is driving me nuts. I just gotta take it as it comes
because I have no choice anyway.  Smoking two more cigarettes on the drive home
'cause I'm anxious to get there... the first thing I want to do is jerked-off to
a regular orgasm; one without my nuts tied down. Lately when I think about Brett
I've needed to jerk-off, and it can happen two or three  times a  day; not that
I'm complaining. Today when I get into the apartment I stroke myself quickly
with the smell and taste of Brett still in my head and I have a nice semi-messy
climax, then stroke myself slowly a couple minutes afterwards. After cleaning up
my  spunk, an incredible tiredness comes over me. I'm feeling okay, but tired,
so I take a nap and consequently I'm able to be in an upbeat  mood while helping
mom fix our dinner later that night. She'd gotten her first raise in pay today
too, so things are definitely looking up with her. After dinner I  talked with
Mikey for a while on my cell but got the impression he was maybe a little
anxious to end the call. I think he had someone in his room with him, which is
good 'cause he doesn't make friends easily.  After a shower I drive to the mall
for some air-conditioning and maybe I'll even run into one of my old friends
from Dover. As I'm killing time walking the mall, something strange is
occurring: for some reason, the longer I'm away from Brett and Junior the less
positive I am about my feelings for them. In their presents it somehow seems
sort of okay to do the nutty stuff they insist I do, but now I'm beginning to
feel humiliated and pissed-off at myself for  allowing it. But so what? The
reality is that there isn't anything I can do to about it as long as they have
those pictures,  and have all  the power.  Yeah, that's true, but I don't need
to be enjoying the bad treatment, do I? The other side of that is, why not make
the best of it, and that makes sense too, but there has to be a reason I can
accept all this disturbing behavior. I need to understand what that reason is.
This is killing me... not knowing why I behave like I do. Wonder if this is part
of their nefarious plan to turn me into a dog.  Nah, that's stupid!

Wandering around the mall I continue trying to make some  sense of all this.
Okay, the most obvious reason I'm doing what they say is to keep them from
showing those horrible pictures to my mother or brother, and whoever else, which
would ruin my life as it's currently constituted... no more Brown University,
for example. So that makes  sense,  but I still need to get some  insight as to
why I have this man-crush for young Brett, and a little bit for Junior too.
After deep thinking and two coffees,  here's what  I finally come up with: In
high school I learned about something called the Stockholm Syndrome. Basically
it's a  form of brainwashing that occurs in circumstances where an immediate and
massive change in your life takes place. The change allows someone to gain
enormous power over you. In my case, they have the  power of those pictures
which creates an emotional state of chaos for the victim, in  this case me,
which can often also include a sympathetic emotional connection from the
afflicted, me, to the person who has the power, Brett. I have a predisposition
to admiring dominant peers in the first place, so I'm the perfect foil for Brett
and  Junior. This situation has caused me to mis-attribute my emotions; that is,
instead of fearing  Brett, I chose to be attracted to him. I'm  subconsciously
admiring him in hope upon  hope that there will soon be a reason to admire him,
and in that regard I'm magnifying small bits of kindness from him into some sort
of nobel trait while, at the same time, ignoring the  ruthless face  smacking
and paddling he passes my way. Hmmm? Deep thoughts.  Yeah, and that might all be
true, but I need to admit that maybe I'm simply one of those masochistic types
who  enjoys being dominated and mistreated. That might explain my behavior ten
years ago with Frank Barns too. Or maybe I'm homosexual and just don't know it,
or maybe it's some of each. I can't see  inside my subconscious so I'll simply
accept it now for what it is. But, at the same time, I'll continue looking for
clues to get the definitive answer to the question: "Why don't I hate Brett and
Junior instead of admiring and looking up to them, and wanting to please  them??
 And what's with all the boners and gushing orgasms?"

A little later, still drinking coffee at the Dunkin' Donuts shop, I see two boys
I used to play pick-up basketball with back in Dover, but they somehow seem too
good, too pure for me now. Is the reason my self image  is so low because we're
poor, or because I'm being  totally  dominated by two teenagers? Probably both,
and that's depressing. This is a far cry from how up-beat I felt right after
playtime. Fuck it! Leaving the unfinished coffee, I decide I   need something
stronger than coffee and on the way home   stop at a local watering  hole for a
few beers. Trouble with that is you can't smoke in bars and when I drink beer I
really want a cigarette. I wind-up outside in the heat  as often as I'm inside
with the air-conditioning. Plus, it's not much fun drinking alone so I leave
after two beers. At the apartment mom is watching a reality TV show which is
something I do not need at the moment. Saying 'goodnight' I go to bed with a fan
blowing right on me. It's not  air-conditioning, but it's better than nothing. I
can't get to sleep from thinking about Brett and I soon have an uncontrollable
urge to jerk-off again. Giving in to it, I whack-off under the covers wondering
how I'm going to jerk-off as much as I need to  when Mikey's  in the room with
me. Jesus, one problem after another!

Next day,  as soon as I wake-up I have a nice morning jerk-off thinking about
you know who, then off to work I go and my workday goes pretty good. No nasty
job assignments and no demerits.  All day I'm very tense around Brett though and
I don't know why that is... maybe it's that I want him to pay more attention to
me. He did give me a painful goose when we were in the back of a big van cutting
open cardboard boxes; just the two of us. I jumped a foot in the air, probably
due to this tension I've felt all day. Maybe I'm a bit disappointed because this
isn't a playtime day. Then later  I get a hard-on thinking about tomorrow when
it will be playtime again.  That familiar  squirmy feeling in my groin came  on
me whenever I let myself think about Brett fucking my throat. Whatever their
brainwashing technique, it's apparently working on me. As soon as I get home
after work I go into my bedroom and jerk-off again thinking about being
humiliated by the  Knight  brothers. My   climax is   awesome, it leaves me
breathless. After dinner mom went next door to  play Scrabble with our neighbor
and I watch a Red Sox game, half interested in the game and half trying to
understand my infatuation with Brett. And, like always of late, eventually I
need to jerk off again... I just have to! It didn't result in as big an
explosion this time, but still felt damn good. Love jerking off!

Wednesday went fine during the day except I got a demerit from Brett for lack of
respect. What it was: he asked me a question but I was daydreaming and thought
he was asking Marty, who was right next to me. Marty's  nodding his head in
Brett's direction trying to get me to  turn around, but it was too late. Brett
made me carry this big BJ's flag over my head as I  ran three laps around the
parking lot during our lunch period. Customer's were frowning with questioning
expressions on their faces as I ran like a geek,  the flag  at the end of a  ten
foot pole. Embarrassing, but I sprung a boner when I spotted Brett watching my
humiliation from the side door, a smug smirk on his face. Junior was standing
next to him laughing. Then, after work, we had pretty much the same kind of
playtime as Monday, except the shock collar replaces my regular collar right
from the get go. I've come to the conclusion I should let myself enjoy the parts
I enjoy and figure out why I enjoy them some other time. The playtime started
out with Brett tying my balls the same way as before, maybe a little tighter and
a little lower, but now I know better than complain about  the constant
throbbing  pain. I passed my body inspection with a warning to have a fresh
haircut for Friday's session. There was no initial discipline like I received on
Monday; we got right into the obedience training and after a half dozen electric
shocks that had my voice box buzzing when I tried to talk, I was finally able to
do the "SIT!" command  by   stretching one leg in front of me and the other
awkwardly to the side. Brett had me do  it ten times and by the tenth time I had
it down pat and  received a doggie   biscuit as my reward,  plus a pat on the
head, with Brett exclaiming, "Okay, finally!". Whew, glad I learned that
command. The "STAY!" "COME!" and "DOWN" commands took the rest of the training
session and then came what they call my reward session.

Sitting in the two desk chairs  Junior and Brett both had their shorts off this
afternoon and both crotches were hot and heavy with aroma; I pretty much know
the drill by now and it's kind of exciting to be doing something I've learned to
be good at. The sexy smell wafted-up from their crotches like humid, moist,
jungle air. I did Junior first and rimmed his ass for ten minutes. He's cleaner
than Brett, guess he wipes himself better. They both have tons of pubic hair and
it seems that half of it winds-up in my mouth by the time I finish sucking their
cocks,  lapping, and rimming their asses. When I  finish rimming Junior his cock
and mine are like flag poles. Wanting to stroke mine, but knowing better, I
sucked Junior's nuts until  he gasped,  "Okay, ya Prep school cock-sucker, suck
my cock." His cock was really dripping and I sucked it  for a few minutes, but
I'm very horny this afternoon and anxious to get that fat knob in my throat. I
get my head in the proper position, like I've been trained to do, and after I do
some throat massaging that fat cock went in tightly. Junior's precum did it's
job lubricating my throat; soon he was sliding his boner up and down my throat
smoothly and, oh my God, did I ever want to stroke myself!  This whole reward
session is moving along very nicely because I know what's expected of me now
and, frankly, it ain't bad at all. Sucking cock is turning out to be an okay,
sexy thing. My cock is hard and straight out from my groin painfully dripping
precum and throbbing,  and still  aching to be stroked. My nuts, tied  down low
in my scrotum, are swollen and numb  just like Monday, but I'm used to that by
now. Feels kinda good actually. Pleasure and pain are close  relatives.

In between gaging and gasping for oxygen I marvel at the sensation of having my
nose pressed into Junior's groin, enjoying the aroma and the taste of his
precum, the texture of his cock on my tongue; all of it, fantastic! Junior is
close to blowing his nut, but Brett orders me over to him. I hear a low growl
from Junior, then a mumbled "Ahh fuck!" as I pull off his big cock. In between
Brett's legs I do the  kissing of his cock and balls, then the whole routine.
Like Monday, I slowly work my way back to his hole, which is crusty today. I
don't want to think he purposely didn't wipe properly wanting me to clean him
with my tongue, it's probably a coincidence. It took me a while to lick away the
shitty crust and  then get my tongue inside his asshole. I   taste his  shit the
entire rimming  and after awhile the taste becomes just one more thing I must
accept and forget about. As I push my tongue inside his ass my cock twitches and
begins firing those same spit ball shots of cum I fired on Monday, each one a
mimi climax and I had to pull my tongue out to quietly squeal  with each one. My
balls tied down like they are having a difficult time getting good volume of cum
all the way up my cock so just the little balls of spunk get out, one at a
time.

Soon  I  want to stroke that sensitive boner of mine so badly I actually asked
permission.   Pulling my face away from his ass, I humbly ask, "Please, Master,
may I relieve myself. It'll only take three or four strokes?" Brett says, "No,
don't touch yourself, and the next time you ask you'll get a paddling. Now get
back to doing your job of pleasuring me and Junior. That's what this is about,
not  pleasuring yourself!" The spit ball cum shots  let up  then, but a little
later when  Brett's  cock is  plowing down my throat I get so aroused three fast
wet spays of cum shoot onto my belly. The effort of sending the cum has my
tied-up balls aching like mad, but it seems nothing can stop the spunk from
flying when Brett has his boner in my throat. It was a very unusual climax for
me, but felt good just the same. Then back to Junior who didn't take long to
climax and it was one of those facial cum shots that had both brothers giggling
like, well... like teenagers. My face was dripping with cum which they let dry
on my face, so that was uncomfortable. Later I ran through the various commands
one more time then was untied, massaged, and bathed. It felt good to get the
stiff, dried cum washed away. When I'd dried myself Brett hands me a little pair
of pink silk panties,   "Wear these!" Knowing better than to argue, I stepped
into them. My cock and  balls, while small compared to the Knight boys packages,
bulged-out the crotch of this little silk panty... there were tiny pink bows
sewed at the border on the outside of each leg opening.  Brett did the usual
hugs and then he did his version of French kissing, he calls me, "His
girlie/boy-toy".  We did about five minutes of tongue against tongue kissing
that left me hard and totally confused, as usual. Brett had me  lick his balls
and asshole  again after the kissing, but I wasn't allowed to taste his cock.

I'm to wear the panties to work for the foreseeable future, Brett will check on
it. Smoking cigarette after cigarette, lighting one from the other, I drive home
thinking one thought, "I can't wait to do a full blown climax jerk-off... no
tied balls, just let it fly!" I head for the bathroom as soon as I'm in the
apartment, pulling my panties down as I go. Biting my lip and grunting with
anticipation I frantically jerk-off thinking  about Brett, and blast spunk
against the shower curtain, then another couple of spurts on my leg. In a trance
I wipe the cum off my leg and lick it off my finger... it's taste very similar
to the boy's spunk. Eating my own cum gives me another boner. Later, laying on
top of my bed with a fan blowing on me, thinking back on today, I again hate on
myself for being so weak. It seems when I'm not under Bret's influence, he and
Junior don't seem as fantastic as they seem in person.  Where Brett's concerned
though, I need to admit to myself that he's turning me into his boy day by day.
I can feel myself slipping away, and a new me being made the way Brett wants me
to be... and now I've got another boner from thinking those thoughts. That's the
brainwashing part, but I'm   convinced when I get free of those two boys I'll go
back to a normal  life.

Mom makes us a nice dinner and I concentrate on upbeat chatter to  cheer her up
after her long day  as a sales clerk, but what I can't wait  to do is lay in bed
and think more about what's happening to me. Before going to sleep I can't help
myself, I jerked off again...  my dick's getting sore from this constant
whacking-off, not that I plan on stopping any of it. Times flying by, it's
already my second Thursday working for BJ's. Brett pulled me in the lavatory at
lunch break, pushes the button to lock the door, and has me drop my cargo short.
They lay crumpled around my ankles as I stand at attention. He has an expression
that's so arrogant and dominant it gives me the most awesome feeling all around
my groin. It makes me want to touch him or follow a command of his. I'm itching
to interact with him in whatever way he demands. Brett might have read my mind
because he slaps my face, which I don't mind at all anymore, and says, "You're
not looking excited to see me," and another slap, as my cock squirms in my
panties. I get an excited expression going  for me,  looking as alert as I can
look, and he mumbles, "That's better," and then he fondles my cock and balls
through the pink panties. I bone-up almost immediately, his touch of any  kind
now, even those slaps, almost always results in me quickly boning-up. The
massaging of my cock continues until Brett sees precum leaking through the
panties turning the fabric from pale pink to dark pink. Smirking and fighting
off a giggle, he says, "Don't forget to wear girl's panties every day from now
on. You can buy some new ones, or wear these every day, I don't particularly
care which as long as you're wearing girl's panties."  Turning and walking out
of the lavatory he leaves me needing to jerk off, I quickly lock the door and
stroke my cock, but there's a rattle of the doorknob, then a knock at the door,
so I call out, "I'll be out in a sec!" Pulling up my shorts, I bite my lip
trying to control the urge to whack-off and walk slightly stiff-legged out the
door nodding at  Marty who needs to take a piss. After lunch I have another
routine afternoon.

Then, Thursday's  workday is over and I drive directly to Leo's barbershop. I've
decided I like  short hair, just not this short. I'll let it grow in to the
length Brett's hair is when I'm back to college. In the barbershop I need to
wait  for two older men to get their old men's tapered haircuts, then Leo
motions for me, and asks, "What's it gonna be, skipper?" I go, "Another burr
haircut, and can ya make it real, you know... crisp!" He asks, "You one of
Junior and Brett's boys? I think I remember you." I better be polite or he'll
tell Brett, so I say, "Yes, Sir, I am. They're wonderful boys." He laughs in my
face, his big yellow horse teeth looking enormous in such a small man, his misty
breath, smelling like pipe tobacco, dampens my face. Gross! I manage to keep a
partial smile while my stomach churns. Using only the clippers, Leo quickly
duplicated my first burr haircut of two weeks ago; it takes only about five
minutes. Another ten dollar haircut, but to be on the safe side I also leave him
a dollar tip. Maybe he'll put in a  good word for me. Walking out of the
barbershop I have this same  weird feeling in my gut that I had after the  first
haircut, a strange buzzing and humming, maybe it's a submissive reaction. After
all, a teenage boy with power over me is responsible for me having my hair cut
this way... I have no say about it. I feel submissive to Brett even though I'm
ten miles away from him, but I'm not saying it's a bad feeling, 'cause it isn't.
Running my  hand over my head I feel   my hair and notice it's less than a half
inch in front, tapering down to  about a eight of an inch at the crown. The
sides and back are so short they feel like sandpaper. This isn't a  duplicate of
the first burr, it's shorter! Goddammit! Oh well, guess I shouldn't have
mentioned 'crisp'. It'll please Brett though, and that's my main concern.

Well, Friday went okay during the workday. Brett didn't mention my haircut but
he  did  tell me to show him the panties I was wearing. I pulled up a  piece of
the panties' pink waistband and he nodded once and was on his way. The damn
things are much too small for me though, and therefore very uncomfortable. I'll
buy some larger ones at the mall this weekend. After work, when everyone left
for the weekend, I undress and reach in my locker for my collar. Before I grab
it, Brett comes in and tells me to tie-up my own balls, and then off he goes.
This is totally unexpected,  another  test or something. Anyway, I took it
seriously although it turned-out to be a real challenge.  Knowing Brett will
examine my handiwork I've got to do this right; he's always looking for any
reason to spank me. My task is to get my nuts as scrunched-down in my scrotum as
possible, the same way he does it. I'm doing pretty well, but it takes real will
power to wind those last two string loops around my scrotum down near the
bottom. I hold my breath and do it,  then wait for the  pain to get to a dull
level, which takes a while. Whew! That smarts, and another thing... my scrotum
is stretching. It's lower than the knob of my cock now, and it's never been this
low before so obviously this tying-up procedure is responsible for the
stretching. What the fuck will my nuts look like by the time I'm  heading back
to college? Maybe they'll be swinging against my knees. It's taken me quite a
while to do this nut-tying thing so I'm now getting concerned about a spanking
for being late. Grabbing a dog collar, I buckle it on and quickly doggie-walk,
on all fours, into the gym going directly to where I'm  suppose to stand at
attention.


Good thing I hurried because Brett's waiting, looking a little irritated, he
says,  "What the fuck took ya so long?" I meekly say, "It's my first time tying
my nuts down, Master." He makes a face, like, "What a loser!" and goes,
"Practice tying your nuts at home over the weekend so you can do  it much faster
on Monday!" I say, "I'm sorry, Master. I'll practice at home!" He puffs  his
cheeks out and noisily exhales, then says, "First, the inspection, then I'll tie
your hind legs for you and we can begin. Junior's letting me run this whole
session alone so pay  close attention to my commands." I'm thinking, "Ah ha.
Without Junior over-seeing everything I'll bet Brett goes easy on
me." Brett takes off his vest and tosses it on the desk, then walks over right
in front of me, like he usually does. He smirks smugly, then goes, "Phew, I
noticed that wickedly short haircut of yours earlier. Lean your head  down." I
do and he runs the back of his fingers along the bristles on top of my head.
Then feels the sandpaper sides with his fingertips, asking, "My Uncle Leo give
you this haircut?" I say, "Yes, right after work last night." Brett does one of
those laughs that blurts out, like he was trying to hold it back, then,
smirking, he  goes, "Well, I like it! Keep it like this, or even shorter." I
nod, feeling good  that I've gotten off to a great start this afternoon. Then
stuff starts going wrong,  Brett grabs my leash, and sputters, "What the fuck?
You're wearing the regular dog collar, it's  suppose to be the  shock collar.
That earns  you a  paddling!" My shoulders slump hearing that. He snaps, "Stand
up straight! What's wrong with you today?" So much for the compliment about my
haircut. I stand-up uber straight as he's fingering my tied-up balls.

Things go from bad to worse. "This should be tighter," he mutters, as he
squeezes my nuts and I gasp going up on my toes. Then Brett gasps too, and goes,
"What? I can't believe this!" He's rubbing the back of his fingers on my belly
near my dick. "Stubble!" is his one word accusation, and my heart beats a little
faster. Oh geez, how often should I re-shave my pubes? I did it Sunday night,
five days ago. Brett's shaking his head. "Jesus Christ, if Junior were here I'd
be so embarrassed!  You diss me by not paying attention to details. Don't you
have  any pride in  yourself?" I don't  know what to  say, he's really
pissed-off. It's a little bit scary seeing how angry he can get. He takes a deep
breath,  then says, "This  can't happen again. I need to  bring that fact home
to you!" Taking my dick, he pulls me over to the basketball backboard at the end
of the gym. It's got the regulation ten feet high rim, but without a net because
it  isn't used anymore. Brett, looking up at it, appears very short. He
commands, "Right at this spot do leg thrusts until I get back." I snap-out,
"Yes, Master!" And do a deep knee bend, put my hands on the floor, then thrust
my legs out behind me and bring them back to the deep knee  bend position, then
stand up, and immediately do it all over again. I'm doing them perfectly,
concentrating on every one because Brett's worrying me a little. It's that
pissed-off look on his face when he stormed out of here that has me concerned.
He seems disturbed and motivated.

He returns fifteen minutes later, just before I collapse from exhaustion. I'm
dripping with perspiration but Brett doesn't tell  me to stop,  so I struggle to
continue doing the leg thrusts. Glancing over at  Brett, I see he's pulling a
rope from the satchel  he'd brought back with him, then some leather  objects.
Standing, Brett calls over, "Get to attention!" I'm thrilled to be done the
exercises and quickly obey his command. Standing at attention the sweat's
running down my  face burning my eyes, but I don't dare move to wipe  across my
forehead.  My dick is limp, stuck to my thigh, wet with sweat, the dull ache in
my nuts has tuned into a sharp pain from all the jostling around doing the leg
thrusts. Nothing's going real swell for me right now. "Hold out your arms." I
do, and he buckles six inch long leather cuffs on each wrist. The cuffs have  a
metal ring sewn into the end near my hands. There's a hook tied into the end of
the rope that he attaches it to the cuff ring on my right wrist and then the
other end of the rope is thrown through the basketball rim. I almost say, "nice
shot" but catch myself in time 'cause Brett is not a  happy camper at the
moment. "Raise your  arms over your head," and  when I do, he says, "Up on your
toes!"  I hold that  position as Brett pulls over a desk chair to stand on so he
can tighten the other end of the rope to the ring in my left cuff. Uh oh, I'm
either going to need to stay on my toes or swing from my arms because I'm
tied-up too high to stand flat-footed. Brett pushes the  chair out of my reach
and  leaves the gym without saying another word. Okay, this is my  discipline
for fucking-up today; there are worse way to be punished I guess.

My left calf muscle cramps-up in ten minutes so I lift my toes and hang from
the rim by my wrists. It's not too bad for the first few minutes but shortly my
arms feel like they're coming out of their sockets so I try resting them by
standing on my toes again but now my foot's cramping, and this sucks! All the
fun I've had playing basketball at prep school and now I find myself hoisted on
a basketball rim like  a... like a, I don't  know what. Goddammit! This goddamn
discipline shit  is  getting old. Here comes Brett again, finally... he's
carrying some kind of  flimsy stick flicking his wrist making the stick whistle
through the air. He's also got some old sweat socks hanging out the side pocket
of his shorts. Putting the stick down, he pulls the chair over to stand on, and
says, "These socks were left behind by some old dock worker last winter. They'll
do  very well as your gag. Open wide!" Brett's got a hand on my  scrunched nuts
so you better believe I open my mouth as wide as I can. It's cliched, but the
sweat sock smelled very, very  badly of foot oder, and something else too that I
can't put a name too, mold perhaps. By the time Brett has the first one stuffed
into my mouth I need to fight off the strong urge to hurl. It was close, I
almost threw-up in my mouth again. Spared that horrific experience, the second
sock is being meticulously shoved in inch by  inch. The last of the second sock
is inside my mouth bulging out my cheeks and forcing part of the first sock  two
inches down my throat. I don't believe I've ever been this uncomfortable. My
eyes are tearing as I looked through them with a begging expression at Brett. He
glances at me  and says, "Save it. You brought this on yourself. This will be
severe discipline for you helping to establish in your slow brain that you need
to think of nothing  except pleasing Junior and me. That means when you're not
participating in a BDSN playtime, or working on the dock, you're to be
conscientiously thinking about what you need to  do during your next playtime.
Don't waste time thinking too much about anything except that." I'm not
listening. Fuck him! There's panic in my brain thinking I'm not getting enough
oxygen through my nose 'cause the sock seems to be blocking an airway; not that
I can tell him that.

Brett's pushing the chair  back to the desk as I'm desperately fight panicking.
I find there's enough oxygen getting through if I stay  calm so I relax and let
my arms support me for a minute while I'm wiggling my feet hoping to get the
cramps  out. Brett comes back and picks up the stick, then moves my leash around
in front so it's hanging over my shoulder and down my chest, all the time
talking. "This is a rattan cane used in canings.  Have you ever heard of
caning?" I shake my head 'no', but he's got my attention now and I listen to him
closely. He says, "Well, canning is done with a thin, flexible strip of rattan
like this. I've soaked this one in water to add some weight to it and make it
even more flexible than it normally is. It  won't break or splinter so it's good
for whipping across someone's ass." A shudder runs through me and I  feel fear
creeping in now. Brett  likes me though, doesn't he? He won't seriously hurt me.
He flicks his wrist and the cane whistles  through  the air again... my tied-up
balls shrink a little. "This one is four feet long and less than a half inch in
diameter. When professional caners, in various countries still allowing caning,
cane a person each stroke of the cane splits the skin on the buttocks, but when
Junior  or I use it we just flick  it so that we rarely break the skin. Each
time it connects with a buttocks it leaves  a raised welt and lots of pain, so
it's not going to be pleasant for you, but it won't kill you. As you're being
canned, think about how you can avoid making me do this to you again; not that I
mind doing it all that much." The cane whistles through the air again as I stare
at it in fascination. Brett continues, "You've disappointed me and that pisses
me off; your lack of respect makes the canning necessary and I'm happy to do
this for you... it's for your own good in the long run, ya know?" I try
communicating with my eyes that I'm sorry. If I could I'd beg for another
chance,  promising that I'll never screw-up again... I would definitely beg. But
of course I can't even utter a sound and when I try to, the dirty sweat sock in
my throat gags me and that feeling of vomiting passes by again scaring the shit
out of me. My entire body is covered in sweat as I hang helplessly from that
basketball rib, thinking, "Is it possible that he's really going to do that
thing, that canning?"

Brett's practicing flicking the cane in the air. Then, apparently satisfied, he
saunters behind me, whistling quietly; now seemingly happy and carefree as can
be when only a  minute ago he was royally pissed-off. I swivel my head watching
him walk behind me, balancing myself on my toes. Brett, without hesitating
flicks his wrist and now the  cane is doing the whistling; it whistles through
the air toward my ass, me holding my breath. The cane makes a cracking sound
when it connects across both cheeks of my buttocks and for  an  instance
there's no pain, just a warm burning feeling because it's numbed the skin, but
as feeling   quickly returns the heat becomes unbearable and I scream in my head
as the cane is whistling  through the air again. The second stroke has me
floundering from the basketball rim pulling myself up with my wrist. Tears flood
my face. I realize the floundering is getting me no where as the third stroke
kills with pain and surely must have broken the skin! Then I uselessly try tip
toeing out of range of the whistling cane but it lashes across my upper thighs
causing so much pain my bladder lets loose and a stream of pee leaves my
shrunken pecker to splatter on the gym's hardwood floor. Another lash across my
ass as the pee flows freely, and now I feel faint and sick to my  stomach from
the pain and the fear of another stroke from the cane, but it's apparently
already over.

Hanging by my arms, my body slack, my ass and the back of my  legs on  fire, my
pee  stream finally runs out and  the roaring in my head begins to subside.
Brett's back to lecturing, "Five strokes of canning gets a  person's attention,
even the attention  of a big shot prep school grad from Brown University, like
yourself. In  Singapore caning is an official form of punishment for  crimes of
all kinds. The maximum strokes  assigned for any crime is twenty-four, but with
professional caners, twenty-four hard strokes could put a person into shock and
maybe kill him, so it's rare. Five or six strokes is common, but like I said,
when they do the five or six cane strokes it results in five or six long open
wounds on your ass, where as with me you get five welts." I'm giving Brett my
undivided attention and to hell with the pain on my buttocks because I'm seeing
a new Brett now. I was romanticizing him before instead of taking him as
seriously as I need to. There's no doubt in my mind that Brett  will cane me
again if I screw-up so I'm raising my level of respect  for him and not taking
anything for granted. If he says for me to pee my pants, I'm peeing my pants. He
watches me hanging by my arms, and from the smug look on his face I can tell he
knows I'm totally defeated. Making  sure I  don't show anger in my expression, I
meekly stare back at Brett; I'm alertly  watching for any sign of a command he
might be sending. A blank  expression on  his face, he glances away from me to
look at the pee puddle on the floor, shaking his head, muttering, "That happens
a lot with the caning." Then, addressing me, "I was gonna leave you hanging like
this for a while after the caning, but it's your first serious offense so I'll
give you a break this time." He gets the chair and I'm hoping the first thing he
does is get these fucking smelly sweat sock out of my mouth and throat but he
releases a hook that allows me to drop down to stand on my feet, and I realize
how shaky and weak the canning has made me. Brett gets his arm  around my waist
and leads me to  the mat  where I lay on my stomach keeping my ass in the air a
bit so as not to lay on my scrunched-up balls. "Don't take your gag out till I
tell you to. I'm still pissed-off at you, but I'll get the pain  spray and
cream anyway. You've learned your lesson." Oh, thank God for the pain relief
spray, but  how come I'm concentrating  on being grateful for the spray instead
of being bullshit and angry as hell at the fact Brett caned me? He canes me and
my respect for him increases? This is insanity!

Oh man though, after this canning, when Brett speaks he's gonna get my total
undivided attention. I'm repeating his every word in my head to be sure I know
what I'm to do. I'll nod my head at his every comment so he knows I'm paying
close attention. Back with the pain spray and healing cream, but before applying
it he lectures me some more, reiterating the concept that, except when working
at BJ's, I need to think exclusively about him and  playtime. I  should  be
reviewing my training and try anticipating how I can make the experience better
for him and Junior. Again he tells me to be docile, but  excited, to look
interested and, at the same time, pay close attention to anything either he or
his brother does or says. Total attention to only them. The pain was awful as I
lay there on my stomach, up on my elbows, my head up looking at Brett and
concentrating on his every word. I'm looking as alert as I can considering the
pain I'm experiencing. After each comment from Brett, I'm quietly saying, "Yes,
master!". Then he  mercifully sprays my ass and the relief comes quickly, the
cream further eliminated the  burning and will promote quick healing. Putting
the spray and cream away, he says, "Get a bucket and a mop from the janitor's
closet, then swab this floor. Not just where you peed, the whole gym." He's
carrying the satchel and cane back to wherever it came from. I manage to get up
quickly, still shaky from  the caning, to  do what I'm  told.

The sweat socks, still  in my mouth, are mostly soaked through with saliva by
now and taste terrible; they stink too. I can't ever remember feeling worse than
I do now, but as I work at mopping the floor I talk myself into starting fresh
with Brett. I reinforce the concept of being much more attentive and respectful
of everything he says or commands me to do. I can't  conceive of  my brother or
mother or classmates at college seeing those pictures of me so my only choice is
to make this work with Brett. That's  one hard-ass fifteen year old boy.
Speaking of ass, I felt back there on my ass, and sure enough there are five
raised welts chris-crossing my  buttocks. The welts are mostly numb from the
spray and cream right  now, but when that wears off it'll be painful so I'm
stopping at the pharmacy on the way home to buy my own pain spray and cream.
Brett came back after a bit and sat at the desk watching me labor over the
mopping chore. I maintained a pleasant expression on my  face even though I was
less  than happy. When I finish mopping the floor and have cleaned the mop and
thrown out the bucket of soapy water, Brett says, "Do another mopping of the
floor, this time with plain water." I nod enthusiastically at that delightful
news and get right to it. By the time I have that task completed there's saliva
drooling down my chin as the sweatsocks are soaking wet with spit and are heavy
in my mouth. Next I need to use dirty gym towels to dry the floor and I'm
drenched with sweat and feel about as lousy as it's possible to  feel by the
time I'm done doing it all.

When I finish putting the towels back where I got them, Brett stands, and snaps
out, "Get over here." I'm dripping with perspiration, at attention in front of
Brett, he hands me a disposable razor, and says, " Get your whipped ass  into
the locker room and spit out the dirty socks, re-tie your nuts, then  wash
yourself and shave your body of hair stubble, then get the  proper collar on and
get back out here so we can start  from the beginning. You'll be getting home
later than usual today, but then so will I so we're even there. Your fuck-ups
have screwed-up both our Friday evenings; it's just a damn good thing Junior
wasn't here to see it." I'm nodding my head, putting a lot of energy into
everything I do. "Get going," he says and I start to run but at the last second
remember I'm wearing a dog collar which means moving back and forth from the
locker room on all fours. Dropping down I scurry as fast as my four legs can go,
following Brett's commands. What a relief to  get  the sweat socks out of my
mouth. I rinse my mouth three times then, taking nothing for granted, I do
everything quickly, but meticulously. I wash throughly, then undo the bottom
strings around my  scrotum and retied it tighter than even Brett ties it. My
nuts are numb  but begin throbbing again when I'm done. I even added a string
beneath the forth one which squashed my nuts into an even tighter space,
stretching my scrotum in the process.  Shaving close and then putting on the
shock collar I promise myself there'll be no more screw-ups, everything is going
to be by-the-numbers and exactly the way it's suppose to be, according to
Brett.

When cleaned, shaved, tied-up, and collared correctly, on all fours I go swiftly
from the locker room to the gym and then stand-up in the proper spot, at
attention, breathing hard. Brett comes over and starts the same way we started
an hour ago. "I like that haircut, see that it stays looking like that." I say,
"Yes,  Master!"   and make a  mental note to  visit Leo's barbershop every week,
not every other week. Looking like a geek is of no concern when compared to
being caned. He looks at my painfully tied nuts and mutters, "Good," and  then
carefully feels my shaved pubes area, bends down to feel both my calves. The
palms  of his hands encircling my leg and rubs  down my legs, one at a time. He
then gets a finger under all five of my toes while looking up at me in a
challenging manner... my expression was pleasantly attentive, watching my master
for a hint of anything he might want me to do. My toes curl around his finger.
He seems to like that and gets an index finger under the toes of both my feet
making my toes curl. Pulling his fingers out he rubs my legs some more, moving
his hands up my thighs to a spot just below my tied-up nuts, and after all the
pain and aggravation I've been through, my dick responds to Brett's touch on my
leg and begins firming up.

Taking my firm cock in his fist he does what he always does, he strokes it into
a boner, which doesn't take long. Why shouldn't he do what he wants with my
dick, he basically owns it. Biting his lower lip and breathing deeply, he
orders, "Arms up!" A quick checks to see  that my  underarms  are free of hair,
then he does his normal touching of my naked body, ending five minutes later
with him stroking of my cock until it's boned-up hard, poking straight out from
my belly. Brett then takes a thin strip of leather from his side pocket and ties
it around the base of my boner, very tightly.  "We'll add this  to the balls
tying and see if you can still have an orgasm. Knowing something about your
sexual appetite, I'm betting you can." Brett has my undivided attention and
enthusiasm. I'd underestimated him, but now I know better. The caning was the
end of any resistance to anything Brett wants me to do. I'm convinced he's
smarter and stronger and just plain better than me. I've got ten weeks left of
my servitude and I don't intend giving Brett a bit of trouble for the duration.
Brett's my  master for real now.

Even when he ties my legs up extra tight to begin our exercise session I don't
even grunt  in pain. The next hour is  gruesome but my concentration on doing
things the way Brett wants it done kept me from complaining about the pain in my
knees, cock, and balls. All during the exercises my cock stayed hard because the
leather strip wouldn't allow the erectile blood to leak back from my cock.
Having a boner made doing some of the exercises very difficult to perform, but
not a peep of complaint from me. When we finish the exercises and the command
doggie training, I was looking forward to the so-called reward part of the
session as an opportunity to sort of re-bond with Brett, but Brett checks the
clock on the wall and says, "All that nonsense at the beginning of playtime
screwed-up our schedule. I need to meet Junior outside now to get a ride to a
dentist appointment, but we're not done here so you'll need to stick around;
I'll be back in a while to finish up. As he's talking he's leading me by the
leash into  the supply room where he hooks the leash on the doorknob,  then
says, "Stay!"  Moving stuff at the back of the room exposes a smooth piece of
wood about four feet long with three half-moons cut-out of the top edge.  The
wood is screwed onto a heavy wooden bench. Brett rustles around and comes up
with a matching  four  foot long board also with  three half moons cut-out...
they match the other boards half moons. Brett says, "Lets see which size fits
the best," and he pulls on my leash getting me to crawl over to the bench. "Lay
your neck in this cut-out, hot shot," I'm thinking, "I'm going to be in stocks?
Like in colonial times?" Sure enough, when I lay my  neck in the first half-moon
cut-out Brett slipped the matching board over the back of my neck, and mutters,
"Too small." He fitted me in all three cut-outs and none was a good fit. The end
one he claims is too big and the other end one is too small, middle one is
actually too small as well, but he presses the top board down and made it  fit.
Clicking some kind of metal latches at each end of the stocks hold the boards
together snugly. I can't move. As he clicks handcuffs around my wrists, he's
explaining, "I'll be back in an hour and a half or so. The handcuffs are so you
can't reach over and undo  the stock's  latches."

As he's getting  something from a drawer, he's saying, "You brought this  on
yourself so I've got a clear conscience about leaving you here. We'll finish the
session when I get back. You'll be quite uncomfortable in here, but consider it
part of your punishment for screwing-up earlier." I struggle to say, "Yes,
Master. I understand," It's difficult to talk with the wood circle almost
strangling me. I feel a cool wetness on my asshole now, as Brett  explains, "You
may as well get used to your tail too. It's a screw-in dildo with a doggie tail
hanging off the end. This is all part of breaking you down completely and then
building you  back up the way we think you should be. You'll understand it by
the end of the summer." Something is pushed in my asshole and then twisted many
times. It feels like it's getting bigger and bigger the more the dildo is
twisted inside me. "I'll only go half way in today 'cause  it's your first day."
He does one more full twist and I think  my asshole is going to tear, half way?
He mutters, "There, that'll do for now. How's it feel?" "It's tight but I don't
mind, Master." He chuckles and says, "Yeah, the canning usually  brings reality
home to you submissive boys. Keep that brown-nosing frame of mind going for you
though, it'll serve you well." "Yes, Master." Then my body is being jostled
slightly and I'm guessing he's playing with my feet, but I've no feeling in them
so can't be sure. It's impossible to turn my head and look back, moving my head
at all is impossible, I can't see much of anything except the dirty floor below
my eyes. The jostling goes on for maybe two minutes with Brett quiet except for
some raspy breathing.

Then Brett turns out the lights, and says,  "Spend this time thinking of ways
you can be a better boy-toy for me," the door closes and I hear the scratching
of the key as Brett locks it. Silence and total blackness surround me, plus I
can't move. Claustrophobia sets in  quickly and of course that gets me
struggling to move, wanting to stand-up and spread my arms in open spaces  so
badly, but I can't do any of that and it puts me into a panic  mode. I feel like
I'm in a little box that's not quite big enough to hold me, but I'm squished
inside anyway. I think about crying, but make myself calm down and think
positive thoughts like: This is bad, but Brett didn't put a gag in my mouth at
least, and he didn't spank my ass either. The second part of that has me
thinking about my aching ass. The welts are calm because of the pain spray but
that fucking tail, or dildo... it feels like he screwed a big eggplant up my
ass. I've never had a overstuffed feeling back there to compare to this. When
Frank Barns  fucked me at age twelve it felt full back there, but this feels
much fuller. Then I shake my body to prove I can move a little, it helps that I
can  move a few inches but my neck is jammed too tightly in this round opening
so I can't move forward or backward as much as a quarter inch and that greatly
restricts any movement for other part of my body. The couple inches I can manage
doesn't  completely fend off that scary claustrophobia  feeling, and it remains
a  constant problem... me just barely outside a condition of uncontrollable
frantic panic. My  best defense against that horrible claustrophobia is to keep
my brain occupied, but the time drags on agonizingly slowly and I'm running out
of things to think about. I allow myself to hate Brett for a while and that
takes some time and feels really good, but in the end I don't know if I hate him
or love him or maybe even worship him. He's got my head fucked-up  beyond
belief. There's a period in the closet when I'm convinced he isn't coming back
until tomorrow or maybe Monday and I did cry there for a little bit, but drift
into a trance of some kind afterwards. Then I spent some time congratulating
myself on being strong  enough to tolerate this torture and then I crazily
thought of all the people throughout history who had it worse than me, and say
out loud, "Don't be stupid, asshole!" I scream as loud as I can, but that only
hurts my neck. Then, what seemed like eight hours later there's a rattling at
the door as a key is  inserted, the door opens  and light  fills the room, and
I'm so relieved. Brett and Junior are laughing, Junior goes, "Holy shit, Brett!
You're too much. We haven't used the pillory for quite a while. That's awesome!"
They come in, with Junior exclaiming, "Oh fuck, look at those raised welts" and
he laughs, then says, "And ya got his tail in too! Brett, you are the man!" I
hear their hands slap together in a high five, then a fist bump.

Smacking the back of my head, Brett asks, "You doing okay, big time college
boy?" He's so in charge I feel small and unimportant, I mumble, "I'm okay,
Master." Even  to me I sound like  a wimpy little  girl. That's pretty much what
I feel like too. Brett undoes the latch at one end of the stock as Junior gets
the other. "I brought Junior back to enjoy the reward session with us. Isn't
that nice." I meekly say, "Yes, Master." Junior chuckles, "Wow, Brett, you've
got him pretty much where ya want him now, don'tcha?" Brett's  like,  "For now,
yeah. The  canning was needed, and might be needed again down the road, we'll
see." I'm thinking, "Oh no! He's not going to need to cane my ass again because
I'm determined to show him how humble a toy-boy can be." My neck's free of the
torture device they called a pillory, and now the handcuffs are off too. Brett
pulls on my leash and I scramble to move forward, my knees and hands moving
fast, but I stay in place, my knees and hands scraping against the dirty floor
but I'm not going anywhere for a second because I'm moving everything too
quickly trying to respond immediately to Brett's command. I'm like a cartoon
character. The brothers laugh again, Junior says, "He wants to please you big
time now, bro. Great  job!"

 I heel  perfectly right next to Brett's left  leg as he walks me over to the
desk where the boys' chairs are.  Junior takes a seat and Brett puts me though
the commands, putting on  a show for Junior. I've never done the  tricks better,
my new tail  swishing around behind me feeling funny. I got a doggie  cracker as
my  reward when it was over. It had been like: "Sit!" and I'd get right down
looking at my master for his next command, my tail's pulling at my asshole, but
I didn't care about that. It hurt, but nothing like the caning hurts. I
definitely need to raise my level of tolerance for pain. Junior's like, "Bravo,
Brett! You rock! I've never trained a boy-toy this quickly." Brett's beaming, me
too a little. "Beg, boy!" I go up on my knees with my hands limp and hanging
forward, about chest high. Both boys laugh mockingly at me. Brett throws a
pencil across the floor, and says, "Fetch!" and I go scrambling after it on all
fours with the brothers laughing so  hard they're holding their balls when I
bring the pencil  back in my mouth to drop at Brett's  feet. I don't care about
their laughter. Mock me all you want, just don't cane me or put me in that stock
thing again... I'll be good! I'm now making a dog's panting sound with my mouth
hanging open as I look at Brett  for his next  command. He goes,  "Okay, it's
really getting late so get over here, ya tall asshole, and pull our shorts off
with your mouth.

After I undress them with my mouth, we follow the established routine. My nose
in their super musky pubic  hairs to lick all around their groin area, suck
their nuts, and rim their asses. Then they took turns fucking my throat until
they both blew their loads down my throat, in my mouth, and on my face. I never
climaxed because of the tight leather strip at the base of my cock and my
tied-up balls, but there was drool from my pee slit that looked like precum and,
of course, I have the  worst case of blue balls ever. They untied my legs while
laughing again about the way I did the doggie tricks. Then I was excused after a
quick bath and a little tender loving care from Brett, my master. Brett kissed
with lot of tongue today getting me so aroused I  almost stroked myself, but my
training allowed me avoid making that mistake. When  dismissed I hurried to the
pharmacy section to buy  the pain relief spray and the healing cream because my
canned ass is starting to ache... the silk panties are a blessing now, so soft.
Running to my car, in an odd stiff-legged manner, got all my aches and pains
flaring-up, especially my knees and ass, but I want to get away from here as
fast as I can so I ran. In the car I chain smoke all the way home, speeding. The
only thing on my mind is jerking off and  relieving the pressure in my cock and
balls. I've never needed to cum this badly. Mom's out for a Friday night with
the girls so I went right to my bedroom, pulled down my cargo  shorts, then my
pink panties, and ohhhh, it felt so good jerking off. Sure, I thought of Brett's
cock down my throat the whole time I pulled my pud. I fantasized he was slapping
my face every ten seconds as I sucked him off. Then I fantasized his underpants
were covering my  nose and I could smell the stink around his asshole, and then
it was the taste of his boy spunk... and, oh my God, I shot off a load that had
me squealing out loud in our empty apartment. I savored that climax  by pulling
on my dick for five minutes after orgasm, then  sprayed my ass and did the best
job I could of getting cream all over the welts. Exhausted,  I fell on my bed
face first and went to sleep on top of the bedspread.

Waking up three hours later with a dream about Brett still in my head had me
jerking-off again. After cleaning-up, I fix two egg sandwiches to eat and then I
drank almost a whole quart of orange juice. After that, I feel really tired
again so I brush my teeth and go to bed the proper way, in my boxer shorts,
under the covers. My pink panties are hidden in a spot no one would think to
look. What a fucking day! Just before falling asleep I thought about needing to
buy more panties, an extra toothbrush, and toothpaste for work. Oh, and a bottle
of mouthwash. Brett keeps heeping things on me and pretty soon I'm not going to
able to think about anything else except my responsibilities to him.  Brett, my
Master, and I'm admitted to myself for the first time that  I honestly  see him
that  way. He's my master and  my better, next to him I'm nothing. He pretty
much owns me all the time now, and he completely owns me three afternoons a
week... and, ya know, I'm starting to think maybe it's better this way... and
that frightens me.

To be continued.....

Donny Mumford        thinat20@yahoo.com